Page 19 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
As the discussion continued, Gemma observed Lord Brokeshire closely. His words flowed with practiced ease, his manner possessed all the confidence of his station, yet there was something in his countenance that gave her pause. Despite his outward calm, she sensed an underlying vulnerability in his demeanour. Something was not as it appeared. She knew it with a certainty that surprised her. There was something in his eyes—a fleeting shadow of emotion she could not quite name—that spoke more of past hurts than present rakishness. This observation only added to her confusion and inner turmoil.
"If I might suggest," Lord Brokeshire said after outlining the generous settlement he proposed, "that you discuss this matter privately as a family. I shall wait upon your convenience for an answer."
William nodded stiffly. "That would be most appropriate. If you would be so good as to remain in the study, my lord, we shall retire to the drawing room to confer."
The family withdrew, leaving Lord Brokeshire to wait alone amongst the leather-bound volumes and hunting prints that adorned William's study. As soon as the door closed behind them, the debate commenced in earnest.
"This is preposterous," William declared, pacing the drawing room with agitated steps. "Lord Brokeshire is known throughout society for his dissolute habits and questionable associations. Would you have our Gemma tied to such a man for the remainder of her days?"
"I am not insensible to his lordship's reputation," Lady Helena replied, her fingers worrying at the lace of her handkerchief. "Yet his fortune is considerable, his title ancient and respected. In light of our present circumstances..." She trailed off, the family's financial straits hanging unspoken in the air between them.
"So we are to barter Gemma's happiness for pecuniary advantage?" William demanded.
"You speak as though I am not present," Gemma finally said, her voice quiet but firm. Both turned to her, seemingly startled by her intervention. "It is my future that hangs in the balance. Ought I not have some voice in its determination?"
William's expression softened. "Of course, sister. Forgive me. What are your thoughts on this unexpected proposal?"
Gemma gazed down at her clasped hands. The thought of entering into matrimony with a man she barely knew, especially one with Lord Brokeshire's reputation, filled her with trepidation. But given the situation that her family faced—their dwindling finances, the whispers already beginning about her ruined reputation, her choices were painfully limited. She had no choice, not truly. Yet, she could not shake the feeling thatthere was more to Lord Brokeshire than his carefully cultivated image suggested.
"I believe," she said at length, measuring each word, "that Lord Brokeshire's offer is both generous and timely. While I cannot claim any great partiality for his lordship, I am not... averse to the match."
Lady Helena's eyes widened. "My dear child, are you certain? Matrimony is not a state to be entered into lightly, particularly with a gentleman of such... varied experience."
"I am not unaware of the risks," Gemma replied. "Nor am I ignorant of our circumstances. The scandal of last night’s events cannot be undone. And with Father's debts still unpaid..." She lifted her chin, summoning a resolve she scarcely felt. "I shall accept Lord Brokeshire's proposal."
Meanwhile, Lord Brokeshire stood by the study window, his outward composure belying the tumult of his thoughts. The weight of his carefully constructed façade, the rakish Baron hiding both his business acumen and his wounded heart, pressed heavily upon him. He gazed out at the gas-lit London Street, his mind racing with the implications of his matrimonial proposal.
Mr. Hawthorne's warning echoed in his memory: "Guard that heart of yours, my lord. It has not yet recovered from Lady Caroline's perfidy." Lord Brokeshire's mouth tightened at the recollection. How right his solicitor had been, though Jameson would never admit it aloud. Even as he acknowledged the strategic advantage this matrimonial union, might indeed prove instrumental in thwarting any dastardly plans Sir Thomas may have in store. Nevertheless, he could he could not dismiss the unexpected feelings that Miss Sinclair had stirred within him.
It was a logical step, one that could benefit both his business interests and the Sinclair family. Yet, Lord Brokeshire could not shake the unease that had settled deeply in his chest. For thefirst time in years, his carefully constructed façade felt like a burden rather than a shield.
The sound of the door opening snapped Lord Brokeshire back to the present. He turned to see William enter, his expression a mixture of resignation and wariness. Jameson steeled himself, slipping back into the role of the charming rake with practiced ease.
"Lord Sinclair," he said, offering a slight bow. "I trust you have reached a decision?"
William hesitated, his gaze assessing. "My sister has consented to accept your offer, my lord. With certain conditions regarding the settlement, which we may discuss with our respective solicitors present."
As William began to elaborate, conveying Gemma's acceptance with brotherly protectiveness, Lord Brokeshire felt a slight flicker of emotion ,something he had not allowed himself to feel since Caroline's betrayal—hope, perhaps, or the dangerous beginnings of genuine affection.
"I shall endeavour to be worthy of Miss Sinclair's trust," Jameson said quietly, surprising himself with the sincerity behind the words.
William regarded him with skepticism. "See that you do, my lord. For if you bring my sister unhappiness, neither your title nor your fortune shall shield you from my displeasure."
Lord Brokeshire inclined his head. "Your concern does you credit, Sinclair. Might I... might I speak with Miss Sinclair? With suitable chaperonage, naturally."
William nodded stiffly. "My mother and I shall be present. Come this way."
As they walked toward the drawing room, Lord Brokeshire composed his features into their customary expression of aristocratic indifference. But beneath this carefully maintainedexterior, his heart beat with an urgency that no wager or business venture had ever inspired.
The drawing room door opened, and there she stood—Miss Gemma Sinclair, her complexion pale but her bearing proud. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the masks they both wore slipped, revealing the uncertainty and unexpected hope they each harboured.
Then propriety reasserted itself, and Lord Brokeshire bowed deeply before his future bride.
