Page 77 of The Gentleman's Confession
Jemma’s eyes widened. She forced herself to answer honestly this time. “Yes,” she breathed. “I’m so sorry. I tried so hard not to care for him. I promise. I told him he should marry you.” Her eyes welled up with the tears of her own betrayal.
Lisette’s eyes glistened too. “Don’t cry. I would never have engaged myself to Mr. Bentley if I did not think you and Miles were meant to be together.”
“You say you love Mr. Bentley, but I know you love Miles too.”
“Once, yes, I did, but my love for Mr. Bentley is far superior. He makes me so happy, Jemma. You might not believe me, but it’s true. He is the one I want to have by my side for the rest of my life.”
It would take time to fully believe. Jemma bit her lip. “Do you hate me?”
“Not even a little.” Lisette wrapped her in a hug. “It’s all right for you to put your own happiness first now and then. You fight so hard for what you think is right, and I admire you greatlyfor it. But it’s time for you to put aside Grandmother’s promise and the pressures from the Matchmaking Mamas and even the Rebels. It’s time to choose a future you want.”
Jemma gave a soft laugh. “Me? Choose? You make it sound so simple.”
“You can have the wish of your youth again,” Lisette said, pulling back.
Jemma swallowed. She could be a rich spinster, travel the world, and help people like she had declared for years. She squeezed her eyes shut. She knew such a life would no longer make her happy. She’d known it for a while.
“Or,” Lisette continued, “you could marry Miles.” She paused, and Jemma met her perceptive gaze. “Whatever you decide, you have my blessing.”
Jemma wiped the moisture off her cheeks. “Thank you, Lisette. For everything.”
Lisette hugged her again before returning to Mr. Bentley’s side.
Jemma ignored Lady Felcroft’s earlier desire to escort her to her room and hurried up the stairs. Once in the guest room, she flung the door shut and rushed to her bed. Pushing the pillows aside, she dug Miles’s book out from under the pillows. After her world had been thrown upside down again, she needed—no, craved—Miles’s voice.
She ran her finger over the title,ThePoems and Anecdotes of Mr. Romantic. Her hand could not flip to the first page fast enough.
Dedicated to the Rebels of the unjust, the true lovers of hope.
She turned another page, eager to read the whole of it and let the words wash over her aching heart. She needed Miles’s poetic turn of phrase to envelop her soul and give her hope that they could fix what had broken between them. The first poem toldthe story of a sad man resisting and fighting his heart but never being able to douse the flame of unrequited love.
An anecdote followed it, giving a short guide on selfless love. It was Miles—humble, loving Miles—to the very letter. The next poem was in the perspective of a boy saying goodbye to the girl he loved summer after summer, waiting the long seasons in between for her return.
For she took his smile with her and brought it back again every June.
She swallowed. It was about her. The whole book was about her.
“Miles ... I didn’t know.” She sniffed her tears back, but they were more persistent than before, nearly blurring her vision completely. When her maid came in to see if she needed anything before dinner, Jemma pretended she was too tired to join the others and requested that a tray be sent up. There was no possible way she could cease poring over the book until she had read every last page.
CHAPTER 34
Miles sat across from hismother in the small drawing room of his home. She made an effort to visit him once a month, and he rode to the rectory at least that often to have Sunday dinner with his family. Since he had just seen his mother at Rivenwood, he had not expected her to visit so soon. The timing allowed him to tell her his plans for the near future.
“Here I thought I was coming to congratulate you on your team’s win yesterday, and now you are telling me I am to say goodbye? You cannot mean to leave so soon. I thought ...” His mother blinked away her surprise and leaned over to pour him more tea.
“You thought what?”
“Oh, it hardly matters now.” Her voice faded only to grow excited again. “But what about your friends? You have a wedding to attend.”
His mother was very pretty and looked far younger than she was. She didn’t have his dimples, but she had given him her dark, curly hair. He had always been close to her. Maybe it was the natural consequence after the death of a parent. The oldest child and the remaining parent had to rely on each other. Even after Mama remarried, their bond had not lessened. Still, she had no idea the suffocating hurt he was feeling. He had kept this part of himself from her all these years, and he intended to keep it that way.
He shrugged and smiled as if leaving Brookeside for a time was a natural, regular thing for him to do. “I will write a letter of congratulations,” he finally said. “Mr. Bentley and Miss Fieldingwill not even notice my absence. They will be far too absorbed in celebrating. No one will mind if I am gone for a few months.”
His mother studied him for a moment before lowering her shoulders in resignation. “I suppose my already very busy husband can step in while you are away.” She gave him an exaggerated sigh.
“I had hoped it would be the case. I have a letter I wrote to him this morning. Will you take it to him?”
“You know I will.” She brought her teacup to her lips and took a small sip. “Just promise me one thing.”
