Chapter 21 #2
She did not look back at him as she walked away, though she was acutely aware of his gaze following her.
Only when she reached the corridor did she finally allow herself to breathe properly again.
Behind her, she heard no further comment, only the faint sound of his retreating steps in the opposite direction.
And yet, despite the argument, despite the soaked dress and the sharp words, Amelia found herself thinking not about anger but about the way he had carried her without hesitation, which, she decided firmly, was far more troubling than the brook itself.
Gabriel had not expected the arrival of his aunt to feel like the beginning of a siege, yet that was precisely how Lady Provie made her entrance into Anderton Manor.
The carriage wheels had barely stopped before she was stepping down with brisk efficiency, her posture immaculate despite the long journey.
She was a woman who looked as though inconvenience offended her personally, and she carried herself with the authority of someone who believed the world should have adjusted itself in advance of her arrival.
Gabriel stood in the foyer as she swept inside, already prepared for trouble.
“Gabriel,” Lady Provie said at once, removing her gloves with sharp, precise movements. “Tell me this is not true.”
He inclined his head politely. “Good afternoon, Aunt.”
She did not bother responding to the pleasantry. Instead, she looked around the foyer as though it had personally disappointed her. “A ball,” she continued, her tone sharpening with every syllable, “for a runaway governess, no less. Have you taken leave of your senses?”
Gabriel blinked once, slow and controlled. “I beg your pardon?”
Lady Provie tilted her head, lips tightening in disapproval. “Do not play innocent with me, Gabriel. London is talking. A duke’s household harboring a lady who fled her betrothed. A scandalous little arrangement, and now, you are hosting entertainment in her honor.”
For a moment, Gabriel did not respond. The words landed too cleanly, too precisely, as though someone had taken something private and dragged it into the open daylight.
Amelia’s name spoken like that, in the context of gossip and speculation, created an irritation in his chest that he did not immediately recognize.
“That is not what the ball is for,” he said at last, his voice clipped. “It is for Valerie’s debut preparations. Miss Shirley is not the subject of any celebration.”
Lady Provie raised one brow. “That is not what I have heard.”
Of course, it was not, Gabriel thought grimly. Nothing ever arrived in London intact; it always came distorted, sharpened into something more entertaining than accurate. He exhaled slowly through his nose, resisting the urge to rub at his temples.
“Tea in the parlor,” he instructed a passing servant. “My aunt has had a long journey.”
Lady Provie turned her head slightly. “How thoughtful.”
Gabriel did not rise to the tone. “It is called basic hospitality.”
She followed him into the parlor with unhurried confidence, as though she owned the house already and was simply inspecting it. Gabriel gestured for her to sit, then took his own seat opposite, watching as she adjusted herself with practiced elegance.
A tray was brought in moments later, and he poured the tea himself, handing her a cup without comment.
“You are more domesticated than I remember,” Lady Provie remarked, accepting the cup.
“I have a household to run.”
“So I see,” she replied, though the emphasis suggested she was not impressed by his methods of doing so. “Tell me about this governess. Miss Shirley.”
Gabriel’s jaw tightened slightly. “You will meet her at dinner.”
Lady Provie took a measured sip of tea. “No, I would prefer to meet her now.”
He set his cup down more firmly than necessary. “She is currently occupied.”
“With what?”
“Teaching David,” he said.
A pause. Then Lady Provie’s mouth curved faintly. “How charming. Though I suppose that depends on whether the teaching is effective.”
Gabriel exhaled slowly, his patience already thinning. “She is competent.”
“That is not what I asked.”
He leaned back slightly, studying her. “And I believe I have answered sufficiently.”
Lady Provie set her cup down with deliberate care. “Gabriel, I have traveled a considerable distance. I do not intend to be told I must wait until dinner to see a woman whose name is already circulating through half of London.”
“Then perhaps London should concern itself with more meaningful pursuits,” he replied dryly.
“London never does,” she said, “ which is precisely why one must take caution.”
Gabriel rose from his chair, moving toward the mantel as though distance might improve his mood. “She is not a scandal, Aunt. She is employed here.”
Lady Provie’s gaze followed him with sharp interest. “A runaway lady does not simply become ‘employed’ in an unmarried duke’s household without consequence.”
He turned slightly. “She has proven to be a fine governess.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“Is it?” he asked coolly.
Lady Provie tilted her head again. “Of course, it is. Perception is everything.”
He let out a faint, humorless breath. “Then I am fortunate I do not live my life by the perception of the wagging tongues of London.”
“And yet here you are, hosting a ball to polish the reputation of your niece while simultaneously sheltering a lady who appears to have left quite the impression on society. Do you not think it will harm Valerie’s reputation to be living in such a home?”
I had not thought of that. She has a point. Blasted.
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “You seem remarkably informed for someone who has only just arrived.”
“I have friends,” she replied simply.
“Unfortunate ones,” he muttered under his breath.
She ignored that entirely. “I want to meet her.”
“You will,” he repeated, “at dinner.”
Lady Provie’s expression sharpened further. “No. I wish to meet her now.”
Gabriel closed his eyes briefly, as though collecting his remaining patience. When he opened them again, his voice was calm but edged. “Miss Shirley is not a display item, Aunt.”
Lady Provie waved a hand dismissively. “Do not be dramatic. I simply wish to assess her.”
“Assess her,” he echoed flatly.
“Yes,” she said. “If she is to remain in your household, I should like to know what sort of influence she is exerting. If she is an unattractive plump woman of many years, then there should be no harm done.”
Gabriel gave her a long, unimpressed look. “She is exerting influence over nothing. She is teaching children arithmetic and trying not to be driven mad by them, and it makes no difference how she looks.”
That, unfortunately, was not the truth.
Lady Provie studied him. “You are defensive.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
“I am not,” he repeated, more firmly.
She smiled faintly, though it contained no warmth. “Then you will have no objection to my meeting her immediately.”
Gabriel stepped back toward the desk, deliberately putting distance between them again.
“You will meet her at dinner, and that is the last time I am going to say so. You are in my household and will abide by my rules, and it does not escape my attention that you have demanded to see the governess but not the children.”
That earned him a faint huff of amusement from his aunt. “Well… I am tired, and the energy of a small child will be too much for me.”
Gabriel’s gaze flickered toward her. “You are tired?”
“I am exhausted,” Lady Provie replied at once.
“You are,” he said. “You have traveled and spent the last ten minutes insulting my household.”
She lifted her chin. “I have enough energy to observe what is necessary.”
“Clearly,” he said dryly, “though apparently not enough to greet your relations.”
Her expression tightened. “Do not be absurd, Gabriel. Of course, I intend to see the children.” Lady Provie exhaled sharply. “Perhaps after I have rested.”
He watched her closely, noting the contradiction with mild irritation. She had the energy to dissect his choices with surgical precision, but apparently not enough to engage with the children.
“Excellent,” he said, turning away. “I shall inform them of your arrival.”
Lady Provie sipped her tea again. “And Miss Shirley?”
“At dinner,” he repeated firmly.
She did not look pleased, but she did not argue further. As Gabriel left the parlor, he heard her voice behind him, faint but pointed.
“You have changed, Gabriel.”
He paused briefly in the doorway.
“No,” he said evenly. “I have simply acquired more responsibility.”
And more problems.
As he walked down the corridor, his mind did not linger on Lady Provie’s judgment or London’s gossip.
It lingered, inconveniently, on the fact that Amelia Shirley’s name had now reached places it should never have touched.
And on the growing certainty that whatever his aunt intended to do during her visit, it would involve far more disruption than he currently had patience for.