Chapter Six
Thank you so much for rescuing me,” Gemma sighed pleasantly as she looped her arm through his and tipped her face back in the afternoon sun.
Lucas quirked a brow. “What was so horrifying that warranted a simple walk being a rescue?”
She gave him a very derisive look. “My mother has it in her mind that the ball last week was a horrible moment in fashion for me, and is of a mind to amend such an egregious error. In her opinion, had I been more appropriately dressed, it would not have been such a failure.”
“I danced with you twice and she declares it a failure?” He wasn’t sure why, but he was offended by that.
Gemma laughed without humor, which was an odd sound to his ears. “You, she declared, obviously have good taste, but may have taken pity on me for the lack of interest surrounding me.”
He frowned and steered her around a puddle. “I don’t take pity on anyone. Least of all you.”
“I know that,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes. “It’s one of my favorite things about you.”
He barked a hard laugh. “How’s that? It’s a flaw to everyone else.”
“You laughed. Fifteen shillings.”
“Miss Templeton.”
“Gemma.”
“Tell me.”
She glowered a little, then shook her head. “You don’t pretend,” she explained. “Not ever. I’ve seen you save a random female in distress at a ball, but there was no pity about it. In your mind, it was justice. I don’t know any particulars, but I feel quite certain you have other such moments outside of ballrooms.”
“Don’t make me out to be a hero,” he murmured, tipping his hat to a passing gentleman, who returned it with surprise.
“I’d never,” she vowed, but he didn’t believe her.
He made a soft noise of discontent, then steered her down a lesser travelled path. “And does your mother indicate how she wishes to mend the apparent error of your fashion, which I find no fault in?”
Gemma tilted her head to look up at him with a brilliant smile that caught him somewhere in the middle of his chest. “Why, Lord Blackmoor, are you unintentionally complimenting me?”
“I never do anything unintentionally, Miss Templeton,” he informed her with a light sniff, his mouth quirking.
She bit her full lower lip briefly and shook her head. “Mother was tossing my dresses out of my bureau and having the maid take notes on what we needed from the modiste to mend my ways.” She sighed and looked away. “Wretched business, and she will not listen.”
“What, buying more dresses?” he asked, surprised at the dark tone she had suddenly taken. What woman did not enjoy such things?
Gemma hesitated, which surprised him more, as she was always so forthright. “Surely you have noticed, sir, the state of the clothing I wear.”
He had noticed, but what was a little wear and tear and fading? It need not indicate anything of significance. He merely thought her frugal, which was wisdom in the world they lived in.
Without waiting for his response, she went on. “My family has never been one of large fortune, I trust you know this. I am not sure how anyone could avoid the topic, as it is all anyone speaks of with my family. The fact of the matter is, Blackmoor, that over the years, it has only gotten worse. To be blunt, there is no money. None at all. My parents cannot see it clearly, but there is very little to tempt a man with regards to dowry or standing when it comes to me. We cannot afford new clothing, a proper carriage, or the rent for our house.”
Her voice broke a little and Lucas found himself pulling her closer to him so their bodies would brush.
“You may not notice when you come, but we have hardly any servants at all,” she continued, her voice stronger. “And only the public rooms are kept in good condition because heaven forbid that anyone know that we cannot manage the rest of the house. The only reason we can remain in it is because Spencer covers what we cannot.”
“As bad as that?” he murmured, wondering what it was costing her to admit all of this. He knew her parents were sensible people, but misguided where Gemma was concerned. He would never have guessed things were as bad as Gemma was saying, but he also knew that she was not one to exaggerate or give in to dramatics.
She nodded once. “Every bit. We’ve needed to retrench for two years or so, but they refuse. After this Season, I’m insisting upon it.” She groaned and shook her head. “I cannot believe I’m telling you this.”
“I won’t tell a soul.”
She glanced up at him with a raised brow. “I know that. That is not what concerns me.”
He cocked his head and regarded her curiously. “What, then?”
Her cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes. “I’m telling you that I am destitute, and the only member of my family that seems aware of it. You will either think me desperate and a fortune hunter, or you will find me ridiculous and far too honest. What sort of girl discusses such a thing with a man courting her?”
Lucas stopped and turned her to face him, then put two fingers under her chin, lifting her gaze to his. “Listen to me, Miss Gemma Templeton,” he said firmly, keeping his tone low and gentle. “Nothing, I repeat, nothing you have told me affects my regard for you in any way. You are far too honest, but I have never seen a reason to find fault in that. On the contrary, I am glad to know that you trust me with such information.”
A faint smile graced her lips and some of the tension left her. “I don’t think anyone else would consider my blabbering anything deserving trust.”
He tapped the underside of her chin playfully. “They don’t know you as I do.”
