Page 18 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Ah, thank you for noticing.” Mr. Bentley motioned everyone’s attention to the painting. “It is an oil depiction of a sunset overBarbados. I am partial to art, if you have not noticed from the dining room. I brought back as many pieces as I could so I might be surrounded by the brilliant colors I found there.”
“Do tell us another story about your travels,” Jemma pleaded.
Miles nearly glared at her, but Ian’s whisper distracted him from his purpose. “Who is the unlucky lady my mother is foisting on me?”
Miles wanted to watch Jemma’s reactions, not converse with Ian. Under his breath, he blurted the first name he could think of. “Mrs. Fortescue.”
Ian wrinkled his nose. “You’re joking.”
“For seventy-five, she is not so bad on the eyes. Give her a chance.”
Ian snorted, drawing everyone’s attention again. He coughed into his hand. “Forgive me, I’m getting a cold.” With his overly dry sense of humor, no one questioned him.
Jemma did not even bat an eyelash of concern for Ian’s health, for she was too intent on capturing Mr. Bentley’s attention. “What were you saying, Mr. Bentley, about being at the Manning House yesterday?”
“Merely, I am sorry to have missed you,” Mr. Bentley answered. “A good walk, however, is important for one’s health.”
“I do love long walks,” she said. “But I will be certain to be home during calling hours tomorrow if you are inclined to visit again.”
She wasn’t being subtle. Could Miles blame her? There was no reason to play coy when her marriage to Mr. Bentley was inevitable. He stole a glance at Lisette, who sat poised beside her cousin. Glowering, he propped his head on his hand and went back and forth between the two women. Lisette was more somber, like himself, practical, and plenty pretty. Why didshenot make his heart race?
Jemma, on the other hand, acted with certainty, carried a zeal for life about her, and often said and did the unexpected. How many times had he told himself that they were not even compatible?
Along with the differences between the two women, they had similarities enough. Both were loyal, caring, and sympathetic. But only one combination of traits had drawn him in completely from the time they were children. When Jemma had been nine and he not yet thirteen, he had fallen for her for the very first time.
He knew the very day: a warm summer afternoon when he’d thought his life had ended.
With his father dead a year and Miles much too young to work off the mountain of debt left to him, there was no way for his family to keep his newly inherited house. It was time for Miles and his family to say goodbye to Brookeside. The only life he had ever known. The adults gathered in small circles in the garden after Sunday services and whispered about the sorry fortune of his family. Miles and his friends also huddled together, safely hidden behind the church, to have their own discussion of the dreadful news.
Regardless of the circumstances, goodbye would not suffice for Jemma. Even then, she’d visited only in the summers, but no one had minded her and Lisette tagging along with them, not when Jemma’s splendid ideas had kept them all entertained. When she’d discovered his news, it had not mattered that she had spent the least amount of time with Miles out of everyone. She’d declared Miles was not leaving Brookeside nor any member of his family. It had been the first time Miles had seen her passion flare to life.
Jemma had climbed up on the stump she’d been sitting on, her small fists tight, and yelled at their small group. “Look at you, sorry lot, giving up on your friend. You should be ashamedof yourselves. Miles is staying, and that is final!” Those words had been the catalyst behind uniting the others to his cause—that and her brilliant idea of instigating a romance between his mother and the new rector.
Initially, everyone had thought her ridiculous. But her enthusiasm and intractable determination had given them hope, and they’d tried anyway. In the end, his mother had remarried a wonderful man, allowing Miles and her to stay in Brookeside. The whole town had seemed to rally around the project. It had been a fair toss up of who had interfered more in the courtship—them or, believe it or not, the matrons of Brookeside.
When summer had ended and the regretful time had come for Jemma to return home with her grandmother, Miles had been as sorry as she. He’d run all the way to the Mannings’ house in the rain and hid behind an old twisted tree to watch their carriage pull away. He hadn’t wanted her to go. She had given him his life back. But it had been more than gratitude. His adolescent heart had been pricked by the first sensation of love.
Right then, he’d made a decision. He’d lifted his face to the sky, rain drops hitting his skin and chasing down his face, and had vowed to someday marry Jemma Fielding. Neither of them would ever have to leave Brookeside again.
Not two years later, Lisette’s near death had complicated everything.
Jemma turned away from Mr. Bentley’s enthralling conversation just then and met his intense stare. She screwed up her face in confusion and mouthed. “What?”
He shrugged and straightened.
She frowned and went back to listening to Mr. Bentley, but Miles could not look away so easily.
“You’re being obvious,” Ian whispered from beside him.
Miles swiveled his gaze. “Am I?” After all these years, were his feelings finally transparent?
Ian put a hand up to shield his words from the others. “We can’t both hate the idea of another matchmaking conquest by our mothers. If I have to be supportive—and believe me, it’s a real sacrifice—then you do too.”
Miles gave a reluctant nod. He’d be supportive and continue to give romance lessons to Jemma, but he didn’t have to like it. Everyone had a line, and Mr. Bentley was not even aware he was crossing Miles’s. Time, however, would not be something Mr. Bentley robbed him of. They weren’t engaged yet, which meant there was nothing wrong with him seeking Jemma out. Or maybe he wouldn’t have to seek her out at all. Her silly lessons would do the trick. Though the reason for them did not sit well with him, it was an hour alone with her he would not waste. And then he would do right by her and see her married to Mr. Bentley because at least one of them ought to be happy.
CHAPTER 9
Friday came with a lovelyvisit from Mr. Bentley. Jemma had hoped he would come. When he mentioned his appreciation for silk and what a rare luxury it was in the West Indies, well, she’d been so excessively thrilled to find they shared a common love for the fabric that she’d spilled her tea down the front of her favorite calico-print gown.
