Page 65 of The Gentleman's Confession
Mr. Reed, in his own grieving, was perhaps the most qualified to help. No one had a calmer demeanor out of all of them.
With Ian to assist, they made it to the carriage quickly. It did not matter if a Bradford guest owned it or a Brookeside local, the driver jumped to help. Ian took Jemma while Miles climbed inside. Then Miles turned and took her back in his arms and settled carefully onto a rather short bench. Ian jumped inside and dropped onto the opposite seat—the two of them far too tall for the narrow carriage.
Paul stopped Tom from climbing in along with them. “I will ride for the doctor. Will you tell the Mannings?”
Tom straightened. “Of course. I will bring them directly to the house.” He leaned into the carriage. “Miles, Ian, take Jemma to one of the guest rooms upstairs. The housekeeper can gather bandages. Keep Jemma comfortable until we can get there.”
Miles gave a nod, and the door was shut behind them. The carriage rocked, and they were on their way. He reached for Jemma’s hand just as he heard his name.
“Miles?”
The near whisper stole his breath. Her eyes were barely open, and her mouth pulled tight with pain.
“I’m here.” He released her hand and smoothed the disheveled hair from her cheek.
“My head . . .”
“We’ve sent for the doctor,” Ian said, hunching toward them. “Try not to move too much, no matter how intolerable it is being in Miles’s arms.”
Her eyes fluttered closed again, but her moment of coherence gave Miles needed hope. It felt like hours before they had her in the house and in a bed upstairs. He moved awkwardly to the side as Lisette, Tom, and Cassandra barreled into the room.
“I’ll fetch her a nightgown,” Cassandra said.
Lisette scooped up Jemma’s hand, tears streaming down her face. “I never should have let you take so many walks alone.”
Mr. and Mrs. Manning came in next, just before Lord and Lady Felcroft. Mrs. Manning was crying profusely, holding on to her husband’s side. Lord and Lady Felcroft were both a little pale.
“How bad is it?” Mr. Manning asked.
Miles was used to comforting people during trying circumstances, but he couldn’t quite find his voice. He looked to Ian for help, a rock in times of emotion.
“She has woken a few times, but we will know more when the doctor arrives.”
“We should let her rest,” Lord Felcroft said. “Tom, I sent Alan up to the nursery, but perhaps we should take the men to the library while the women tend to Miss Fielding?”
Cassandra returned with the nightgown. “I think it would be best. Louisa and the Sheldons will be here soon too.”
“I will see to them, dear,” Lady Felcroft said to her daughter-in-law. Mrs. Manning bent to remove Jemma’s shoes and stockings while Miles and the men filed from the room. They made their way down the stairs and into the library.
Miles had never felt displaced in a library before, but he did now, and it had nothing to do with the grandness of the space. A room full of texts to learn from generally filled him with comfort, but it was not so now. The books taunted him. There would be no lasting words for him to journal and put on the shelf.The greatest story of his life could end before it ever began. He dragged his feet to a corner of the room—the closest thing to being alone—and sank into a chair, where he buried his head in his hands.
“Miles, are you well?”
He recognized Tom’s voice, but it took a moment to find his own to answer. “Barely.” He dropped his hands and sighed, releasing every possible ounce of despair from his lungs that he could. Why had Tom and Ian followed him? The room was large enough for them all to find their own quiet space. Their parents were on the other side, happy to visit if they felt inclined to do so.
Ian lifted one brow and tilted his head a fraction. “I do hope your mood is because of Jemma’s health and not because of a mistake you regret.”
Miles blanched. Was it because of him that she had needed to take a walk by herself? He had not thought of that ...
“Mistake?” Tom scoffed. “Be reasonable,Mother Hen. Don’t you think you are being a little too protective? Miles was not the one who struck Jemma, and even the Bradford Gent couldn’t be blamed for an honest accident.”
Ian’s eyes didn’t leave Miles’s. “It isn’t the head wound I am referring to. I was the second to Jemma’s side, but from my position coming across the field, I swear I saw something rather shocking.”
Miles blinked, unable to hold the penetrating gaze pinning him in place. “Who wouldn’t be shocked? Jemma could have been killed.”
“The accident warranted a natural response of its own, but this was something else entirely. A reaction only a man in love would make.” Ian paused, his voice turning regretful. “Does our saintly Mr. Romantic have a confession to make?”
Confession? The blood drained from his face.