“That’s true,” she mused, her smile growing. “No one does.”
The depth to that admission was not lost on him, and a possessive thrill rushed through him. He dropped his hand, but kept his expression amused. “That is because most everybody else is an idiot.”
Gemma burst out laughing and took his arm once more, leaning into him as they resumed walking. “Not true!”
“Mostly true.”
“You can’t say that.”
“I can and I will.”
She shook her head and sighed. “You are being kind to me for speaking on an inappropriate topic, and you really shouldn’t. I am quite ashamed of myself, and so should you be.”
He doubted he would ever be ashamed of her in his entire life, but he could hardly correct her, for it was an inappropriate topic. That did not mean, however, that he regretted it.
“Well,” he said slowly, letting her set the pace, “since you brought up inappropriate topics…”
She snickered and nudged him a little. “Yes?”
“Why is it so shocking for someone to court you?” He gave her a serious look, despite the playful tone. “I’ve tossed it over and over, Gemma, and it makes no sense.”
She dimpled a bit and her fingers played on the fabric of his coat. “I’ve never really known the answer to that. I do the best that I can, but I’ve never been the sort of girl that attracted attention in that way.”
“No one seeks your company after you play?” he asked, pretending this was all very innocent, but truly wanting to know. “You are furiously talented, and I do not say that lightly.”
“You’re going to forget to be stodgy and solemn if you keep complimenting me so freely,” she returned with a warning look.
“Humor me.”
She pursed her lips in thought. “You know, I don’t think they do. Not the young men, at any rate. Perhaps it is a lack of appreciation for the violin. Girls who play the pianoforte are always sought after. I tried that, but was dreadful, and I took to the violin with ease and fervor.”
“I like it,” he told her. “I find it far more evocative than the pianoforte, unless one is very skilled there. It was always a pleasure to hear you play.”
“Thank you.” She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “You never approached me either, you know.”
He winced and looked away. “I know. Forgive me.”
“Forgiven,” she said at once.
“What about dancing?” he asked, changing the subject before she could ask him why. “You dance frequently enough, despite your mother’s opinion at the last ball. And I can see they enjoy it, so what is it? Do you threaten them afterwards?”
Gemma snorted and covered her mouth.
“Are they dancing with you against their will and forced to enjoy it?” he continued, pretending at seriousness. “It is on pain of death, isn’t it? I have danced with you three times now, and I never thought it should terrify me. Was I wrong?”
Her laughter grew and her eyes squeezed shut on the contained mirth.
“I thought I was a terrifying creature in Society,” he mused, shaking his head, “and yet it seems even I am outmatched by you, Miss Templeton. I’m feeling rather free at the moment, I may even smile.”
“Oh, stop,” she gasped, laughing and putting a hand to her chest. “Stop, I cannot breathe for laughing.”
He almost smiled at her delight, but barely kept it in check. “Yes, it is a ridiculous assertion, is it not?”
She wiped at her eyes and beamed at him. “The most preposterous.”
He led her to a bench and she sat. “Why then, Gemma?”
She shrugged without care or concern, which astonished him. “As I said, I’ve never quite figured it out. I’ve compared myself to several other females, better and worse than I in various aspects, and none of them had the trouble. Perhaps it is the combination of all that is me that renders it impossible to do so.” Her eyes fixed on him with sudden focus. “Save for you.”
“Well, I have never been very good at doing what is popular in Society,” he sighed, taking a seat next to her.
“I can see that,” she chuckled. “You would never have started this venture if you had known it simply isn’t done.”
Lucas stared at her for a moment, more tempted to smile than he’d been in some time, and without a sensible reason. She could laugh about her situation, despite the obvious pain of it. She spoke of herself with lightness, in an offhand manner that he’d never known any woman to, but without real derision. She saw good in him, confided in him, when nearly everyone else thought him a viper of sorts.
She made him want to be happy.
And suddenly, he did not know what he was waiting for.
He straightened up and gave Gemma a serious look. “I suspect, Miss Templeton, that you prefer frankness.”
She smirked and matched his pose. “You would be correct, sir,” she replied, very properly, playfully somber.
He nodded once. “Then I mean to inform you of my intentions.”
Gemma folded her hands primly in her lap, trying not to smile. “I think that would be wise.”
He hesitated for only a moment, then lifted his chin a hair. “I mean to make you my wife.”
Gemma’s eyes widened and her lips parted in shock. Eventually she closed her mouth and swallowed. “That… was very frank.”
“Have I surprised you?” he asked, fighting the urge to wince. Most ladies would have presumed such a thing, having been in a courtship, but Gemma was not like other ladies, and she had no reason to suspect that her first proper courtship would lead to this. And yet she could hardly have been without suspicion.
“Quite,” she replied mildly.
“Apologies.”
