Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

T hat night, Gemma lay awake in her chambers, her mind restless and buzzing with thoughts she could barely understand.

Her body still tingled from Frederick’s kiss, the intensity in his words and caresses, and the way he had looked at her as though no one else in the world mattered.

She’d never imagined that someone would look at her with such desire and passion that it made her tingle to even recall it.

She turned over in her bed, clutching the sheets tightly.

What are you thinking, Gemma?

She chided herself and pressed her face firmly into her pillow, as if that could somehow muffle her wild thoughts.

But the memory of Frederick was seared into her mind. His rough grip, the warmth of his breath mingling with hers, the possessive way he had pulled her close. Her skin still felt as if it burned where his hands had touched her.

“Maybe I am not so lost to the idea of affection after all,” she murmured to herself, a soft, almost mischievous smile playing on her lips.

The thought lingered. She, a spinster by all accounts, had never seriously considered marriage; the structure and obligations of a typical union had always seemed stifling. She knew that Frederick also had no desire to marry.

Perhaps they could… arrange something. Just something for themselves, away from the eyes and expectations of society. It would be wild, improper, and surely risky. Yet, the thought sent an excited rush through her that left her cheeks flushed despite the cool night.

She tried to shake the thought away, telling herself she was being reckless. Yet, as she lay there, a shiver of delicious anticipation filled her as she imagined what it would be like to feel his hands on her again, to lose herself in his embrace and forget the rest of the world.

Eventually, with her heart still pounding, she drifted off into sleep, her dreams filled with images of Frederick, his intense gaze, his strong hands and the press of his lips.

The next morning, Gemma found herself grateful for Vivian’s company, which kept her distracted from her thoughts.

They spent the day together, with Vivian introducing her to the staff and the inner workings of the estate, her presence as lively and cheerful as ever.

Over the following days, Vivian continued to welcome Gemma into her world with warmth and kindness, and Gemma found herself growing quite fond of the older woman.

But just as she felt she was finding some semblance of peace, the Dowager threw her off balance once again.

“Frederick will be joining us tomorrow,” she announced casually as they sipped tea in the drawing room.

Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. “Frederick?” she asked, trying to keep her tone calm, though she was sure her voice gave her away.

“Yes,” Vivian replied, her eyes twinkling delightedly at Gemma’s feigned attempt at neutrality. “The estate needs a little more work than I thought, and Frederick has a far better eye for those types of things than I do.”

“Oh, I see,” Gemma replied, attempting to maintain her composure as she set her teacup down, but her hands betrayed her by trembling slightly. The thought of seeing him again so soon, after the intensity of their most recent encounter, sent a ripple of impatient eagerness through her.

Vivian watched her with a raised eyebrow. “I do hope you will keep him company when I cannot, Gemma. You are good at lightening his serious moods.”

Gemma managed a nod, though inwardly her mind was racing.

Keep him company?

Just the thought of being alone with him again made her stomach jolt and twist.

The mere thought that she would see him the following day made her feel like a foolish schoolgirl, desperate to catch even a glimpse of him.

The next day dawned bright, with a slight chill in the air. By mid-morning, Gemma and Vivian found themselves in the estate’s gardens, plucking herbs and vegetables with the servants, the sunlight casting a warm glow across the vibrant greens of the plants and the neatly laid paths between the beds.

Gemma relished the chance to be outdoors, her hands busy with the cool touch and heady aroma of fresh herbs as she worked alongside Vivian.

“Here, try some of this,” Vivian handed her a sprig of mint, freshly picked. “It has such a lovely smell, does it not?”

Gemma took the sprig and breathed in its fresh, sharp scent. “Oh, it does. It reminds me of summers with my father. He used to take me to the fields where mint grew wild.”

Vivian smiled warmly, a hint of nostalgia in her eyes. “You know, I used to sneak out to the gardens when I was much younger,” she confessed, glancing at Gemma with a conspiratorial wink. “There were things I was not supposed to do, and plants I was told not to touch, but of course, that just made them all the more inviting.”

Gemma laughed softly, amused by the thought of a young Vivian sneaking about the gardens, likely to raise havoc wherever she went. “I think I can see that. You do not strike me as someone who likes to be told what to do.”

“Oh, indeed not,” Vivian said with a chuckle, a gleam of defiance evident in her eyes. “Age may have slowed me down, but it certainly has not dampened my spirit. And for that, I am grateful every single day.”

Gemma’s smile softened as she watched the older woman. Vivian had been a source of unexpected kindness in her life, and though they had not met that long ago, Gemma felt a deep connection with her.

