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She dusted her hands on an apron and said, “I’m certain I’m making more of a mess for Augusta than I am helping, to be honest.”
It made sense, of course, that his sister was so capable in the kitchens. Living in the Michigan territory as it seemed she had, Augusta had probably been responsible for much more than cooking and baking. The terrain was rough and could be quite unforgiving. Clayton was right about her strength. Not just anyone could have survived the Frenchtown massacre and that tortuous march to Fort Macon, and for her to have survived that ordeal with two of her children had to be a testimony to that very strength. And now all three of them were dependent uponhim. His stomach churned at the thought.
“Gabe,” Sophie began, “you should ask Ismérie to show you her collection of rocks.”
He bit back a smile. What a fool he’d been all those years ago to wax poetic over rhyolite. He’d just been so flummoxed the first time he’d been alone with Sophie and a bunch of details about the pink speckled rocks at Hampton Hall had just flown out of his mouth like he was a veritable idiot. She’d very sweetly listened to the whole thing, her arm tucked into the crook of his, and she’d gazed up at him like he was the most interesting and wonderful man in the world. She still looked at him like that, and as he met her gaze now across the kitchen in his sister’s cottage, his heart swelled. He’d find some way to take care of her, to take care of them all.
“Gabe?” Sophie said again.
“Yes, love?”
She laughed as though she knew he was thinking about her. Perhaps she could read it on his face. “Ask your niece to show you her rocks. She’s very proud of them.”
Yes, the girl who was terrified of him. Sophie was clearly trying help him make inroads with his niece. “Yes, of course.” Gabe crossed the small kitchen and settled into a seat at the table next to Ismérie and across from Christian’s coachman, of all people. What an odd assortment they all were in that kitchen. “You have some rocks, do you?”
Ismérie nodded slowly, looking unsure whether or not she trusted him. But then she reached into her pocket and began to lay rocks on the table one at a time. She lifted out a piece of speckled black and white granite for him to take from her. He smiled at the girl. “Oh, that is a nice one,” he said, turning the rock over in his hand and then bouncing it for good measure. “A good solid piece of granite you have there.”
She grinned like he’d just bestowed his highest praise on her. Then she added a bunch more rocks from her pocket onto the table. “This one is my favorite,” she said softly.
Gabe took the dark rock from her and said, “Slate.”
“I like the edges.”
It was a worthless stone, but if it…
Gabe sat up straight when he noticed a little silvery and dark grey nugget on the table amongst the litter of other rocks. He handed her back the slate and picked up the odd, little misshapen mineral. It was silver he would bet…well, he had nothing to bet, but it was definitely silver, intermixed with some lead. “Ismérie, where did you find this?”
She frowned at the silver. “Near the path on the way to Ulaid Tarn.”
She’d found it nearby. “On Fairhaven land?” he asked anxiously.
“Clayton said everything from here to the tarn was Northwold property,” Augusta said as she added some mincemeat to the little doughy triangles Sophie had just finished with. “I understand our father liked to come here to hunt.”
For the first time in the longest while, hope burgeoned in Gabe’s heart, but he squashed it down, too afraid to pin all his hopes on that little bit of silvery lead, at least not yet. “Do you think you could show me where you found it? Do you remember well enough?”
She inched away from him like he’d scared her all of a sudden.
Damn it all. Gabe forced himself to remain calm. “It’s important, Ismérie,” he said in his most gentle voice. “Do you think you could take me there?”
“Gabe?” Sophie asked, concern lacing her voice.
But Gabe didn’t look up from his niece.
“You’re not mad at me?” she asked quietly, blinking her hazel eyes at him.
Far from that. She might just be his most favorite person in the whole world…except for Sophie, of course. “Not in the least, my dear, but this could be very important.”
“Mama, is it all right?”
Gabe glanced up to meet his sister’s eyes. “Itisimportant.”
“Of course, of course,” Augusta said. “But be aware of the time. I’d hate for supper to be cold.”
Gabe pushed out of his seat and so did his niece who looked back at her mother. “Can Aurelie come too?” she asked.
Augusta nodded. “I think Sophia and I can manage supper by ourselves.”
Sophie had never managed supper a day in her life, but Gabe was too anxious to pay attention to the novelty of it all. Was there more silver nearby? Or had Ismérie stumbled upon a rare piece?
