Page 27 of The Baron's Reluctant Bride
And that smile, devoid of mockery or coldness, was unsettlingly warm. She had never kissed a man. She had never wanted to do so. Her entire life had been a careful series of impeccable choices. Reputation was everything. She had taken pride in that restraint, and had worn it like armor.
And yet…she flushed and turned a page, seeing nothing.
Sitting in the, in the sanctuary of his study, Jameson poured brandy into two glasses and handed one to Christopher. The fire hissed softly. Outside, the wind pressed against the windows like a beggar at a feast.
Christopher took his glass with a nod of thanks and settled into the chair opposite. “William was seen at Brook’s last night.”
Jameson arched a brow. “My dear brother-in-law William? What’s he plotting now?”
“He wasn’t alone. Thorne joined him. They were entertaining three of the Harwood investors. Looked rather cozy, from what my source said.”
Jameson swore under his breath, low and clipped. “They’re consolidating.”
Christopher sipped his brandy. “Quite. I daresay they suspect the merger talks. Or at least that something is shifting in our favour.”
Jameson’s jaw tensed. “If they gather enough support, they’ll be in a position to block the expansion entirely. Or worse, undermine our holdings from within.”
“We’ll have to move quickly,” Christopher said, watching him. “You’ll need to stay alert.”
Jameson’s fingers drummed once against the rim of his glass. “I intend to.”
A silence passed but Christopher didn’t look away.
Jameson didn’t respond and Christopher leaned back in his chair, watching. “You are distracted.”
Jameson did not look at him. “Nonsense.”
“You wear that same look you did when Lady Caroline abandoned the match. Only now, there’s less despair and considerably more intrigue.”
Jameson smiled wryly. “This is not the same.”
“No,” Christopher agreed. “Caroline sought admiration. She demanded it. Your new bride, I suspect, would recoil from the notion.”
“She is composed,” Jameson said quietly. “Guarded. She watches the world as though waiting for it to falter.”
“Perhaps she has cause.”
“She likely does.” He drained his glass. “But she is not what I expected.”
“Does that displease you?”
“It unsettles me.” He looked back at the fire, his expression unreadable. “I am used to knowing how a woman will move, what she will say, what she means when she does not say it. But she...”
“She is not a game,” Christopher said, his tone even.
“No,” Jameson agreed, almost to himself. “She is a puzzle.”
Christopher said nothing more. It was not necessary.
***
An hour later, Jameson wandered into the library and stopped short. Gemma was seated in the afternoon light, wholly absorbed in her book, one foot tucked beneath her, curls escaping her chignon.
He cleared his throat and she looked up, startled. "I didn’t hear you."
"Apologies. I didn’t mean to intrude."
She marked her page. "This room doesn’t belong to me."
