Page 13 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Observing is the correct word. It’s what friends naturally do after a decade or more in each other’s company. Speaking of your journal and this tucked-away bench, I’m not certain why you try to hide everything from the others. Secrets in Brookeside are few and far between.”
“For you, at least.” Miles shifted to one side of the bench and motioned for her to sit beside him.
“My secret wasn’t meant to be kept for long.” She took the seat, smoothing her skirts in front of her. “What about your secrets?”
“I don’t have anything to conceal.” He shifted and looked away.
She narrowed her gaze. “You act terribly suspicious for someone who isn’t hiding something. Do you have arealsecret? I mean, besides being a dedicated journal writer?”
“No, no secret.” He attempted to scratch his neck, but his cravat prevented it.
“Miles Jackson! You might fool someone else with your Rebel acting but not me.” She laughed and shook her head. “At least I know I’m not the only one keeping something from our friends.”
Miles speared her with a glare. “Why are you here again? And where is your chaperone? You’re growing careless. I know the Rebels aren’t strict with this sort of thing when we are together, but our reputations can serve us well. You must try to protect yours better.”
She ignored his concern. “You evaded my question, but I will let it lie for now. And I couldn’t bring a chaperone, as today is our first lesson.”
“A shame you came all this way,” Miles said. “I happen to have a meeting with someone.”
“Indeed you do. Me.”
“I meant a different meeting.” Miles lifted one eyebrow. He could raise it dramatically high into a triangular arch, a skill she had never acquired. After all these years, the ridiculous expression still made her smile.
“I checked your calendar on your desk before coming to find you. I penciled my name in for this hour ... and for next Monday and Wednesday at the same time.”
His shoulders shook in a silent laugh, and he rid himself of the rest of his sandwich, the last of it floating down the stream. “You are tenacious, Jemma Fielding, to say the least.”
“I have to be. How else will I learn a thing about falling in love? I can barely wrap my head around courtship as it is.”
“The last time I gave you lessons, I taught you how to play chess. Do you remember?”
“I beat you in the first game.” She grinned. “I was a natural.”
Miles smirked. “Exactly. You’re a natural in company too. You act like you have never spoken to a man before, but you certainly don’t need me or any silly lessons.”
“But I do need you.” She swiveled so her entire upper body faced him. “Miles, I have flirted before and danced plenty, but this is love we are speaking of. It’s big, grand, and incomprehensible. My parents didn’t raise me. I had no one demonstrating to me how it is done. Most of the year, it was simply Grandmother and me. I know I have my aunt and uncle and all those happily married in Brookeside to look up to, but I feel at such a disadvantage. How do I create such an emotion in another person? How do I create it in myself? I have spent too many years focusing on the inconvenience of the idea. I must change the way I see it.”
Miles sighed. He was looking at her like she was a lost puppy. “Have you tried poetry?”
She folded her arms. “Poetry is wonderful, but it is mostly aboutafterone is in love, not the process. Miles, you will have to humble yourself and start teaching me. In fact, we should start this very minute. I don’t plan to waste my afternoon.” She tapped her fingers on her arm in an exaggerated motion.
He stared at her for a long moment, but she wouldn’t break. The matter was settled. Miles had to be the one to teach her.
He groaned and lifted his hands in the air. “Very well. If I don’t give in, you’ll start threatening blackmail again.”
“I will indeed.”
“Where’s the mercy in your voice? Sadly, I know you too well to question your sincerity.”
She had to bite back her smile. Likely, no one knew her better than he did. Not long after his father died, she’d come to Miles as a young, curious girl and asked him if he believed in heaven. She’d wanted to know about her own parents and wondered ifGrandmother was telling her stories about a made-up world just to make her feel better.
Miles hadn’t teased her for her silly question, but had patiently explained his view on the afterlife. Jemma had returned with another question and then another and had done the same the following summer when she had visited Brookeside, sometimes saving up her thoughts for months at a time, waiting to tell them to Miles. She couldn’t remember many of their conversations now, but somewhere along the line, she’d made him her confidant.
“I can see your smile.” He glared. “Do you take great pleasure in making me suffer?”
“This is what friends do for each other.”
Miles would give in in the end. He was the kind of person who didn’t condemn her for her wild ideas—some of which were not practical for a woman in a man’s world. Miles didn’t always agree with her, but he listened and offered sound judgment. And more, he was quick to offer his help.
