Page 26 of The Gentleman's Confession
He smiled into his fist. This was Jemma’s fault. “I will write and thank her.”
“Another young miss sent o’er some turpentine. A ’ole gallon o’ it. It ain’t proper for a vicar t’ receive so many presents.”
“I will tell them you said so, Mrs. Purcell.”
His cook shook her head. “I want no part o’ it.”
“At least it was rabbit and not the hard scones with dates in them.”
Mrs. Purcell scrunched her nose. “Aye. Those uns’ll break yer teeth. The Smiths’ cook is poor indeed.”
Miles chuckled and took a large bite of stew. He had to admit, the rabbit was a nice change from the scones.
“’Aven’t ye picked one of these nice young ladies to marry ye yet?”
Miles set down his spoon. “Mrs. Purcell, you must make up your mind. I thought you wanted me to chase them away.”
“The right one would chase the others away for ye,” Mrs. Purcell said, going back to her pot and dipping her spoon back into it.
“Is that right?” How amusing. The only one he knew with such a talent was Jemma. “If I find a girl capable of such a feat, do you think she would be interested in me?”
Mrs. Purcell laughed. “What a question! ’Ow could she resist ye?”
It didn’t matter how—it mattered that she did. Whatever innocent allure that earned him hard scones and turpentine repelled Jemma Fielding. For years, he had been satisfied knowing she had chosen him for one of her dearest friends and confidants. But a friendship no longer seemed enough.
He found himself wondering what being married to Jemma would be like. Usually, he pushed those thoughts away quickly, but they lingered this time. Would she ever sneak into the kitchen with him to eat dinner early? Would she get on wellwith Mrs. Purcell? Would she visit him regularly at the church to make it clear to the other women that he cared solely for her?
He wished he were not seeing her on the morrow to teach her how to love another man. It would be all too enticing to teach her how to fall in love with him instead. Indeed, if she would show a little interest in him, he would not hold back.
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, Jemma hopedto find an uneventful scene at the church. She did not think she was capable of being so creative twice in sending off another entourage, and she did not care to be mean to anyone either. Thankfully, she did not meet a single person on her walk, and the grounds were blessedly empty.
Jemma weaved through the copse of trees just off the dirt path, spotting Miles sitting on the same bench as before, scribbling his thoughts into his little black book.
When Miles noticed her, he snapped his journal shut and set it under his prayer book. Drat. There would be no peeking at his work today. He looked at her with amusement, as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking.
“I see you’ve made our lessons a priority once more.” He stood and smiled.
“And I see you have evaded your many admirers.”
“Touché.” He motioned for her to sit.
She glanced around once more, although she had been careful to make sure she had not been seen or followed, before taking the hard wooden seat. She wasn’t going to ask, but suddenly she blurted, “Did you really promise Miss French a lock of your hair?”
“I made no promise. Some women hear what they want to hear. Speaking of Miss French, I received a gallon of turpentine yesterday to treat my abominably itchy lice.”
“Oh dear.”
“Not to worry. A miracle happened, and I was cured without a single treatment.”
Jemma laughed. “I am happy for you.”
“And I am happy you showed up when you did. I was caught unawares.” Miles’s smile was thanks enough.
In fact, for a moment, she was lost in it and forgot what she was doing. When she remembered, she quickly changed the subject lest he try to thank her again. “I have another reason you will be happy. I completed my homework.”
“I had hoped you would say so. I brought a reward if you were a good pupil.”
