Page 35 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
"Pray, do go then .This house, I assure you, could well do with some enlivenment.
“Go along then. Heaven knows this house could use a little animation.”
Gemma allowed herself to be led out by Jameson, her hand warm in his. As the door closed behind them, she felt an absurd giddiness rise in her chest. Three days of stiff civility had not prepared her for this sudden… mischief.
The cellar was dim and dusty, lined with ancient bottles in precarious rows. Jameson lit a wall sconce and the glow illuminated floating motes of dust and cobwebs alike.
“You truly meant to show me the port?” she asked, amused.
“Oh, certainly not,” he said, selecting a dusty bottle at random. “But I thought it might be an acceptable pretext.”
“For what, precisely?”
He held the bottle up to the light. “For stealing a few moments alone with my bride. Unchaperoned.” He glanced at her sideways, boyish and unrepentant.
Gemma arched a brow. “How scandalous.”
“Utterly ruinous,” he agreed. “Imagine what theGazettewould say. ‘Notorious rake elopes, then proceeds tospeakto his wife.’”
She laughed again, the sound ringing through the damp space, resounding off stone and bottles.
“You’re quite different down here than at breakfast,” she said.
He looked at her more seriously now, eyes dark in the flickering light. “It’s easier when my mother isn’t watching every twitch of my eyebrow. Or yours.”
She ducked her head. “Do they twitch?”
“Yours did when I called you ‘Mrs. Brookfield.’ You hate it.”
She hesitated. “It’s not that. I just… don’t quite know who I am yet. Or who I’m meant to be.”
Jameson stepped closer, bottle forgotten. “Well, if it helps,” he said softly, “you’re not alone in the confusion. I’ve been many things, few of them admirable. But this—this matrimony, you—it’s new for me too.”
She looked up at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “You mean to try?”
“I do,” he said, then paused, a slow grin forming. “Though perhaps we might keep that between us for now. I’ve a reputation to uphold, after all.”
Gemma’s smile widened. “Of course. I simply would not do for London to believe that you have lost your edge.”
“I daresay you are correct,” Jameson said at length, his voice softer than she had yet heard it, "we should properly address the elephant promenading through our breakfast room."
"Only one?" Gemma asked with feigned innocence. "I counted at least three."
"Let us begin with the most obvious, then. This matrimonial union …”
"—is not what either of us anticipated for our futures," she finished for him, settling her skirts.
"Yet here we are, bound by law and circumstance."
"Indeed." He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back as he gazed thoughtfully at the walls.
"I should like to propose something, if I may."
Gemma tilted her head, curious. "By all means."
"A truce," he said, turning to face her fully.
"No, more than that, an alliance."
