Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

T he following morning sunlight streamed through the tall windows of Blackridge Manor and cast soft, golden light across its sprawling grounds. The storm had passed, leaving the air crisp and the sky clear.

Gemma descended the grand staircase, her footsteps echoing softly against the polished wood. Despite the beauty of the day, a pang of sadness was lodged in her heart.

Today would be her last day at Blackridge Manor.

Gemma slowed as she neared the breakfast hall and took a deep, ragged breath to compose herself. She did not know what to expect after the charged moment she and Frederick had recently shared in the library.

The memory of his body pressed against hers, the warmth of his breath, and the intense way in which he had regarded her flashed through her mind.

Stepping into the room, Gemma paused. Frederick was already there, sitting at the long dining table with a newspaper in his hands.

He glanced up briefly as she entered the room, then wordlessly returned his attention to the paper.

The looming silence was thick and awkward.

Gemma swallowed uncomfortably, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her dress as she moved toward the table. She took a seat across from him, trying not to fidget.

The awkward silence stretched and grew heavier with each passing second. She sensed his every movement, every rustle of the newspaper and each breath he took but neither of them spoke.

Just when the silence had become nearly unbearable, the door opened and Vivian entered, her cane tapping lightly against the floor as she made her way to the table.

“Good morning, my dears!” Vivian greeted them cheerily, her eyes sparkling with her usual mischief. “What a lovely day it is after all that dreadful weather. I trust you both slept well?”

Gemma offered a polite smile. “Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”

Frederick merely grunted in response, lowering his newspaper but keeping his gaze fixed on it. The Dowager, as always, seemed unbothered by his cold demeanor.

“Well,” Vivian continued, taking her seat with a soft sigh, “since the storm has passed, I imagine the time has come to discuss what will happen next.”

Gemma’s heart sank slightly at the reminder. She’d known this moment was coming. It was improper for her to remain a guest of Blackridge Manor now that the storm had cleared. She wasn’t family, nor was she engaged to Frederick. Staying any longer would raise eyebrows amongst the ton, even if nothing untoward had taken place between them.

But still, the thought of leaving left her feeling strangely empty. She had enjoyed her time here, despite everything. Even the tension with Frederick had felt… alive, waking something in her she hadn’t felt in a long time.

As if sensing her thoughts, Vivian turned her sharp gaze on Gemma. “I have been thinking, dear,” she began, her tone casual but with an air of authority. “It would, of course, not be proper for you to remain here much longer. A young lady staying in a bachelor’s home for no particular reason tends to stir up needless gossip.”

Frederick’s jaw tightened slightly, though he remained silent.

“However,” Vivian continued, her eyes gleaming with an idea, “I would like to offer you a place at my own estate as my lady’s companion. It is a perfectly respectable arrangement, and I could use some bright company. Besides, it is closer to several northern estates and villages, so you will not be too far away from society.”

Gemma blinked in surprise, unprepared to receive such a kind offer. The Dowager’s estate was about two hours away from Blackridge Manor. It was a generous proposition, and it would save her from having to return to her former life. Still, something about it felt… orchestrated.

Vivian smiled kindly at Gemma. “I see enormous potential in you, my dear. You would be a welcome addition to my household.”

Frederick frowned deeply at this, his dark eyes moving from Vivian to Gemma. His lips pressed into a tight line, as if he disapproved of the idea but couldn’t quite find the words to object.

After a long, tense pause, he finally nodded stiffly.

“It is the proper thing to do,” he said quietly, though there was no warmth in his tone.

Gemma hesitated, unsure how to feel. The idea of staying with the Dowager was tempting. She had grown fond of the older woman’s sharp wit and keen intelligence, and it would give her a chance to remain close to Blackridge, even if Frederick wasn’t particularly thrilled by the arrangement. But the uncertainty of it all—the unclear dynamics between her and Frederick, the potential for more tension—made her feel uneasy.

“I would be honored, Your Grace,” Gemma said finally, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

Vivian beamed at her. “Wonderful! It is settled, then. We shall leave tomorrow. I will have the carriage prepared.”

There was a pause, and then Vivian’s eyes twinkled mischievously as she added, “Of course, Frederick, you are welcome to visit us anytime. I have no doubt that you will check on us regularly.”

Gemma felt a flicker of hope at her suggestion, her heart quickening slightly.

