John lifted both hands in surrender, though the grin tugging at his mouth ruined the effect entirely. “I am merely observing,” he replied, leaning back comfortably in his chair.
“You are meddling,” Gabriel said, narrowing his eyes at him.
“I am helping,” John countered, reaching for a piece of bread and tearing it in half.
“You are absolutely meddling,” Gabriel said flatly, folding his arms across his chest.
John merely shook his head and laughed into his ale before taking a long drink.
The conversation might have ended there had Gabriel not felt a familiar heaviness settling in his chest. He stared down at the remains of his meal for several moments before speaking quietly.
“I will never marry. You know this already, so it grieves me that you imply such things,” he said.
For once, John did not joke. “Why?”
Gabriel’s voice remained steady as he continued. “My father destroyed every life he touched. My mother’s most of all.” He tightened his grip around the tankard. “I spent my childhood watching a man who should have protected his family become their greatest danger.”
John listened silently.
“I carry his blood. Every day, I wonder whether the same darkness exists in me, waiting to take hold.”
“It doesn’t,” John said firmly.
“You cannot know that; no one can,” Gabriel said.
Gabriel looked towards the tavern window, seeing memories instead of glass. His father’s temper. His cruelty. His selfishness. The damage left behind.
“If I ever lost control,” Gabriel said quietly, “if I ever became even half the man he was, I could ruin someone’s life.” His jaw tightened. “I will not risk that. Not with a wife. Not with children.”
John leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table as his expression turned serious.
“Gabriel,” he said quietly, tapping a finger against the wood to gain his attention.
“No.” Gabriel shook his head at once and reached for his tankard.
“Listen to me.” John pointed the handle of his spoon towards him for emphasis.
“I have listened to this speech before,” Gabriel replied, setting the tankard down with a dull thud.
“Then listen again.” John held his gaze steadily, refusing to back down.
Gabriel shook his head. “The children are my responsibility. Their safety comes first.” He looked back towards his friend. “If they think I am a tyrant, then perhaps I am doing my jobproperly, but I must remember that I have it in me to be a tyrant in more ways than just words.”
John sighed. “That may be the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all year.”
Gabriel shrugged. “Perhaps, but they are words to live by.”
The afternoon passed quickly after that. Eventually, the two men parted ways outside the tavern, and Gabriel mounted his horse for the journey home. The road stretched before him. As his horse carried him towards the estate, his thoughts returned once more to Amelia. She had brought laughter back to David. She had coaxed smiles from Valerie. Somehow, she had even convinced Gabriel to dance.
Most alarming of all, she has changed me. Not dramatically. Not completely. But enough that John noticed.
Enough that he could no longer pretend otherwise. He still distrusted easily. He still believed rules were necessary. He still carried fears he could not entirely escape. Yet somewhere between custard, kittens, and impossible conversations, Amelia Shirley had begun altering the atmosphere of the house.
And, whether he liked it or not…
She has altered me as well.
The afternoon sun cast long golden shadows across the gardens of Anderton Manor as Amelia wandered along one of the winding gravel paths. Roses climbed stone walls in bursts of color while carefully trimmed hedges framed beds overflowing with summer blooms. The air smelled faintly of lavender, and for once, her thoughts felt pleasantly quiet. She had begun to think of the gardens as a refuge whenever the house became overwhelming.
