Page 15 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
Chapter 4
The following morning, Gemma sat in the morning room, her untouched tea growing cold as she stared out the window. The events of the previous night played over and over in her mind. She could still feel the weight of the shocked stares, still hear the excited whispers that had followed her for the remainder of the evening.
"Miss Sinclair and Lord Brokeshire, alone on the terrace..." "Always thought she was too prim by half..." "Like father, like son, the old Baron was notorious for his conquests..."
Rain pattered against the windowpanes, matching her somber mood. The drab London heavens seemed a fitting backdrop for what promised to be an equally dismal day of reckoning.
She had barely slept, her mind churning with the implications of both the terrace incident and the conversation she had overheard between William and Thorne. Her family faced not one crisis but two, her compromised reputation and William's dangerous entanglement with a man who clearly had nefarious designs on Hawthorne Trading Company, whatever that might be.
The door to the morning room opened, and Gemma turned to find her mother entering, a stack of correspondence clutched in her trembling hands. Helena's face was drawn with worry and poorly concealed anger.
"Good morning, Mama," Gemma said quietly, steeling herself for the impending storm.
Helena placed the letters on the table with deliberate care. "Lady Pembrooke sends her regrets. We are no longer welcome at her garden party next week." Her voice was brittle withsuppressed emotion. "As do the Ashbury’s, the Whitfield’s, and"—she lifted another note—"oh yes, the Hargrove’s. How remarkable that news travels so quickly in this dreadful weather."
Gemma winced. "Mama, I—"
"Do not," Helena cut her off sharply. "Do not tell me again that it was merely a misunderstanding. That explanation might suffice for a naïve country miss, but I raised you in London society. You are fully aware of the implications should one be discovered alone with a gentleman."
"It truly was innocent," Gemma insisted, though she knew the truth of her mother's words. Perception mattered more than reality in the rarefied world of the ton.
Helena sank into a chair, suddenly looking every one of her eight and forty years. "Your father would be so disappointed."
The words struck Gemma like a physical blow. "That is most unjust, Mama."
"Is it?" Helena's eyes glistened with unshed tears. "We have struggled these past two years to maintain our position, to secure a future for this family. Now, in a single evening, you have placed everything at risk."
"I was seeking William," Gemma explained, frustration sharpening her tone. "If anyone has placed our family at risk, it is he. Do you know where our dear brother was last night while I was supposedly compromising our good name? Bartering gossip with Mr. Albert Thorne in exchange for gambling markers!"
Helena gasped. "Lower your voice immediately! The servants will hear."
"Let them hear!" Gemma rose from her chair, years of practiced decorum slipping away in the face of her mother's accusation. "Let all of London hear that while Gemma Sinclair stands accused of impropriety for a chance encounter on aterrace, William Sinclair gambles away our future and sells information to the highest bidder!"
"You go too far," Helena whispered, pressing a handkerchief to her lips.
Gemma’s heart paused momentarily, the rush of anger faded. Her mother was not wrong. Immediately contrite, Gemma knelt beside her mother's chair. "Forgive me, Mama. I spoke in anger. But please understand, I did nothing wrong last night. Lord Brokeshire and I were merely speaking when Lady Montford and her cohort discovered us."
Helena patted Gemma's hand, her anger fading into resignation. "Intention matters little in cases like these, my dear. We live in a world that judges harshly and forgives reluctantly, particularly when it comes to young women." She sighed deeply. "I fear Lord Brokeshire's reputation only compounds the problem. He is known throughout London as—"
"A rake of the first order," Gemma finished dryly. "Yes, I am aware of the baron's reputation."
"Then you understand why this situation is especially delicate. A respectable gentleman might have offered for you immediately, but Lord Brokeshire..." Helena trailed off, leaving the implication hanging in the air between them.
Before Gemma could respond, the door burst open. William strode in, his face flushed with what appeared to be a mixture of anger and fear. His cravat was untied, his hair disheveled, suggesting he had just returned from one of his night-long escapades.
"Is it true?" he demanded without preamble. "Were you discovered alone with Brookfield last night?"
Gemma rose to her feet, squaring her shoulders. "Good morning to you as well, brother."
"Answer the question, Gemma!" William's voice cracked slightly. "Half of London is already talking, and Thorne—" Hestopped abruptly, seeming to realize what he had been about to reveal.
"Yes, I imagine Mr. Thorne would be most interested in this development," Gemma said coolly. "Another piece of gossip for you to trade in exchange for your gambling debts."
William blanched. "You know nothing about it."
"I know enough. I overheard you with him last night, William. He asked about Lord Brokeshire's investments specifically."
Their mother looked between them with growing distress. "What is this? William, what have you done?"
