Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

D awn found Frederick urging his horse over fallen trees and mounds of rocks until he came to the stream that ran parallel through his lands. Only then did he pause.

Last night he had let things go too far with Gem—Miss Bradford. Once he had finally broken free from his haze of arousal and regained his senses, he had been angry and appalled at his lack of self-control.

He had blown apart his iron-clad rule not to toy with innocents. Frederick was keenly aware and ashamed that he had started something he knew he could not bring to an honorable conclusion.

What was I thinking? Gemma is not a woman for me, she is not one for my world. I am a deviant and she is an innocent.

Her innocence had inflamed his need as nothing ever had before, and that was a stretch for him. He was doubly disgusted at himself for trespassing on territory he’d known was forbidden.

One did not kiss virgins without harsh consequences.

However, the prohibition, did not undermine the fact that a simple kiss with her had been more titillating than an orgy with a throng of courtesans.

Things hadn’t ended well last night and he knew that he had to take steps to prevent himself from seducing her again. He was still a gentleman, and the role dictated that he had no choice but to do the right thing. He would apologize, patch up any damage, and make sure he stayed away from her while she was under his protection.

Alighting from the horse, his boots sunk an inch into the sodden earth as he walked to the edge of the tributary. He gazed into the distance as his horse and Remus refreshed themselves at its banks.

Innocents must not play with devils.

She would not understand his need to maintain control in everything he did, nor would she understand his need to blindfold his partners, restrain them with rope and stir their arousal to the point they abandoned all of their inhibitions.

In relationships, like everything else, it was a simple matter of taking control or being controlled. He would never again allow anyone to parade him around like a puppet on a string as his parents had done. He always made sure that he was the one in control of any given situation.

Do I dare hope that she could ever understand me… ?

He scoffed at the possibility. “Pigs will fly and bears will jump over rainbows, and I will fetch dry dirt from the bottom of the sea.”

It was impossible to even contemplate that Gemma, sweet, innocent Gemma , would understand his debauched ways, or want to unravel the twisted knots in his head and soul.

Remus shook his muzzle and trotted around the horse, while Frederick steeled himself to return to the manor and speak with Gemma.

He spurred the horse towards the stables, retracing the route he had taken to the far edge of the property. The entire estate had become heavily water-logged, but little damage had been done to the main building or the outlying structures.

Handing his horse off to a stable hand with instructions to also bathe Remus, he trudged to the main house and headed inside after pausing to scrape the mud from his Hessians.

After changing his clothes he strolled into the breakfast room and jerked to a stop. Gemma, whom he had thought would avoid him like the plague, was sharing tea and crumpets with his grandmother.

“Oh, there you are,” his grandmother said, brushing off her fingers. “I thought you had gone off to the West Indies.”

His head snapped back. “Why would I do that?”

“Your ribald wanderlust,” she said while topping up her tea. “I know how unpredictable you are, so it is only predictable to predict your unpredictability.”

Frederick snorted. “Your whimsy knows no bounds. Good morning, Miss Bradford. I hope you enjoyed a somewhat decent sleep, what with the thunderstorm last night.”

To his continued surprise she met his eyes. “There were some rather tense moments but I persevered. How did you fare, Your Grace?”

He sat and reached for the folded newspaper. “Never slept a wink. I spent my time with a book and solitude.”

“What book?” Gemma asked.

“ Troilus and Criseyde, ” he said, meeting her eyes again. His gaze locked with hers until they both turned away. “It seems the worst tragedies have the most romantic heroes.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw his grandmother’s shrewd rheumy gaze shifting between them. “Did something happen last night of which I am not aware?”

“No,” they both blurted out simultaneously.

She reached for the milk boat. “I see. You two seem committed to playing tricks on an old woman and sending her to her grave with an unsolved mystery.”

“Please,” Frederick shook out the paper and ran his eyes over the words in front of him. “You are no closer to your grave than you were twenty years ago. And there is no mystery of which you are not aware, Grandmother. You are the Oracle of Delphi.”

“If only I were so fortunate,” she said. “I would rather gain knowledge through foresight instead of rumors, whispers, and tidbits of this and that. That would make it so much easier on my poor brain.”

“Once again, your brain is sharper than a two-edged dagger,” he said. “Why else do I hoard your nuggets of time-earned wisdom like a dragon hoards its gold?”

“Good, good,” Vivian replied. “Which is why I must insist that you apologize for whatever dunderheaded thing you did last night and promise not to do it again.”

Hands stalled, Frederick asked, “why do you think I did something wrong?”

The elderly woman reached for her cane and rose to her feet. Before excusing herself she tapped his shoulder and added, “because I have known you from before you knew yourself, son. Your emotions are not as hidden as you think they are. Now, sort this out quickly because I want to have lunch with Lady Donahue and Dame Yardly in peace.”

Before leaving, the Dowager eyed them knowingly with a tart smirk.

When her footsteps stopped echoing, Frederick sighed, dropped the paper and rubbed his eyes.

“She is right about last night. I wronged you. I should not have touched you, knowing what I know about you.”

Gemma kept her eyes down, and he wondered if her earlier bravery had begun to dwindle.

“I do not…” she bit her lip. “I do not blame you. Can we put it behind us and pretend it did not happen?”

For some reason, he despised that suggestion.

He took a careful sip of the scorching coffee and set the cup down as his mind spun in a dozen different directions. “Miss Bradford?—”

“Pardon me, Your Grace,” a footman bowed. “The nun has returned. She says is it urgent.”

Not moving his eyes from Gemma, he ordered, “send her away.”

“I have tried, Your Grace,” the footman replied, “But she will not leave of her own accord.”

“Devil and damn, I do not have time for this.” Frederick groaned while pushing away from the table. “Send her to my study. I will try to send her away as quickly as she arrived.”

Striding away from the breakfast room he entered his study. His prior irritation only grew when he saw the nun there, her lined face placid.

“Sister Agnes,” he said curtly. “May I ask why are you here when I explicitly told you to never again set foot on my property?”

She did not seem fazed. “I wish I could apologize without guile, Your Grace, but I cannot. I know you have Gemma Bradford here, so I ask you to return the problem child to the nunnery and I will never come by your house again.”

“She is not here,” Frederick said tightly. “As I told you when you came the first time. Please leave, and if you dare return, I will have you arrested.”

Her lips flattened into a thin bloodless line, “You would have a nun arrested?”

“If I had my choice, I would have had your whole convent arrested and your priory shut down for the death of my sister,” Frederick’s voice was a snarl. “You have a lot of self-righteous pomposity for someone whose godly house murdered an innocent girl.”

Sister Agnes paled. “I do not know what you mean, Your Grace.”

“Of course you do not,” Frederick rounded his desk, “And even if that poor girl was here, the hounds of hell would have to drag me away before I would agree to return her to your Satan’s den of horrors. Now, for the last time, leave my home or I will have you carried out by force.”

The nun scowled. “I will leave but I must warn you, that girl will lead you to your grave. She is not to be trusted.”

“I find it ironic how you see the devil in others, but you do not see it in yourselves,” Frederick replied. “You caused an innocent girl, who made one mistake, to die under your tender care without explanation to the family. Yet, you still have the gall to hold your head above others. Let me ask you, Sister Agnes, what did the good Lord mean when he said, he that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone ?”

The nun’s expression turned even more mulish. “I will see myself out.”

“And do not come by again.” Frederick warned.