Page 8 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Yes, please,” he replied.
There was no way she could serve tea without exposing herself.
“Lady Kellen, would you assist?” Miles asked. “I think Miss Fielding ought tostay seatedafter her fall.” Clearly, she had not seen the damage of the gown for herself. Was her first impression so important that she must risk her modesty? Or was she so smitten by Mr. Bentley that she was beyond good sense?
Jemma glared at him, and then her eyes widened. “It might be best, Lady Kellen. If you do not mind?”
With no chair by Jemma, Miles took a seat on the end of the same sofa as Mr. Bentley while the tea was served. He collected a cucumber sandwich and shoved it ungratefully into his mouth, repeating a psalm of patience in his mind.
The hour passed uneventfully, with Mr. Bentley’s surprisingly entertaining stories. Jemma laughed too loudly, but she had no reason to stand up and reveal anything untoward, which Miles considered a win.
When Mr. Bentley stood to excuse himself, Miles knew it was time for him to go too. He didn’t care to hear what Jemma thought of Mr. Bentley, nor to be forced to give his own opinion.
Miles spoke quickly. “I ought to take my leave as well. Why don’t I see you out, Mr. Bentley.”
Mr. Bentley nodded, but instead of going to the door, he walked straight to Jemma. Miles jumped on his heel, following him toward her.
“It was a pleasure making your acquaintance, Miss Fielding.” Mr. Bentley looked sideways at Miles, probably wondering why he was hovering so closely.
Miles’s adopted his most contrite look he saved mostly for serious sermons but especially for funerals and dipped his chin.
“As I was saying,” Mr. Bentley continued. “I hope you might accept an invitation to dine at Kensington House with me Thursday night next.”
Jemma’s smile wavered. “I, uh ...”
“Of course Lady Kellen is invited to come, Miss Fielding, as well as your uncle’s family.”
Miles cleared his throat.
“And ... Mr. Jackson”—Mr. Bentley’s smile went tight—“I hope you will join us.”
Jemma met Miles’s gaze, and her smile steadied itself, even grew a little. “I would be happy to come.”
Miles smiled, too, but as a natural consequence of seeing Jemma’s. “As would I.”
“Good.” Mr. Bentley stepped back.
“Come, Miss Fielding,” Lady Kellen said. “You may see me out as well. I have a meeting with Brookeside’s musical club this afternoon, and I must be on my way.”
Both Miles’s and Jemma’s heads came up. The musical club was a guise for when the Matchmaking Mamas met. Nothing good ever came from their meetings. And this time, it was certain Jemma would be the subject of their conversation.
“I ... will see you all out, then.” Jemma gave Miles a meaningful stare.
It was time to play hero. Miles motioned for Mr. Bentley to lead the way. Jemma stepped forward next, and Miles placed himselfdirectly behind her. This near proximity was going to be the death of him.
Mr. Bentley suddenly turned. “What a fine house this is. My compliments to Mrs. Manning.” His gaze caught on how close Miles and Jemma were standing, and his eyes widened a fraction.
Miles kept his face passionless, a definite chore. “Yes, but a mite drafty.”
Jemma’s lips pursed tight in an obvious attempt to not laugh and directed her response to Mr. Bentley. “Thank you. I will certainly pass on your kind praise to my aunt.” Jemma shuffled forward, forcing Miles to shuffle at the same pace.
Jemma owed him. Their friendship had boundaries for a reason.
Somehow, they all made it to the door without another mishap, although it had been an awkward dance, because it appeared as though Jemma did not want Lady Kellen seeing her dress either. Miles hardly dared wonder what Jemma would do next. She wasn’t one to care deeply for other’s opinions of her, but her promise to her grandmother had her on edge and acting out of character. Maybe she did need a lesson or two to help her. For someone naturally confident and beautiful, she was trying much too hard to win the wrong man.
CHAPTER 5
The best and worst partof the town of Brookeside was its small size. The consuming thought bounced in Jemma’s head with every step of her horse. She had made it only until dinner yesterday, the very day she had made Mr. Bentley’s acquaintance, before she had received a written summons to the Dome for a Rebel meeting today. It was signed by Lord Reynolds. She had not even known Ian had returned from the London Season, but it seemed he’d discovered her news upon his arrival.