“You know, I have lived quite a life, dear,” Vivian continued, her gaze distant. “I have known joy, pain and everything in between. And if I have learned one thing, it is that life should never be lived half-heartedly.”

Gemma nodded, her thoughts trailing back to her own recent revelations.

“I think I am just beginning to understand that.” she admitted, her voice quieter.

She thought wistfully of her father and of all the years she had spent locked away in the convent being denied the freedom for which she so desperately longed.

Vivian reached out, patting Gemma’s hand gently. “It is never too late to start, my dear. You have such spirit, such fire. I saw that the moment I met you.”

Gemma looked down at the Dowager. A warm, peaceful happiness spread through her chest as she digested Vivian’s words.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she replied softly. “That means more than I can say, and more than you know.”

Vivian simply smiled and returned her attention to the garden. “There is nothing wrong with embracing what you feel, Gemma. Sometimes we hold back for fear of what others may think, or for fear of being hurt. But life is not meant to be safe . It is meant to be lived .”

Her words hung in the air, carrying a weight of importance that Gemma could feel settling within her. She glanced at the Dowager, wondering if the older woman knew of the emotions that had recently stirred within her, or if this was simply the wisdom of a lifetime, shared in passing.

With a small sigh, Vivian straightened and brushed off her hands. “Now then, shall we gather these and head back? I am sure you need some time to prepare for our guest,” she said with a knowing smile.

Gemma felt her cheeks warm but managed to nod. “Yes, that would be lovely.”

As they gathered the herbs and vegetables, Gemma found her thoughts turning once more to Frederick. The anticipation of seeing him again grew with every step she took and her thoughts jumped around excitedly in her head at the prospect.

She wasn’t sure what would happen when she saw him, but one thing was certain. After her conversation with the Dowager, she was no longer willing to let fear dictate her choices.

With a small, determined smile, she followed Vivian back to the house, feeling the tendrils of excitement taking root in her heart.

Tomorrow, when Frederick arrived, she would be ready.

Gemma carefully chose her clothing that morning, opting for something simple. A high-necked, pale linen dress with a small sash tied at the waist. The look was both sweet and practical, and she told herself that she had chosen it for comfort.

In truth, she wasn’t ready to show how eager she was to see Frederick again, and how his presence seemed to churn up something deep within her.

She took a breath, trying to still the fluttering in her chest, and joined Vivian for breakfast, determined to keep her thoughts collected.

“Good morning, Gemma.” The Dowager greeted her with a warm smile as she sat down. “You look quite refreshed. I imagine you are eager to get to work with me on the estate today.”

Gemma smiled, grateful for Vivian’s ever-steady presence. “Yes, I would love to be of whatever assistance I can offer. Despite my appearance, I am no stranger to demanding work.”

“Indeed?” Vivian asked, arching a brow with interest.

“Oh yes,” Gemma replied with a laugh. “I do not know how it might help here, but I also know how to care for sheep, geese and chickens, for a start.”

“Now that, my dear, I would never have guessed!” Vivian said, her eyes twinkling with amusement as she sipped her tea.

“Well, it is true,” Gemma continued, smiling at the memory. “Whenever I misbehaved at the abbey—and that was often—I was sent to help the farm hands. I mucked out the stalls, herded flocks, even tried my hand at milking cows once.” She wrinkled her nose. “That one… was not exactly a success.”

Vivian let out a soft chuckle. “Sounds like quite the punishment for a lady of rank! But clearly, you learned more than they had intended.”

“I did,” Gemma replied with a faint note of pride. “I suppose they meant to make me feel ashamed about having to do the work, but instead I learned the importance of it. Besides, I never had anyone else to do things for me, and I found I did not mind in the slightest.” She smiled, glancing at Vivian with a hint of mischief. “I could even help you with the sheep if you needed.”

Vivian laughed heartily and it rang across the room. “Oh, Gemma, I think I would pay good money to see that! Frederick would be positively scandalized if he saw you trying to wrangle sheep on my estate.”

Gemma’s smile faltered for just a moment as she thought about Frederick’s probable reaction. “Yes… I have a feeling he might not see it in quite the same light.”

Vivian waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nonsense. He might seem gruff, but do not let his disposition fool you. He knows the value of challenging work.” She gave her a knowing look, one that made Gemma feel slightly exposed, as if Vivian could read her every thought.

“Still, I wonder if he would see it as fitting for a lady,” Gemma murmured, but Vivian only chuckled, clearly unfazed.

