Page 9 of The Gentleman's Confession
She had yet to see Tom and Paul and their wives since their return, which meant the Rebels were to be reunited at last. The thought of being surrounded by all her dearest friends warmed her heart. But who had spilled her secret to Ian? Miles wouldn’t have said anything, and not just because of his clerical position, so Ian must have heard it from his mother, Lady Kellen. He had a way of gleaning information when he wanted to.
Despite Jemma’s excitement to be with her friends, she wasn’t ready to face the onslaught of opinions about her choice to marry ... or the method to find said husband. Ignoring the tug of wind at her bonnet, she leaned into her mare and urged her faster, even though it meant losing Lisette somewhere behind her. She wanted to gain enough speed for all her problems to blur into oblivion.
The sun warmed her back when she reached the mounting block at the Dome. She slid off her mare to the block, then jumped to the ground. Despite her hasty finish, she’d taken her time in leaving, and her friends were already inside waiting—except for Lisette, who had not kept pace, as Jemma had predicted, and had yet to arrive. Tying her horse up with the others, Jemma leaned against the slender white posts to wait for Lisette. She untied her bonnet and tipped her head back, daring the sun to leave a map of freckles on her face. The dratted things would be easier to face than a discussion about her decisions.
By the time Lisette arrived and dismounted, Jemma had resigned herself to the inevitability of what was coming.
“That was some bruising ride.” Lisette came up beside Jemma, removing her own bonnet and taming her fair blonde hair before linking their arms together. “You must be eager to hear what the meeting is about. I know I am curious. Miles did not have the least idea either when I saw him early this morning.”
Lisette regularly dropped by her charitable offerings to the church, but everyone knew it was their excuse to see each other.
Jemma touched her own dark hair, realizing it must be a mess too. She forced the brown tresses into submission before giving a guilty nod. “We will know soon enough what Ian has gathered us for.” She stole a glance at the Palladian-style Dome. Was it just her, or were the gray-white pillars a little prison-like in appearance today?
Lisette tugged Jemma through the door. Once inside, they both put their hands over their hearts and curtsied, a recommitment to their rebel pledge to help those in need.
“Please, don’t stand,” Jemma said quickly, grateful the Dome allowed some freedom from the constant social protocols. “You all look terribly comfortable.”
Ian, sitting on his lime-green throne of putrid, as they had called the decrepit chair for years, met her gaze. With his tall form stretched out, he rubbed his chin, his whole expression deeply perplexed.
She quickly broke connection with him. He knew. He definitely knew. Miles was seated next to Paul and his wife, Louisa, onone of two sagging sofas. Paul’s russet hair was combed neatly, but his usual serious demeanor was more relaxed than past years. Louisa had much to do with it. Her heart-shaped face and warm smile could charm anyone into happiness. Jemma met the couple’s smile with one of her own, but Miles’s head was bent over his prayer book and did not lift to greet her. Her cheeks warmed suddenly, remembering his heroic efforts to keep her underthings from being seen.
The heat of his nearness behind her had sent her head into a tailspin. How was she ever going to get married when she couldn’t even handle her dearest friend so near her? Was he as embarrassed as she? He couldn’t even meet her gaze.
She was dying to know his thoughts about Mr. Bentley, too, but it would have to wait a little longer. She tore her eyes away from the top of his curly head and waved at Tom and his wife, Cassandra, who sat together on the sofa opposite the others. Tom appeared merry as ever with his wide grin and mischievous glint in his eyes. Cassandra was much demurer in comparison, with her modestly trimmed dress and elegantly coiffed blonde hair. But underneath her prim appearance was a strong, capable woman who managed better than anyone to keep Tom in line at the same time as their capricious son, Alan, who they’d taken in to raise.
Seeing everyone together was a balm for her soul. For a brief moment, she forgot the reason they were gathered. Until she sat down. She was seated with Lisette on the chairs opposite where Ian sat, completing their makeshift circle. Unfortunately, from this position, it was hard not to meet Ian’s studious gaze.
“Well, Mother Hen?” Tom said, employing Ian’s nickname. “We’re all here now. Did you simply miss us and our meetings, or were you eager to converse about something in particular?”
Ian didn’t look away from Jemma for a second. “Why don’t we let Jemma tell us?”
“Vixen?” Tom whipped his gaze her way. The sharp way he said her nickname made her squirm. “Have you been keeping a secret from us?”
Cassandra nudged her outspoken husband with her elbow. “If she has a secret, there is probably good reason.”
Tom gave an exaggerated wince and rubbed his side. Jemma nearly laughed. Finally, someone had reined in their club’s insufferable tease. He might turn out to be a decent baron after all.
Paul cleared his throat, reminding her that the topic was still at her feet. “Well, it’s not going to be a secret any longer,” Paul said. “The Matchmaking Mamas had a meeting last night, and Ian and I managed to catch the sum of their scheming.”
Good heavens, Paul had his official barrister look about him. He definitely knew too.
“Jemma doesn’t have any secrets,” Lisette said decisively, putting her arm around Jemma’s shoulders. She was a little taller and a few months older and had the tendency to mother Jemma. Which was one of the reasons Jemma hadn’t told her the truth yet.
Lisette continued, her soft voice sweet and soothing. “If our mothers are mixed up in some grand plan to find her a husband, we will have to put the idea to rest at once. No one is more adamant against marriage than Jemma is. Well, except for maybe Ian. And I insist on her being left alone.”
Lisette did not insist on much, so Jemma’s guilt multiplied.
Ian shrugged. “I would say the sameifJemma were still against the idea of marriage.”
“What do you meanif?” Lisette shook her head. “Of course she is.” She squeezed Jemma’s shoulders, giving her a side hug. “We will take care of everything.”
Jemma didn’t cry much, but she was on the verge. She would never intentionally hurt Lisette. Not for the world. Lisette was her hero. The older sister in her life.
“Why not let Jemma answer for herself?” Ian straightened in his seat, his gaze piercing hers. “Whatever you say, there isn’t a wrong answer. I certainly won’t understand it, but you won’t be the first nor the last to cave to the Matchmaking Mamas.”
Jemma swallowed. “I, uh ...” She looked up at Lisette, who let her arm fall away from Jemma’s back. “I am sorry I did not tell you sooner.”
Lisette’s light-blue eyes blinked several times. “Tell me what?”
