Page 41 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Miles,” Paul said as if hearing his inner pleas for a change in subject, “I do believe I saw you when I was out riding today. I wanted to greet you, but you were just stopping at Mr. Reed’s.”
“Yes, you saw correctly.”
“How is he? I was sorry to hear his wife died.”
“He is devastated, as you can imagine. He and his wife shared great affection for each other.” It was heavy to think about it for too long. Would if he could borrow Mr. Reed’s inner strength to drive away his jealousy.
“At least he had happiness for a time,” Lisette said. “Everyone deserves that.” Her gaze met his, and her soft-spoken words permeated through him.
Everyone? It wasn’t the way of things. Happiness was an attitude, and marriage was too often an act of convenience. As a result, one chose to be happy with whatever lot one was given.
He wanted to believe Lisette over Society’s stance.
He was still thinking on her words when dinner was announced. It was far more formal than he’d expected, the couples entering the dining room by rank and sitting in assigned seats with name cards set around the table.
Mr. Bentley mentioned in passing his gratitude for Lady Kellen’s assistance with the placements. Knowing this, Miles frowned when he saw his name card. He was seated between Cassandra and Jemma. Lisette sat farther down, at the end of the table. It wasn’t like Lady Kellen to get something wrong. She had a motive for everything.
He waited while the footman held out Jemma’s chair for her to sit before slipping into his own seat. The air beside him rippled with tension. It meant one thing: Jemma hadn’t forgiven him yet. She proved his gut right when she studiously ignored him through the first course.
“Jemma,” he whispered, putting his glass to his lips. “You cannot ignore me forever.”
Her back went rigid. She chewed her food with slow deliberation. When she swallowed, she finally answered, “Yes, I can.”
He had a sudden urge to goad her until she smiled. “Does that mean you won’t dance with me tonight? I was hoping to ask you for the first set.” He was an idiot bent on suffering, but the invitation had to be made. He couldn’t let her stay mad at him.
“I cannot. I was going to save that dance for—” Her bright-green eyes met his, and she visibly swallowed.
It took him a moment to process what would have been the rest of her answer. “I didn’t think about Mr. Bentley. A later dance would be better.”
She gave a short nod and turned back to her food. She did not seem pleased with accepting him at all, but she had also not seemed capable of refusing. Where Lisette was quick to forgive, Jemma often took coaxing. That she hadn’t guilted him a little longer had to be a good sign. Maybe she had thought on his answer at the pond, and her heart had softened on the matter.
When dinner ended, the footmen pushed the furniture up to the walls in the drawing room to clear the floor for dancing. His mother took a seat at the pianoforte, her fingers trilling out the first notes. The couples began to pair up. Mr. Bentley claimed Jemma’s hand, and they lined up with the others.
Miles committed himself to being patient—to being long-suffering. But something about confessing his feelings about Lisette to Jemma had weakened him. Seeing Jemma and Mr. Bentley’s smiles bending toward each other was too much. He couldn’t stand to see them so near each other, their gazes locked in practice for the rest of their mortality together. Miles turned away, but it was not soon enough. Inside him, a sharp blade formed by years of longing now ran jagged with disappointment as it ripped its way through his heart.
Any small chance he’d had with Jemma had passed long ago.
Raw and bleeding inside, he surmised one thing as he stared blankly at the wall: he had to leave Brookeside. Soon. But fleeing this room was his first priority. His feet moved before he could think twice. In his haste, he stumbled around Lord and Lady Felcroft and mumbled an apology.
Once through the door and in the corridor, he blindly walked until he found an empty room. The library. The safest haven in the house. Sinking onto a chair by the fire, he resisted the urge to throw his fist into the stone mantel. Anger didn’t suit him. It never did him any favors or changed any situation for the better.
He would go to his sister and brother-in-law in Shropshire until a position could be found for him. Throwing his head backinto the cushion, he groaned. How it would pain him to leave his parish. He loved all of them. He loved Brookeside. His family was here. His friends.
But he couldn’t live seeing Jemma asMrs.Bentley forevermore. How could he bear it? He’d turn down her silly lessons and ...
The lessons.
His brow furrowed. Those two little words circulated in his mind like a nondescript answer. The lessons were his last opportunity to be with Jemma. Dare he take advantage of them before he was gone forever? The very idea seemed immoral. She was practically engaged.
Unless she wasn’t.
He sat up in his seat, his mind whirling. He loved Jemma, there was no doubt about it. Could he fight for her? Could he risk Lisette’s heart to recover his own? This question had teased him a thousand times, but this time, it stayed at the forefront of his mind, marinating and burning into his thoughts. He heard in his mind Lisette’s words telling him everyone deserved to be happy.
What if his own happiness mattered as much as the happiness he dearly wanted for his friends? He felt loathsome and selfish to even consider it. He’d devoted his time to caring for others and bringing them joy. Didn’t Lisette deserve to find someone who loved her like he loved Jemma? His eyes widened with the revelation.
Life was more than just keeping others happy. He saw now how merely pleasing others was a careful kind of love that brought a surface level of happiness to him and those around him. It didn’t require him to be vulnerable and lulled him into thinking he was being selfless.
In protecting everyone by keeping his feelings to himself, he could hurt himself—but he could also hurt everyone else too. He couldn’t eliminate anyone’s opportunity for growth, much likehe could not take away those experiences for himself. If he loved his friends, he would want them to develop tenacity, character, and the kind of joy that didn’t always accompany a smile.
