Page 11 of Married to a Scandalous Spinster
Pippa leaned over to kiss her granddaughter's cheek. “Well, my dear. Perhaps fate may work in your favor, and you may find such a gentleman where you least expect it.” She caught the doubting look in Gemma's eye. “Go and find Veronica,” said Pippa. “The poor dear was distraught after your father's performance at dinner. I know she would enjoy your company. The last I saw, she was headed for the music room. I think she planned to cheer herself up at the fortepiano.”
Wyatt watched his grandmother's dog roll across the floor of the sunroom, tiny paws flailing. He raised his eyebrows. “This is what was so important that you interrupted my conversation with Miss Henford? Your dog's ability to roll over?”
The Dowager Duchess wrinkled her nose at him. “You might be alittlemore impressed. I have been trying to teach her that trick for weeks.”
Wyatt raised his eyebrows. “Spectacular. Truly.”
His grandmother whacked him lightly on the arm. “There is no need for that. She has a very small brain. It is quite an achievement for her.”
Wyatt smiled.
“In any case,” the Dowager Duchess sank into an armchair in one corner of the room and tapped a gnarled finger against her chin, “there is something else I wished to speak to you about.”
Wyatt folded his arms. “Let me guess. You are here to convince me to break my betrothal with Miss Henford.”
The Dowager Duchess's eyes sparkled. “You are smarter than you look, boy.”
Wyatt sighed and leaned back against the wall. He could not deny that since overhearing Miss Henford's conversation, he had been beginning to come around to his grandmother's way of thinking. But breaking the betrothal was simply not possible. Not now, so close to the wedding. Besides, he had made it clear to Henrietta that nothing was to change at Larsen Manor.Hopefully, his words with her had put an end to whatever devious plans she had been hatching.
“Do you not think it's time to let this go, Grandmother?” Wyatt said gently. “Our wedding is in two days' time.”
“Exactly,” the Dowager Duchess said. “You still have two days to change your mind. To make the right decision.”
Wyatt rubbed his eyes. He had to admit, the thought was tempting. “Miss Henford is the wife Mother wishes for me,” he said.
The Dowager Duchess snorted. “And what about whatyouwant? Would you not rather spend your life with a wife whose company you enjoy? A wife who makes you feel something?”
Inexplicably, Wyatt found himself thinking of Lady Gemma. Somehow, she had burrowed her way into his thoughts. Had been trying to force her way to the front of his mind ever since they had awoken in bed together, in such a compromising position.
And then, of course, there was the knowledge that something had clearly drawn him toward Gemma Caster last night too. After all, there were plenty of witnesses to their drunken antics. Plenty of people to attest to the fact that he had spent almost the entire evening in her company.
A poetry-writing contest? I have never done such a thing in my life!
In spite of himself, something gnawed inside him, urging him to uncover exactly what it was about the aloof and distant Lady Gemma that had compelled him to do such a thing.
But this was not about Lady Gemma. This was about Miss Henford. And about convincing his grandmother to let her aversion to their marriage go.
“Grandmother,” he said, as warmly as he could manage, “I appreciate your concern. I truly do. But I have made my decision. And I shan't be changing my mind.”
The Dowager Duchess pressed her lips into a thin white line. “Very well. If that is how you feel. But I?—”
“That is how I feel,” Wyatt interrupted. “And that is the end of the matter.” He bent to ruffle the dog's fur. “I don't suppose you've seen Lord Anderson, have you?”I could really use a drink.
Something flickered behind the Dowager Duchess's sharp gray eyes, and for a moment, Wyatt suspected she was about to carry on arguing. But then she flapped a jeweled hand and said, “Oh yes. I saw the Baron enter the music room a few moments ago.”
Wyatt frowned. “The music room?” He was fairly certain Jonah had never set foot in a music room in his life. Still, perhaps he had caught the eye of Miss Gardiner, or another young lady at the party, and gone trailing after her like a lovesick puppy. “Thank you, Grandmother.” He kissed her cheek. “And thank you for your concern.”
Feeling the Dowager Duchess's eyes on him, Wyatt made his way toward the music room at the back of the house. Maybe a drink or two with Jonah was what he needed. After all, the day had been nearly unbearable, what with the discovery of Henrietta's true nature, and these infernal thoughts of Lady Gemma that refused to lie down. With luck, Jonah would have a sorry storyor two about the young ladies he had tried and failed with. Those tales always managed to cheer Wyatt up.
He pushed open the music room door and stepped inside. Like each room in the Henfords' manor, the space was elaborately decorated and spectacularly ugly; a maze of chandeliers and gold-rimmed portraits, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, and windows draped in lush red velvet curtains. A small fortepiano sat against one wall, dwarfed by the frippery of the rest of the room.
A figure was sitting on the bench of the fortepiano, but it most certainly was not Jonah. And that unmoored sensation inside Wyatt intensified, as he took in the sight of Gemma Caster.
“What are you doing here?”
Chapter Seven
“You.” Gemma spat the word out as though it were poison. “What are you doing here?”