She waved that off as she wet her lips. “And when did you mean to bring this about?”
“As soon as you might be agreeable to it,” he replied as simply as he could.
She nodded slowly, then cleared her throat. “Then we had best be about it.”
Now it was he whose mouth dropped in shock and he found himself giving a cough of surprise. “I beg your pardon?”
A small smile appeared on her face. “Have I taken you by surprise? Don’t answer that, I can see that I have.” She reached for a hand and squeezed it. “If you mean to marry me, I mean to accept.”
An odd sort of euphoria settled on him. “You’re serious?”
She nodded, still smiling. “I take it you didn’t expect that response.”
He shook his head, and found himself smiling back. “You might say that.”
Gemma’s eyes and smile widened as she looked at him. “Are you smiling, Blackmoor?”
He shrugged helplessly. “I might be.”
“That’s ten shillings,” she told him with a smirk.
He shook his head. “I shall add it to my bill,” he murmured as he leaned forward to kiss that enchanting smile of hers.
An hour later, Gemma bid Lucas farewell as he returned her to her home, promising he would return that evening to speak with her father. He’d offered to do so now, but Gemma thought her father would need some warning before that happened.
After all, in his mind, she’d have gone from perfectly unattached to engaged in one outing, and there was nothing compromising about it at all.
She entered the house in a bit of a daze.
Engaged. She, Gemma Elizabeth Templeton, was engaged. Had the world completely turned upside down?
Of course, she had wondered why a man like Lucas would court her, particularly when he had never courted anyone since she had become aware of him. But then, his first marriage had ended badly, so it was no wonder he remained a secluded widower.
If she were to be perfectly honest with herself, she would admit that she hadn’t thought of how the courtship would end. She had been so delighted by it, and by him, that she dreaded considering it. But she had known it would end some way or another, and marriage had not been what she expected.
Why would he want to marry her? It had been on the tip of her tongue to ask him, but he had been so delighted by her acceptance… he had smiled!… that she could not bear to dampen it. He claimed he was no hero, but after her speech to him today, which she was still mortified about, she wondered if he might be marrying her to save her.
That would be equally as mortifying.
Even if that were the case, would it change anything?
She shook her head to herself. No, it would not change her mind. She would marry Lucas, not only because it was her only chance, but because she wanted to.
Didn’t she?
“What in the world are you doing to Blackmoor, Gemma?”
She whirled in surprise to see her brother-in-law coming from one of the drawing rooms at the front of the house. She glanced around and realized she’d leaned against the door while being lost in thought. She frowned and folded her arms. “What are you talking about?”
Spencer raised a brow and jerked his thumb in the direction Lucas had gone. “The man is practically giddy. I almost didn’t recognize him.”
The disapproval and suspicion in his voice rankled her and she lifted her chin to meet his expression head on. “I haven’t done anything. Other than accept his proposal.”
Spencer gaped, his dark eyes going wide. “His WHAT?”
Gemma scoffed. “Oh, really, Spencer, why did you think he was coming around and taking me on carriage rides and escorting me about? Did you suppose I was advising him on cravat fashions?”
“You accepted?” Spencer sputtered.
“Yes.”
“Without consulting your father?”
She shrugged one shoulder and shifted her weight. “Why should I? He doesn’t want to marry Papa, he wants to marry me.”
Spencer made an inarticulate noise. “That is much to his credit, but Gem!” He stepped forward and looked as if he was going to take her arms, as if she were a child. Again. “Why?”
Something within her started to burn and she gritted her teeth. “Why?” she snapped, surprising him. “Because he, unlike anyone else, sees me as a woman. And this woman rather likes that look in his eyes. If you’ll excuse me, Mama will want to plan my trousseau.”
She turned on her heel and strode towards her mother’s sitting room, and Spencer, after a moment, followed.
Her father exited the room just as they were about to enter.
“Papa!” Gemma cried, grabbing his arm as he moved to go past her.
He looked at her hand on his arm, then up at her in surprise. “Yes, Gemma?”
She swallowed, suddenly nervous. “I have something to tell you.”
Spencer snorted, but said nothing.
Her father sighed and an errant patch of hair on top of his head danced with the motion. “Tell me, then. I have a meeting with my solicitor soon.”
That was not going to go well, and would put him in a dismal mood. And she was about to give him something else that could make things worse.
Well, there was nothing for it.
She folded her hands together before her very primly. “I am engaged to Lord Blackmoor, Papa.”
“What?” her mother cried from within the sitting room.
Her father made no response and only raised a brow. “Really?” he asked with only a hint of a curious note.
She nodded once. “Yes, Papa. I know it must come as a shock, as you were unaware of our relationship…”
“Oh, I knew he was courting you, Gem,” her father interrupted with a wave of his hand, a slight smile on his face.
