CHAPTER 14 #2
"You don't get to choose."
"Why not?"
"Because that's not how the world works."
"Then I'll change how the world works."
"You can't…"
The door opened suddenly, and they sprang apart to find Edmund standing there with an expression of amused exasperation.
"You two are about as subtle as a fire in a library," he said, closing the door behind him. "Half the assembly has noticed you're both missing."
"Let them notice," Gabriel said.
"That's a lovely sentiment, but your aunt is about to send search parties. You need to return immediately and separately."
Clara straightened her dress. "He's correct!"
"I don't care."
"You have to care. This is about more than just us now. It's about keeping your independence from your aunt's control."
"None of that matters if…"
"It all matters," Clara interrupted. "I'll go first. Wait at least five minutes before following."
"Clara…"
She kissed him once more, quick but thorough. "Try to look less like you want to burn down the building when you return."
"I do want to burn down the building."
"I know, but hide it better."
She slipped out, leaving Gabriel with Edmund, who was studying his friend with something between pity and frustration.
"You're playing with fire," Edmund said.
"I'm already burned. What's a little more damage?"
"The kind that destroys everything, including her."
The carriage ride home was silent torture. Gabriel sat across from Aunt Agatha and Miss Ashworth, maintaining polite conversation while every fiber of his being was focused on Clara, who was following in the servants' carriage behind them.
"You did well tonight," Aunt Agatha said, though she sounded suspicious rather than pleased. "Several people commented on your improved demeanor."
"How gratifying to know my demeanor has been a topic of discussion."
"Everything about you is a topic of discussion. You're the mysterious scarred duke who's been hiding away for three years. Your emergence is the most exciting thing to happen in the county since the war ended."
"How wonderful to provide entertainment for the masses."
"Don't be sardonic. It's unbecoming."
"Everything about me is unbecoming according to you."
"Not everything. You managed to dance with Penelope without terrifying her, which is progress."
Miss Ashworth spoke up. "His Grace was perfectly pleasant. We had a lovely discussion about agricultural practices."
Aunt Agatha looked horrified. "Agricultural practices?"
"Soil management, specifically," Gabriel added helpfully. "Miss Ashworth is remarkably knowledgeable about nitrogen content."
"That's hardly appropriate ballroom conversation."
"On the contrary," Miss Ashworth said. "It was far more interesting than the usual discussions about weather and fashion. His Grace has innovative ideas about crop rotation."
Gabriel caught the girl's eye and saw the amusement there. She was definitely too clever for her own good.
When they reached Ashbourne Hall, Gabriel helped both ladies from the carriage, then waited impatiently for the servants' carriage to arrive. When it did, he had to force himself not to rush to help Clara down.
"Your Grace," she said with a curtsey. "Shall I prepare tea for your guests?"
"That won't be necessary," Aunt Agatha said. "We're returning to the inn. But Gabriel, we'll call tomorrow to discuss the next steps in your courtship with Penelope."
"I await your visit with breathless anticipation."
"Your sarcasm is noted and unappreciated."
After they left, Gabriel stood in the entrance hall with Clara, the other servants having discretely disappeared.
“That was profoundly disagreeable,” he remarked.
“Yet, you did remarkably well.”
“By a narrow margin.”
“Miss Ashworth seems to regard you with some partiality.”
“Miss Ashworth feels pity for my plight, and is merely engaging with me to dishearten other unwanted suit.”
“A thoughtful young woman.”
“Too discerning, I fear. She apprehends all.”
"Then we need to be more careful."
"Or less careful. Maybe if we're obvious enough, everyone will accept our predicament and leave us be.”
"That's not how society works."
"I dislike society."
"I am aware."
He pulled her into his arms. "Come to bed."
"Gabriel…"
"Just to sleep. I promise. I just need to hold you after tonight."
"You can't keep promising 'just to sleep' when we both know it's getting harder to maintain that boundary."
"I can try."
"Your trying is notably unsuccessful when it comes to restraint."
"Then help me. Be my restraint."
"That's unfair to put it all on me."
"You're stronger than I am."
"I'm really not. I'm just better at hiding my desperation."
"Then we're doomed."
"We've been doomed from the start."
They went upstairs together, and Clara changed into his shirt while he turned his back, though the pretense of modesty was increasingly absurd given how aware they were of each other's every movement.
When they lay down together, Gabriel pulled her back against his chest, burying his face in her hair.
"Two and a half weeks," he said.
"Don't count."
"I can't help it."
"Try."
"I'd rather spend the time finding a solution."
"There isn't one."
"There has to be."
"Gabriel…"
"What if I gave it up? The title, the estate, everything?"
"You can't abdicate a dukedom."
"I could disappear. To be formally presumed deceased.”
He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. "I won't accept impossible."
"You'll have to."
"Never."
"Gabriel…"
"Hush. Sleep. We'll argue about impossibilities tomorrow."
But neither of them slept for a long time, both aware of the days slipping away, of the inevitable approaching like a storm they couldn't outrun.