Would Frederick visit? Was there a chance that this strange, simmering connection between them could develop into something more?

Frederick, however, only nodded curtly, his expression as closed off as ever.

“I am sure I will,” he said, though his voice lacked any real conviction.

With that, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.

“I have work to deal with,” he muttered, his tone dismissive.

Without another glance in Gemma’s direction, he strode out of the room, his boots echoing down the hallway as he disappeared from sight.

Gemma remained seated as emotions churned inside of her. Disappointment, frustration and longing took turns invading her heart. It was all quite exhausting.

She had hoped… well, she wasn’t sure what she had hoped for. Perhaps a sign from him, a hint that he felt something for her, even if he wouldn’t admit it outright.

But instead, he had simply left.

Vivian, sensing Gemma’s mood, reached out and patted her hand gently. “Do not fret, dear,” she said softly. “Frederick is… complicated. He needs time to sort through his emotions.”

Gemma forced another smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I am not sure he has any emotions to sort through.”

Vivian chuckled softly. “Oh, he does, trust me. He just keeps them deeply buried. But I know my grandson. He is more affected by you than he lets on.”

Gemma glanced at the door where Frederick had disappeared, her heart heavy with uncertainty.

“I hope you are right,” she said quietly.

Vivian’s eyes twinkled again and she graced Gemma with a reassuring smile. “I am always right, my dear. Now, why do we not make the most of our last day here before we head to my estate? There is nothing like a good walk through the gardens to clear the mind.”

Gemma nodded, although her thoughts were far from clear. She couldn’t shake the feeling that her time with Frederick was not over, even if he was determined to push her away.

As she stood up to follow the Dowager out of the dining room, Gemma glanced one last time at Frederick’s empty chair, her heart whispering a quiet hope that this wouldn’t be the end.

The Dowager Duchess’ estate, Greenwood Hall, was a sprawling, elegant manor with ivy-clad walls and large windows that allowed sunlight to stream into its vast rooms. The gardens were breathtaking, full of winding paths, rose bushes and perfectly trimmed hedges.

Life at Greenwood Hall was a welcome change for Gemma. Unlike the strict confines of the convent or the stifling formality of other households, Greenwood Hall felt like a place where she could breathe. Every day was filled with leisurely breakfasts in the sunlit dining room, afternoon walks in the gardens, and evenings spent by the fire with a book or engaged in lively conversations with Vivian.

There was an ease in the daily routine, a rhythm Gemma found comforting, even as the uncertainty of what her future held lingered in the back of her mind.

Vivian, as always, was full of energy and plans. One week after they’d settled in, she announced over tea that they were to attend a prestigious ball at the nearby estate of the Duke and Duchess of Islington.

“A ball?” Gemma asked, her teacup pausing halfway to her lips. The very idea of attending such a grand event both thrilled and unnerved her. She had never been to a ball. “Do you think it is a good idea, Your Grace? I am not sure that I am prepared for something so grand.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Vivian replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You will fit in perfectly. You have grace, wit, and charm in abundance. And besides…” she paused, her tone growing even more playful, “…Frederick will also be there.”

At the mention of Frederick’s name, Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since the day they left Blackridge Manor. Despite the awkwardness between them, she could not help feeling a pull in his direction. The memory of their heated moments still lingered in her mind, making her both nervous and excited at the prospect of seeing him again.

Gemma’s reverie broke as Vivian clapped her hands together. “I have a surprise for you, dear.” With a sly smile, she motioned for a servant to bring something to her.

Moments later, a maid entered carrying a stunning gown. It was a light blue silk dress, with delicate lace embellishments and a flattering silhouette that seemed to shimmer in the light. Gemma’s breath caught in her throat.

“This…” Gemma gasped, running her fingers over the sleek fabric, “this is beautiful.”

“I had it tailored just for you,” Vivian said with a satisfied smile. “You will look like an angel in it, my dear. Perfect for your grand debut.”

Gemma’s heart swelled with gratitude, although her nerves still gnawed at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes misting slightly.

She had never had someone do something so kind for her before; it felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

Vivian patted her hand. “You deserve it, Gemma. Now, do not fret. You will be the most dazzling lady at that ball, I am certain of it.”

