Page 54 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
The carriage ride home was fraught with tension. Gemma sat rigidly, her thoughts a whirlwind of concern for her brother and gratitude towards Jameson. The weight of unspoken words pressed down on them, filling the small space with an almost tangible heaviness.
She stole glances at Jameson, trying to read his expression in the dim light, but his face remained an inscrutable mask. William, too, was silent, his gaze fixed on the darkened streets passing outside the window.
"You'll stay with us tonight," Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence. "It's safer than returning to your lodgings, where Thorne might have men waiting."
William looked up, startled. "I couldn't possibly impose—"
"It's not an imposition," Gemma said firmly. "It's common sense."
"Besides," Jameson added dryly, "we have more than enough room. The advantages of an ancestral home built for entertaining half the ton."
As they arrived at the Brookfield townhouse, Jameson quickly excused himself, citing urgent business that required his immediate attention.
"Jameson will see to everything," Gemma assured William as a footman showed him to a guest chamber. "Try to rest, if you can."
"How can you be so calm?" William asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "After everything I've done—"
"Because you're my brother," she said simply. "And because I believe Jameson when he says he can help."
William searched her face. "You trust him that much?"
The question gave her pause. Did she trust Jameson? The man she had entered into matrimony with out of necessity rather than choice? The man whose true nature remained largely a mystery to her?
"Yes," she realized with faint surprise. "I do."
After seeing William settled, Gemma found herself restless, unable to retire for the night with so many questions unanswered. Unable to let the evening end without expressing her gratitude, Gemma followed the direction Jameson had taken. Her heart pounded as she approached his study, determination overriding her usual reticence.
The door stood slightly ajar, a strip of warm light falling across the darkened hallway. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated, hearing the low murmur of voices from within.
"—cannot believe the audacity," came Christopher's voice, tight with controlled anger. "To threaten your wife's brother so openly—"
"Thorne has always been bold," Jameson replied, his tone measured. "Though this particular gambit suggests desperation rather than confidence."
"And the document William mentioned? Could it be genuine?"
A pause. "Possibly. Though I wonder what Thorne believes he knows about my matrimony that could cause such damage."
"The timing, perhaps," Christopher suggested. "The hasty arrangement, the lack of a formal courtship. You must admit, it has all the hallmarks of a scandal covered by convenience."
"The truth is far more mundane," Jameson said, a hint of weariness in his voice. "A practical arrangement between two consenting parties, nothing more. Why can people not comprehend that I would never wish to sully an innocent woman’s reputation?"
Something in Gemma's chest tightened at his words, though she could hardly fault him for stating the simple truth.
"Nothing more?" Christopher echoed, a note of skepticism in his voice. "Are you quite certain about that, old friend?"
Another pause, longer this time. "What precisely are you implying?"
"Merely that I've seen the way you look at her when you believe no one is watching," Christopher replied mildly. "It bears little resemblance to mere practicality."
Gemma's breath caught in her throat.
"You're imagining things," Jameson said dismissively. "Besides, we have more pressing matters to discuss. The shipment from Barbados—"
Gemma stepped back, unwilling to eavesdrop further. Her cheeks burned with a confusion of emotions—embarrassment at overhearing such a private conversation, and surprise at Christopher's observation.