Spencer coughed in surprise and Gemma staggered a little, still clinging to her father’s sleeve. “You… knew?” she managed weakly. “How?”
Mr. Templeton smiled and patted her cheek. “Because he wrote to me shortly after he started courting you, pet. Asked for discretion for both of you, so I gave it.” He pried her fingers out of his sleeve and chuckled. “Really, it was quite properly done, Gemma. You’re not nearly as shocking as you think.” He turned and left the hallway, while Gemma gaped behind him.
He knew? All along?
“Come in here!” her mother screeched, shaking her out of her stupor.
Gemma rushed into the sitting room and went to her mother’s side as she reclined on the faded brocade divan.
“You’re engaged to Blackmoor?” her mother asked, squeezing her hand, her eyes alight.
Gemma smiled for the first time in minutes and nodded. “Yes, Mama. Is that all right with you?”
Her mother’s plump face broke out into a beaming smile. “Dearest girl, I could not be more delighted! But is it all right with you? You seem a bit… hesitant.”
“Well,” Gemma said softly, “I…”
“I cannot believe you all are considering this!” Spencer broke in with a hard laugh. “Blackmoor? He’s a murderer!”
Gemma whirled at once. “He is not! How dare you!”
Her handsome brother-in-law sneered viciously. “Has he told you that? Was that part of his courtship? Explaining how all of those rumors got started?”
This was not like Spencer at all, and it puzzled her, but her rage was not going to take the time to ask about it. “If there were any truth to those rumors, don’t you think he would be barred from Society?” she retorted.
“It’s a fair point,” her mother mused in an odd, dreamy tone, turning them both. “Lady Raeburn would never let a real murderer in her house. Her second husband was murdered.”
Gemma sighed and put a hand to her brow. “No, Mama, that was Lady Hendershot. Lady Raeburn’s second husband choked on a bone.”
That too-familiar glazed look overtook her mother’s features, and Gemma hid another sigh. At one time in her life, Theodora Templeton had been a sharp wit and a great beauty. Now she was a slightly addled, unwell, ridiculous woman with only scant moments of her old self shining through.
“But I thought it was murder,” her mother said faintly. “Everyone always said so. Lady Wiltshire’s husband died in a duel, Mrs. Campbell’s husband had apoplexy…”
“Enough about the widows of London!” Spencer snapped, again acting out of character. “We cannot have Blackmoor in the family! It is entirely unsuitable!”
“For whom?” Gemma responded with a defiant tilt of her chin. “I like Blackmoor. I like him very much. He is a good man, a good friend, and he kisses like an angel.”
Spencer sputtered furiously and fumbled over an appropriate response, but Gemma was not about to give him the chance to do so.
“And furthermore,” she continued, “he wants to marry me. So you may bite your tongue, Spencer Hammond, because nobody asked you!”
He gaped at her for a moment, then looked down at his mother-in-law in disgust. “You cannot agree to this, Theodora. I will speak to Templeton about it before he comes tonight, but you cannot want this for her.”
Her mother shrugged, the ribbons of her lace cap bouncing. She picked up her embroidery and sighed, “Well, if the Gerrards think well of him, I am in no position to judge him. He detests Lady Greversham, which makes me think highly of him indeed.”
Gemma rested a hand on her mother’s shoulder, relief washing over her.
Spencer grunted in irritation. “And when your daughter is dead will you think so highly of him?”
That drew a screech from Gemma and she marched over to shove her brother-in-law, who tumbled backwards into a chair. “You are more likely to die at his hands than I, you blundering blockhead, if you continue to spout your infernal rumors about him! Ask your brother on the subject, and see what the earl says, as they are neighbors!”
With a disgusted huff, she stormed out of the room, more determined than ever that this marriage would occur, no matter what London, or her idiot relations, would say.
Spencer watched Gemma march away, and tossed a grin at his mother-in-law, not quite so far gone as anybody thought. “Well, I think I have pushed her far enough.”
Theodora chuckled and set her embroidery down. “I’d say so. Any doubts she had about the marriage are quite gone.”
He hummed in satisfaction. “Good. Nathan says he’s a rare sort of man, and his friends consider him an ally. No matter what the world says, I think Gemma could do worse.”
“I’d venture she could not do better,” she replied, scratching idly at her cap. “It takes a very patient sort of man to put up with her, and the viscount seems to possess an astonishing amount of patience. Why do you think Gemma’s father lets her run wild? He cannot handle her.”
Spencer laughed and drew a knee up. “Should I warn Blackmoor, then?” he asked. “Caroline thought it might be necessary.”
Theodora shook her head at once, eyes wide, smile bright. “Gads, no. We need the girl married! He can find out afterwards when he cannot escape.”