Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
The room felt suddenly too large for two people and yet, impossibly, too small for everything left unspoken between them.
Amelia stood very still, her hands folded tightly before her as though she could contain the strange, restless thudding of her heart by sheer will alone. She had not realized silence could have weight until it settled around them now, dense, expectant, almost intimate in its pressure.
Gabriel stood before her. There were shadows beneath his grey eyes, yet he still managed to look handsome.
She forced herself to speak before the silence could betray her.
“You should sit down,” she said softly, tilting her head toward the armchair by the fire. “You look as though you might collapse at any moment.”
A faint shift crossed his expression, something that might once have been amusement but now arrived tired and subdued like a memory of humor rather than the thing itself.
“I am still standing,” Gabriel replied, lifting a hand to loosen his cravat further, as though it had personally offended him.
Amelia stepped a little closer without quite meaning to, drawn by some instinct she had stopped trying to name.
“For now,” she said. “You say that as though it is an achievement. You should rest.”
Then he exhaled, long and controlled, as if deciding something within himself. “I cannot rest yet. There is something that cannot wait until morning.”
The words changed the air instantly. Not loudly, not dramatically, but decisively.
Amelia’s posture shifted at once, her concern sharpening.
“I am listening,” she said gently, though she could already feel the unease tightening in her stomach.
What happened? Is he free? Is he going to tell me he must marry Helen?
“Tell me what happened with Helen,” she said.
At the name, something in Gabriel’s jaw hardened. It was brief, controlled, but unmistakable. When he spoke, his voice remained steady though it carried the weight of having been restrained for too long.
“The magistrate arrested her,” he said, moving slightly closer to her as though even standing still required effort, “for faking her own death. There are… many details. I will explain them later. What matters is that she will never harm us again.”
For a moment, Amelia simply stood there, as if her body needed permission to accept what she had heard.
Relief did not come gently. It arrived all at once, overwhelming and disorienting, like breath returning after being held too long. Her fingers loosened unconsciously at her sides, and she found herself swaying slightly as if the floor had shifted beneath her.
“She is gone?” she asked, quietly, almost cautiously, as though speaking too loudly might undo it.
“She is removed from our lives,” Gabriel corrected, his voice softening. “Permanently.”
Amelia nodded once. Slowly. Carefully. As though acknowledging a truth that her body had not yet learned how to hold.
A pause followed, no longer the fragile silence of uncertainty but something heavier, shaped by survival rather than fear.
Gabriel watched her closely, as if confirming she was still standing.
Then, after a moment that seemed to cost him something, he spoke again.
“There is something else,” he said.
Amelia looked up. “What else?”
He hesitated. Then he stepped closer. Not rushing. Not forcing. Simply closing the distance until the firelight caught them both equally.
“At the ball,” he said more quietly, “I intended to ask you to marry me.”
Amelia blinked once. Then again. She gasped.
“You… what?” she managed, though the words felt inadequate, even as she spoke them.
A faint, self-directed exhale passed through him.
“I thought the children needed you,” Gabriel continued, voice steadier now. “And I believed that alone was enough reason.”
Something in Amelia’s chest tightened, not with fear this time but with the strange, disorienting pull of disappointment.
He wanted to marry me just for the children.
“And now?” she asked though she was not entirely sure she trusted her own voice.
“Now I realize I was wrong,” he said simply, holding her gaze without hesitation.
The world seemed to narrow around that look.
Amelia felt her pulse shift, sharp, uneven, in a way that frightened her more than any uncertainty ever had.
Of course, he realized he was wrong. Why would he marry me?
Gabriel stepped closer again but gently. Carefully. As if every movement had to be chosen.
“I do not want you as a wife who stays out of duty to the children,” he said. “I want you as my wife. Not because they need you. Because I do.”
The words struck something deep and unguarded within her.
Her breath caught, small, involuntary.
“I cannot imagine my life without you,” he admitted, quieter now, as though the admission itself required restraint. “I will protect you, but I will not take your choices from you. That I promise.”
His eyes did not leave hers. “I love you,” he said simply. “I want you to marry me, but only if you choose it freely.”
The silence that followed was no longer uncertain. It was full.
Amelia stared at him, and for the first time, there were no careful thoughts forming in defense. No rehearsed restraint. No arguments with herself.
Only certainty.
“I love you too,” she said softly. Then, almost breathless, she added, “I never intended to leave.”
Something in him loosened at that, something held too tightly for too long. His shoulders dropped. And then the distance between them vanished entirely.
He reached for her carefully, as though she might still disappear, and Amelia stepped into him without fear.
The kiss was not sudden. Not desperate. It was steady, full of everything they had both been forced to hold back for too long, finally allowed to exist without apology.
She felt his warmth flood through her. The kiss was filled with love and sweetness as his lips brushed against hers.
Deep within her, her heart pounded. A light grew inside of her.
When they parted, neither of them moved away quickly.
Gabriel exhaled slowly, like a man remembering he was allowed to breathe again.
“There is so much to plan,” he began, a quiet thread of disbelief in his voice. “The future, the children, arrangements… rules.”
