Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Amelia walked the estate grounds because she needed distance from her own thoughts, though she was beginning to suspect that distance solved very little when the thoughts simply followed.
The grass was damp beneath her boots, the air carrying the faint scent of late summer blossoms and distant stables.
She folded her arms tightly against herself as she tried to think clearly about the ball, the children, and the uncomfortable fact that her life no longer felt as though it belonged entirely to her.
Again.
Every decision now seemed to lead back to Gabriel in one way or another, which was precisely the problem she refused to name aloud.
The sound of hoofbeats broke through her reverie before she saw him, steady and controlled, as though even a horse beneath him obeyed out of sheer respect.
She lifted her gaze just in time to see Gabriel approaching across the meadow, his dark coat catching the wind as he guided the horse with practiced ease.
He slowed as he neared her, then dismounted in a single fluid motion, landing beside her with a quiet certainty that made her pulse behave disgracefully.
For a moment, he simply looked at her, as though deciding whether her presence here was expected or inconvenient.
“Your Grace,” she said.
“Lady Amelia,” he nodded.
There was a moment of silence as he let the horse wander off to graze, then he stepped alongside her, joining her walk.
“Where have you been?” Amelia asked, clasping her hands together to steady them as he fell into step beside her.
“Dr Hunt,” Gabriel replied, brushing a hand through his hair as though the mention of the physician was explanation enough.
Her brow tightened at once. “Is something wrong? Are you unwell?”
He glanced at her briefly, almost puzzled by the concern. “No. It was a social call.”
Amelia let out a breath she had not realized she was holding. “Oh. Good.” The relief escaped her before she could stop it, and instantly, she wished she could gather it back up and hide it somewhere more dignified. “I mean… of course it is good. I did not mean to imply I was worried.”
Gabriel’s mouth twitched faintly, though whether in amusement or curiosity, she could not tell. They walked on together in silence for a time, the path narrowing as it curved toward the brook that wound through the estate.
Amelia became painfully aware of his presence beside her, the steady rhythm of his steps matching her own in a way that felt entirely too deliberate to be accidental. Every so often, his sleeve brushed hers, and each time it happened, she found herself pretending it had not affected her at all.
“You seem distracted,” Gabriel observed at last, his voice low as he looked ahead rather than at her.
“I am thinking,” she replied carefully, which was not precisely an answer but was close enough to the truth that she hoped it would suffice.
“Dangerous occupation,” he said dryly.
She glanced at him, startled into a small laugh. “I am beginning to suspect you believe all occupations are dangerous unless they involve strict rules and ledgers.”
“That would be a fair assessment.”
They continued walking, the brook now audible ahead of them, water slipping over stone in a quiet, restless rhythm.
Amelia slowed slightly, watching the way the light caught on the surface.
Gabriel matched her pace without comment, which somehow made her more aware of him than if he had spoken.
She wondered, not for the first time, how a man could feel so controlled and yet so impossible to read at the same time.
“You spoke to Dr Hunt,” she said after a pause, unable to let it rest entirely.
“I did.”
“About anything important?” she asked.
His gaze flicked to her then, sharp and brief. “Nothing that concerns you.”
She nodded, though the answer did not settle comfortably. “I am relieved,” she admitted, then immediately regretted it. “Not that I assumed there was cause for concern. I simply…”
“You worry too easily,” he interrupted.
“And you do not worry enough,” she countered before she could stop herself.
A faint exhale of something that might have been amusement escaped him. “Perhaps.”
They reached the brook where the path narrowed further, the ground uneven and softened by moisture.
Amelia stepped carefully, lifting her skirts slightly as she crossed a shallow dip near the edge.
Gabriel moved closer behind her without warning, his presence suddenly too near, his hand hovering as though prepared to steady her should she stumble.
The awareness of him so close behind her sent an unwelcome heat rising to her cheeks.
“I am quite capable of walking,” she said, though her voice sounded weaker than intended.
“I have noticed,” he replied.
