Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

“ F rederick, dear, it is so lovely of you to come,” Vivian said, a heartfelt smile spreading across her face as her gaze jumped from the Duke to Gemma and back again. “I am quite pleased to see you two here together. I thought some tea might be just the thing to start the day off right.”

Frederick had been on edge for days now, the cause of which he could trace directly back to the ball and, more specifically, to Gemma. Every time he thought of her—the way she had danced with Andrew, how her lips had parted as they’d argued in the quiet of the library—he became overcome by a fierce, possessive longing that bordered on insanity.

When his grandmother’s invitation had arrived, claiming she needed help with ‘estate matters,’ he’d barely paused before accepting. He knew full well that she didn’t actually need his assistance; she’d been managing her own affairs for decades, long before he’d inherited his title.

No, this was another scheme of hers, likely involving one particular dark-haired woman who haunted his thoughts. His grandmother, he suspected, was meddling once again.

And now, here he was, sitting in her parlor, his body tense with anticipation. His mind replayed fragments of his last encounter with Gemma. Her breathless anger, the way she’d stared at him with such confusion, and a challenge in her gaze that had only spurred him further. He wondered if he’d taken things too far, too fast.

Maybe he had scared her off. Maybe she’d want nothing more to do with him.

Frederick scowled at his own thoughts, frustrated by the mere idea of never seeing Gemma again.

“Good afternoon, Grandmother, Miss Bradford,” he greeted as he stood up and offered them a bow.

Gemma was still standing in the doorway beside his grandmother, a small bundle of freshly cut roses in her hand. She was smiling softly, her cheeks flushed from the garden air.

“Good afternoon, Your Grace. I trust that your journey here was comfortable,” she responded.

He fought to maintain his composure as he entered the room, but despite his best efforts, his gaze was unwillingly drawn to her. It took every bit of restraint to keep himself from staring outright.

Gemma moved gracefully into the room, placing the roses in a small vase on the table. Her fingers brushed over the petals and he found himself envying those delicate blooms, wishing he could reach out and she would touch him in the same way.

Instead, he forced himself to sit rigidly as his grandmother settled into her chair and began pouring the tea, her eyes bright with what he instantly recognized as another devious plot unfolding.

“Um, yes. It was all right, Miss Bradford,” he finally mustered a reply.

Gemma took a seat beside Vivian, glancing at him before she quickly looked away to focus on the scones set before them.

Frederick clenched his jaw, feeling the weight of their unfinished business lingering between them.

“You know, Gemma has proven herself to be quite the asset here on the estate,” Vivian began conversationally, passing her a plate. “She has shared some of her skills in gardening and animal husbandry, which I must say, Frederick, could be rather useful to you today.”

Frederick’s brow rose in surprise. “Oh?” he asked, trying to keep his voice neutral. “And how, precisely, could Miss Bradford be useful?”

He caught a flicker of amusement in his grandmother’s eyes as she took a sip of her tea. “Well, as I mentioned in my letter, I would like you to introduce yourself to some of my tenants. It is time they knew you better, and I thought it prudent that they feel comfortable with you before any inheritance matters arise. And as for Gemma, she has an easy charm and a keen understanding of the land and its workings—qualities I believe would serve you well in making a positive impression.”

“Are you implying I do not possess the knowledge of the land and its workings?” Frederick raised an eyebrow.

“Not at all my boy. I meant to imply you have no easy charm,” she replied matter-of-factly, sipping her tea once more.

Frederick heard Gemma cough lightly into her tea. It wasn’t a cough exactly—rather a stifled chuckle.

Gemma sipped from her tea. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“I’m all right,” she merely said.

Frederick scoffed. He knew he wasn’t the most charming of lords but he could handle meeting some tenants on his own.

Before he could response, his grandmother went on, “The tenant will see Miss Bradford as someone who understands their lives and their challenges—a trait they might find refreshingly approachable. It would make the visit feel less…transactional.”

“I wasn’t aware this was to be a group endeavor,” Frederick replied, his voice edged with dry humor.

Vivian’s expression remained serene. “Consider it an exercise in partnership. After all, every good landlord needs someone to remind him of the human element.”

“Very well,” Frederick replied, feeling a faint tug of suspicion. “Still, you have managed this estate splendidly for years, Grandmother. Why the sudden urgency?”

The Dowager raised an eyebrow, setting her teacup down with a gentle clink. “The future is uncertain, Frederick. It is wise to make provisions while one is still able. I want to be sure my tenants feel acquainted with you, not just as the Duke of Blackridge, but as my grandson. Now is as good a time as any.”

Frederick’s gaze narrowed, still unconvinced. “You are faring quite well, are you not?”

“Perfectly,” Vivian answered smoothly. “But I have always been the sort to plan ahead. And besides, with Gemma here, I imagine she might make the task a bit… more enjoyable.”

