“Oh.” Celia frowned at her mistake in misunderstanding him. “Mother only sent the letters yesterday.”

His gaze turned even sharper as he loomed over her. “Because of my actions in the library?”

Celia broke eye contact first. She picked up the bonnet, fiddling with the ribbons. “No, it wasn’t that,” she finally admitted in a low voice.

Before Gabriel could respond, the parlor door flew open, and Lady Darby breezily floated into the room. Ivy and Sara were directly on her heels, unable to hide their curiosity when they saw Gabriel looming over Celia. He quickly stepped away but not before his position was noted. Lady Darby smiled broadly.

“Celia, my darling, I’ve finalized all the arrangements for moving into a separate room while you recover from your injury,” she said cheerfully.

“Mother, that really is not necessary. I’m positive I will be back to my normal self by tomorrow.”

“Nonsense. It’s for the best and Lady Beatrix’s departure this afternoon meant the extra room is available. I know you’ve not been sleeping very well the past few nights, my dear.” Lady Darby kissed her daughter on the forehead and sat beside her on the divan. She then turned a sunny smile on Gabriel.

“Thank you so much, Mister Rose, for your assistance to my daughter today. I do regret you were forced to walk back to the manor. Celia is an accomplished horsewoman, so I can only reason that in her pain she was unable to control your horse. Thank goodness she suffered no additional harm during her ride back.”

Gabriel bowed at the waist, his own smile benign. “Yes. Thank goodness.”

“You simply must be Celia’s escort at the next evening meal. After her ankle has healed, of course,” Lady Darby said before turning to Ivy. “Lady Ravenswood, would that be possible? I would hate upsetting the seating arrangements, but I’m sure Celia would enjoy the opportunity to become better acquainted with her rescuer.”

Celia choked on her astonishment. What in the world had gotten into her mother?

Celia’s eyes narrowed. Of course. Matchmaking. But why was her mother focusing her efforts on the inappropriate, unattainable Gabriel Rose? There was hardly a good explanation other than she apparently saw something redeeming in the man and was suddenly willing to overlook his lack of title.

“Mother, I’m sure Mister Rose has no interest—”

“Of course, he does!” Lady Darby interrupted with a trill of laughter. She patted Gabriel on the forearm. “You do have an interest, don’t you, Mister Rose?”

Gabriel simply nodded, but it was as effective as an impassioned speech on the floor of Parliament.

“I can certainly arrange it,” Ivy said with a bright smile. “Tomorrow night, if Celia is on the mend.”

Gabriel’s crooked smirk was meant for Celia alone. “I would be delighted.”

Celia roamed the confines of her room later that evening. Mother insisted she remain abed but she refused. The forced inactivity chafed her nerves more than she could have anticipated.