From the carriage window, Gemma looked out at the sprawling brick manor that was Dunnock Park and felt a tight, guilty churning in her stomach. She should not be here. Today was the day of Lord Ellery’s party, and her presence could ruin everything for him.
Across from her on the green velvet seat, Aunt Edith exhaled a contented sigh. “ ’Tis a fine house, is it not?”
Gemma nodded, believing the house to be perfectly situated. She loved the towering shade trees flanking either side and the pale stone surrounding the broad doorway and mullioned windows. Additionally, the flower boxes beneath the windows of the east and west wings gave the façade such a bright cheerfulness that she was almost eager to see inside.
If it weren’t for guilt, she might have allowed herself to be excited.
“And what a surprise that we should be here at all”—Aunt Edith paused long enough to tsk—“with your determination to refuse Lord Ellery’s invitation.”
Gemma wondered where her resolve had gone. She knew that nothing could come of their association. However, instead of confessing the reasons she could not attend, she’d accepted his invitation.
What had she been thinking?
Finding a loose thread on the side of her lace mitts, she began to pick at it. “I do not know quite how it happened.”
Aunt Edith’s penciled brows lifted as a pleased-as-punch grin stole over her lips. “I, for one, am glad of it. We were fortunate he called yesterday to rescue us from our spoiled plans. He did a fair job of lifting our spirits after . . . well, we needn’t speak about it again.”
Neither of them wanted to talk about Lady Donrolin’s missive.
Gemma nodded absently. She should have known that spending the day with Sam would turn out in the end. She should have known that his charm and engaging personality made him . . . irresistible. He often caught her unawares with something to make her smile or laugh, when she was typically more guarded. For most of her life, she’d had to be.
It was an exhausting way to live, always shielding herself from others. But with Sam, it was different. She wasn’t entirely sure she could hide herself from him. A terrifying truth.
“I still don’t know what came over me. Though I suspect he orchestrated the entire day in order to whittle down my reserves.”
Of all the travels she’d had in her life, and of all the exotic and not-so-exotic places she’d been, spending the afternoon on Leith Hill had been the best day of her life by far. And she feared it was not because of the fine view of the towering Prospect House but because of one particular companion.
Aunt Edith sniffed with censure. “A well-sprung open carriage on fine roads, the weather being neither too hot nor too cold, trees and rolling hills as far as the eye can see, a sumptuous basket laden with succulent fruits, decadent cheeses, pastries, breads, and those delightful meringues—heavens yes, I can see why you might despise him for that.”
“Don’t you see? It was too wonderful,” she said in dismay. A full day later and she still felt her pulse quicken at the memory of his fitting the clasp of her necklace, his breath stirring the downy hairs curling against her nape, his bare fingertips grazing her flesh.
Gemma’s exhale came out in a shudder, and she quickly bit down on the corner of her lip. Wanting to hide the fact that flames were surely rising from her cheeks, she turned to look out the carriage window once more. “He made me forget . . . things.”
Namely, that the presence of Albert Desmond’s daughter would likely spoil his grand party. Perhaps they should turn the carriage around before it was too late.
Yet in that same instant, the front door of the manor opened. As if he’d been watching for their carriage, Sam stepped out and onto the stone path, with that brilliant, easy smile on his lips. When he waved, her heart floated upward, lodging at the base of her throat.
Yesterday, he’d made it impossible to allow her mind to veer to any unpleasantness. Likely, that had been the reason why—when he’d settled his hands around her waist to assist her from the fallen tree—she’d given in to impulse and accepted his invitation to his party.
His sublime expression had made her want to freeze that moment in time and stay there forever, just gazing down at him and feeling the way the moon must feel when it gazes down at the earth—bright and blissfully happy. And when he’d winked and stated that Mr. Pike had known the outcome all along, she’d had the most startling urge to kiss him.
First an urge to fling her arms around him and then to kiss him? These impulses were dangerous, indeed. Thankfully, they’d shocked her enough to jolt her back to her senses.
