Page 14 of The Gentleman's Confession
So why was he stalling now? And why was her threat of blackmail so unnerving to him? The idea of Miles and Lisette was ages old, starting when Miles had rescued Lisette from an ice-skating incident at the upper pond.
Everyone had seen shy Lisette bestow a kiss on the surprised Miles’s cheek. From that day on, there had been a subtle circle drawn around the two of them. At first, Jemma had thought it nothing, but after mistaking Lisette’s journal for her own, Jemma had accidentally discovered her cousin’s deep-seated love for Miles. From then, Jemma, too, could see the line connecting them.
As for Miles’s devotion, she could see it in simple ways. He’d chastised Mortimer Gibb when he’d teased Lisette, dropped off books for her when she’d caught a persistent cold, and hadrequested Lisette’s first dance at her very first ball. There had been other times as well. Dozens of them.
The day the ice had broken at the upper pond all those years ago, the universe had shifted. Jemma and the rest of Brookeside had known from that moment, Miles and Lisette were meant for each other. The uncomfortable memory had never sat well with Jemma. She thought herself an educated woman who read from the same material as the Oxford men, but she knew nothing of fated hearts and why that moment had left hers untouched and alone.
“Jemma?”
“Hmm?” She looked up at Miles and blinked.
“I said, let’s get this over with. I thought you were dying to have this lesson, but apparently, you were woolgathering.”
She unfolded her arms and shifted toward him. “I’m all ears.”
A mixture of disbelief and distrust lined his features. “Yes, well, move to the very end of the bench.”
“What?”
“I don’t want you getting the wrong idea while we are here alone together.”
She clamped down her laugh and shifted over a few inches. “Better?”
“It will have to suffice. Now, where is your paper? You should write down what I say. It might be more profound than any of my sermons, and I will not be tasked to do it twice.”
“I will write the words across my heart, never to be forgotten,” she quipped.
His forehead creased. “If only you would.” He stood suddenly and walked a few steps toward the creek. He rubbed his hand over his dark brows, clearly contemplating what to begin with. “I won’t tell you how to bat your eyelashes or when to simper or tease. If you are looking for lessons in flirtation, you will be quite sorry. I intend to cover subjects of substance.”
“But it will help me capture Mr. Bentley’s heart?”
“That will be entirely up to your application of the lessons.” He peered over his shoulder as if expecting her to argue. When she didn’t, his gaze softened and he said, “Well then, let’s start with the art of conversation.”
Jemma grinned, ready to show how eager she was. “Yes, let’s start there. This happens to be my greatest strength.”
“Is it?” Miles put his hand on his hip, pushing his jacket back and emphasizing his well-tailored waistcoat that had seen better days.
She frowned at it, and not because Miles did not look well in it but because his question confounded her. “I thought it was.”
“Conversation isn’t just about asking the right questions and being informed on a variety of interesting subjects.”
“What else is there?”
Miles covered his laugh with a cough into his hand. “Listening, Jemma. A conversation is an exchange of sharing and listening—an intensely personal dance between two humans who draw past the inhibitions to the heart.”
“I listen plenty,” Jemma defended. “You don’t think I am good at conversation? I am offended.”
He clasped his hands behind his back and grinned. “I never said you did not excel at it.” He paused and raised a brow once again. “You must not have been listening.”
Her scowl deepened, and she retraced the conversation in her head. “Yes, but you implied it.”
He shrugged. “Misunderstandings are easy, are they not? They can make a wedge between a couple and prevent love from blossoming or even kill it completely. I’ve seen it too many times amongst our neighbors, I am sorry to say.”
“Not here in Brookeside,” Jemma argued. “I know my experience is limited to the summers, but everyone loves everyone here.”
He shook his head, his face a little grim. “I wish it were so.”
She tilted her head, noticing for the first time an invisible weight on his shoulders. “You really care about the people here, don’t you?”
