Page 58 of The Hidden Lord
Gabriel ordered a substantial breakfast for both of them, knowing they would need their strength for whatever journey their latest discovery might require. Henri accepted the food with polite thanks but ate in silence, her attention focused entirely on her plate rather than on her husband.
“Henri,” Gabriel said finally, unable to bear the continued tension any longer. “About last night?—”
“There is no need to discuss it,” Henri interrupted, modulating to remain private despite their public setting. “I understand your position quite clearly.”
Gabriel felt a stab of frustration at her formal tone, but pressed forward with the information he needed to share. “Ihave been working on the cave rubbing. I believe I have made some progress in understanding what it is directing us toward.”
Henri looked up from her breakfast with what Gabriel recognized as intellectual interest, though her personal warmth remained notably absent. “And what have you discovered?”
Gabriel noted her firm jaw and lack of affinity with a feeling of destiny closing in on him. He could only hope that solving this mystery would eventually provide an opportunity to address the damage his curtness had inadvertently caused to their fragile partnership. He needed to reopen discourse with her, coax out the lively Henri whom he had admired these past two years, but he was so damned tired.
Being married after a life of solitude was proving difficult for a man like him, and he prayed that when they reached Trenwith Abbey, when this quest was complete, he would find a way to make her happy.
Gabriel pulledout his sketch of the cave carving as he settled back into his seat, spreading it carefully on the table between them. The image showed a window with four glass panes, one of which depicted a reflected woman playing an organ while the others appeared shattered. Henri could see where water damage from their cave exploration had affected some of the delicate details, but the overall design remained clear.
“The trick to uncovering information,” Gabriel said, consulting his notes while speaking, “is conversation.”
“With whom?” Henri asked, despite her irritation with his continued air of aloof competence.
“Why, with everyone, of course!” Gabriel replied, his autocratic tone reminding her of his remonstration on the cliffside. Which made Henri want to shake him.
Gabriel retrieved the deciphered message he had worked out during his sleepless hours. “‘She waits where the grim fell sings. Let thy hands match hers,’” he read aloud. “Combined with the image of the woman at the organ, it seems clear we are looking for a location that combines elevated terrain with some sort of musical connection.”
Henri studied the sketch more carefully, noting how each glass pane contained fragments of music notation, though some had been damaged by the water dripping in the cave. The woman’s reflection in the single intact pane was rendered with remarkable detail, her hands positioned on what was clearly an organ keyboard.
“Gabriel,” Henri said, her analytical curiosity overcoming her personal resentment, “why are you so eager to uncover these clues? What is driving this investigation beyond simple intellectual interest?”
The question hung in the air between them, and Henri watched Gabriel’s entire demeanor change instantly. His easy confidence evaporated, replaced by the familiar mask of careful control that she had come to recognize as his defensive response to any inquiry about himself. His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, and his attention became focused entirely on finishing his breakfast rather than continuing their conversation.
The silence stretched uncomfortably between them, and Henri felt her own anger beginning to build again. Here was yet another example of Gabriel’s refusal to trust her with anything meaningful about himself, another reminder that despite their marriage and their shared adventures, she remained firmly locked out of his inner world.
“I am sorry,” Henri said finally after the silence stretched too long, though the apology tasted bitter. “I did not mean to pry into matters you prefer to keep to yourself.”
Gabriel looked up from his plate at her words, and Henri caught a glimpse of what might have been regret in his expression before his usual composure reasserted itself.
Henri found herself watching with reluctant fascination as Gabriel rose from their breakfast table and began what she was starting to recognize as his systematic approach to information-gathering. Despite her anger and hurt from the previous evening, she could not help but be impressed by the easy confidence with which he moved through the inn’s common areas, engaging fellow travelers and staff with the same focused charm she had observed throughout their journey.
Gabriel approached the innkeeper first, striking up what appeared to be a casual conversation about local roads and weather conditions. Henri watched him laugh at something the older man said, radiating the kind of approachable warmth that made people want to share their knowledge with him. From there, Gabriel moved to a table of merchants who were breaking their own fast, seamlessly inserting himself into their discussion of travel conditions and local landmarks.
It was masterful, Henri had to admit, even as his skill reminded her painfully of how little of that charm he directed toward her recently. Within the space of twenty minutes, Gabriel had spoken with nearly every person in the common room, each conversation appearing entirely natural and unforced. When he finally returned to their table, Henri could see from his expression that his efforts had yielded useful information.
“Any success?” Henri asked, maintaining the sober tone she had adopted since their return from the cave.
“No one was familiar with a place called grim fell,” Gabriel replied quietly. “However, there is another inn a few milesdown the turnpike called The Grim Shepherd. This innkeeper suggested we might find more knowledgeable locals there.”
Henri nodded her acceptance of this plan. For now, they had a task to see to.
The Grim Shepherd proved to be a smaller, rougher establishment that plainly catered to local farmers and laborers rather than traveling gentlefolk. Gabriel made it clear that he intended to conduct his inquiries alone.
“I will learn more without your feminine presence distracting from my questioning,” Gabriel informed her. “I am accustomed to working alone in such situations.”
Henri felt the familiar sting of dismissal, made worse by Gabriel’s casual assumption that her presence would somehow hinder rather than help their investigation. She settled herself in their carriage to wait, watching through the window as Gabriel disappeared into the inn’s smoky interior, and found herself cataloging yet another slight to add to her growing collection of grievances.
Feminine presence distracting from his questioning,Henri thought bitterly.As though my gender automatically renders me useless in any situation requiring discretion. Uncle Reggie never treated me as though my contributions were inherently less valuable because I happened to be born female.
She was being overly sensitive, she knew it, but it did not stop the doubt that she would ever breach Gabriel’s fortress.
He emerged from the inn soon after, his expression suggesting that his efforts had been more successful than his previous inquiries. Henri waited for him to settle back into the carriage before asking about his discoveries, though she maintained the impersonal tone that had become her default mode of communication with her husband.
