Chapter 24

CHAPTER 24

“ F rederick! I was beginning to think you were avoiding us altogether, dear boy. Imagine my surprise,” Vivian teased, “to see you attend a social function of your own accord.”

After being forced to listen to the Earl of Atherton drone on about trade and recent developments in the county’s crop yields he had extricated himself from the conversation and made his way over to his grandmother and Gemma.

Frederick couldn’t help but grin. “And disappoint you, Grandmother? Impossible,” he replied, leaning down to kiss her hand. “Besides, I believe you said it was my duty to enjoy the company of my peers more frequently.”

“That I did,” she agreed with a pleased nod. “And do you not think it is high time you took to the dance floor? Far too many ladies in this room could use a decent partner.”

Frederick hesitated, but before he could respond the earl joined them and immediately seconded the Dowager’s suggestion with a glint in his eye. “Dancing always loosens one’s nerves, Your Grace. I am sure my young wife would be delighted.”

Frederick cringed inwardly, but his grandmother, quick as ever, interrupted. “Nonsense! You have dragged Frederick here against his will, Atherton—let him dance with someone he actually enjoys.” She looked pointedly at Gemma.

Gemma .

The golden light from the chandeliers fell upon her like a spotlight, illuminating the soft greens and delicate floral designs on her gown, making her appear as though she was part of a woodland fantasy.

Her wide, bright eyes met his for only the briefest of moments, but a surge of primal need immediately drew him to her.

He’d barely thought of anything else since their last night together. He had been too occupied replaying each moment, each heated glance and every touch.

He wanted her so fiercely that he wondered if he was losing his mind.

That was precisely the problem. He didn’t need or want any part of the constant distraction.

Wanting her meant being vulnerable, tethered and bound to a society he’d learned to detest since his sister’s death.

Yet here he was, at the earl’s blasted ball.

“Would you care to dance, Miss Bradford?” Frederick asked. As he extended his hand towards her, he was surprised by how right the prospect of dancing with her felt.

“I would be honored, Your Grace,” she said. Her soft smile grew as she placed her hand in his.

As the music began and they stepped onto the dance floor, Frederick felt the resurrection of the chemistry between them.

The dance forced him to draw her close, his hand resting just above her waist as he effortlessly guided her through the steps. They moved in silence at first, his eyes on her face while she carefully watched her feet.

“Frederick,” she murmured, breaking the stillness, her voice barely louder than a whisper. “You do not need to be so… cautious, you know. Just because we… the other night.” A hearty blush spread from Gemma’s chest to her face.

“Gemma… I want you to know that I do not regret it. In fact, I have thought of little else. But I do not wish to see you placed into an uncomfortable position.”

Gemma chuckled softly, meeting his gaze with an arch of her brow. “An uncomfortable position? Frederick, I am a spinster with little regard for society’s expectations. I have no reputation left to save, only my life to live as I choose. What we do in private,” she said, her gaze playful and direct, “is between us alone.”

Her forthrightness sent a wave of exhilaration through him, as if a dam had broken. Although he seldom did in these settings, he found himself smiling with relief.

Gemma was different from every other woman he knew; fearless, candid and fiercely independent. Her words were a refreshing reminder that there were still people willing to defy convention, willing to do as they pleased, despite the watchful eyes of society.

The dance continued, the initial tension between them softening as they moved together with an ease that surprised and inspired him.

“You are remarkably unbothered by these gatherings,” he said, with genuine curiosity. “I have spent most of my life finding them unbearably tedious.”

Gemma laughed, a quiet sound just for him. “Oh, they are tedious, believe me. But they are also… illuminating, in their own way. The ton may be superficial, but it also has its purpose. Traditions like these may be frivolous, but they help hold the entire fabric of society together, especially for those who care for such things.”

He nodded, hearing the sense in her words. “Perhaps. I will admit, I do not have much patience for all of this after… after what happened to Helen.”

“I completely understand,” she said gently as she looked at him with genuine empathy.

Her acknowledgment of the ton’s behavior in the aftermath of his sister’s death forced him to look away while he struggled to compose himself, but Gemma’s gaze remained firm and grounded him to a degree that he hadn’t expected.

