“That governess,” he said at last, “is becoming a problem I did not anticipate.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Is she, indeed?”
Gabriel ignored the tone. He stared into the remaining whiskey as though it might offer a simpler answer than the one forming in his mind. The truth was far less convenient. Amelia Shirley was not a problem. She was becoming something far worse. Something he could not neatly categorize or control.
And that, Gabriel thought grimly, was precisely why he had come here.
“And what do you mean to do about this… problem?” John asked.
“I will let her go after the ball,” Gabriel said at last, his voice controlled but distant as he stared into the fading amber in his glass. “She is a lady. She deserves a life befitting that.”
He said it as though it were a matter already settled, like an estate account or a legal obligation.
John lifted his gaze, studying him with mild skepticism. Gabriel did not look up. It was easier that way.
“And what exactly do you believe that life looks like for her?” John asked.
Gabriel frowned slightly at the question but did not answer immediately.
John leaned back in his chair and continued, “She disappears for a month, returns to society, and you think the world will simply welcome her back with open arms?” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “You are an optimist in disguise, Gabriel, and a poor one at that.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened. The idea had not occurred to him in such blunt terms, though it should have. Society did not forgive disappearance, especially not for women who stepped outside its expectations. Yet instead of discouraging him, the thought curiously shifted something inside his chest.
If Amelia could not return easily to her former life, then she would have fewer options. Fewer doors. Fewer escapes… and then she would have to stay.
The conclusion was selfish, and he recognized it as such even as it formed.
“That may be so,” Gabriel said slowly, his tone measured as though he were testing the weight of the words, “but it still does not change the fact that she should not remain here.” He paused, rubbing a hand briefly across his mouth before continuing. “She deserves more than being a governess in a household that is not her own.”
The admission felt uncomfortably honest. John raised an eyebrow at him, watching carefully.
“A noble sentiment,” John replied dryly, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, “and yet you sound remarkably unwilling to let her leave.”
Gabriel gave him a sharp look. “That is not what I said.”
John smiled faintly. “No,” he agreed, “but it is what you meant.”
Gabriel exhaled through his nose, irritation flickering briefly across his face before settling back into restraint.
“I do not know what else I could offer her. If not a governess, then what?” Gabriel said at last, the words quieter now. The honesty in them was unintentional but absolute.
John studied him for a long moment before responding. “That,” he said finally, “is the most foolish thing I have ever heard you say.”
Gabriel blinked once, slowly. John rarely insulted him directly. When he did, it was usually a playful tease.
“I beg your pardon?” Gabriel replied, though there was no real offense in his tone yet.
John stood from his chair and crossed the room, collecting a small stack of papers as if distance might improve his patience. “You sit there talking as though this is a matter of employment,” he said, turning back to him. “As though she is merely a governess you are obliged to release when convenient.”He shook his head. “It is not complicated, Gabriel. It is just inconvenient for you because you fail to admit the truth to yourself.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened slightly. “You are suggesting I marry her,” he said flatly.
John did not deny it. The silence that followed was heavier than the fire’s crackle. Gabriel stared down at his glass, turning it slowly in his hand as though the answer might be written in the reflection. The idea had already crossed his mind more times than he cared to admit, and each time, he had dismissed it with increasing urgency.
“She is not suited to me,” Gabriel said eventually, though the conviction behind the words sounded thinner than he intended. “And I am certainly not suited to her.” He leaned back in the chair, exhaling slowly. “She is…” He hesitated, searching for the correct phrasing, though none felt adequate. “She is too good, and what lurks inside of me is not.”
John gave him a look that suggested he had just spoken nonsense in a different language.
“That,” John said bluntly, “is not a reason to avoid her. It is the reason most men would pursue her.”