Yet she feared the damage was done all the same. Since then, she hadn’t been able to stop wanting to do both.
“I need to tell Lord Ellery the whole truth before I begin to . . . ” Gemma’s frantic whisper trailed off as she met her aunt’s wistful gaze.
“To care for him?” In receiving a nod, Aunt Edith reached out and patted Gemma’s hand. “I’m fairly certain it’s too late for that.”
“No. It cannot be,” she said quickly. “I’ve learned to be cynical and untrusting when it comes to meeting people.” A lesson taught to her most recently at her first, and only, London ball.
Lord Markham had been the one to teach her. He’d lured her onto the terrace at Lady Simpkin’s ball, alone, and under the guise of friendly conversation. Yet the fiend had actually expected a tryst.
She’d been fortunate that Juliet had arrived in time to save her from his advances. Even so, that had not stopped his spiteful words. “She has no future in society, no fortune, and nothing to appeal to a man with serious pursuits. And most of all, she comes from bad blood. There is no man who would willingly choose her to become his wife. At least I am offering her a chance to become something other than a shriveled-up spinster.”
Whatever hope she’d had of marrying for love had died that day. It was quite clear that no decent man would have her. And after living her life surrounded by thieves and scoundrels, Gemma knew she only wanted to marry a good, decent man. But she would have to settle for any man willing to share his name.
“Unflappable cynicism tends to lock the doors that guard one’s heart,” Aunt Edith said softly, squeezing her hand. “I hope you left a window open for our Lord Ellery.”
Gemma was afraid of that very possibility.
Sam spent the entire morning pacing the foyer floor, peering through the windows, and listening for the first sounds of Gemma’s carriage. Mr. Fentum, his butler, likely thought he’d gone mad but had been good enough not to say a word.
The instant the dowager duchess and Gemma arrived, he threw open the door to greet them. Then, once they crossed the threshold, he didn’t even give them a chance to settle into their bedchambers before he offered to give them a tour of the house.
It was unforgivable, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to help it. He wanted Gemma to fall in love with Dunnock Park.
Much to his surprise and delight, Gemma immediately agreed to the tour.
This alteration from her usual hesitancy gave him hope to imagine that he was not the only one who had been thunderstruck. Normally, he was terrible at interpreting a woman’s interest, as his past failures had clearly shown. But with Gemma, perhaps it would be different.
When they reached the gallery, the dowager duchess chose to linger at one end of the long paneled room while Sam and Gemma continued toward the other. Their synchronous steps echoed on the hardwood floor and up to the vaulted ceiling, bringing attention to the fact that she wasn’t saying much. Still, he was beyond pleased to have her here. The urge to take her hand was so strong that he had to clasp his own behind his back like manacles.
Gemma was an irresistible ray of sunshine in her buttercup yellow muslin, the sleeves and bodice embroidered with pale orange shells. The color of the thread reminded him of the string of coral she’d received from her aunt yesterday. He was now rather fond of that necklace.
“You’re not wearing your aunt’s gift,” he said, his voice low. His gaze drifted to the dark wispy curls at her nape and his fingertips pulsed with the need to feel her skin again. “I would be more than glad to assist you.”
She lifted her hand to the base of her throat. “No . . . I . . . it is too precious for me to wear every day.”
He understood. Besides, he was distracted enough as it was, even without the visual reminder of their afternoon together. And perhaps she was distracted too. Often, when he looked over, he caught her plucking at a loose thread dangling from her gloves, her expression far too serious.
“I hope you found the road from Banfern Glenn to Dunnock Park fair,” he said, trying to learn why she was unusually quiet. Could it be that she was nervous about being here?
“Quite,” she offered, with another tug on that thread.
Since that wasn’t much of a foundation for building a conversation, he tried again. “Last time I counted, there were forty-seven different varieties of trees along the way, leaves aplenty to examine under a microscope.”
“Hmm.”
He frowned, having expected a different response. Or really, any response at all. Was that thread so fascinating?