Amelia gently pressed a finger to his lips and smiled.
“Before any of that,” she said, a faint, almost shy smile breaking through, “I need to explain everything to my family.”
He blinked once. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short breath that might have been laughter.
“That can be arranged,” he assured.
And somehow that simplicity, after everything, felt like the most extraordinary thing of all.
He drew her into an embrace then. Amelia closed her eyes against his shoulder.
And for the first time in a very long time, the weight she had been carrying simply… gave way.
Not loudly. Not painfully.
Just finally and completely gone.
I have finally made a choice on my own. And I choose you, Gabriel Warring. Duke of Anderton.
Gabriel did not quite trust the feeling that had settled in his chest.
Relief, yes. That was part of it. A deep, bone-weary easing of tension he had been carrying for days, perhaps longer than that if he was honest with himself. But threaded through it was something sharper, more disorienting.
The knowledge that Amelia had accepted him had not simply resolved a crisis; it had shifted something fundamental in the shape of his life. Anderton Manor, which had once felt like a duty he endured, now felt briefly, impossibly, like family.
Amelia walked beside him as they made their way up the main staircase, her hand lightly brushing the rail.
The house had settled into the night around them.
Candles burned low in their sconces, casting soft gold against the portraits of long-dead Dukes who seemed to watch their progress with indifferent patience.
“You do not have to escort me to my room,” Gabriel murmured, though he did not slow his steps.
Amelia tilted her head up at him, her expression dry with amusement. “I do,” she replied at once. “You look as though you are ready to sleep on the stairs. I am merely ensuring you make it to your bedchamber in one piece.”
Gabriel let out a faint breath that might have been a laugh. “How fortunate I am to have such devoted supervision.”
“How fortunate indeed,” she said, entirely unrepentant.
They turned into the upper corridor, where the silence deepened. Thick carpets softened their footsteps.
“What would I do without you?” he asked before he could temper the thought.
Amelia did not hesitate. “Now you shall never find out.”
That answer struck something unexpectedly warm in him. Not sentimentality exactly. Something steadier. A recognition that he was no longer walking alone through the consequences of his own life.
She is going to be my wife.
As they approached his door, Amelia gave a sudden soft laugh.
Gabriel glanced at her. “What is humorous?”
She lifted her chin toward the threshold ahead. “It appears you have a guest who has been waiting for you.”
Gabriel followed her gaze and stopped.
Curled neatly against the base of his door, as if it had been assigned the task by divine authority, was Shadow. The cat had claimed the space with complete confidence, tail tucked around its paws, eyes half-lidded in patient ownership.
For a moment, Gabriel simply stared.
Then, despite the exhaustion pulling at every muscle in his body, he let out a low laugh. “I suppose I have a guardian.”
Amelia’s smile softened. “You have many.”
Something in that landed more deeply than it should have. Shadow lifted its head as if acknowledging him with solemn approval before standing and stretching leisurely.
Shadow slipped through the moment his door opened, brushing past his boots without ceremony.
Amelia lingered in the corridor, her hands folded loosely before her. The candlelight caught in her blonde hair, turning it to something almost luminous. Gabriel found himself looking at her longer than he meant to. Her blue eyes sparkled.
“Goodnight,” she said softly.
“Goodnight,” he replied and then added after a pause, “I will see you at breakfast.”
Her smile deepened slightly. “You had better.”
Then she turned and walked away. Gabriel watched her go.
He did not move until she reached her own door further down the corridor, pausing only once to glance back.
He exhaled slowly and stepped into his room.
Shadow had already made himself comfortable on the rug as though he had always belonged there. Gabriel closed the door behind him and leaned briefly against it, letting the weight of the day settle fully at last.
Only when he moved toward his wardrobe did he realize how tired he truly was.
Undressing was mechanical; coat, waistcoat, cravat loosened and set aside with less care than usual.
He splashed water on his face and washed his hands of the day.
He pulled on his nightshirt, the fabric cool against skin that still felt too alert to sleep.
Yet exhaustion had its own quiet authority. It would not be denied for long.
As he extinguished the candle beside his bed, darkness softened the room into outlines and shadows.
Gabriel sat on the edge of the mattress for a moment longer than necessary.
Amelia’s voice, her certainty, the feeling of her hand in his- it all lingered like something newly real, not yet fully believed.
He had intended to propose once for duty. For the children. For stability.
Now, he understood that it had only been a fragment of the truth.
He leaned back slightly, staring into the dark ceiling above.
His father would not have handled any of this as he did.
That thought arrived without bitterness now, only clarity. His father would have commanded, controlled, and dismissed inconvenience. He would not have listened. Would not have considered Amelia’s choice. Would not have cared whether love was freely given or taken by force of circumstance.
Gabriel closed his eyes.
That difference mattered. More than he had ever allowed himself to admit.
I am not my father.
And for the first time, that knowledge did not feel like a cage to escape but a path he had already chosen not to walk.
Sleep came then, not gently but decisively, as though his body had finally been granted permission to stop resisting it.
Shadow curled at the foot of the bed, settling into a warm, watchful shape.
And Gabriel, at last, surrendered to rest… and love.