She shot him a look over her shoulder, but he was already watching the water instead of her, as though her near-misstep had not required his attention at all. It was infuriating how composed he always appeared, as if nothing in the world could ever disturb him, least of all her.
They walked on again, the brook now running parallel to their path. Amelia tried to focus on anything other than the fact that he was close enough for her to feel the faint warmth of his presence even without touching. Her thoughts, however, had developed a worrying tendency to betray her.
“You are quiet,” Gabriel said suddenly.
“I am listening,” she replied.
“To what?”
“To the water,” she said quickly, though she was fairly certain that was not what she had been doing at all.
They turned a bend where the path narrowed further, roots curling across the earth like grasping fingers.
Amelia stepped forward, distracted for only a second, and felt the ground give way beneath her foot.
There was a brief, breathless moment where she realized she was falling, followed immediately by the shock of cold water as she landed in the brook.
Her gasp echoed sharply as the water soaked through her dress, the shock stealing her breath entirely.
Before she could gather herself, strong arms were already around her, lifting her effortlessly from the water as though she weighed nothing at all.
Gabriel’s grip was firm, unyielding, as he carried her back onto solid ground without hesitation.
“Can you not, for once, remain where you are safely out of danger?” he demanded sharply, his voice carrying more frustration than anger as he looked down at her dripping state.
Amelia, still stunned, blinked up at him. “It was not intentional.”
“It never is,” he muttered, adjusting his hold as though to ensure she was properly balanced in his arms as he cradled her.
“I am perfectly capable of walking,” she insisted, though the indignity of being carried again made the statement sound far less convincing than she intended.
“And yet you keep demonstrating otherwise,” he replied curtly.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You are impossible.”
“And you are constantly in trouble with locked carriages or carriage drivers and now a brook,” he shot back.
“I am not constantly in trouble,” she said with narrowed eyes.
“And now, you will catch a death of cold if we do not get you out of these wet clothes right away,” he said.
He carried her all the way back toward his horse and sat her on the saddle as he moved behind her. He pushed the horse into a trot back to the manor while Amelia endured the indignity of dripping steadily onto his coat.
Servants glanced at them as they approached, though none dared comment aloud, which Amelia considered a small mercy. When they finally reached the entrance, he set her down with careful precision, though not gently enough to suggest forgiveness.
“You will stay away from the brook,” he said.
“I will do no such thing,” she replied, wringing water from her sleeves.
His eyes narrowed. “Amelia.”
“I was not attempting to fall into it.”
“That is not reassuring,” he said.
She lifted her chin. “Perhaps you should build a fence around the entire estate if you are so concerned.”
“Do not tempt me,” he said. “Mrs. Jacobs!” he shouted.
Mrs. Jacobs scurried into the foyer. “Your Grace?” Then shock came over her as she saw Amelia. “Oh, good heavens.”
“Set a hot bath in Miss Shirley’s room and make her hot tea,” he barked.
“Right away, Your Grace,” Mrs. Jacobs said and moved quickly, shouting orders to the servants to boil water and fetch the tub.
Amelia stared at him for a long moment, water still dripping from her hem onto the stone floor.
The air between them felt charged again, but this time, it was sharper, edged with irritation rather than something softer.
Amelia became aware that her heartbeat had not yet returned to normal, though she could not decide whether it was from the fall or from him.
“I do not require constant rescue,” she said quietly.
“You appear to require it frequently,” he replied.
Her expression tightened. “I am not helpless.”
“I did not say you were.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied nothing of the sort,” he said as he peeled off his wet coat and handed it to a servant.
She stepped back slightly, crossing her arms. “You are insufferable when you are like this.”
“And you are reckless,” he said flatly.
“Then perhaps we are perfectly matched in mutual irritation.”
His mouth twitched again, though the expression vanished almost instantly. “Perhaps.”
There was a pause then, heavier than the argument itself, as though neither of them quite knew how to move forward without stepping into something more dangerous than disagreement. Amelia broke it first, turning away as she gathered the last shred of her composure.
“I will go upstairs,” she said stiffly, “before I ruin your entire hallway.”
“An excellent plan,” Gabriel replied.