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Since Sofia could not honestly deny the accuracy of the word, she met the accusation with silence, her lips pressed together. “Call it what you will, but if I am to keep up my half of the bargain, I need to be certain that you are keeping yours. Now, how is your wound?”

“Fine,” he growled.

“Don’t be surly.”

“You can’t expect me to be happy. You’re taking away all the comforts that make the moments between drinks more tolerable.”

When she reached to fold the blankets back, he swatted her hand away. It was an inconsequential, harmless movement, but her body remembered the bruises he had left and reacted instinctively. Lurching backwards, she tucked her arms close to her chest.

Oliver’s eyes widened and his jaw fell slack. Without so much as a blink, he watched her fidget under the scrutiny of his gaze. He shook his head back and forth as if to deny what he had clearly seen.

“What did I do to you?” His normally rich baritone voice sounded empty and cold. “You’re … afraid of me. What the hell did I do, Sofi?” His expression pinched into one of unadulterated disgust, and he shoved his hands beneath the coverlet as if he could no longer stand the sight of them. Her heart ached for Oliver in that moment.

She inched closer, but the turmoil in his eyes stopped her. “I never thought you meant to hurt me. I bruise easily and you were not yourself.”

“That’s just it, Sofi. This is me. I am bitter and brutish and I don’t have the luxury of pretending to be something I’m not. Not when it puts you at risk. This is who I am now, and I don’t know that I’m capable of being anything else. You need to go.”

“Oli, no.”

“Go, Sofi. I’ll play by your rules and tolerate your watchdogs, but I don’t want you anywhere near me until this is done.” She watched his throat work as he swallowed.

“I mean it, little flea.” His voice had fallen off to a mere whisper. “Go.”

Turning, she fled.

Christopher stacked the last of Gabriel’s freshly starched shirts in the clothespress and closed the drawer. “Gabe, if you don’t need anything more, I’m going to see if Hamish is home.”

Violet was lounging against her husband, reading a scientific journal. At the mention of Hamish, she peeked over the top.

“I would be very pleased to have your company, Violet.” Christopher figured her presence would help as he tried to convince Hamish to spend his time dodging the fists of a grouchy Tuscan.

“Oh yes, I would love to come along!”

Gabriel’s arms tightened around the duchess. “The last words out of your mouth, prior to this invitation, were that you were exhausted and couldn’t possibly spend another moment on your feet.”

“No, what I said was that I couldn’t spend another moment on my feet unless it was on the path to Hamish’s house. You must have misheard.”

Gabriel’s arms didn’t budge, and his gaze met Christopher’s imploringly.

Christopher cleared his throat. “Hamish’s home? You must have misheard me, duchess. What I said is that I would be unavailable in the next few hours, occupied with activities that would be of absolutely no interest to Violet.”

Violet’s nose wrinkled. “Has anyone ever told you that spinelessness is very unattractive?”

“So is unemployment and homelessness I hear,” Gabriel said.

Violet peeled Gabe’s arms from where they still clutched around her slender waist. “The two hours each day where Christopher performs a task pertaining to his duties scarcely constitute work.”

“All the more reason to maintain my position. I’m not cut out for manual labour, Your Grace.”

Determination set in her expression, she stood. “Very well. You two may remain here discussing the state of Christopher’s employment while I visit Hamish. I’ll fetch the children. Zach will want to see him.” She gave Gabriel a quick kiss on the cheek, then turned and quit the room.

Gabriel watched her go before planting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor between his feet.

Christopher watched him, not unsympathetically. “Violet isn’t the sort of woman that can be penned in for your peace of mind, Gabe. She’s rather like one of her goats. Patch one hole in the fence and she will barrel through another before you’ve had time to put the hammer away.”

“I know that, Keene. Of course I know that.” He shook his head.

“I don’t suppose any actual conversation has occurred. Are you planning to wait until she’s round enough that she can no longer reach her feet to put on her shoes?”