Chapter Thirteen
The carriage turned up the gravel drive toward Ashcombe Hall, its wheels crunching a rhythmic welcome as the great house came into view.
Gabriel waited at the top of the stairs, not as a soldier or distant aristocrat, but as a man receiving guests.
His presence, steady and watchful, made Leticia’s pulse leap.
The carriage drew to a stop. Gabriel descended the steps and reached the carriage just as the butler opened the door.
“Lady Eastbury. Lady Salisbury. Welcome to Ashcombe Hall.” He offered his hand to Lady Eastbury, but she waved him off with a familiar smile.
“Help my niece first, Lord Ashcombe. I’m perfectly steady.”
Leticia accepted his hand, her fingers curling against his palm. A moment of stillness caught her. It was absurd, how something so formal could feel so intimate.
“Lady Salisbury,” he said softly.
“My lord.”
Lady Eastbury stepped down behind her and gave Gabriel a keen look. “That tea you sent was perfectly chosen. A fine blend of jasmine and oolong, my favorite, though I haven’t found it in years.”
Gabriel turned to Fenton. “I believe I have my butler to thank for that.”
Fenton bowed. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”
Leticia’s cheeks warmed. The bouquet of cream roses he had sent, without any note, only his seal, lingered in her senses. They were graceful, restrained like him. She had pressed one bloom between the pages of Camilla, as though she could pin down the memory.
As they crossed the threshold into Ashcombe Hall, sunlight poured through arched windows, warming the stone floors. The faint scent of polish and lavender wrapped around her. For a heartbeat, she felt as if the house itself had taken a breath.
They were shown into a drawing room, where a tea tray sat already prepared. Lady Eastbury thanked Gabriel for the invitation and the thoughtful gifts.
“You’re too kind,” she added, eyeing the porcelain teapot. “This tea is a favorite of mine.”
Gabriel cast a look at Fenton. “Entirely his recommendation.”
Lady Eastbury smiled. “Well played, Mr. Fenton.”
Leticia’s gaze lingered on Gabriel. “You’ve made the place warm.”
He tilted his head. “It remembers laughter. I’m only coaxing it back.”
The words tugged at her, as though he spoke not only of the house but of himself.
Lady Eastbury settled into a high-backed chair. “And doing it well, I daresay. My sister and I visited Ashcombe Hall often in our younger days.”
Leticia turned, startled. “I don’t recall you mentioning that.”
“I imagine I didn’t,” her aunt replied with a wistful smile. “Your mother was far better at managing memories.”
A ripple of curiosity rose in Leticia. Her mother and Ashcombe Hall. What else had been left unsaid?
Gabriel crossed to the window. “Would you care to see the portrait gallery?”
“Lead on,” Lady Eastbury said. “Though I warn you, I may correct the footmen if they get any names wrong.”
As they rose, Lady Eastbury glanced toward the hallway. “Has Professor Tresham sent his notes on the Vienna acquisition yet?”
Gabriel paused, shook his head. “Not yet. He mentioned needing to consult a private collection. Something about provenance and mistranslation.”
Lady Eastbury’s voice softened. “He does love a contradiction. But the man knows his history.”
The gallery was long and stately, with windows spilling light across polished floors. Portraits lined the opposite wall, a silent parade of Ashcombes past. Leticia slowed, caught by the hush that deepened with each step.
Halfway down, she stopped. Her gaze fixed on a portrait.
Three figures. Two women and a man. Her mother, unmistakable with her dark hair and serene smile. Lady Eastbury, younger and vibrant, was the other woman. And between them, a tall man with a mischievous gleam in his eye.
“Robbie Ashcombe,” Lady Eastbury said softly, stepping closer. Her voice carried the echo of memory and surprise, drawing a glance from Leticia and Gabriel.
She added gently, “I hadn’t expected to see this picture again. He was your uncle, Gabriel.”
Leticia turned, startled. “You knew him well?”
“Well enough. We were all very close then.” She said no more, but her tone suggested there was more beneath the silence.
Gabriel joined them. “I’d never noticed the resemblance until now.”
“You didn’t know?” Leticia asked.
“I wasn’t certain who they were. The names on the brass plates have faded.”
Lady Eastbury’s eyes softened. “Your mother loved that brooch.”
