Page 96 of The Wallflower Takes All

Gabriel’s brows drew together. “Of course not.”

“Did she slap you?”

“No.”

“Pity. That would have clarified matters wonderfully.”

Gabriel glared at him.

His father opened the parcel, broke off a corner of seed cake, and took a bite with infuriating calm.

“I told her I could no longer act as her solicitor,” Gabriel said.

His father stopped chewing.

For the first time since he had entered the office, his father looked genuinely startled. The seed cake remained halfway to his mouth, forgotten between his fingers. “You told her that?”

“I had to.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. “Did you?”

Gabriel scrubbed a hand across his chin. “I could hardly pretend nothing had changed.”

“No,” his father said slowly. “I suppose you could not.”

“You will need to take over the matter until Lord Montague arrives and the account is settled.”

His father lowered the seed cake to its paper wrapping. “No.”

Gabriel frowned. “No?”

“No.”

“You cannot mean to refuse. Someone must see the matter through.”

“Yes,” his father replied. “You must.”

“That is impossible,” Gabriel retorted.

“It’s not impossible. Merely uncomfortable.”

Gabriel’s hand tightened around the arm of his chair before he made himself release it.

His father brushed a few crumbs from his fingers. “You have spent years believing my fault was caring too much for the Montforts. It was not. My fault was allowing care to become softness when it ought to have become decision. I excused when I should have advised. I waited when I should have acted. I mistook patience for a plan more than once.”

“Then you understand why I must step away.”

“I understand why you wish to.” His father’s voice gentled, which somehow made it more aggravating. “You think walking away will prove you are different from me.”

“I think walking away is the only honorable course.”

“Honor does not always require retreat, Gabriel. Sometimes it requires staying long enough to repair what one has disturbed.”

Gabriel said nothing. It felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. His father had to see the logic in his request.

“You kissed her,” his father continued. “You told her you could no longer serve her. You left her with less certainty than she had before. Handing off the matter now will spare your pride, perhaps, but it will do nothing for her.” His father studied him for a long moment. “There is another course.”

Gabriel’s hand stilled on the desk. “No.”