He cast a glance toward Gemma, who sat quietly beside Vivian, meeting his gaze with a faint smile that he couldn’t quite decipher.

He felt a sudden urge to test her to see if that fire he’d glimpsed in her was still there. But instead, he tempered his expression, knowing his grandmother would notice any unusual reaction.

“Well then,” he said slowly, “if you wish for me to play the charming Duke, I shall certainly oblige.” He turned his attention to Gemma, who was watching him intently. “It seems, Miss Bradford, that you and I will be spending the day together.”

She gave a little nod, her gaze steady. “I shall do my best not to be in your way, Your Grace.”

There was something teasing in her tone and he felt the corners of his mouth involuntarily move upward.

His grandmother, ever observant, chuckled softly, seemingly pleased with herself.

“Ah, I see you two are getting on splendidly,” Vivian remarked, reaching for another scone. “It is as I had hoped.”

Frederick raised a brow. “Oh? And what exactly did you hope for, Grandmother?”

She merely shrugged, an enigmatic smile playing on her lips. “Oh, that you might enjoy a pleasant day together. It seems to me that both of you could do with a bit of fresh air. Frederick, you have been much too serious of late. I believe some light company might be just the thing.”

Gemma glanced down at her tea, trying to hide a smile, but he caught it and felt his own mirth rising in spite of himself. His grandmother was every bit the cunning orchestrator, he realized, and her matchmaking was almost laughably obvious.

“Well, as usual, your wisdom knows no bounds,” Frederick replied with a trace of dry amusement, though he was careful not to let his gaze linger on Gemma for too long. “Perhaps I have underestimated you.”

Vivian merely chuckled. “My dear grandson. You have always underestimated me.”

The Dowager turned to Gemma. “He was a lively child, always testing the boundaries of propriety,” she said fondly. “I recall he once tried to catch a fox in the gardens simply because he thought it would make a fine companion. His grandfather nearly had a fit.”

Frederick’s lips quirked in a smile, picturing the scene. “That sounds like him,” he admitted. “He always did have a tendency to, ah, take matters into his own hands.”

Vivian nodded, her eyes twinkling. “He did indeed. I see much of him in you, Frederick. You have the same passion, even if you are more controlled about it.”

He snorted lightly, glancing over at Gemma. “Control has its uses.”

Gemma met his gaze with a mildly challenging expression. “I suppose it does. But sometimes a little recklessness can lead to unexpected opportunities.”

Frederick felt his pulse quicken at her words, his mind flashing back to the library, where recklessness had indeed created a charged, and unforgettable opportunity.

As they had finished their tea, Vivian looked at them both with a touch of pride, clearly satisfied.

“Well, I suppose I should leave you two to your day. Frederick, remember to be gracious to the tenants; they are loyal to me, and I would wish for them to be as loyal to you.”

Frederick nodded, already anticipating the day ahead with curiosity and intrigue.

“I shall do my best, Grandmother,” he said.

Gemma rose, smoothing her skirts, and offered Vivian a gentle smile. “Thank you for the tea, Your Grace. And for the lovely roses.”

As he made his way out of the room with Gemma, Frederick felt a thrill of anticipation, wondering just what the day held in store for them.

The boundaries between them were still unclear, but for once, he didn’t feel the urge to keep his distance.

After a short carriage ride they arrived in the village, a quaint collection of thatched-roof cottages clustered around a small green, with a stone church at its center.

Frederick noticed Gemma take it all in with a keen eye, her gaze settling appreciatively on the sturdy little buildings and the rows of homespun goods displayed by local vendors.

“It is beautiful,” she murmured, her eyes gleaming as she looked around. “There is life here…a sense of community that feels… rare.”

“It is a good village,” Frederick agreed, glancing around with quiet pride. “The people here are loyal to my family. Most have been tenants for generations.”

They walked further down the street, nodding to villagers who greeted them with polite deference.

Near the edge of the green, a woman in a worn but clean apron and tired eyes stepped forward, balancing a toddler on her hip. She curtsied awkwardly before Frederick, her face both hesitant and hopeful at once.

“Your Grace,” she began, her voice quivering slightly. “My name is Mary Winslow. I do not mean to be bold, but I heard you might be visiting today, and I hoped…well, I prayed…I might have a chance to speak with you.”

Frederick gestured for her to continue, noticing Gemma watching the woman with an encouraging smile.

“It is my boys, sir,” Mary explained, her gaze shifting between Frederick and Gemma. “My husband passed last winter, and I have done what I can to keep us all together. But there were two orphans from the village, boys who lost their parents to the fever, and…well, I could not bear to leave them. I have taken them in, but—” Her voice faltered. “I have three little ones of my own, and space is getting tight.”

Gemma’s expression softened and she stepped closer to the woman. “How old are the boys?”

