Page 20 of Alone with a Scarred Earl
“I imagine the staff would not wish another incident like the one this morning,” she said.
Gabriel shook his head, willing the lingering nervousness to leave him. It was not a concern for his own life. What if Sophia had been on that horse while it thrashed? Or Genevieve? He thought with a start.
“Nor would I,” he said.
She neither fretted nor dismissed the matter but addressed it with the weight it deserved. She was proving herself observant, practical, and unafraid of unpleasant implications. Few women of her station would have stood beside a panicked stallion, let alone watched its master confront the beast without retreat.
He opened his mouth to speak further when a sudden movement to the left caught his notice. The kitchen garden, set off the gravel path, showed early signs of summer’s full promise, such as rows of young vegetables, herbs growing in tight clusters, and flowering vines trailing along the trellises. Amid the neatness, Thomas stood. The gardener held a basket of shears and twine, though he made no use of either. His eyes were fixed on them, and their gazes met.
Gabriel’s spine tensed instinctively. There was nothing overt in the man’s expression, no action to mark him. Yet something about the stillness rang familiar, like the moment before a musket fired or a blade left its sheath. He had seen that manner before, in war-torn fields and shadowed streets. Stillness paired with calculation. A man assessing risk. Measuring angles. Calculating.
Thomas turned back to his work at once, stooping to tend to a row of young leeks with what appeared to be ordinary focus. Yet the seed of unease had planted itself in Gabriel’s thoughts. He said nothing aloud. To speak prematurely would be foolish. The staff had not given him cause for concern until now. Even so, he noted the moment carefully in his mind.
At the terrace steps, Genevieve paused to adjust the cuff of her sleeve. Gabriel extended his arm, and she accepted without ceremony. No coy pretense, no sidelong glance, only a quiet acknowledgment of his presence. She would make a far better partner in this life than he had dared to expect. Would she be able to say the same about him?
Inside the house, the warmth of the morning room greeted them with a soft fragrance. Sunlight touched the polished surfaces and filtered through linen curtains. Sophia stood near the window, arranging lilies in a tall glass vase. Her back remained straight; her movements precise as she considered each stem before securing it.
She turned at the sound of their entry, her expression brightening.
“There you are,” she said. “I had begun to suspect the horse had run away with you.”
Gabriel smirked dryly, shaking his head.
“Nearly,” he said. “The saddle strap failed during the ride. The stallion spooked.”
Sophia’s hands stilled against a pale bloom. Her brows drew inward.
“Is anyone injured?” she asked with concern.
He shook his head quickly.
“No,” he said. “The grooms were quick. The horse was brought back under control. Still, the girth strap gave way without warning. I cannot say yet for sure the reason why.”
Sophia set down the remaining flowers.
“That is no minor failure,” she said.
He shook his head again. He had not meant to alarm his sister, but he could see that she was suspicious.
“No, it is not,” he said.
He did not miss the glance that passed between the women, nor the way Sophia’s fingers curled slightly against the table’s edge. She looked thoughtful, perhaps even wary, but she said nothing further. He stepped back, allowing the ladies their moment. Behind his neutral expression, his thoughts pressed forward with quiet insistence. Whether by malice or mishap, someone had tampered withthe equipment in his stables. And somewhere in the stillness of the kitchen garden, a pair of eyes had observed him as he walked past.
***
The remnants of lunch had scarcely been cleared when the sound of wheels upon gravel drew Sophia’s attention to the window. She caught the glint of sunlight on polished brass fittings and recognized the familiar crest upon the carriage door. Her breath caught.
“James,” she said softly.
Gabriel, already standing, crossed into the entry without a word. Sophia followed slowly, her eyes flickering toward Genevieve, who looked up from her tea with polite curiosity. The new countess, as composed as ever, betrayed nothing save mild interest, though Sophia sensed a keener awareness beneath that calm expression. She had spent little time with her new sister-in-law, but she already held her in considerable esteem.
The footman opened the door just as the carriage rolled to a halt, the horses stamping impatiently. James descended in his usual manner, fluid and precise, but his bearing lacked its customary ease. His face was drawn tight, his mouth set in a line that allowed no room for pleasantries. Even his hat, tucked neatly beneath one arm, appeared more of a shield than a mere accessory.
Gabriel stepped forward, wasting no time as he clasped his friend’s hand firmly.
“Come,” he said softly. “We shall speak in the study.
James gave a curt nod and followed him down the corridor without hesitation. The door closed behind them with quiet finality, leaving the hall unnaturally still.
