“Your Grace, this necklace symbolizes love, a perfect gift for your special lady at home,” her voice carried a hint of inquisition as she displayed the gem necklace.
Gabriel’s expression remained stoic as he shook his head firmly. “I am a widower,” he stated with a tone that brooked no further discussion.
Her initial surprise quickly turned into a sadness that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, my apologies, Your Grace. That is indeed unfortunate.” Annoyingly undeterred, she continued, her tone now laced with subtle curiosity. “However, a man of your station surely cannot live in solitude… Is there a new lady in your life, perhaps?”
Her words hung in the air. Gabriel viewed it as an attempt to probe into his personal affairs.
His silence spoke volumes as he fixed her with a steely look. To his satisfaction, the woman’s confidence faltered under his intense scrutiny, and she fidgeted nervously.
“I… I will take the gem away, Your Gracen” she stammered, realizing her mistake and quickly backtracking. “Please accept my apologies for any offense caused.”
With a hurried gesture, she retrieved the necklace, her earlier boldness now replaced by a heavy unease in the presence of his formidable silent warning.
Gabriel watched her wrap the necklace in silence, feeling a tug on his chest as he stared at the item.
“Stop,” his voice, usually firm and composed, held a hint of hesitation as he suddenly blurted out the word.
The attendant’s hands paused above the paper, his sudden command seeming to catch her off guard. Confusion clouded her features as she inquired, “Your Grace, what do you mean? Is there something amiss?”
Gabriel’s gaze lingered on the gem, its fiery brilliance igniting a spark within him. “Wait a moment,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
As he continued to stare at the jewelry, a vivid image of Evelina materialized in his mind. He envisioned placing it around her neck, his fingers delicately fastening the clasp, the gem resting against her soft, fair skin.
Lost in his reverie, he felt a rush of emotions surge through him, his heart echoing a sound he was unfamiliar with.
“Have you changed your mind, Your Grace? Would you like me to wrap the other necklace too?”
The shop attendant’s voice brought him back to the present. Startled, he refocused on her expectant gaze, her question hanging in the air like a delicate balance waiting to tip.
Panic welled within him. His expression twisted in confusion as he grappled with the conflicting emotions swirling inside him.
“No, you may take it away,” he managed to utter as he motioned for her to resume wrapping the necklace.
As the attendant carefully packaged the item, he felt a surge of unease wash over him. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing his inner turmoil. Despite his initial reluctance, a voice in the back of his head niggled at him, urging him to reconsider his decision.
The idea of gifting Evelina such an extravagant necklace, especially one symbolizing love, seemed inappropriate—a boundary he hesitated to cross. Yet, gratitude for her kindness towards his daughter tugged at his conscience.
Why am I so eager to gift her that necklace?
His thoughts were a whirlwind of conflicting desires and rationalizations. Finally, with a resolute tone that belied the inner turmoil, he made his decision known.
“I’ll buy it,” he declared, his voice firm and commanding.
With a sense of resolve, he completed the purchase, collecting the items before exiting the shop. The implications of his actions lingered in the air like an unspoken confession.
His journey back to his estate was shrouded in a heavy silence. Loneliness, a familiar companion, crept in. As the carriage rolled on, his contemplative gaze drifted out the window.
Would there ever be anything to fill this hole?
Arriving at the estate, he stepped out of the carriage, his footsteps echoing in the quiet morning air. He took a moment to survey his surroundings, a sigh escaping his lips. The early morning sun bathed the estate in a serene light, a stark contrast to his inner turmoil.
As he stepped into the house, he was met by his loyal butler, who stood in the hall, ever ready to assist.
“Good morning, Your Grace. How was your journey?” the butler inquired, his tone a blend of deference and concern, always attuned to the subtle shifts in his master’s moods.
Gabriel offered a faint smile, one that barely reached his eyes. “It was uneventful, thank you for asking,” he replied. “Has Eliza begun her lesson yet, Jenkins?”
“Miss Balfour will be arriving shortly to begin the lesson, Your Grace. She is expected in an hour.”