Leticia’s gaze caught on the gem painted at her mother’s throat, a teardrop stone that shimmered even in oil and pigment. A chill settled beneath her ribs. The same brooch now rested in her jewelry box.
“She always did like sparkle,” she murmured.
Lady Eastbury smiled. “We found that piece in Vienna. Robbie called it a trinket, but your mother adored it.”
Leticia swallowed, keeping her voice light. “I remember how some of Mama’s jewelry twinkled like stars.” Yet unease curled at the edges of memory, a shadow she could not name.
“You were forever rearranging my pearls,” her aunt added fondly. “You wound them round her wrist once and snapped the thread. Took a week to find all the beads.”
Gabriel placed a hand on the frame. “Shall we return to the drawing room? The fire might be welcome.”
With tea replenished and a warm fire crackling, the mood lightened. Gabriel, sensing the shift, glanced toward the sideboard.
“If I may be bold, would either of you care for a game?”
Leticia arched a brow. “Cards?”
“Not precisely,” he replied, lips twitching. “A game I learned in the officers’ mess. ‘Two Truths and a Dare.’”
Lady Eastbury’s eyes twinkled. “Oh, I like the sound of that.”
Leticia laughed. “You would.”
Gabriel inclined his head. “I shall begin, then.”
He lifted a hand. “I once lost a duel of words with Lady Marchmont. I’ve never danced the quadrille without stepping on a partner’s toes. And I once climbed the library shelves at Eton to retrieve a contraband volume of Ars Amatoria.”
Lady Eastbury lifted a brow. “The duel is true, obviously.”
Leticia grinned. “You stepped on a partner’s toes.”
“Incorrect. I did climb the library shelves. The rest, alas, are embellishments.”
Leticia’s smile tilted. “My turn. I once escaped a persistent suitor by locking myself in a chapel. I speak conversational Italian. And I’ve never lost at whist.”
Gabriel leaned forward. “The suitor story is real.”
Leticia offered no answer, simply sipped her tea.
Lady Eastbury gave her niece a sideways glance. “She’s blushing. It’s true. And I know she speaks conversational Italian about as well as she does conversational English.”
Gabriel’s mouth curved. “Remind me never to have Lady Salisbury as my whist partner.” He turned to Leticia’s aunt. “Lady Eastbury, I believe it’s your turn.”
Lady Eastbury chuckled. “Very well. I once drove a phaeton through Hyde Park at dawn. I once beat a bishop at chess in under ten minutes. And I once turned down a marriage proposal from a duke.”
Leticia gasped. “A duke?”
Gabriel leaned back. “The phaeton is too specific. That one’s true.”
Lady Eastbury gave a mysterious smile. “Correct on the phaeton. But it was the bishop who won the chess match.”
Leticia stared. “You turned down a duke?”
“I did. But that’s a story for another day.”
The game continued for several rounds, laughter softening the shadows of the past.
Eventually, the hour grew late. Lady Eastbury stood and collected her gloves.
Leticia turned to Gabriel, her heart caught between gratitude and unease. “I wasn’t sure what to expect today. Now I have more questions than answers.”
Gabriel’s expression remained unreadable. “You’re not alone in that.”
She hesitated. “I thought perhaps this visit was about us. But it’s about the past.”
He reached for her hand. “It’s both. But more than that, I wanted you to see where I live. How I live.”
Her pulse fluttered. “And the future?”
“That’s not just my question,” he said quietly. “It’s ours. And we have two weeks to answer it.”
She leaned in and brushed a kiss against his cheek. “I shall have my answer in two weeks.”
Lady Eastbury’s voice called from the room beyond. “It’s time, my dears.”
Gabriel offered his arm. “Shall I walk you to the carriage?”
Leticia nodded.
They descended the steps in silence, the air thick with possibility.
At the base of the steps, Leticia paused. “Thank you for today. For showing us the gallery, for sharing those memories, even if they raised more questions than answers. I hadn’t expected so much.”
“For what part?”
“All of it.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. For all of it.”
She stepped into the carriage and turned to watch him as the door closed. He waited as the wheels began to turn before moving. The sight settled somewhere deep inside her, equal parts promise and uncertainty.
Lady Eastbury studied her niece as they settled in. “You’re blushing again.”
Leticia pressed her lips together, unwilling to give the truth away.
Lady Eastbury smiled and took her hand. “Come. Let’s finish our tea when we get home. I daresay I rather like this Lord Ashcombe.”