Page 27 of The Gentleman's Confession
“For me?”
He dug under his books and pulled out a folded newspaper, handing it to her. “I know Mr. Manning isn’t always free with his paper. I thought you might enjoy your own copy.”
“Would I?” She accepted the paper and unfolded it. “I have been anxious for news of the outside world.”
Miles gave a cheeky grin. “Should we start with the gossip column?”
Her cheeks burned, and she folded the paper again so as not to get distracted from her purpose in coming. “For your information, I read that section when I am upset and need to be reminded of how good my life is.”
“Then, by all means, save it for a dreary day.”
She suppressed a laugh. “I will. Thank you for thinking of me. Most of the adjustments to the Mannings’ household have been smooth, but this has been a comfort I’ve missed.”
He didn’t preen like some would when giving a good gift. His simple, humble nod matched his personality. It was so subtle, in fact, that she wondered if he knew how grateful she was. It might seem like a small gesture to him, but everyone liked to be thought of and remembered. Not many knew she read the gossip column at all—which was perfectly suitable to her—but Miles had noticed. He often saw what no one else did.
“I suppose I have two things to be grateful to you for,” Jemma added. “I also must thank you for saving me from yet another awkward situation with Mr. Bentley.”
Miles folded his arms across his chest, his eyes going to the gray-blue clouds on the horizon. “Did you enjoy your walk to the stables?”
“I did. Mostly. To be honest, it was a bit awkward after coming out from behind the bushes with you.” She couldn’t suppress her giggle. “I don’t suppose it looked very good.”
Miles gave a short laugh. “No, I doubt it did.”
“Well, I thank you just the same. The private moment allowed us to discuss the wedding arrangement properly. We approached it from a business perspective this time—he’s eager to begin his new life in England, and we both know my reasons for a wedding. Once my lessons with you are complete, he will surely see potential for more.”
Miles shifted.
Was he uncomfortable with her sharing such intimate details? If so, then he had to understand how painful it had been for her tolivethrough such a discussion. Especially with a man she barely knew.
“Speaking of lessons,” she said, guiding the subject to safer grounds, “you will be quite proud of what I discovered about my maid’s shawl. I had to repent of my misjudgments, so you know it is a good story.”
He turned to her fully. “Tell me how it went.”
“I planned to buy my maid another shawl, if you remember. After asking her about it, I learned it was her deceased mother’s.” Jemma let her posture droop. “Strange how simply knowing its origin made it no longer offend my sensibilities. I never noticed before, but she has this tender way of wrapping herself in it that reminds me of receiving a hug. The gray shade is a versatile color, too, and perfect for pairing with any gown.”When she looked up, she noticed Miles grinning, his dimples like two inverted buttons. Not for the first time, she wanted to reach out and trace the indents of them. “I am glad you find me amusing.”
“Sometimes. Well done, Jemma. You had a truly heartwarming experience. Perhaps even better, you forged a connection with another person.”
“Thanks to your advice,” Jemma added. “I shall endeavor to produce another experience equally beloved between Mr. Bentley and myself.”
He nodded. “If you must.”
His tone was too bland. She studied him. Something seemed off about his reaction. Come to think of it, it mirrored a few other times when Mr. Bentley’s name had come up. “You do like Mr. Bentley, don’t you?”
Miles shrugged. “I don’t dislike him.”
What wasn’t he telling her? “You are not warming to him, for some reason. Is there something about him you do not care for?”
“Nothing at all. He is a decent sort of fellow. I find no fault in him.” He dropped into the seat beside her, and she wondered if it was so he did not have to look her directly in the eyes.
He was not admitting something. “If nothing is wrong with him, why have you not invited him to ride with you or to join you and the others at Gammon’s?” It wasn’t really a fine gentleman’s club like the ones in London, or so she’d heard, just a private room off the inn, but next to the Dome and Ian’s billiard’s room, her male friends and the other gentleman about town liked to gather there best. She, of course, was never welcome—despite all the Rebels’ loudness about Society’s silly rules.
“I did not know I was expected to make Mr. Bentley my chum. Is not being welcoming and friendly sufficient? I am rather busy teaching a certain young lady how to fall in love. My schedule is all tied up at present.”
She let her frown fade. “It is certainly sufficient—if you are good at this lesson business. Your first student has yet to make much progress.”
Miles objected. “If the young lady in question would stop attaching herself to me, she might actually attract a suitor. At this rate, she’ll fall madly in love with the vicar before she has a chance to even dream about Kensington or its fine owner.”
Jemma snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
