Page 34 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Jemma, I asked you last summer not to say such things about Miles and me. It doesn’t make it any easier for me.”
“Forgive me, but I am merely saying what we are both thinking.”
Lisette sighed. “Perhaps once you are wed, I will start dreaming of my own wedding again.”
Jemma grinned. “My thought exactly. You will need more time to plan a wedding anyway. I want your special day to be even more grand and special than my own.”
Lisette frowned. “What a strange thing to wish for.”
“And why not? Doesn’t my favorite cousin who has been like a sister to me deserve the very best?”
Lisette’s eyes twinkled. “Shall I put you in charge of the whole day?” Her teasing made Jemma forget all about the vexing Miss Hardwick. “Just don’t forget to see that the groom arrives. He is a rather important feature.”
Miles.
He was the sole groom Lisette would ever refer to. Though she had taken to not saying his name aloud anymore when planning her future.
Jemma opened her mouth to remind Lisette of how perfect she and Miles would be, but the words wouldn’t come. It was too hard when Jemma was sneaking off to meet with him. Her lessons with Miles had become coveted time together. Once Jemma married, Lisette could have him all to herself. Jemma just needed him for a little while longer. Then she would see right by Lisette.
She would see the two of them married in the most elegant, perfect wedding one could imagine. It was the least she could do. Lisette had opened her house to Jemma every summer and never begrudged her anything—sharing her friends, her parents, her gowns, and her confidence. Lisette was the kind of person who made the world better just by being alive. She deserved everything she wished for—which wasn’t much.
Just Miles.
Jemma could give her that much, right?
She gave Lisette another side hug. “Don’t worry, you shall have your handsome groom. No matter what.”
Miles wanted Jemma to sacrifice something. She knew one thing that would be harder to give up than money.
CHAPTER 15
With his jacket discarded andhis shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms, Miles perched on the end of the dock at Bellmont Manor’s upper pond with his young fishing companion, Tom’s son, Alan. Relaxing back on his arms, he let Alan take the lead, watching him hook a worm to the end of his rod. While Alan cast the line, Miles’s eyes traveled the length of the pond. How he appreciated the beauty here. It was one of his favorite views in not just Brookeside but all of England. It had always had the ability to clear his mind, which he sorely needed these days.
Vibrant greens and dark swirls of blue covered the canvas only God could have painted. Old oak and yew trees bordered one side of the pond. Among them, a tall willow dangled its flexible branches and teased young boys to swing on its limbs into the sapphire water.
It was the perfect place to talk about love—and the perfect place to avoid it.
Today, he hoped for the prior. And he in no way meant to include Mr. Bentley in the discussion.
A noise distracted him, and he looked over his shoulder to see Jemma ride up. She dismounted and tied her mare to a tree. He wasn’t surprised to see her cast off her bonnet with the same ease he had tossed aside his jacket. The pond lent some freedom from propriety’s prying eyes.
The light caught on her brown tresses swept up on her head and the long lines of her neck. Just the sight of her sent his thoughts spiraling in all the wrong directions. It would help if her beauty were not superior to the picturesque nature in frontof him. Not wanting to be caught staring, he forced himself to look forward again—to think about the pond and only the pond.
The property belonged to the stern Lord Kellen, who was rarely at home, but Ian had no qualms sharing his father’s land with his friends. Which meant the Rebels frequented it often in the summer months, along with the Dome, situated an easy walk from the pond. Both had become a secluded corner of the world for them.
The seclusion today would be ideal for their lesson, but he was also relying on the pond’s ability to diminish the weight on his mind—the resolution he had made to himself the last time he’d seen Jemma.
Next to him, little Alan adjusted his fishing rod.
“What do you think of this fine fishing spot?” Miles asked.
Alan shrugged. He could talk plenty, but at a mere six years, Alan also had a unique ability to stay quiet—likely from his time at a workhouse—which allowed him to become quite efficient at catching fish. Unfortunately, it also enabled him to sneak away far more often than either Tom or Cassandra appreciated.
Today, however, his silence would be just the thing Miles needed in a chaperone, so he didn’t press the boy for more. It wasn’t what Lady Kellen would call an acceptable substitute, but Alan would be a sufficient buffer between him and Jemma. It was getting harder and harder to control his feelings around her. Each time he saw her with Mr. Bentley, Miles was more desperate than the time before—a sensation he wished he could drown in the depths of the pond and walk away from.
The clipping of Jemma’s half boots on the wooden planks matched the beats of his heart, increasing in sound and pressure as she neared him. He glanced up to meet her green, marbled eyes, bright in the morning sun.
“Good day to you, Miss Fielding,” he said to her as if surprised to see her. “Have you come to fish with us?”
