Chapter 18
Chapter
Eighteen
By the time Gabriel reached the great hall, the hour was well past nine.
The house was quiet, the hush of evening had settled heavily within the opulent corridors.
Only the faint crackle of the fire in the library and the distant ticking of a clock broke the stillness.
He moved with purpose but not haste, his thoughts as disciplined as any military maneuver he had ever planned.
Emotion had its place, but it was not now.
He had abandoned his earlier resolution to speak with Eliza tonight.
It would be unforgivable to press her with a proposal—however sincere—when she was still trembling from fright.
The moment he had seen her running across the lawn, her face pale and her breath coming in ragged bursts, any notion of romance had been driven from his mind.
It was replaced by something far simpler and far more primal: the need to keep her safe.
Whatever strange fate had drawn her into his life, it had also painted a target upon her.
Until he knew who was responsible for the threats that haunted them, he would not leave her unguarded.
He had escorted her to the foot of the staircase himself, unwilling to entrust even that small distance to another. Only when she disappeared from view did he turn away and summon the butler.
“Have two men posted at the front and rear entrances,” he instructed in a low voice. “Another pair to walk the grounds between the gardens and the edge of the forest. They are to carry lanterns and remain within sight of one another at all times. No one comes near the house without my knowledge.”
The butler inclined his head with solemn efficiency. “At once, my lord.”
“Tell them to keep a keen eye toward the woods,” Gabriel added. “I would not be surprised if the scoundrel who fired upon us the other day has found the nerve to try again.”
“Yes, my lord.”
When the man had gone to see his orders carried out, Gabriel stood alone in the hall for several moments, listening to the soft shuffle of boots and the faint clink of metal as weapons were readied.
It steadied him, that sound—the assurance of action, of vigilance.
It reminded him of the camps he had commanded, of men he could trust, of nights spent waiting for danger that came at last or not at all.
He told himself that this was no different, that his instincts would not fail him now.
Yet even as he thought it, he knew this battle was unlike any other.
The enemy was unseen. The field, his own home. And the stakes, a woman who had come to mean far more to him than reason allowed.
He turned toward the staircase, intending to seek his own chamber, but the flicker of movement in the drawing room doorway caught his eye.
Helena Ashcombe stood there, wrapped in a dark shawl, her silver hair gleaming in the lamplight.
Her expression was composed, but the sharp intelligence in her eyes missed nothing.
“I wondered how long it would take you to come back down,” she said quietly. “I have been waiting.”
Gabriel inclined his head in a gesture of respect. “Miss Ashcombe has retired for the night,” he said. “She was understandably shaken, but unharmed.”
Helena nodded, her face grave. “And the cause of her fright?”
“She was walking near the woods. Someone was there. She heard them following her.” His jaw tightened as he spoke. “At her request I did not pursue the culprit, but I’ve no doubt of the legitimacy of her claim. She’s not the sort for hysterics.”
Helena smiled tightly. “Indeed, she is not. Eliza is remarkable woman. She has more power than she knows. Certainly more than she’s permitted herself to explore…
She believes the gifts of the Ashcombe women have passed her by.
And perhaps that is my fault. For the longest time, I did not tell her the full truth…
and I still have not. We do not come into our power until we have known love.
It’s almost as if it unlocks something within us. I suppose that sounds silly to you.”
He considered his answer carefully, but ultimately decided to simply be blunt.
“Nothing sounds silly to me right now. I confess to being fully out of my element and having experienced things here that defy all reason. I am not so closed minded as to dismiss something out of hand simply because I cannot understand it.”
Helena nodded again. “That is good. What are you doing to keep her safe?”
“I have set men to patrol the grounds. No one will come near without being seen.”
Helena regarded him for a long moment. “You are a man accustomed to command,” she said. “It is plain enough in how you speak, how you act. But there are some battles, my lord, that cannot be fought with orders and armed men.”
He frowned slightly. “You believe this is something other than a mortal threat?”
“I believe it may be both,” she replied.
“Flesh and spirit often walk hand in hand. This person plotting against you may have their own reasons for doing so, but the curse plays a part in it. Of that you can be certain. You may guard the house and the gardens, but it will not be enough. Not forever, at any rate.”
Gabriel exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “I’ve encountered evil in this world, madame. But this is something that I find difficult to reconcile. I am a man of reason and rationality. And there are not rational things we speak of.”
“Yes,” she said, a faint smile curving her lips. “You are much like him in that.”
He blinked. “Like whom?”
“The first Earl of Blackburn,” Helena said softly. “A man of reason. A man who thought the world could be tamed with logic and strength of will. He was mistaken, as you are mistaken now. The curse is not a matter of belief, my lord. It is a matter of blood. And the blood has already chosen.”
Gabriel’s brow furrowed. “You speak in riddles.”
Helena’s eyes gleamed faintly in the candlelight.
“I speak the truth. The curse binds us all, but it is not without its key. You hold it, though you do not yet understand how. Until the bond between you and my granddaughter is sealed—truly sealed—neither of you is safe. Not from the one who hunts you, nor from the darker fate that waits in his shadow.”
He shook his head, half in disbelief, half in frustration. “You speak as though marriage were a charm against bullets.”
“Perhaps it is,” she said softly. “Or perhaps it is simply the only path left to you both. The curse demands balance. If love is left unspoken, it turns to grief. If it is denied, it turns to vengeance. That is its way.”
Her words struck him harder than he expected. He looked away, to the darkened window beyond her. “You would have me rush her into marriage for the sake of superstition?”
Helena’s voice gentled, though it carried unmistakable urgency.
“I would have you act before the curse takes its due. The danger that stalks her is not idle. It grows stronger and more determined with each day that passes. You think time is your ally, but it is not. Delay serves only to feed the shadow that hunts you both. If you care for her, if you would see her safe, then claim her. Make her yours in the only way that matters.”
Gabriel’s hands curled at his sides. “You make it sound as though love were a weapon.”
“Perhaps it is,” Helena murmured, her gaze steady. “The only one powerful enough to strike back at what was set in motion so long ago.”
For a long time, neither spoke. The air between them seemed to hum with the weight of unspoken things—the echo of ancient grief, of choices that had bound the living to the dead.
At last, Gabriel inclined his head. “I will consider what you’ve said.”
“Do more than consider,” Helena replied, her tone quiet but implacable. “Act. Every hour that you hesitate, you give fate one more chance to destroy her.”
He looked at her then, and though he wanted to dismiss her words as mere fancy, he could not quite find the strength to do so. The conviction in her eyes was unshakable, the urgency in her tone unmistakable. He had seen that look before—in men who knew the cost of waiting too long to strike.
“Good night, madam,” he said finally, his voice low.
“Good night, my lord.”
As he turned away, the candlelight flickered across her face, revealing for an instant a weariness that went deeper than age, deeper than fear—a kind of grim hope that had survived too many losses.
When the door closed behind him, Helena lowered herself into a chair and drew the shawl more tightly around her shoulders.
“Please,” she whispered to the empty room, “let this be the time the curse is broken. Let her be the one to finally know happiness.”