Page 20 of The Gentleman's Confession
“You can be at ease, then, because I am always happy to find someone like-minded—male or female.”
Mrs. Manning entered then and drew their attention to her new drapes, an eggplant purple with gold tassels. Mr. Bentley remarked how they reminded him of his aunt’s drapes, a Lady Billforth who was quite well known for her exquisite decorating. Lady Kellen had mentioned his connections before, but Jemma had not cared too deeply. Mrs. Manning, however, rolled up on her toes with pleasure.
Jemma released a happy sigh under her breath. Everything was going swimmingly.
Until it wasn’t.
When she cast her gaze out the far window, a narrow view in width
but equal in height and perpendicular to the bay one Mrs. Manning stood beneath, she saw something strange.
Black curls rising above a topiary bush.
“Miles?” Jemma said.
Mr. Bentley turned to her. “Pardon?”
“Mi—My what a coincidence that you are related to Lady Billforth. I hear her rooms are the envy of all of London.”
“Then, you have heard of her,” Mr. Bentley said. “You will be surprised to know she is the one who selected the furniture in my own drawing room and had it shipped here for me.”
“How fascinating.” Jemma glanced back to the window, where she no longer saw Miles. She blinked twice. Had she imagined him there?
“If you have never met my aunt, you must come to the house Friday next, for she will be visiting me.” He swung his gaze to Lisette and Mrs. Manning. “All of you should come. We will make a party of it.”
“A party?” Mrs. Manning stopped petting her drapes and clapped her hands. “What a wonderful idea.”
“I didn’t think of it before,” Mr. Bentley said, “but why not? Perhaps you could all help me come up with a guest list.”
“Will there be dancing?” Lisette asked, her gentle eyes hopeful.
“If you could recommend a pianist, I won’t be able to say no.”
“Mrs. Jackson plays very well,” Mrs. Manning offered. “If you approve of the addition to the party. We, of course, adore the family.”
“By all means,” Mr. Bentley said. “I will depend upon your suggestions. Is she related to our vicar?”
“Yes, she is his mother. Her husband is the rector, so she resides on the border of Brookeside, but we see her quite frequently,” Mrs. Manning explained. “I know she will be thrilled to attend the party.”
Jemma’s eyes strayed to the window again, searching for a glimpse of mysterious black hair. Her eyes widened when the head began to creep up again. What on earth? She could imagine any of the Rebels spying, except for Miles. He might be their finest actor without exerting any effort, but he respected Society’s rules more than any of them.
Miles’s eyes appeared, confirming it truly was him, and she watched him scan the room, first taking in Mrs. Manning, Lisette, and then Mr. Bentley. When his gaze met hers, his eyes rounded into a rather guilty pair of dark circles before he darted out of view. Of all the idiotic things to do. Well, she wasn’t goingto let him get away with spying. If he wanted to see Lisette, he needed to be man enough to ring the bell and call on her properly.
She stood without thinking, pulling everyone’s gaze her way. “I, uh, feel a sudden headache. Forgive me, I hope you will excuse me.” With one last glance at the window, she quit the room, not waiting for anyone to respond.
She shut the drawing room door behind her and tiptoed to the much larger front door. She opened it carefully and slipped outside, closing it with the same care. Hurrying down the steps, she turned just as Miles stepped out from behind another topiary bush. They collided, her face hitting him square in the chest.
CHAPTER 10
“Jemma?” His arms were aroundher in an instant, bracing her. “Are you hurt?”
She rubbed her nose. Miles would never forgive himself if he’d broken it, let alone bruised it.
“I ... I am well. Simply confused by your presence. What are you doing here?”
Miles was generally a careful man. He’d merely been struck by an intense wave of curiosity. Or should he say, jealousy? He dropped his arms awkwardly to his side. At least he had an excuse to offer, weak as it was. “You scheduled a lesson with me today, or did you forget?”
She dropped her hand, revealing a slightly pink nose. “I didn’t forget exactly. I had hoped to come see you later.” She squirmed. “Oh, all right, I forgot. I’m sorry, Miles. I didn’t mean to forget, honestly. I was consumed with the idea of redeeming myself from spilling tea all over my dress when Mr. Bentley visited last.”
