CHAPTER 15 #2
"They're not impossible, they're just difficult, and the only reason they won't work is because you're too stubborn to let me sacrifice anything for you, even though you're sacrificing everything for me by walking away."
"I'm not sacrificing anything that wasn't already lost the moment I showed up at your door in stolen boots and desperate circumstances that made this entire situation inevitable."
"Nothing about this was inevitable except the fact that I've loved you since we were children and will continue loving you long after you've gone and left me to rot in this mausoleum with nothing but memories and the ghost of what we could have been."
The raw pain in his voice almost undid her resolve, but the sound of carriage wheels on gravel reminded her of the immediate crisis.
"Get dressed, Gabriel. Your aunt requires a duke, not a lovesick boy, and the sooner you give her what she requires, the sooner she'll leave us to our remaining days of mutual torture. "
She left before he could respond, though she heard him cursing creatively as she hurried down the servants' stairs to her room, where she could attempt to transform herself into the perfect picture of a professional housekeeper rather than a woman who'd spent the night wrapped around her employer, discussing impossible futures while trying not to give in to the magnetic pull between them that grew stronger with each passing hour.
By the time Clara had made herself presentable and descended to oversee the tea preparations, the invasion was in full force.
Lady Agatha had indeed brought an entire contingent, Lord and Lady Ashworth, who looked like they'd rather be anywhere else; Miss Penelope Ashworth, who appeared to be finding the entire situation amusing; and most surprisingly, a young man who could only be the Oxford-studying brother Miss Ashworth had mentioned at the assembly.
"Miss Whitfield," Lady Agatha's voice cut through the morning room like a blade designed specifically for severing pretensions. "How fortuitous that you're here to oversee the refreshments, as I'm sure His Grace will want everything to be perfect for our discussion of the upcoming betrothal."
Clara's hands stilled on the tea service, though she managed to keep her expression neutral through years of practice hiding her emotions. "I wasn't aware a betrothal was being discussed, my lady, though of course I'll ensure the household provides whatever hospitality His Grace requires."
"Oh, it's not being discussed so much as finalized, assuming Gabriel can be brought to see reason about his future and the necessity of securing the succession with an appropriate bride who understands the responsibilities of her position," Lady Agatha replied, her tone suggesting that Clara was decidedly not such a person, not that anyone was implying she might be.
"How efficient of you to have planned His Grace's entire future without the inconvenience of consulting him about his preferences," Clara said mildly, arranging the lemon cakes with mathematical precision while internally calculating how much arsenic would be required to eliminate the entire room It was not that she was seriously contemplating so grave a crime as murder, but the mere theoretical exercise of the matter offered a surprising and most agreeable solace.
"His preferences are irrelevant when weighed against his duties to his title and the estate that has been in the Hale family for three hundred years," Lord Ashworth interjected, apparently feeling the need to assert his presence in the discussion.
"A man in the duke's position cannot afford to indulge personal whims when the succession is at stake. "
"How fascinating that you've taken such an interest in His Grace's succession, Lord Ashworth, though one might wonder if that interest is purely altruistic or if perhaps there are other considerations at play," Clara observed, noting the way the man's face flushed at the implication.
"Are you suggesting something improper, Miss Whitfield?" Lady Ashworth's voice could have frozen fire, though Clara noticed Miss Penelope hiding a smile behind her teacup.
"I'm suggesting nothing at all, my lady, merely observing that His Grace's matrimonial prospects seem to have attracted an unusual level of attention from parties who might benefit from an alliance with the Ashbourne estate."
“Hold! This matter is settled, Miss Whitfield," Lady Agatha commanded, though before she could continue, Gabriel appeared in the doorway looking like thunder personified in perfectly tailored morning clothes that did nothing to soften the danger radiating from every line of his body.
"Aunt Agatha, what an unexpected pleasure to find you've brought an entire delegation to my home without the courtesy of advance notice, though I suppose common manners are suspended when one is on a mission to arrange someone else's life without their consent," he said, entering the room with the controlled grace of a predator surveying prey.
