Page 170 of The Wallflower Takes All

“Small,” Gabriel said.

Lady Viva blinked. “Sweetie, that is a very sad word to say in such a confident tone.”

“As soon as may properly be arranged,” Gabriel added.

“Better. Still insufficiently festive.” Lady Viva tapped her chin.

Poppy leaned against Gabriel. “Mama, we do not have the funds for a grand affair.”

Lady Viva sighed. “I know, darling. I shall endeavor to be restrained.”

Mr. Ashby smiled. “I hope not too severely. The world has quite enough restrained people already.”

Lady Viva laughed and slid her arm through his. “Mr. Ashby, I am so glad to have you back. I’ve missed your faith in me.”

“And I have missed your particular genius for enlivening a room, my lady,” he said with a bow.

Lady Viva gave him a wink. “Well, now that we are to be related, you may find yourself called upon to witness it with some regularity.”

The knocker sounded again, and they all looked at one another.

Jenkins paused, gathered what remained of his composure, and crossed the foyer to open the door.

A young messenger stood upon the step, breathing hard, a sealed letter clutched in one hand. “Mr. Gabriel Ashby?” he asked.

Gabriel stepped forward. “Yes.”

The messenger held out the letter. “Sent by express from Lincoln’s Inn, sir. I was instructed to place it directly into your hands and wait in case you wished to send a reply.”

Gabriel accepted the paper. His clerk must have told the messenger he was here.

The seal belonged to a firm he knew by reputation but with which Ashby and Son had never conducted business. Beneath the name of the firm, written in a clerk’s precise hand, were the words: Private and urgent.

His father came to stand beside him.

Gabriel broke the seal.

The message inside was brief.

Messrs. Wetherby, Crane, and Holt requested the immediate attendance of Gabriel and his father at their offices regarding a matter newly arisen from the death of a distant relation and certain documents affecting the Ashby family line.

Gabriel read the sentence twice.

Beside him, his father had gone very still.

Gabriel lowered the letter. “Do you know what this concerns?”

His father looked at the seal. The joy had not left his face entirely, but something else had entered it. Surprise, perhaps. Or recognition. “I had not expected to hear from that firm again,” he said.

Gabriel lifted his brows. “Again?”

His father did not answer.

Across the hall, Poppy watched them, one hand resting lightly against the banister.

The house remained full of trunks, half-packed books, half-chewed green fabric, displaced portraits, and one spaniel nosing his way out from beneath a table.

Nothing appeared to have changed.