Page 17 of Alone with a Scarred Earl
She nodded, moving toward the books, trailing a hand lightly across the bindings. He watched her fingers pause over a familiar volume, Gerard’s Herbal, a battered edition that had belonged to his mother. She did not select it. Instead, she glanced toward him.
“You were working,” she said.
Gabriel nodded, raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” he said, fighting a smirk at her gentle bluntness.
She turned to face him fully, glancing slyly at his desk. Normally, a woman poking about in his work would have angered him. But Genevieve, it seemed, was an exception, even with such pressing matters at hand.
“Estate matters?” she asked.
He gave a single nod.
“The northern fields suffered mildew,” he said. “I suspect the drainage failed during spring.”
Genevieve’s eyes widened.
“I should like to see them,” she said. “The fields. When the weather allows.”
Her interest surprised him, though it ought not to. She had spoken of botanical study with more knowledge than many men he had met in academic circles.
“I would be glad to show them to you, if you wish,” he said.
His new wife nodded and smiled again, seeming more relaxed despite the intimacy of their encounter.
“I do,” she said.
A pause stretched between them. Her eyes, though not searching, held his with unusual steadiness.
“I know this arrangement is not what either of us expected,” she said suddenly. “But I appreciate what you have done to make my arrival more comfortable.”
Gabriel nodded, surprised by his bride once more.
“I did not wish you to feel a stranger here,” he said.
She smirked, her eyes sparkling with humor.
“But I am a stranger, am I not?” she asked. The softness of it caught him off guard. “We barely know one another, after all.”
Gabriel chuckled, shaking his head.
“No,” he said. “I suppose we do not.”
There was another silence. The flicker of the lamp painted her face in muted light. He noticed the faint shadows beneath her eyes and the curve of her mouth as she pressed her lips together.
“I never told you what happened,” he said, gesturing to his scars.
She blinked but did not glance away from the ruined side of his face.
“You do not have to,” she said gently. “Not if it is uncomfortable for you.”
Gabriel nodded, but his mind was set.
“I am aware,” he said. “But I believe that I should.”
Genevieve looked as though she wanted to insist that he not do anything he did not wish, but he did not give her the time.
“In the war,” he said, struggling to keep from hiding his face. “There was an ambush in the Spanish hills. There was smoke and flames everywhere, and I was surrounded by the cries of men who had once shared my campfire. Then, the enemy launched artillery at my small camp. It struck me, yet I survived, while men far better than I did not.”