They continued to dance, this time in comfortable silence, their earlier awkwardness replaced with a soothing sense of companionship.

As the music drew to a close, Frederick found himself reluctant to release her hand. He guided her to the edge of the dance floor and they lingered there, watching the other dancers twirl and glide in their decorative splendor.

“Would you care for a walk, Miss Bradford?” he asked quietly.

She smiled at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I would be delighted, Your Grace.”

They wandered away from the ballroom and into the adjoining rooms, which held smaller gatherings of guests in quiet conversation or observing paintings and decor.

As they passed a young lord engrossed in boasting about his latest hunting exploits, Gemma leaned in with a grin, her voice low.

“I daresay the rabbits had little chance escaping his prowess,” she whispered, her eyes alight with amusement.

Frederick snorted and bit back a laugh, marveling at her ability to balance humor with kindness. It was rare to find someone who could poke fun without malice, who was charming without pretense.

As they strolled through the manor, Frederick found himself wondering if he could ever truly be satisfied by anyone else after her.

When they returned to the main hall, Frederick felt a twinge of disappointment. He’d spent much of the evening getting lost in their conversations and the way she seemed to light up the dim corridors through which they had strolled.

“Thank you for the dance, Frederick,” Gemma said, her tone light but her eyes reflecting the depth of their exchange.

Frederick took her hand and briefly brushed his thumb across her fingers in a subtle but heartfelt gesture of appreciation.

“And thank you, Gemma,” he replied, his voice quieter. “For… seeing things differently. I believe I needed that tonight.”

Her smile was soft, as if she understood more than he could ever say.

Over the next few weeks Frederick found himself attending ball after ball, dinner after dinner, and enduring the endless parade of social events his grandmother had insisted upon.

At first, he’d bristled at the mere thought of playing the dutiful grandson, parading around in his finest attire, listening to tedious conversations about weather, prospects and inheritance.

But beneath the layers of his reluctance lay a reason that had lessened his irritation; a reason that wore a soft, beguiling smile and laughed at his dry humor as though he were the cleverest person in the world.

Gemma Bradford.

With each event he caught more glimpses of her vibrant personality as she accompanied his grandmother. They would drift towards each other, bound by the subtle pull of familiarity, a natural rhythm that neither one of them felt the need to question.

For the first time in what felt like years, Frederick found himself enjoying the gatherings. He’d grown fond of their quiet talks, their stolen moments on the fringes of crowded ballrooms and during hushed dinners.

During one evening of celebration at a baron’s estate not far from his own, he once again surrendered himself to their chemistry.

They had managed to slip away from the crowded ballroom into a secluded side garden.

Frederick’s heart beat with the thrill of their rebellion as he led Gemma through the lantern-lit paths and away from curious eyes. He paused beside a stone bench hidden by hedges and turned to face her with a small smile.

“Gemma,” he murmured, reaching for her hand.

She glanced back toward the house, her eyes alight with excitement. “Are we allowed out here, do you think?”

He grinned. “Only if you keep your voice down.”

She laughed softly and breathlessly, and before he could overthink it, he pulled her close, his lips meeting hers.

The world around them dissolved as they became wrapped up in each other, her arms winding around his neck, pulling him closer. His hands pressed gently against her back, then moved lower as he lifted her and settled the two of them onto the bench and drew her onto his lap.

He looked up at her, his gaze steady, both longing and surprise at her readiness.

“Undo your corset,” he whispered, his voice low and intimate.

Her hands found his shoulders, grounding herself as she met his eyes.

“Yes, Your Grace,” she murmured seductively.

Slowly, with quiet precision, she loosened the laces of her bodice, letting the cool night air graze her skin.

Frederick’s breath caught as he ran a hand lightly over her bare shoulder, then lower, his fingers tracing delicate lines across her collarbone before lowering his mouth to meet her skin.

She sighed as his lips met her skin, closing her eyes as he pressed gentle, possessive kisses along her shoulders. Gemma moved herself closer to him, creating a warmth between them that thawed the coolness of the night.