The evening of the ball had arrived, and Gemma stood before the mirror in her room at Greenwood Hall, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her.

The light blue gown fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves while still being modest. Her hair was pinned in soft curls, and a small silver necklace adorned her neck; a finishing touch that infused her appearance with a sense of elegance she had never known before.

As the carriage pulled up to the grand estate of the Duke and Duchess of Islington, Gemma felt her heart race. The mansion was glowing with light, laughter and music that floated on the night air as carriages lined the drive. In the tall windows she could see silhouettes of couples enjoying themselves on the dance floor, and her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement

“Remember,” Vivian whispered as they stepped out of the carriage, “you belong here, Gemma. Hold your head high.”

Gemma nodded, though her palms were damp with anxiety. She followed Vivian inside, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the grandeur of the ballroom.

The ceiling was high and domed, with glittering chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed crowd. Soft music was being played by a small orchestra in the corner, while couples glided across the floor in perfect synchronization.

For a moment, Gemma felt like she had stepped into another world.

As they moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and nods, Gemma’s searching gaze swept across the room.

And then she saw him. Frederick.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his tall, muscular frame impossible to miss. He looked as serious and brooding as ever, dressed in a sharp black coat and waistcoat, his dark hair elegantly styled. But she spotted a change in his eyes as he registered her presence that made her heart skip a beat.

She quickly looked away, feeling a flush of warmth rise on her cheeks. But before she could dwell on it, a tall, handsome man approached her with a charming smile.

“Miss Bradford, I presume?” he asked, bowing slightly. “I am Andrew Gulliver, Earl of Newfield. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Gemma blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sudden approach, but managed to offer a polite smile. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Newfield.”

Andrew was strikingly handsome, with sandy blond hair, warm hazel eyes and a boyish charm that instantly put her at ease. His smile was wide and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief that suggested he was accustomed to charming everyone in the room.

“I must say,” he continued, glancing at her dress appreciatively, “you look absolutely ravishing this evening.”

Gemma blushed, a little taken aback by his boldness, but there was something light-hearted in his tone that made her smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Please, call me Andrew,” he said, grinning. “After all, we are practically neighbors, now that you’re living with Her Grace.”

Before Gemma could respond, he offered her his hand, “Would you do me the honor of sharing a dance?”

Gemma hesitated only for a moment to glance at Vivian, who gave her a discreet nod of approval and encouragement.

“It would be my pleasure, my lord,” she responded.

She placed her hand in Andrew’s and allowed him to lead her onto the dance floor. The music was soft and lilting, and as they moved together she felt herself relaxing and enjoying the ease of his company.

Andrew was charming, easygoing and full of playful compliments that made her laugh. He twirled her gracefully across the floor, his light-hearted conversation soothing her nerves.

But even as she smiled and laughed with him she could feel Frederick’s eyes on her. Every now and then she caught a glimpse of him watching them, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed in that familiar, brooding way.

The sight of him, standing so rigid and stern in the corner, made her pulse quicken. She couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking; whether he cared at all that another man was showing her attention.

“Tell me, Miss Bradford,” Andrew said, pulling her attention back to him. “How are you finding northern society? We are not nearly as stiff as the London crowd, are we?”

Gemma chuckled softly. “No, you are not. It has been… refreshing, to say the least.”

“And I hope we have been treating you well?” Andrew asked, his eyes twinkling as he spun her gently. “You seem to be fitting in perfectly.”

“Everyone has been very kind,” Gemma replied, smiling. “It has been more than I could have hoped for.”

Andrew’s smile grew, and for a moment, his gaze flickered to the side, toward Frederick. “It seems you have caught the attention of more than just me this evening,” he said, his voice low and teasing.

Gemma followed his gaze and her heart skipped a beat when she saw Frederick watching them, his dark eyes smoldering with intense possessiveness.

“Shall we make him even more jealous?” Andrew whispered playfully, his tone light.

Gemma laughed softly, but there was a thrill in the suggestion, and she found herself nodding.

“I like you even more now, my dear,” Andrew said with a playful smirk.

They danced a little closer and a little slower, and she couldn’t help but enjoy the attention, both from Andrew and from the way Frederick’s gaze burned upon her from across the room.

For the first time in her life she felt seen. Not as an obligation or a burden, but as someone worthy of attention.

And it felt good.