“Why, there was an entire month I dedicated myself to being the next Sir Francis Chantrey!” Charlotte grimaced, adding after the fact, “I’m… pretty certain the west wing is still coated in a fine layer of pottery dust. But I know for a fact there’s still some of my first few attempts at sculpting around there.”

“Oh, there certainly are,” Gabriel interjected. “I made sure of that.”

Charlotte groaned, falling back into her chair with a whine to her tone. “Oh, they’re positively horrid, Thalia! I tried to make a bust of my brother, and he looks like a frog!”

“A frog?”

“Wide eyes, puffed out cheeks—ooh, I know he’s hidden it away somewhere, and he won’t tell me where it is.” Charlotte’s arms crossed tightly, and she let out a dramatic huff. “One of these days, I’m going to dedicate an entire day—no, a week!—to searching the whole of the manor.”

Thalia tried to cover her laughter with the back of her hand, but failed spectacularly. Gabriel certainly didn’t mind; her laughter was still the greatest sound to his ears. He found himself paying close attention to the dimples of her cheeks, the way her forehead crinkled the wider her smile grew.

“Oh, Robin,” Charlotte suddenly gasped. “I’ve completely neglected you as a hostess! Here I am, going on about myself, and you've been left with only the company of your plate.”

Gabriel’s attention swerved, taking note of the hunched-over young man devouring his fourth helping of sauteed salmon. He swallowed quickly, at least having the courtesy to wipe his mouth before addressing his sister. “That’s quite alright, Lady Charlotte—I’m perfectly content keeping to myself.”

“Certainly not. I would bet my brother didn’t even show you your room during your men’s talk.” Charlotte pushed herself free of her chair, rounding the table and looping her arm through Robin’s. “Gabriel, keep Thalia company, won’t you? I’ll show Robin his room—oh, and maybe we’ll come across one of my horrible vases along the way. It really is a sight to see, Robin, you’ll get a fantastic laugh out of it.”

“It’s considered rude not to let a guest finish what’s on their plate,” Gabriel began.

“Ooh, he doesn’t mind!” Charlotte insisted. “Do you, Robin?”

Robin looked quite disappointed to be leaving the large table of food, though obliged nonetheless. Charlotte’s chattering continued well after the pair had left the dining hall, and Gabriel resisted the urge to groan as it persisted into the depths of the manor. But, much to his delight, Thalia’s laughter quickly filled the space between them.

“And what, pray tell, is so humorous?” he asked.

Thalia quickly took a sip of water, working to calm herself. “Your sister—she certainly isn’t subtle with her attempts, is she?”

It took him a moment, but realization struck Gabriel there and then. Now the groan came willingly, and he pinched the bridge of his nose. “And here I thought she was simply being an eager hostess.”

Again, Thalia chuckled lightly. “Poor Robin; I’ll have to make sure they don’t clear his plate.”

“I apologize if she?—”

“No, really. He’ll manage just fine, I’m sure. Besides, I think it’s very sweet, how eagerly she cares for your future happiness.” Thalia’s attention returned to her plate, fork prodding against her own slice of salmon. An uneasy silence hung between them, and for a moment, Gabriel wondered if he should simply bring up their kiss.

He had thoroughly enjoyed the spontaneity of it all, not daring to believe Thalia would have ever gone along with him. There was something utterly attractive about someone so willingly to go with the motions and he hardly wanted to scare her off by bringing up the topic too soon.

Instead, he turned his attention to his own plate of fish, digging free a forkful of mushrooms before taking a bite.

“So…” Thalia glanced up, seemingly desperate for conversation as well. “Did this fish come from a farm, your Grace?”

It stung Gabriel to hear her still refer to him so properly, or to bring up conversation one might with a passing stranger. Charlotte had so easily convinced Thalia to be casual around her; he would have to ask his sister for her secrets.

He swallowed hard, doing his best to keep his tone neutral and as uninterested as Thalia seemed. “There’s a few lakes and rivers around the property I like to keep stocked with fish. It’s very likely that this was freshly caught today.”

“Really?”

Gabriel’s attention perked; for a topic so mundane, Thalia suddenly sounded intrigued. “Is that so unusual, Miss Sutton?”

Thalia shook her head. “I would have never thought to do that back at Oslay Hall. That would explain the taste—and the herbs? They don’t look like the typical arrangement one might find in a kitchen, and these mushrooms aren’t the common white ones I might use in stew.”

“That’s because they’re all wild,” Gabriel explained.

“All picked on the property as well?”

Gabriel nodded. “My sister may enjoy the organized look of a garden, but I find myself needing something more… untouched by mankind.” He set his fork down, reaching for his glass of wine as he tilted it Thalia’s way. “I sometimes find myself taking a satchel and foraging for what the forest has to offer.”

Thalia looked entirely enamored; it was as if the concept of living directly off the land had never occurred to her. “You mean to tell me you go out and pluck whatever you find in the forest to eat?”