“Seven and eight, Miss,” Mary replied, her face brightening slightly at Gemma’s interest. “They are good lads, hardworking, and eager to help. But it has been hard to feed everyone properly, and I am afraid they might have to go to the poorhouse.”

Frederick’s brow furrowed at the thought. He glanced at Gemma, who was already nodding thoughtfully.

“We could find work for them,” Gemma said, looking at him directly. “I am certain that there are tasks around the manor, and even here in the village, which would benefit from a few extra hands.”

Mary’s face lit up with hope. “Oh, Miss, that would be wonderful. They are truly good boys, I promise. And they are so eager to learn. They would be so grateful.”

Frederick felt an unexpected swell of pride as he watched Gemma’s compassion towards the woman.

“Perhaps we could find something for them,” he agreed, keeping his tone even but aware that he was as captivated by her generosity as Mary clearly was. “Miss Bradford, would you be able to oversee any arrangements?”

“Of course,” Gemma replied immediately, her eyes sparkling. “I would be happy to assist.”

Mary bobbed another curtsy, her voice full of gratitude. “Thank you, Miss. Thank you, Your Grace. I know they will be so grateful.”

They continued on through the village, Gemma’s smile lingering as she watched a cluster of village children laughing as they chased one another around the green.

“You did well back there,” Frederick said after a moment, glancing at her sidelong. “Not everyone would have stepped in so readily.”

Gemma shrugged lightly, a trace of shyness in her smile. “I have seen enough people abandoned to the poorhouse. They deserve a chance to build something better for themselves, especially if they are willing to work for it.”

Frederick felt a pang of admiration. There was no pretense in her response, only a quiet resolve that seemed deeply rooted in her character.

He respected that, perhaps more than he was ready to admit.

Their final stop took them to a large farm just outside the village, a sprawling estate bordered by stone walls and fields that stretched into the distance.

The farmhouse itself was sturdy but showed signs of wear, and a gruff-looking man, well into his sixties, approached them with an expression that was less than welcoming.

“Your Grace,” he greeted Frederick curtly, with a shallow nod. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Frederick straightened, a touch of authority seeping into his tone. “Mr. Redding, I wanted to discuss the state of your farm. I noticed you are managing the fields with fewer hands than in years past. Given the scale of your operation, I would imagine you need assistance.”

The farmer’s face fell. “That is the truth. But the lads either go off to make their fortunes or…well, they are no longer here, in any event.”

“How can you keep up with your workload without proper help?”

Redding’s mouth thinned in a defiant line. “This land’s been in my family for generations, Your Grace. I will not let it go to waste, with or without help.”

Frederick felt frustration bubbling up at the man’s stubbornness, but before he could respond, Gemma stepped forward with a gentle smile.

“Mr. Redding, might I suggest a solution?” she interjected, her voice calm and respectful. “We met a woman in the village who is caring for two orphaned boys. They are young but eager to work, and they could certainly use a place where they would be of value. Perhaps they could help you here and learn the trade.”

The old man’s gruff exterior softened as he considered her words, his gaze shifting to Gemma with a newfound respect. “Orphans, you say?”

“Yes,” Gemma continued, her tone soothing. “They are hardworking boys, only seven and eight, but with guidance I think they would be a fine help to you. And perhaps you would also enjoy the company.”

A small smile creased the edges of Redding’s mouth. “Well, I would not say no to a bit of help, and it would be good to have some young ones about. Been quiet since my boys left.”

Frederick watched with growing admiration as Gemma held Redding’s gaze, her expression warm and genuine.

“Then it is settled,” she said, her voice tinged with satisfaction. “I will bring them by tomorrow morning to get them acquainted with the place, and if you need any extra help, I will come down myself and assist you with the work.”

Redding’s gruffness melted away entirely, and he nodded gratefully. “I appreciate it, Miss. You are welcome here any time.”

They bid him farewell, and as they walked back toward the village, Frederick remained silent, his thoughts swirling. He had never expected her to be so adept at handling people, much less someone as ornery as old Redding. Watching her in action had stirred up a measure of respect and a deepening curiosity to know more about her that he had not anticipated.

“You surprise me,” he said at last, breaking the silence between them.

Gemma tilted her head, looking up at him with a faint smile. “Why? Because I care about the tenants?”

He shook his head. “No, because you manage people with such ease. It is as though you have been doing it all your life.”

She gave a small laugh, glancing down. “It is something I learned by necessity, I suppose. When you have little control over your own life, you learn to make the most of what you can influence.”

Frederick’s gaze lingered on her, his admiration deepening. “Well, Redding seems to think highly of you now. He is not easily swayed.”

Gemma smiled, her eyes meeting his. “Everyone has something they need, Your Grace. Even the toughest of men.” She paused. “Perhaps, especially the toughest of men.”