“Frederick,” she whispered, her eyes wide and vulnerable, her voice catching in a half plea, half challenge.

The sound of her voice struck him mute. He could only respond by pulling her closer, his hands roaming over and discovering her dewy skin, until they lost themselves in one another.

With quick motions he undid the lacings of his trousers and lowered her down on his throbbing manhood. She cried out a bit too loudly as his hardness filled her.

“Easy there, darling. Do you want us to be discovered?” he mumbled as he placed a hand over her mouth to quieten her.

Gemma blinked, and her eyes sparkled as she rolled her hips against his.

Frederick’s hand was still clamped on her lips, but Gemma’s eyes seemed to say that she didn’t want him to take it off.

His suspicions were confirmed when she gripped his wrist, not to pull his hand away, but to hold herself steady.

He reveled in her obvious enjoyment as she rode him, watching her flushed face and her wide eyes, which rolled skyward in pleasure as he suckled her nipples.

It felt incredible to be engulfed in her warmth. Pleasure continued to build inside him as she quickened her pace.

Her muffled moans grew louder, and bliss shot through him as he felt her tighten around his throbbing shaft.

Frederick could tell that she was very close to her release.

He slithered his free hand under her skirt and between her thighs, his thumb finding the sensitive nub amidst her wetness.

Gemma whimpered as he rubbed firm circles upon it, her channel gripping more tightly around him.

“Yes, yes. Come undone for me, my sweet,” he whispered in her ear. His velvety words pushed Gemma over the edge. She grabbed hold of him and gasped into the crook of his neck.

Her whole body spasmed and trembled in his lap, intensifying his sensation of warmth as her muscles contracted in tight waves around his rod.

Gemma pulled back slightly, her lids half-closed as she rode the waves of her orgasm.

“Your turn now,” she breathed and gripped his shoulders tightly.

“Yes,” he said and grabbed her thighs, keeping them fast against him as he stood up and lay her on the bench.

Now on top of her, he pinned her hands over her head and she gasped, her smile widening.

“Take me, Frederick. Take me until you find your release,” she whispered to him.

And take her he did.

Frederick drove in and out of her with ever-increasing speed, overcome by his own powerful, ecstatic need. He quaked as he quickly withdrew from her and released his seed.

It took him several minutes before he was able to catch his breath again and calm his racing heart.

She smiled and giggled as he helped her to refasten the corset and adjust her dress. They gasped simultaneously as they realized they had been missing from the ball for more than half an hour and rushed back inside to find Vivian.

As they entered the crowded ballroom, Frederick made sure Gemma made her way to his grandmother first to avoid raising suspicions. After waiting five minutes, he walked over to join them.

His grandmother, who was watching the festivities with a keen eye, raised an eyebrow as they approached, her watchful eyes moving from her grandson’s slightly tousled hair to Gemma’s flushed cheeks.

“Well, there you are, my boy. Gemma has also only just returned,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “I was beginning to wonder if you had fallen into the punch bowl.”

Frederick offered her a polished smile, although a faint blush betrayed him. “Nothing of the sort, Grandmother. Just taking some air.”

The Dowager’s eyes sparkled knowingly. “Is that so? It seems this ballroom is quite lacking in air, as Gemma dear has also just returned from the gardens,” she remarked, casting an appraising glance at Gemma’s still-reddened cheeks. “Perhaps I should advise the other young ladies here to similarly refresh themselves in the gardens.”

No one could fool Vivian.

Despite her burning cheeks, Gemma managed a polite smile. “It was quite… invigorating, Your Grace.”

“Ahh,” his grandmother murmured, a glint of humor in her eyes. “Well, let us hope the evening continues to invigorate both of you. I should hate for anything to…dampen your spirits.”

Frederick cleared his throat and held his grandmother’s gaze. “I assure you we are indeed in high spirits.”

“Good,” she said, patting his arm affectionately. “Then perhaps you would care to stay in the ballroom for a song or two, if only to keep an old woman company. I imagine Miss Bradford could use a rest after… all that fresh air.”

He had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle. Gemma was not as entertained as he was, in light of the deathly glare she sent his way.

He could hardly wait to taste her again.