Page 43 of The Gentleman's Confession
“Shall we begin?” The alluring whisper near her ear sent her pulse racing. “Retain eye connection where possible, but do not say a single word. Allow your thoughts and feelings to rise to the surface and communicate through sight alone. They say the way to see a man’s soul is through his eyes.”
She gulped.
Lifting her gaze to meet his took all her courage. She didn’t want him to see into her soul. There were secrets hiding within that she could not reveal. With a tug of her hand, he turned her body to face him. He set his hand on her waist and gently pulled her closer. She did the same with her own hands, lifting one above her head as he did. In the window of their arms, she finally met his gaze.
What she saw in him, however, made her momentarily forget her carefully crafted walls. Swirled in amber and onyx was the Miles she had known forever—a man she could trust. Useless to resist, she became his student, searching the depths beyond the Miles she knew and seeing more than she had ever seen before.
His eyes were gentle, as always, but far more intent, accentuating the fine smile lines in the corners. Beyond the surface lay a startling truth. Longing. Heartache. Unyielding determination. One thing was very clear. The subject of his attention was no one but her.
She blinked, unbelieving, too caught up in the moment. But his gaze, his steady, enveloping gaze pulled her in once more, completely and utterly capturing her own. No matter the dance steps or the dizzying spins, her eyes couldn’t stray for long. The truth was, she wanted to read his soul. She craved to know it backward and forward. Fear alone made her hesitate. Unnerved in one breath, the next she was pulled in by the comfort she always relied on from him.
A light filtered through his caressing gaze, full of warmth and startling affection. With an exhale of breath, she let her feetdrift closer to him. His hand tightened on her waist. She longed to close the gap completely. His eyes were so welcoming—so adoring. They held her as surely as his arms and shattered her cold resistance.
Mr. Romantic was an excellent teacher. The communication happening between them was extremely educational. Her favorite subject, in fact. The entire dance was an impossible dream she hoped to never wake from. The music pulled at her heartstrings, resurrecting buried longings with every note until its sweet but bitter end.
Miles stepped back.
She was supposed to look away now. She screamed Lisette’s name in her mind. Told herself to look for Mr. Bentley. Even thought of Grandmother. But her yearning for Miles had awakened.
It was Miles who broke the connection first, three distinct emotions crossing his face: pleasure, pain, and ... reluctance. He walked away without a word, disappearing through the drawing room door.
The rest of the night passed in a haze. Jemma barely registered the goodbyes, the carriage ride home, the walk to her room, or her donning her nightgown.
She sat at her dressing table, staring into the mirror, wondering what she’d seen in Miles’s eyes—wondering what he’d seen in hers.
Lisette came in humming a tune from a quadrille she had danced, waking Jemma from her fog. “Did you not think the party simply lovely?”
Jemma uttered the first response she could think of. “Yes, Mr. Bentley was an excellent host.” Mr. Bentley ... Had she even thanked him when they had parted? What a terrible guest she had been. And friend, she might add. Had Lisette witnessed her dance with Miles?
By the way Lisette was humming, it could not be possible. She was much too happy.
She wouldn’t be happy at all if she knew Jemma was thinkingromanticthoughts about Miles. How she longed to be back in his stirring embrace and for him to gaze at her with his entire soul night after night for forever. She held back the deep moan threatening to escape. She could not be so disloyal! She wouldn’t!
Lisette picked up the brush on the dressing table and started ministering to Jemma’s hair in gentle, smooth strokes. “I thought it so kind of Mr. Bentley to include all our friends. He really is so thoughtful.”
He was. There was nothing in his person that she might criticize. “He deserves better,” she mumbled.
“Nonsense. Once you have spent more time in each other’s company, you will see how well suited you are.” More happy humming.
The sound was so sweet ... so cheerful. How could she diminish Lisette’s happiness for her own? She turned in her seat and, on impulse, grabbed Lisette’s free hand. “Thank you for believing in me. I am committed to knowing Mr. Bentley better, just as you said.”
Lisette gave a quiet laugh. “Good.”
“You believe me, don’t you?” Jemma asked. “Now it is your turn to be cared for.” She pulled Lisette into the seat in her place and took over brushing her cousin’s silky blonde ringlets. “Once I sort out my own problems, we will begin turning you into a bride.”
Jemma clenched her jaw, determined to bury her feelings for Miles. It would be harder this time, infinitely so. But she’d done it before, and nothing could stop her from doing it again. A dance was the perfect place to confuse one’s heart, but all dancescame to an end. One night of weakness need not define her future nor her friends’.
Miles was meant for Lisette. Somehow, she had to convince him.
She took a shaky breath. And then she had to convince herself again too.
CHAPTER 20
Surrounded by his friends atGammon’s, Miles set his arms on the table in front of him and let his eyes trail past the heavy maroon drapes to the street outside. He couldn’t say when he had ceased paying attention to the amiable chatter around him, but his mind drifted back to Jemma and to Mr. Bentley’s party. To their dance.
It had been no mere movement to music. With his emotions raw, he’d wanted nothing more than to confess everything. He’d said it all in his gaze. Somewhere between figures two and four of their waltz, their friendship had shifted.
She cared. He knew she did. He’d seen it in her eyes and felt her lean into him. But feeling and wanting were not the same.
