Chapter Twenty-Five #3
“I shall accept reasonable limitations upon fraudulent counts, dying poets, and men with troubling quantities of velvet and mentions of Vienna.”
“That is an excellent beginning,” Gabriel said.
For the first time in days, the house felt less like a place being emptied than one beginning again.
The knocker sounded.
Conversation stopped. Poppy felt Gabriel’s hand close more securely around hers before Jenkins crossed the foyer with his usual grave efficiency.
A moment later, he admitted Lord Caldermere.
Caldermere entered perfectly dressed, perfectly composed, and only slightly wary when his gaze moved from Poppy’s face to Gabriel’s hand in hers.
“Miss Montfort,” he said, his brows furrowing.
“My lord.” Poppy released Gabriel’s hand. “May I speak with you?”
“Certainly.”
She glanced at Gabriel. He remained where he was, giving her a comforting nod. She led Caldermere into the morning room and left the door half-open.
Gabriel did not move closer. He had promised her choice, and he would honor it.
Still, Caldermere’s voice carried in restrained fragments. “I see.”
Then Poppy’s, clear and steady. “I am grateful for your offer.”
A pause.
Caldermere again. “You understand what you surrender.”
“I do.”
“I hope sentiment proves sufficient compensation for the security you decline.”
Gabriel’s hands tightened at his sides.
Poppy’s answer came without hesitation. “I would surrender far more by accepting it.”
Silence followed.
Then Caldermere’s voice again. “I wish you happiness, Miss Montfort.”
“Thank you, my lord. I wish you the same.”
When they returned to the foyer, Caldermere bowed to Lady Viva, to Gabriel’s father, and finally to Gabriel himself. “Mr. Ashby.”
“My lord.”
For a moment, something cool and assessing passed between them. Then Caldermere inclined his head and departed.
The front door closed behind him.
For a moment, no one spoke. Then, Lady Viva exhaled. “Handsome man. But with a manner rather like a dining room one is afraid to sit in.”
Gabriel looked at Poppy. Had just heard her hand back a fortune, a title, and a perfectly respectable future, all because she refused to mistake comfort for happiness.
Awe moved through him so swiftly he had no defense against it.
He would spend the rest of his life trying to deserve the courage of that choice.
Lady Viva clapped her hands. “Now. About the wedding.”
“Small,” Gabriel said.
Lady Viva blinked. “Sweetie, that is a very sad word to say in such a confident tone.”
“As soon as may properly be arranged,” Gabriel added.
“Better. Still insufficiently festive.” Lady Viva tapped her chin.
Poppy leaned against Gabriel. “Mama, we do not have the funds for a grand affair.”
Lady Viva sighed. “I know, darling. I shall endeavor to be restrained.”
Mr. Ashby smiled. “I hope not too severely. The world has quite enough restrained people already.”
Lady Viva laughed and slid her arm through his. “Mr. Ashby, I am so glad to have you back. I’ve missed your faith in me.”
“And I have missed your particular genius for enlivening a room, my lady,” he said with a bow.
Lady Viva gave him a wink. “Well, now that we are to be related, you may find yourself called upon to witness it with some regularity.”
The knocker sounded again, and they all looked at one another.
Jenkins paused, gathered what remained of his composure, and crossed the foyer to open the door.
A young messenger stood upon the step, breathing hard, a sealed letter clutched in one hand. “Mr. Gabriel Ashby?” he asked.
Gabriel stepped forward. “Yes.”
The messenger held out the letter. “Sent by express from Lincoln’s Inn, sir. I was instructed to place it directly into your hands and wait in case you wished to send a reply.”
Gabriel accepted the paper. His clerk must have told the messenger he was here.
The seal belonged to a firm he knew by reputation but with which Ashby and Son had never conducted business. Beneath the name of the firm, written in a clerk’s precise hand, were the words: Private and urgent.
His father came to stand beside him.
Gabriel broke the seal.
The message inside was brief.
Messrs. Wetherby, Crane, and Holt requested the immediate attendance of Gabriel and his father at their offices regarding a matter newly arisen from the death of a distant relation and certain documents affecting the Ashby family line.
Gabriel read the sentence twice.
Beside him, his father had gone very still.
Gabriel lowered the letter. “Do you know what this concerns?”
His father looked at the seal. The joy had not left his face entirely, but something else had entered it. Surprise, perhaps. Or recognition. “I had not expected to hear from that firm again,” he said.
Gabriel lifted his brows. “Again?”
His father did not answer.
Across the hall, Poppy watched them, one hand resting lightly against the banister.
The house remained full of trunks, half-packed books, half-chewed green fabric, displaced portraits, and one spaniel nosing his way out from beneath a table.
Nothing appeared to have changed.
Yet Gabriel held the letter in his hand and felt, with sudden certainty, that the day had not finished rearranging his future.