How is it possible this woman was chosen without ever being wanted?
Amelia shifted slightly under his gaze, as though sensing the direction of his thoughts.
“I suppose I was always too shy,” she added lightly, though there was something faintly distant in her voice now. “My parents preferred to arrange things on my behalf because I never quite… drew attention.”
Gabriel frowned faintly at that, looking at her as though reassessing something he thought he already understood. “You do not seem shy to me,” he said at last, almost as if testing the idea aloud.
Amelia gave a small, almost embarrassed laugh, entirely unaware of the effect it had on him.
Without thinking, Amelia continued, her voice softer now, “I feel more comfortable in this house than I ever did in my own.”
The words lingered in the air longer than they should have, settling somewhere between them in a way that made Gabriel’s grip on the table tighten slightly. He did not respond right away, instead watching her as though trying to determine whether she realized what she had just admitted. Shadow shifted on his lap, oblivious, stretching lazily as though the conversation concerned entirely different worlds. Gabriel finally looked away first, his expression controlled once more, though something unsettled remained beneath it.
The rest of dinner continued in a quieter rhythm, but Gabriel found himself listening differently now, noticing small things he had previously ignored. David laughed once at something Amelia said, and even Valerie’s posture had softened slightly, as though the earlier tension had eased without her noticing.
Gabriel’s thoughts, however, remained fixed on Amelia’s last remark, repeating itself with irritating persistence.
Comfortable here. Not at home.
The distinction, he realized, was not as simple as it sounded. And for reasons he did not care to examine too closely, it stayed with him long after the plates were cleared.
Chapter Fifteen
Gabriel found Amelia shortly after dinner, not in the drawing room as expected but near the corridor leading toward the library as though she had been wandering without purpose. She paused the moment she saw him, her expression shifting into something carefully neutral, though he had begun to recognize the small tells that gave her away.
He inclined his head slightly and gestured toward his study, not bothering with unnecessary explanation.
“A moment of your time,” he said evenly, watching as she hesitated only briefly before following him.
As they walked, he noticed the faint tension in her shoulders, as if she already suspected this conversation would not be pleasant.
Once inside the study, Gabriel closed the door behind them with deliberate calm, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. Amelia stood just a little too still in the center of theroom, hands loosely clasped in front of her as though preparing for judgment. He studied her for a second longer than necessary, then spoke in a tone that was controlled but firm.
“I have learned something regarding your situation,” he began, folding his hands behind his back as he paced once. Her eyes narrowed slightly, though she did not interrupt, which he considered an improvement over most conversations with her.
Gabriel stopped near the fireplace and turned to face her fully, his expression unreadable as he continued.
“The Duke of Mansfield,” he said, watching carefully for her reaction, “is now betrothed to your sister, Bethany.”
The effect was immediate and unmistakable. Amelia went very still, the color draining from her face so quickly that even Gabriel registered the change. For a brief moment, even he considered whether he had misjudged how she would take the news though there was no turning back from it now.
Her breath caught sharply before she spoke, her voice quieter than usual.
“They are to be married?” she repeated, as though the word itself made no sense.
Gabriel inclined his head once in confirmation, remaining silent as she absorbed it. She looked away almost immediately,blinking too quickly, as though trying to force the information into something manageable.
“Why did you not wish to marry him?” he asked after a moment, his tone softer than before but still direct, as though the question itself required clarity rather than comfort.
Amelia gave a short, unsteady laugh that held no humour, one hand lifting briefly to her mouth as if she could contain what was coming next.
“It was never about titles,” she said, her voice beginning to fracture slightly as emotion crept in, “or riches or any of that.” She pressed her fingers together tightly, staring down at them as if grounding herself. “He made marriage sound like a prison,” she admitted more quietly, then exhaled sharply as though the memory itself was unpleasant to hold. Gabriel said nothing, letting her continue, though something in his expression tightened slightly at the word.
She continued, words coming faster now as though once started she could not stop them. “I was just so tired,” she said, voice shaking, “of never deciding anything for myself. Not what I wore, not what I ate, not even who I was supposed to marry.” Her composure broke fully then, tears slipping down her cheeks as she turned her face slightly away, clearly frustrated by them. Gabriel watched without interrupting, something unfamiliar settling in his chest as he observed her struggle. It was not a weakness he saw, though she clearly believed it was.
At the mention of her sister, Amelia’s voice faltered further, her hands tightening as if she were holding herself together by force alone.
“Bethany,” she whispered, shaking her head slightly, “she should not have had to suffer because of what I did. This is my parents’ doing. I know it is.”
