Chapter 18
Gabriel
“Come on, Elliot, let’s focus on these notes.”
“It’s too early in the morning, Gabriel. Let me enjoy my espresso in peace,” he answers and yawns without covering his mouth with his hand.
“We haven’t prepared any of the classes Mrs. Velmont asked us to. And Christmas is just around the corner. The students will…”
“The students don’t care, Gabriel!” he laughs. “Around this time of year, they’re far more interested in drinking and fucking!”
“Charming…” I reply sarcastically.
I pull some of the notes closer to me and start highlighting the key points of the lectures.
"So," Elliot says, his tone deceptively casual. "The students are whispering, Gabriel. You and your favorite flower."
His words unsettle me, but I don't look up from my papers. "Students always whisper. It's what they do."
"This is different." Elliot sets down his cup with deliberate precision. "They're talking very specifically this time, not just gossiping."
"What are they saying?"
"The kind of things that could destroy both of you."
Now I look at him. Elliot's expression has shifted from casual to deadly serious. We've been friends since I came to teach at Wolfswood, and I know that look. He's not fishing for gossip. He's warning me.
“Are you actually in a relationship with the Devereaux girl, Gabriel?”
“Of course not. Don’t be stupid,” I lie to him.
“You’re the stupid one if you think I believe you, Gabriel. Listen, if this relationship is discovered," he continues, "Rose will be expelled. Do you understand what that means for her? She loses access to her Devereaux inheritance. Everything she's worked for disappears."
"It's not like that. We are not…"
"And you? You'll be fired. Your political career will be over before it starts. And you can forget about the Senate race. You'll be lucky if anyone takes your calls after this."
I don’t answer him right away. Part of me is relieved that he knows. At least, I have someone to talk to about it. I rub my eyes with my hands, feeling tired, despite the fact that it’s early in the morning.
"I can't stop, Elliot."
He studies my face for a long moment, then sighs. "Then at least be smarter about it. Protect her, even if it means walking away."
The thought hits me like a physical blow.
“Walk away from Rose? No… I could never do that. She’s too… I mean, I’m…”
“What, in love with her? Gabriel, don’t be an idiot.”
"I need to get to my first class," I say, and gather my notes.
"Gabriel." Elliot's voice stops me at the door. "I'm saying this as your friend. Be careful. Both of you have too much to lose. Do the right thing for Rose, if you really feel that way about her. Leave her before your relationship hurts her. That would be a true sign that you care about her."
***
I’ve arrived too early at the lecture hall, but I don’t mind. It gives me a few minutes to gather my thoughts. I sit by the window and watch the snowflakes drift past the glass, as if the world is holding its breath.
But this moment is soon interrupted by the students filing in. I arrange my materials at the lectern and try to focus on today's topic. The old families of the Gilded Age. The men and women who built America with their millions.
But Elliot's words keep echoing in my mind.
Rose walks into the lecture hall as well, holding her notebook clutched against her chest. She moves to her usual seat in the last row and crosses her legs as she settles in.
Her eyes meet mine for just a moment. I can see something there.
It’s innocence mixed with flirting, as if she knows exactly what kind of fire we're playing with.
I'm about to begin when I see a lanky student slide into the seat next to her. I recognize him from some of my other classes. And I know exactly who he is. Liam. A second-year student from old Boston money.
He’s the kind who thinks his trust fund makes him irresistible. I don’t like the way he’s circling Rose like a predator. He has his eye on her.
"Good morning," I begin the lecture, projecting my voice across the room. "Today, we'll be examining the families of the Gilded Age and the businesses they had with the American government."
As I write key points on the board, I notice Liam leaning closer to Rose. She shifts away, creating space between them. But he doesn't take the hint.
I continue the lecture, outlining the economic aid packages and their political weight. But part of my attention stays fixed on the back row. Liam leans toward Rose, murmuring something. She briefly nods and turns her attention to her notes.
"The plan made the Rockefeller family over thirteen billion dollars," I state, writing figures on the board. "Can anyone tell me why this was controversial at the time?"
Several hands go up, but I notice Rose's isn't one of them. She's usually one of my most engaged students, and she is always ready with thoughtful questions. Today, she seems distracted and uncomfortable.
Liam leans over to her side of the desk again. This time, he places his hand on Rose's arm, but she pulls back. She’s turning pink now, but not from embarrassment. From frustration.
"Liam!" I call out to him. My voice makes him jump.
“Yes, sir?”
"You seem to have something more important than history to discuss. Perhaps you'd like to share your thoughts on the Rockefellers’ oil business?"
"I... well, it was good, wasn’t it?"
"Elaborate."
"They thought... Um..." He glances around the room and realizes that he has everyone's attention. "They thought Europe was trying to control America economically. So, they invested in oil?"
“Is that a question or a statement? Are you asking me?!”
His face turns bright red.
"A statement."
"Then state it clearly. But first, perhaps you could explain why you think it's appropriate to put your hands on Miss Devereaux's arm during my lecture?"
The room goes dead silent. Every head turns toward the back row.
Liam's face goes white. "I wasn't—"
"You weren't what? Invading her personal space? Making her visibly uncomfortable?" I stop directly in front of their seats. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly what I observed."
"Professor Thorn, I didn't mean to touch her or anything."
"What you meant is irrelevant. What matters is what you did. Miss Devereaux has made it clear through her body language that your attention is unwelcome. A gentleman would respect that."
Liam shrinks into his chair, his earlier arrogance completely gone. Rose sits perfectly still, her eyes wide.
"Now," I continue, turning my attention to her, "Miss Devereaux, since you've actually been paying attention to the material, what do you think about the Rockefellers’ oil business?”
"I think the humanitarian need to rebuild after the Civil War was real. But so was the strategic value of creating stable, Western-aligned democracies. Their business succeeded because it addressed both concerns."
"Perfect analysis. That's exactly the kind of thoughtful perspective this subject deserves."
For the rest of the lecture, Liam sits quietly, no longer bothering Rose. She participates actively again and asks intelligent questions. It shows that she's actually read the assigned materials.
When the class ends and the students file out, Liam leaves quickly. He’s avoiding eye contact. Rose gathers her things more slowly. For a moment, I think she might approach my desk. Instead, she gives me a small nod. It’s an acknowledgment and a thank you wrapped into one simple gesture.
I watch her go, but Elliot's warnings are still fresh in my mind.
Funnily enough, today’s lecture was a lesson for me. Perhaps Elliot is right. I might have to protect Rose again. Even if that means stepping back from her.