“You may be surprised, dear. Frederick is astute; he recognizes quality when he sees it.” Vivian said with a wink, her words layered with a subtle hint of encouragement. “Besides, any man who cannot appreciate a practical woman with real skills is simply not worth worrying over.”

Gemma let the warmth of Vivian’s words settle in, feeling a sense of acceptance that she had not experienced for many long years. The quiet understanding that passed between them soothed her nerves, and she found herself relaxing, her laughter blending with Vivian’s as they spoke.

When breakfast had concluded, the Dowager suggested they take a stroll in the garden. Gemma agreed gladly, and they set off along the path leading to the rose garden, the morning air fresh and slightly crisp, promising the coming warmth of the afternoon.

As they walked, the two of them chatted about art and literature, delighting in shared opinions on authors and painters alike. Gemma was grateful that Vivian took her opinions seriously and even debated her on the finer points of some pieces, never patronizing or judging her point of view, even when it differed from her own. It was refreshing to be treated as an intellectual equal, and she found herself talking more freely, laughing and enjoying their rich conversation.

They passed by a row of vibrant blooms. Roses in varying shades of blush, cream and ruby red lined the walkway their deep, sweet fragrance permeating the air. Gemma stopped to admire them and brushed her fingers reverently along one delicate petal.

“They are exquisite, are they not?” she murmured, almost to herself.

“Yes,” Vivian replied softly. “It is one of the many things I have grown to love about Blackridge. Its beauty is not limited to the grandeur of the house. The land itself is a marvel.”

Gemma nodded, her gaze still on the roses. “I can see that. There is something about the countryside that feels… liberating. It is real, soothing and unpretentious. You can lose yourself in it.”

Vivian’s voice softened, her tone wistful. “Indeed. It has given me so much peace over the years. When one grows older, there is a different beauty one appreciates; a beauty in simplicity, in nature.” She placed a gentle hand on Gemma’s arm, her smile tender. “It is one of the reasons I am glad to have you here, my dear. You remind me of myself at your age, eager for the world, yet still finding your place in it.”

“I am so grateful you have allowed me to be a part of it all,” she said softly, sincerity filling her voice. “I never imagined finding this; such warmth, such kindness, after so long.”

Vivian’s eyes softened and she reached out to take Gemma’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It is my pleasure, Gemma. You deserve this and so much more.”

As they walked, a soft breeze rustled through the hedges, carrying with it the faint sounds of life on the estate—voices, laughter, and the distant whinny of horses from the stable yard. Gemma was so immersed in the tranquility of the moment that she almost didn’t hear the approaching footsteps.

The chamberlain’s voice broke into their quiet. “Pardon me, Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “The Duke has arrived.”

A thrill of nerves shot through Gemma and her heart skipped a beat at the announcement. She met Vivian’s gaze, trying to keep her expression composed, though she could feel the rising flush in her cheeks.

“Ah, perfect timing,” Vivian replied, casting a quick, amused glance at Gemma. “Please inform His Grace that we shall be with him shortly.”

The chamberlain nodded and disappeared along the path back to the house. Gemma watched him go, her pulse quickening despite herself. She straightened her dress, brushing off invisible flecks of dust as if it might somehow steady her.

Vivian tilted her head, watching her with a knowing smile. “Nervous, are we?”

Gemma laughed, though it was breathless. “I… I suppose I am. It is just…” She paused, casting her gaze to the house in the distance. “He always seems to unsettle me in ways I cannot quite explain.”

Vivian’s eyes sparkled. “The best ones often do, my dear.” She gestured toward the path with a nod. “Shall we go and welcome him?”

Gemma took a deep breath and nodded. Together, they made their way back to the house, her steps steady yet quickening with each passing moment.

The thought of seeing Frederick again—of facing him after their last encounter—sent a warm thrill coursing through her.

She knew she had to keep her composure, to be practical, calm and reserved. Yet, as they drew nearer, she could feel her restless heart betraying her, its beats thumping so loudly in her chest that she feared the Dowager would hear it.

Vivian seemed to sense Gemma’s inner turmoil and gave her one last reassuring smile before they reached the grand entryway.

“Remember, Gemma. Confidence,” she murmured softly. “Let him see the woman you are.”

Gemma met her gaze, the older woman’s encouragement lending her strength. “Thank you, Your Grace. I will keep that at the forefront of my mind.”

As they crossed the threshold, Gemma felt both exhilaration and nerves, all of them heightened by the anticipation that had been simmering within her since the ball. She hadn’t known what to expect from him then, and she knew even less now.

But, ready or not, she was determined to face the Duke, to meet his eyes and find out what lay beneath his composed exterior, even if it left her breathless all over again.