Though perhaps she was simply overly tired from their outing. After all, she had been traveling for days, which tended to leave a person exhausted. That could be the reason, he thought. All he knew was that he’d give anything to see her smile. And inspiration struck when they arrived at the next portrait.
“This fine fellow wearing a wig of such astounding glory is my four times great-grandfather,” he said, puffing out his chest. “As you can see, he was rather fond of spotted capes.”
Even though the bow shape of her mouth gave her a look of sly amusement, her eyes remained pensive. “Surely he donned this attire in the style of King Charles and solely for the portrait. Look, he even has the king’s favorite spaniels by his side.”
Sam shook his head, his expression a mask of severity. “Cats in costume. Great-grandfather hated dogs and merely had the artist take some liberties. Look, you can even see the curve of a cat’s tail at the bottom of the portrait.”
When she peered closer, rising on her toes and squinting, the chuckle he’d meant to withhold slipped out. She turned on him with a gasp and wagged her finger. “You cad! You were teasing me?”
He stepped back, holding his hands up in surrender. Here she was—the girl he’d been waiting to see. “I had to do something to make you smile.”
“Cats in costume,” she muttered under her breath, even as—at last—her lips curled upward. “You are completely ridiculous.”
Sam could not argue. For her smile, he would play the fool. “Shall I continue and tell you about his wife, Catriona?”
But just as soon as he gestured to the next portrait, she looked down at her hands and tugged on that blasted thread again. “I have something I need to tell you, and I must do so before I lack the courage.”
His elation was subdued instantly. “Yes, of course. Would you like to sit down first?”
She shook her head and faced him. Then, after drawing in a deep breath, she lifted her gaze to his. “I cannot stay.”
He blinked. Surely he hadn’t heard her correctly. “I do not understand.”
“It is for the best that I leave Dunnock Park immediately.”
No. He refused to believe it. There was so much more he wanted to show her—seven more generations of his family that he’d not introduced her to. He wanted to laugh about their elaborate costumes, knowing that Gemma would appreciate their historical significance. He wanted to talk to her about dozens of things that they’d barely had the opportunity to touch upon yesterday and the day before. And most important, he wanted her to meet his mother and father.
As it stood, his parents had expressed a fervent wish not to attend the party until the very end, claiming that they did not want to influence his decision. But he was beyond their influence at this point. “Have my manners been too forward and disagreeable? If so, I shall remedy it this very instant.”
“You are perfect,” she said earnestly, her gaze searching his. “The fault lies with me, in that I have not told you the entire truth behind the reason my aunt and I are traveling Surrey.”
Now he truly was confused. Had he misread her smiles and laughter? “You said the holiday was for your enjoyment.”
“That much was true. However, the full reason has more to do with my father. You see, when you did not recognize—”
“Pardon me, m’lord,” the butler interrupted from the open archway, clearing his throat. “Two carriages have arrived. Do you still wish to greet your guests in the foyer? Or shall I have them wait in the parlor?”
Glancing over his shoulder to Mr. Fentum, standing as stiff as a barrel and dressed in dark livery, Sam was torn. The uncertainty in Gemma’s eyes made him feel like he was running out of time, and he was desperate to grab hold of each moment with her. But it was like trying to capture the spear-shaped leaves of the willow in autumn before they reached the water.
She laid her hand on his arm. “Go. I should not keep you from your guests.”
“I do not want you to leave,” he said with indisputable firmness, tamping down every impulse to reach out and haul her against him.
The flesh around her eyes tightened, and two small, anxious furrows appeared between her brows. When she drew in a deep breath, he thought she would refuse him. But instead, she offered a patently reluctant nod.
“Then, perhaps my aunt and I could tour the gardens, and I will speak with you when it is more convenient.”
He wanted to feel relief, believing that he had another opportunity to convince her to stay. Yet a powerful swell of unease tripped through him. It was impossible to forget how his prior experiences had not turned out as he’d hoped. And now, he would have an agonizingly long wait ahead of him before he learned whatever news Gemma was about to impart.