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“And certainly, such a wise man would never skulk about the house, breaking random items as a means of improving his wife’s mood. Such a paragon of masculinity would simply reassure her that news of her pregnancy would, in fact, not be treated as a sign of the apocalypse but rather as a reason to celebrate.”

Gabriel waved his words away with a sheepish grin. “Yes, well, I’ve learned my lesson when it comes to squandering time with the woman I love, and now I mean to make you the benefactor of my vast experience.”

“The vast experience you have acquired since the day before yesterday?”

“Precisely.”

Christopher drummed his fingertips on the arm of the chair and sighed. “Love would be so much simpler if it didn’t make us addled.”

“Bollocks. You already know what you need to do. I’ve never met a man more likely to heed the wisdom of his heart over his head. You love her, so fight for her. Or fight with her if you must, but don’t just roll over and quit.”

Christopher thought of his father and the way he had failed to fight for his mother when she walked away. Recalled how he’d banished her from his memory and lived with the empty crater for the rest of his life. There was so much of his father in him, and down to the marrow of his bones, Christopher knew that Gabriel was right. If he did not fight for Sofia, if he allowed himself to be like his father in this way too, he would carry a Sofia-sized crater in his heart forever.

Christopher raised resigned eyes to his friend, then drained the last of his drink. “You are obnoxious.”

“Yes, I love you too. Now let’s go see your little pear tree.” Gabriel stood and started for the door, his footsteps slowing when Christopher failed to follow.

“I walked away when she needed me. Twice I saw the anguish in her eyes and turned my back.” Christopher stared absently at the wall, an unpleasant heaviness spreading in his chest. “What if she won’t forgive me?”

Gabriel’s compassionate gaze sank into him like warm honey. “All my life I’ve watched you be the person you thought others needed you to be,” Gabriel said. “I couldn’t hold a hammer properly, but you held nails for me and let me squash your thumbs because I needed to feel more like a person than a duke’s heir. You packed your feelings into a box to save your father the discomfort of seeing that you still loved the woman he’d come to despise. You never even cried in my presence when Emma died, as if there wasn’t any room for your grief when mine was so very large. And don’t think I don’t understand how that loss hurt you. She was your friend, Christopher. You loved her too.”

Gabriel approached slowly as he spoke, stripping away the distance between them until he stood beside Christopher. “For months, you have loved Sofia, cherishing the parts she let you have while knowing full well there was more she couldn’t bring herself to give. You never pushed.” His hand came to rest on Christopher’s shoulder, heavy and comforting. “I’m not certain if putting your own needs second has become a matter of habit, or if you’re worried others will love you less if you ask for more.”

The inside of Christopher’s nose stung and his throat was achingly tight. Gabriel’s voice dropped in volume but increased in fervour. “I will never love you less. Your feelings are not a burden, Christopher. They are a gift. And Sofia will not begrudge you for expressing them.”

Christopher swallowed past the thickness in his throat, shaping his deepest fears into words. “How do you know?”

Gabriel smiled then. “Because she is a good woman and she loves you. I know because I have been blessed twice with remarkable women who love me despite my many imperfections.”

Trust me to love all the parts of you. He had said that to Sofia. How very difficult it was to take his own advice.

Gabriel took the empty glass from Christopher’s fingers and hauled him to his feet. “And if she can’t forgive you immediately, there are twelve more pear trees in the glass house. I’ll help you haul them up.”

Doctor Higgins had applied a bandage and cleaned his instruments by the time Christopher and Gabriel returned to Sofia’s room. He placed a set of long, pointed tweezers into his bag and turned to Gabriel. “She’s asleep. The bones appeared sound, but I am concerned about infection. I want to stay for the remainder of the night to see that she wakes up all right. Is there a room I can⁠—”

“Of course,” Gabriel interrupted. “I’ll show you the way. Shall I have tea or a light repast brought up?” Gabriel nodded his approval when Christopher lowered into the chair by Sofia’s bed, and then he led the doctor from the room.

Christopher planted his elbows on his knees and pressed his palms into his eye sockets. “You can’t help who your brother is, but why was the scheming of one drunken, selfish arse more important than the lives of an entire family, a dukedom? Was your loyalty to Oliver worth Zachariah's safety? Worth Nora’s future and the stability of all the families that rely upon Gabriel? I’m so bloody angry at you.”

A memory forced its way to the front of Christopher’s mind—Sofia’s fragile wrists and the feel of her brittle, malnourished body pressed against his on that first day. Then he became angry all over again with no real foe to fight. “Why didn’t you tell me, Sofi? Why didn’t you trust me to help you?”

The door creaked on its hinges behind him. “She wanted to tell you, but she didn’t want to burden you with keeping something like that from Gabriel. And she couldn’t bear the thought of seeing disappointment in your eyes.”

Christopher whipped around to where Oliver’s large form filled the doorway.

Oliver shook his head with a sigh that reeked of disappointment. “She expected it, you know, for you to walk away just as you did. She couldn’t imagine a person loving her enough to stay. It’s an atrocity that a woman so deserving of devotion has no notion of her own self-worth. When Sofia looks in the mirror, even all these years later, I think she still sees a little girl that even her own mother refused to love.”

Oliver ran his hands through his hair in a manner that reminded Christopher so much of Gabriel he couldn’t help but stare. “It’s one of my many sins that I contributed to that deplorable notion. I have a lot to make amends for. But as sorry as I feel for wreaking havoc on this household, I feel so much worse that, by doing so, I’ve given yet another person the opportunity to make my sister feel small. She doesn’t deserve your abandonment or your poor opinion of her. She’s incredibly brave … and kind. I’m not sure if she ever expected me to stop drinking really. It was just her way of eking out more time to find a solution that didn’t exist. A way to protect you and the Ansons from her big, bad brother.”

Christopher scrubbed his hands across his face. “All right. You’ve said your piece. Now go away, Oliver. I don’t have energy left for you.” When he turned to send Oliver away, Christopher noticed the drink perched between Oliver’s fingers. Scotch. “So help me God, if you take one sip of that I will scrape together the energy to throttle you.”

Oliver smiled. “Why do you care? You hate me, remember? I’m a drunken, selfish arse.”

“Eavesdropping is unbecoming of a duke.”

“Fuck, Christopher. We both know I’m no duke. I mean, I am, but birth order doesn’t a duke make and the British aristocracy is stupid for clinging to the notion that it does. The servants don’t know who I am. No one does except those five men at the card table, and they’re set for a very slow boat ride, far, far away.” He shrugged. “The drink is for you, anyway. I figured you needed it.”

Christopher accepted the glass, immediately draining its contents. It did nothing to soften the uncomfortable burr in his stomach.