Page 68 of The Gentleman's Confession
“I held them off,” Louisa said, grinning, “until you were presentable.”
“I owe you a great deal.” Jemma produced a tired laugh, her energy already waning.
When the door opened, only Miles stood on the other side. His hair hung in limp waves as if he had run his hand through it for hours on end. His jacket was still missing, but his sleeves were cuffed at his wrist once more. Though he smiled at her, his eyes were full of sadness. Did he remember she had ignored him before the match had begun? Had she disappointed him?
Her cheeks flushed under his gaze. Where were the others so she had someone else to settle her attention on?
Before she could ask, Lady Kellen voiced the answer to her silent question. “Now that your basic needs are met, I thought we should limit the guests to one at a time so as not to overwhelm you. Come, ladies, we shall let Mr. Jackson take his few minutes first.”
“Dinner will be ready shortly, and everyone is expected to stay and eat,” Lady Felcroft added.
Their voices faded from the room as Miles entered. He left the door open and settled into the chair Mrs. Manning had vacated. His presence brought with him his usual air of comfort. With all the attention she had received from the women, she hadn’t realized how much she needed to see him. Despite her attempt to cut him from her life, she was glad he was here. He looked at her in the quiet way he usually did, studying her before speaking.
“I heard you rescued me,” she said softly, knowing several others waited in the corridor who might overhear them. Their voices carried to her, and she caught a glimpse of Louisa.
His shoulders lifted in a small shrug. “I carried you, if that’s what you mean. Do you recall any of it?”
She closed her eyes, flashes of movement and pain coming back but nothing more. “Not much.”
“It is how it should be. Let the rest of us remember it for you.”
Miles Jackson was a perfect gentleman. No wonder her heart seemed like a lion wrestling a bear with every attempt to push him away. If only she were not too tired to keep fighting. “Thank you. For everything.”
He stared at her another moment, a shadow lingering behind his eyes. “I have never been more worried in my life.”
Such words shouldn’t have pleased her, but they did. “Even when you thought you would have to move away from Brookeside as a boy?”
He leaned forward over his knees. “Even more than that.” After a moment, he broke his heart-pounding stare—those browneyes weakening all her resolutions and reviving her energy—and scooted his chair so his knees touched the bed. This time, when he leaned forward, he was very close to her.
She reached up, self-conscious of the straight, wilted wisps framing her face.
He caught her hand. “You are beautiful, even without your fancy dresses or pinned locks.” His other hand sandwiched hers inside his own, warmth spreading up her arm and sending gooseflesh down her back and legs.
“I wasn’t just worried, Jemma. I was scared. I need to tell you—”
Tom rushed into the room with Ian not far behind him. “Sorry to break up this tête–à–tête,” Tom said, leaning over on his knees to catch his breath. “But our fears have been realized.”
Ian stared knowingly at Miles. “I wasn’t the only witness. Word is spreading.”
Miles still held her hand and made no attempt to release her. In fact, his grip tightened.
“What did they witness?” She stared from Tom to Ian, finally settling on Miles. He would tell her.
Miles met her gaze, the sadness from earlier darkening his irises once again. “When you were hit, I was playing in the outfield, and as such, I was the first to reach you. You weren’t even breathing. In my desperation, I kissed you.”
Miles had never been one to mince words, but he might have tried a less direct answer. Her mouth fell open, and she gaped for how to respond. Miles had kissed her, and ... and ... and she didn’t even remember it?
No wonder Mr. Bentley had fainted! She squeezed her eyes shut. An image of her beautiful, selfless cousin came to mind. The ugly truth hit the hardest.
She was the reason Lisette had never married.
It was all her fault.
She should have avoided Miles every summer. She should have fought those feelings of being drawn to him. Why had she not been a more loyal friend and cousin? But Miles ... He should have respected her decision.
“Tell me you’re lying.” The words came through gritted teeth but were clear enough to get the point across.
Miles shook his head. “And I have no regrets.”
