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This is where he had been standing before he’d run to her, where he’d fought and failed to drown out the sounds of Sofia’s anguished cries. Where Gabriel and Violet had stared expectantly at him, waiting for him to intercede. To go to her. To ease her pain at the expense of what remained of his own sanity. And he was angry at them for it. Angry at Gabriel and Violet for their heartless expectations and secrecy. Angry at Sofia for turning him into the sort of monster who couldn’t set aside his own emotions long enough to prevent the woman he loved from suffering. And, in the end, he was angry at himself for being unable to stay away.

His breath sawed in and out of his lungs as he clung to the wall, unable to leave her. Unwilling to go closer. This is what it meant to have your heart ripped from your chest. He wanted it over and done with, the nuisance organ gone entirely instead of pounding in his chest, flooding him with emotions he was loath to feel.

A hand reached out then. It peeled him from the wall and pulled his weight against a warm and blessedly sturdy frame. Gabriel. Christopher slumped against him, exhausted.

“Come along, Keene.”

His feet moved woodenly down the hall and into the study, where he collapsed into a chair. Gabriel filled two snifters and handed one to Christopher, then sat on the chair adjacent and stared into the fire. Gabriel allowed the silence to go on until Christopher could tolerate it no longer.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Christopher squeezed the glass, the tips of his fingers blanching white. “Why did you let her hurt me when your honesty could have protected me from … from this.”

Gabriel’s shoulders drooped. “Had I suspected this when she arrived, I would have told you. But by the time I realised …” He sighed. “By the time I realised, it was already too late. You were too far gone. And if I was wrong or Sofia didn’t know … I had no clue what their intentions were. I meant only to spare you unnecessary pain.” Gabriel’s voice caught. In that moment, thirty-seven years of aristocratic self-possession crumbled, leaving in its place an ordinary, flawed man. A man grief-stricken over his realisation that a choice made in love had wounded instead.

Christopher looked up at him for a long, silent moment, then took a swallow of scotch. “You know that fishing pole you loved?”

Gabriel looked baffled for a moment, then a fraction of his sorrow slipped away and bemusement took its place. “You mean the one you stole and claimed you didn’t?”

“The one your uncle bought for you.”

“That you stole⁠—”

“I think you were eight⁠—”

“And claimed you didn’t.”

“It had the ivory handle and multiplying reel.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Yes, well, I stole it. I caught a massive fish and the reel broke, so I chucked it in the river and blamed it on your brother. I suppose we’re even now.”

Gabriel chuckled and swirled the drink in his hand, visibly relieved.

Another moment passed, and the levity Christopher had forced into his expression for Gabriel’s sake lost its hold and slipped away again. “What I cannot understand, Gabriel, is why you are so goddamned calm about this. Why are you not every bit as angry as me? She snuck into your home like a snake, tricked your children and the servants—my friends. Made every one of us trust her. Made me love her. She knew the consequences of her actions from the start, knew the damage she would eventually inflict, saw it all, and … she did it anyway. My inevitable heartbreak and the wellbeing of your family weren’t half so important as her momentary pleasure and her brother’s greed.”

Christopher leaned back in the chair, face towards the ceiling, and closed his eyes. They popped open again almost immediately when he was confronted by the memory of Sofia’s wide, distraught eyes. “She never loved me. That’s not love, Gabriel, but she let me throw my heart away for the illusion of it.”

Gabriel stayed quiet, and his placidity only fuelled Christopher’s tirade.

“And despite everything she’s done. Everything she means to do. To you, to Violet, to every member of this estate from the children to the bloody boot boys, still you bring her back here and pay for the doctor to tend to her under the very roof that she schemed to steal from beneath your nose.”

Gabriel looked up, then crossed one leg over the other. “Should I have left her alone in the woods to bleed out? Or I suppose I could have brought her to the inn and summoned Higgins to attend to her there. Would it have been easier for you to never know that she recovered?”

Christopher made a frustrated noise and took a gulp of his scotch. “So you brought her here for my benefit, did you?”

“I brought her here because she is my children’s governess, your lover, and Violet’s friend … and because I am rather fond of her, her purported reptilian tendencies notwithstanding. Christopher, I don’t think she ever wanted to hurt anyone. And I think you know that.”

Christopher gave him a disbelieving look.

Setting down his snifter, Gabriel leaned forward with his elbows resting on his knees, fingers steepled in thought. “I’ve spoken a little with Oliver, and he is rather emphatic that this is entirely his fault. It certainly wasn’t Sofia’s idea. Sometimes there isn’t a great option to be had, and you have to make a choice between two terrible things. It can’t have been easy for Sofia to play a pawn in her brother’s game when her loyalty clearly lies as much with the opposing side. I believe she put herself in the way of a threatening bishop more than once to extend the match.” Gabriel tapped his fingers together. “She showed a great deal of bravery and ingenuity trying to keep everyone around her safe. As for Oliver, I have little doubt about his lineage. He looks just like me and my father. And whether he is illegitimate or the rightful Duke of Northam, he is my brother and he is welcome on this estate.”

After the day they’d had, Christopher hadn’t thought himself capable of further surprise, but shock burned through him. All he could do was stare in astonishment.

Gabriel ignored his dumbfounded expression and continued on. “But none of that matters in this moment. All that any of us care about is Sofia’s welfare. I know you’re angry and I’m not here to tell you that you’re wrong, but if there is the slightest chance your anger will abate, you should be in there beside her, holding her hand. Because I know you, Christopher, and you will never forgive yourself if you walk away. Any fool with a rope can drag a pear tree to a woman’s door, but will you water it when it withers? Will you love her only when she is the easiest to love? Don’t be a stubborn arse. You know I’m right.”

Leaning back in his chair, Christopher crossed one ankle over the other and shot Gabriel an incredulous look. “Yes, because you are so very savvy when it comes to relationships and emotions.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I must be thinking of some other aristocratic friend who worked himself into an adolescent lather over a woman, then spent months pushing her away.”

Gabriel barked out a laugh.