"Don't be dramatic, Gabriel. I sent word yesterday that we would be calling today to discuss the arrangements for your courtship with Penelope."
"You sent word that you would be calling, not that you would be staging what appears to be a full military invasion complete with reinforcements and what I can only assume is a prepared contract somewhere in Lord Ashworth's coat pocket, judging by the way he keeps touching it like a talisman against rational thought. "
Lord Ashworth's hand dropped from his pocket guiltily. "Your Grace, we merely thought it prudent to discuss the terms of the arrangement in a businesslike manner, as befits a union between two such prominent families."
"A union that hasn't been agreed to by either of the principal parties involved, unless Miss Ashworth has suddenly developed a passionate desire to be shackled to a scarred recluse with antisocial tendencies and a reputation for sending young ladies into hysterics," Gabriel said, his gaze finding Miss Penelope with something almost like sympathy.
"I haven't developed any such passion, Your Grace, though I do appreciate your concern for my autonomy in this matter, which is more than my own parents have demonstrated," Miss Penelope said clearly, earning shocked looks from her parents and a small smile from her brother.
"Penelope, you forget yourself," Lady Ashworth hissed, but her daughter continued undeterred.
"I forget nothing, Mother, including the fact that I'm being bartered like livestock to secure a connection that will benefit Father's political ambitions and your social climbing, neither of which takes into account my preferences or His Grace's obvious attachment to someone else entirely."
The room went silent except for the sound of Clara very carefully setting down the teapot before she dropped it.
"I don't know what you're implying, young lady, but…" Lord Ashworth began, but Gabriel cut him off with a gesture.
"Miss Ashworth is implying, correctly, that I have no intention of entering into matrimony with her regardless of what machinations you've all arranged amongst yourselves, because as she's observed with remarkable perception for someone her age, my affections are otherwise engaged, permanently and irrevocably. "
"Your affections are irrelevant," Lady Agatha said coldly. "Your duty…"
"My duty is to live my life according to my own conscience and desires, not to sacrifice my happiness on the altar of your expectations," Gabriel interrupted, moving to stand near Clara in a way that was probably meant to be subtle but was about as subtle as a declaration of war.
"I've done my duty…I went to war, I nearly died for Crown and country, I came back scarred and broken and tried to rebuild some semblance of a life from the wreckage, and if that life doesn't meet your exacting standards for ducal behavior, then that's your disappointment to bear, not my burden to carry. "
"You're being ridiculous, Gabriel. No one is asking you to sacrifice your happiness, merely to consider your responsibilities to your family name and legacy," Lady Agatha argued, though Clara noticed her eyes kept flicking between Gabriel and herself with increasing suspicion.
"My family name can rot for all I care, and as for legacy, what legacy is worth preserving if it requires me to live a lie, wedded to someone I don't love while the woman I do love is forced to leave because society deems her inappropriate for my attention?"
The words hung in the air like an explosion waiting for someone to light the fuse. Clara felt every eye in the room turn to her, and she straightened her spine, refusing to cower under their collective scrutiny.
"Your Grace," she said quietly, though her voice carried clearly through the shocked silence, "perhaps this conversation would be better conducted without an audience of household staff who have no place in such personal discussions."
"You're not household staff, Clara, and we both know it, so let's dispense with that particular fiction since apparently we're being honest about everyone's motivations today," Gabriel said, his use of her first name causing several sharp intakes of breath around the room.
"Gabriel," Lady Agatha's voice had gone dangerously quiet, "are you actually suggesting that you're involved with your housekeeper in some capacity beyond the professional?"
"I'm stating outright that I'm in love with her, have been since we were children playing in the garden before you and Father decided she wasn't suitable company for a future duke, and will continue to be long after you've attempted to force me into a matrimony I neither want nor need."
"This is insanity," Lord Ashworth sputtered, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. "You can't seriously be considering throwing away an advantageous matrimony for some servant girl with no family, no connections, nothing to offer but…"