Page 78 of A Sinful Virgin for the Duke

It was rare for Frederick to invite her anywhere directly, let alone to his estate. She was unsure of his reasons, but her heart couldn’t help but race with anticipation. A fluttering desire sparked within her; a wild hope that he might have invited her for something more intimate than tea.

She couldn’t deny the pull she felt towards him, or the way her mind constantly returned to their stolen moments.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought and she was glad for the distraction when Vivian chuckled beside her.

“Well, my dear, is this not unexpected?” Vivian mused, eyeing Gemma knowingly. “Frederick is not one to extend invitations so casually. I wonder what he is up to.”

Gemma shrugged, keeping her voice casual. “Perhaps he is finally becoming more sociable?”

Vivian’s chuckle deepened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Sociable? I daresay my grandson would never pursue that for himself. No, I suspect his motives lie closer to home.” She gave Gemma a pointed look. “Ever since you arrived, Gemma, there has been something different about him.”

Gemma let out a small laugh, trying to deflect. “That would be a miracle, Your Grace. I assure you, I have done nothing to change him.”

“Nonsense,” Vivian said firmly, a proud smile on her lips. “You have done more than you realize. The man was practically a ghost before you came along; brooding and distant, without a shred of animation. But now!” She lifted an eyebrow knowingly. “Now he is coming back to life, and that is all thanks to you, my dear.”

Vivian’s words warmed Gemma’s heart, even as a flicker of doubt surfaced. She thought she understood Frederick’s feelings, but his decision to invite her to Blackridge felt strangely formal, as if he was finally allowing her to enter a deeper layer of his life that he had always kept well-guarded. She hoped, foolishly perhaps, that it was a sign of something more.

The carriage finally came to a halt, and as they stepped out, Gemma took in the grand entrance of Blackridge, its austere beauty simultaneously imposing and welcoming.

She felt a small pang of disappointment when she realized Frederick was not there to greet them. But she brushed it aside as she and Vivian made their way indoors, where a footman guided them to the sitting room.

Vivian was as gracious as ever, but Gemma felt a strange sense of foreboding, a tightening in her chest as they reached the door.

The footman held it open for them, and as they stepped inside, Gemma froze. Sitting stiffly on the edge of an armchair, with an expression of unmistakable disdain, was Lady Treston. Next to her was a younger girl, and Gemma wondered if she was Lady Elizabeth—her mother’s second daughter from her marriage to Lord Treston, which Gemma had learned from the gossip sheets that the other oblates smuggled into St. Catherine’s. The girl looked out of place but curious, her gaze flitting nervously between Gemma and their mother.

The air felt thick and cold. Gemma’s heart dropped as she realized the truth. Frederick had contacted her mother without her knowledge or consent.

“Gemma?” Lady Treston’s voice cut sharply through the silence.

She looked Gemma over with a critical eye, her gaze as indifferent as it had been sixteen years ago, as though Gemma was a complete stranger to her.

“Yes, Mother,” Gemma replied, keeping her tone rigid and formal. She felt her back straighten and her heart harden.

Lady Treston’s brow creased with barely concealed contempt, as though she had been brought here under duress. Beside her, Lady Elizabeth started to rise, her expression one of genuine warmth, but as she took a step towards Gemma, Lady Treston’s hand shot out, gripping her daughter’s wrist firmly.

“Stay where you are, Elizabeth,” Lady Treston commanded, her voice low and firm. She looked at Gemma with something akin to disdain, as though afraid that her younger daughter might somehow be tainted by her proximity.

Gemma felt the weight of her mother’s rejection settle over her like a cold shroud, but she masked it with a calm, unreadable expression, her eyes locked onto Lady Treston’s. “I did not realize I would have the pleasure of family company,” she said, her voice controlled, betraying none of the anger and hurt simmering beneath.

From the corner of her eye she saw Frederick enter the room. His gaze met hers, and though he looked resolute, she felt an undeniable spark of betrayal. He had not bothered to warn her, hadn’t even thought to ask if she wanted this. Her anger flared, sharp and piercing.

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Treston,” Frederick said, nodding respectfully to her mother before turning to Elizabeth. “It is a pleasure to see you as well, Lady Elizabeth.”

Lady Treston barely acknowledged him with a nod, her eyes returning to Gemma, scrutinizing her with the same coldnessshe’d always shown. Elizabeth shot Frederick a shy smile, though her gaze quickly darted back to Gemma.

Vivian, always quick to sense unease, placed a gentle hand on Gemma’s arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze, her gaze narrowing slightly at her grandson. “Frederick, I think perhaps some tea would be in order?” Her words held a subtle edge, her smile tight.

Frederick nodded and gestured for them all to sit. Gemma, still tense and unyielding, took a seat across from her mother and half-sister, while Vivian positioned herself between them, a silent pillar of stability.

As they settled, Lady Treston’s gaze moved to Vivian, her voice laced with politeness but edged with contempt. “Thank you for hosting, Your Grace. Though I must admit, I was surprised by the invitation.”

Vivian inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Treston. It is always beneficial for family to be united, do you agree?”

The words seemed to sting Lady Treston and she glanced at Gemma with a faint sneer. “Of course,” she replied icily. “Family is of utmost importance. That is why I had hoped to see my daughter sooner than this.” She shot Gemma a look filled with accusation.

Gemma’s expression hardened, her tone cool and steady. “I wrote to you for years, Mother. Every letter I sent went unanswered.”

Lady Treston pursed her lips, feigning offense. “Circumstances were different then. You know very well that you were placed where you belonged, at St. Catherine’s, where you could grow up properly.”

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