Page 48 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Truly?” She had donated gowns for charity before but never delivered any item personally. But a Rebel cause was something she was familiar with. A cause to champion was more soothing to her dampened spirits than even reading ridiculous tidbits in the gossip columns. “I am not certain I can be helpful with the baskets, but I know I could beg our neighbors for donations.”
“I believe you will find both tasks enjoyable. The two are not so dissimilar.”
Perhaps not for him. It was part of his profession to help them. “I have always preferred keeping my anonymity or serving people who do not know me personally. I will be recognized here. Will they think me self-aggrandizing?”
“They will think you are a good and kind person, just like I do. But I won’t force you. If you are not comfortable with the idea, we can make other arrangements.”
She was much more comfortable saying no, but part of her wanted to take on the difficult task and prove she was capable of it. “I will come.”
He smiled. “Why don’t you bring Lisette and maybe even Mrs. Manning, if they are agreeable to our project. These visits must be done properly, with adequate chaperones. We must tamper your Rebel spirit for independence for the betterment of the Greek people.”
She laughed and agreed, feeling lighter than she had all day. “Thank you for cheering me up, Miles.” He had come at the exact moment she’d needed him.
“You are very welcome. By the time we are finished, you will be able to faceMr. Bentleywith confidence.”
Face Mr. Bentley? Her smile froze. How had she forgotten him so quickly? Standing next to Miles, his alluring dimples teasing her, had distracted her completely.
Miles had emphasized the man’s name for a reason. Was he testing her? She focused her attention on the road directly ahead, forcing thoughts of Lisette and greater commitments to be diligent. Shewoulddiscipline her mind.
But it was growing harder by the day. Exhaustingly so.
And Miles’s presence was not helping.
CHAPTER 22
Miles was quite proud ofhis carriage. They were expensive, and for a single man, it was a luxury. Employing enough servants for driving it as well as owning a second horse, however, were not privileges he enjoyed. He did have Sean Beagle—a footman who acted as a groomsman. Sean wasn’t very good at either position, but he agreed to drive the carriage so Miles might escort the ladies on his visits.
The trip was much bumpier than normal and a great deal faster. To Miles’s chagrin, Sean was a mite liberal with the whip, but the women pretended not to notice, chattering on about how excited they were to be helping him.
“I am especially looking forward to gathering funds afterward for the Chios massacre,” Lisette said. “I am removed from the happenings in the world and had no idea.”
Jemma looked out the small carriage window as if she could see the faraway island. “I get upset every time I think about it. So many people brutally killed—even the children. The survivors deserve far more.”
“I agree, but even a small act of kindness can bring comfort.” Lisette met Miles’s gaze. “Thank you for letting us join you, Mr. Jackson.”
The use of his surname sounded strange coming from Lisette, but Mrs. Manning beside him was a stickler for propriety, so he understood the necessity. “You’re very welcome.”
Lisette grinned at him. He waited, as he always did, for her sweet smile to do something to his heart, but like past times, it did not move beyond feelings of friendship.
He glanced at Jemma, who was still gazing out the window, and immediately, a familiar ache in his chest pulled at him. The body and mind were finicky things.
After Mr. Bentley’s party, Miles had agonized over how to outwardly react around Jemma—the only thing he could control. On their walk, being near her had only made him surer of his intentions. He had tried to gauge her feelings for him. They had to both want a relationship for his efforts to make any headway. And though he’d sensed she cared during their dance, for some reason, she’d pretended otherwise on their walk. He wouldn’t force her to accept him. So, reining in his growing emotions, he silently agreed to bide his time. For now, at least.
Until he could convince her heart otherwise.
The carriage rocked to a stop at the Reeds’ cottage first. Mr. Reed was a gentleman of no great means, but he had enough to meet his basic necessities. His girls, on the other hand, had a greater need. They were in want of cheer. Only the day before, a timely donation of two cloth dolls was left on the church doorstep. They were pretty things and in excellent condition.
Miles had seen it happen before in his position as vicar. When someone had need, someone else in the parish seemed divinely led to help. More often than not, it was a small gesture—a warm meal or a visit—just the thing to offer comfort to the downtrodden. Every once in a while, the gesture of kindness came from an unknown party—an earthly angel intent to serve without recognition. Miles wished he could have thanked many generous souls over the years, and this was one of those times.
He reached for the basket of dolls on the carriage floor, admiring the delicately carved wooden features one last time before covering them with a bread cloth. He had a mind to have Jemma deliver them.
When they were all descended from the carriage, he handed her the basket.
“I thought a gentleman always carried everything for the lady,” she teased.
“Not this time. You get to make the first delivery.”
Jemma looked at Lisette and Mrs. Manning for help.
