Page 19 of The Gentleman's Confession
And that had been the end to a visit full of potential. She did not know if she was more upset about her foiled plans or her gown. Part of gaining excitement for the style was wearing it out and about and drawing attention to its uniqueness. She dearly hoped her maid could get the stain out. The dress was certain to be the rage by the next Season, if her charts on fashion trends and notes from a favorite French modiste were correct, so at the very least, the design she’d created would fetch a good price—funds she planned to give to the poor.
Deep down, she knew Mr. Bentley might disapprove if he knew of her business ventures. Indeed, many would frown on her desire to sell or publish her sketches, which was why she employed the false name. But other Rebels had performed far braver acts than this, so wasn’t it right for her to use her talents for a good?
Talents she couldn’t showcase if she continued to be so clumsy. She was not the sort to nervously bumble about. She was pragmatic—steady! The pressure of making the most of this match was going to be her undoing. Fortunately for her, Mr. Bentley had told Mrs. Manning he would come again Monday morning to see the new drapes the servants planned to hanglater that day in the drawing room. Mrs. Manning could be very insistent when she wanted to be.
The weekend crept by slower than the waxing moon. Jemma passed the time sketching and overthinking every painful interaction with Mr. Bentley. When Monday finally dawned, Jemma was eager to try again. She bent over her dressing table and studied her pallor brought on by a relentless case of nerves, and she pinched her cheeks. Wooing a man was not an easy feat.
“For Grandmother,” Jemma reminded herself.
A knock came at her bedchamber door, and then the door opened to reveal Lisette.
“You look lovely today,” Lisette said.
“I look ill, but I thank you for lying and saying otherwise.”
Lisette laughed and shook her head. She perched on the edge of Jemma’s four-poster bed, and Jemma did not have to look in the mirror to know Lisette was examining her. “Are you looking forward to seeing Mr. Bentley again?” she asked.
Jemma pinched her cheeks again for good measure. “I am. He is a good man, don’t you think?”
“In my opinion, he is a very good man. His manners are impeccable, he is an excellent host, and he is handsome enough to hold his own when he stands next to you.”
Jemma sighed. “I forget, you never could see the worst in a person. But I must agree on your assessment of his character. Do you think him Rebel material?”
Lisette gave a dainty shrug. “Time will tell.”
Jemma nodded. “I plan to ask a few more specific questions today. It will be far easier if I can keep from making a fool of myself like I did on Friday at tea.”
“No one thought anything of it. Accidents happen.”
Jemma shook her head. “They don’t happen to me. Not often, at least. I am still mortified. Thank heavens you were there to distract him while I changed.”
“I was happy to do so.”
Another knock sounded on Jemma’s door.
“Come in,” Jemma called.
The housekeeper stuck her head inside. “Mr. Bentley is here, waiting in the drawing room.”
“We will be down when Miss Fielding is ready,” Lisette said. “Please bring up the tea things and some of the leftover cake from dinner.”
“I am ready as I’ll ever be.” Jemma stood and shook out her hands. “Come, Lisette, my destiny awaits.” She wouldn’t disappoint Grandmother—not after all Grandmother had done in life for Jemma.
Mr. Bentley stood when Jemma and Lisette entered the room before Mrs. Manning. They exchanged pleasantries, and Jemma took a seat next to Mr. Bentley on the sofa, a mere foot from him. She caught a whiff of his cologne—a mix of citrus and soap. It did not make her pulse race, but it wasn’t unpleasant either.
“Do you care for politics, Mr. Bentley?” It was not proper drawing room conversation for a lady, but it was high time for her to discover where Mr. Bentley stood.
Mr. Bentley had the grace not to look overly surprised by her question. “I do try to stay apprised of current events and any large-scale matters coming up for vote.”
Lisette bit back a smile, and Jemma plowed forward, knowing it would be far more difficult to pursue the topic once Mrs. Manning joined them. “Any particular issues you are passionate about, Mr. Bentley?”
“Religion, morality, education, and a solid military. I also support the complete abolition of the slave trade. We have made decent headway here in England, but the rest of the British empire has a long way to go.”
Jemma was glad the tea hadn’t arrived yet and her utter surprise did not mean another accident. “How wonderful.How absolutely wonderful.” If she had to marry someone, she preferred his mind be similar to hers. In this, at least, they were attuned!
“Pardon?” Mr. Bentley didn’t understand her enthusiasm, but most did not.
“We share many commonalities, Mr. Bentley. Not many would rejoice in knowing they shared similar opinions to a woman, but I cannot say the same in reverse.”
