Chapter 13
Nora became assistant archivist after eighteen months.
Not because she saved Gabriel.
Because she was good.
She translated old letters no one had touched in decades.
One from my grandfather changed how we understood Alistair.
He had once refused a formal Ashford title himself.
Interesting.
Why?
Pride.
He wanted influence without appearing dependent on our name.
Years later, he resented not having the title he declined.
Human beings are impressive.
We can convert our own choices into grievances with enough time.
Gabriel loved that revelation.
“Please frame it.”
“No.”
“Dining room?”
“No.”
“Above Celeste’s old seat?”
“Absolutely not.”
He laughed.
Nora did too.
The sound stopped me for half a second.
Not jealousy.
Something softer.
I noticed her differently now.
That was dangerous for other reasons.
She still worked within my household structure.
I had power over her career.
Whatever attraction existed stayed mine to manage.
Not hers to solve.
So I did nothing.
Mother would have interfered.
She was dead.
Perhaps mercifully.
Gabriel noticed anyway.
Of course.
“Don’t.”
I looked at him.
“Don’t what?”
“Become an idiot.”
“Useful.”
“She works for you.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
That was the whole conversation.
Months later Nora accepted a role with an independent Ashford historical foundation rather than household employment.
Different reporting.
Different building.
Different authority.
Only then did I allow myself to invite her to dinner.
Not staff dinner.
Dinner.
She stared at me.
“Is this a meeting?”
“No.”
“Work?”
“No.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“You’re very bad at this.”
“I’ve been busy.”
She laughed.
Then said yes.
No grand romance.
No destiny.
May you like
Just dinner.
That felt healthier than every carefully arranged engagement I had ever attended.
