Page 40 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Me? Not at all. I know you are excited to dance tonight.”
“Do you think our friends will take pity on me and be my partner?”
“Pity?” Jemma blew out an exasperated breath. “All the single men will be chasing you for the opportunity.”
Lisette giggled. “However will I fend them off long enough to dance?”
The two of them laughed. When it was Jemma’s turn to have her hair done, they chatted about what food would be served and if Tom would reenact the ballroom scandal and kiss Cassandra in public again.
When they finished, Jemma stood at the mirror next to Lisette. “I think you ought to wear Grandmother’s lace shawl tonight.”
Lisette’s brow puckered. “But it is your favorite.”
“I know, but it will compliment this dress so well.” She wanted Lisette to feel like a diamond of the first water. Perhaps then the guilt simmering inside Jemma would fade. If she tried hard enough, everything could still fall into place as planned. One day of confusion was a minor setback. Tonight, nothing would tempt or sway her heart.
CHAPTER 18
Miles glared at the backof their host’s head—not a practice he usually condoned but not one he could help either. Mr. Bentley, unaware of the visual daggers pointed his way, led the austere Lady Billforth across his drawing room to introduce her to another of his many dinner guests. All the Rebels were in attendance, along with the entire Society of Matchmaking Mamas. A few other townspeople were smattered throughout the room, too, but until Jemma made her entrance, Miles kept his gaze riveted on Mr. Bentley.
How he wished he could hate the man. He almost did after he heard Mr. Bentley had sent his carriage for Jemma and the Manning family. Did he have to be so upstanding? They had their own carriage, so why send his? There could be but one reason: Mr. Bentley desired to make a clear statement of claim on Jemma Fielding.
Miles gave a childish huff.
“Are you overheated, Mr. Jackson?”
Miles turned to find Lady Felcroft, Tom’s mother, observing him amid the chatter in the room. He had not even noticed her sit on the same sofa as him. He set his jaw and shook his head. “I am perfectly well. How do you do, Lady Felcroft?”
“Splendid.” The baroness studied him for a moment, his answer apparently not satisfying enough. She did not have the same regal, commanding presence as Lady Kellen, but Miles thought her quite elegant all the same. Then again, anyone who mothered his friend Tom couldn’t be too pretentious.
Miles cleared his throat. “How is young Master Alan?”
Her suspicious features softened into a smile. “He is a real joy. I love having a child about the house again.”
“Alan is a special young man.”
“He can be a bit restless, but he is always polite. I daresay, his heart is bigger than he is.”
A commotion sounded at the door, and the last guests arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Manning entered first, followed by Jemma and Lisette arm in arm. Before Miles could so much as inch forward on the couch, Mr. Bentley was at Jemma’s side, with Lady Billforth in tow.
“Don’t they look well together?” Lady Felcroft asked.
“Hmm?” Miles muttered. “Oh, yes, I suppose.” He had eyes only for Jemma. She was beautiful in her pink muslin. The wider neck line emphasized her creamy skin, while the pink brought out the color in her cheeks. He had no desire to study Mr. Bentley or how well he and Jemma looked as a couple, but he could study Jemma all night.
His mother came and took a seat on the other side of him, her dark hair pulled into an elegant coiffure and her high cheekbones rosy from the warmth of the room. His glimpse of her in the carriage had been similar to all their meetings these days—never long enough for much conversation. Even though the parsonage was not far from the rectory, both of them were very busy.
“Good evening, Mother. I wondered when you would come greet your oldest son.”
“Oh, Miles,” she said, not even hearing him. “Look at them.” He followed her gaze to Jemma and Mr. Bentley. “What a handsome pair they make.” Her small squeal of pleasure sickened him. How could his own mother betray him? She never should have agreed to support the latest so-called match.
Miles squeezed his hands together in his lap, popping a knuckle or two in the process. He had come to the party becauseof three nosy, persistent matrons. So, must they now torture him by spending every breath gloating about their triumphs? The frustration brewing inside him pushed him to his feet. “Excuse me.”
The Rebels surrounded him before he could make it far, everyone except Jemma, who still stood in conversation with Mr. Bentley. They took no notice of Miles’s inner turmoil, naturally coming together in a room as they always did and including him in their circle.
“Mr. Bentley seems like a friendly chap,” Tom said, his wife, Cassandra, on his arm. “It was kind of him to invite a few strangers to his welcome party.”
“And he and Jemma seem to get on well,” Louisa added, her signature smile a little too bright.
Miles gritted his teeth. Lucky him. More conversation in which Mr. Bentley and Jemma were the central topic. Was he the only one noticing the way Jemma wrung her hands together? He took no pleasure in seeing her so uncomfortable. She was trying too hard to force something that wasn’t there to begin with.
