his valet from his bedchamber and dismiss him for the night. He went with a respectful bow and a murmured good night.
“He was not happy at being dismissed before he could perform his final duties for the day,” Jessica said after the door closed behind him.
“How can you tell?” Gabriel asked, grinning at her. “I have never known anyone with a more impassive face.”
“One gets to know,” she said, smiling back. “Servants give subtle hints of their true feelings that they fully expect their employers to interpret.”
“I suppose,” he said, “your maid was annoyed with you just now even though she did not even look at you?”
“But of course,” she said. “She did not look at me, Gabriel.”
Oh, it was so lovely to see him smile, to hear him laugh. Smiles and laughter made him look downright handsome as well as younger.
And then both the smile and the laughter were gone, and he cast aside his black domino and strode toward her to remove hers. Both garments landed in a heap on the floor—his customary storage place for clothes as they were removed, it seemed. He caught her up in his arms and held her tightly and wordlessly. It was almost hard to breathe. He held her for a long time until she realized something that threatened to turn her knees to water.
He was weeping.
“Gabriel?” she whispered.
“Oh good God,” he muttered. “Devil take it.”
He released her and turned away from her. He went to stand facing the fireplace, one forearm resting on the mantel.
Jessica picked up their dominoes and set them on one of the chairs at the table where they dined. She leaned back against the table and looked at him. He was drawing deep breaths and releasing them a bit raggedly. Men found it so embarrassing to weep, foolish creatures. Though she was blinking her eyes more than was normally necessary and swallowing several times to quell the gurgle in her throat. She pushed herself up to sit on the table, something she could not recall ever doing before.
He took out his handkerchief, blew his nose, and put it away. And he turned his head to look at her.
“He is my cousin, Jessica,” he said. “Second cousin, to be exact. Philip was my cousin. My uncle Julius was my father’s brother. They are—were, in some cases—my family. And then consider your family.”
Life was rarely fair, was it? She had realized that, probably for the first time, eight years ago, when life as she had known it had been shattered. Yet her family had held firm and prospered. They were always there to lean upon or simply to love.
“You were lonely, Gabriel?” she asked. Oh, surely more than lonely. His father died when he was nine, his mother years before that.
“The world is full of lonely people,” he said, coming toward her. He took hold of a ringlet of hair that was hovering over the corner of her eye and hooked it behind her ear. “It must never be used as an excuse for unhappiness or self-pity. Consider Mary.”
“Your aunt was her sister,” she said. “Were they not close?”
“No,” he said. “My aunt did her duty by taking Mary to Brierley with her after her marriage to my uncle, and he did his duty by giving her a home of her own and making her an allowance. Much can be said for duty. It ought to be done. But it is no substitute for love.”
“Your uncle did his duty by you,” she said.
“Yes.”
“And then,” she said, “you went away and worked hard and found both happiness and love—with your mother’s cousin.”
“Cyrus,” he said. “Yes.”
She felt infinitely sad. She cupped his face with her hands. How cruel it must have seemed when Cyrus died in a senseless accident. “And ultimately duty brought you back to England.”
“And love,” he said. “I love Mary.”
“Yes.” She leaned forward and set her lips softly to his. He did not immediately respond, though he did not draw back his head either.
“And now,” she said, “you love everyone else at Brierley, all those who are suffering from having had Manley Rochford there for a while.”
“I did not know,” he said. “I ought to have. I have been derelict in my duty.”
“But not any longer,” she said. “You must not be hard on yourself, Gabriel. You had duties in Boston too. You dealt with those by leaving your friend in charge, confident that he will carry your legacy forward. Now you will solve this problem. And you