Chapter 25

CHAPTER 25

“ T hank you for indulging my need for quiet,” Frederick murmured to Gemma a bit sheepishly. “It seems I can only tolerate these events in small doses.”

She gave him a playful smile, settling onto a leather armchair by the dimly lit window. “I think you might surprise yourself. You have managed four balls now without a single attempted escape. That is remarkable in itself.”

Tonight, at yet another ball, Gemma and Frederick found themselves engaged in conversation with a group of lords and ladies, the talk drifting from weather to politics and finally to the latest gossip.

After a while, Frederick had caught her eye and offered her a slight nod toward the doors. It was his signal to let her know that the crowd had grown too stifling for him.

She had only hesitated for a moment before she gracefully excused herself and slipped away from the conversation with Frederick by her side.

They had meandered through the manor’s candlelit hallways, and her shoulders had gradually relaxed once they’d left the din of voices behind.

They had found a quiet, tucked-away library lined with dark mahogany shelves, a refuge from the evening’s noises and demands.

Frederick laughed softly as he rubbed the back of his neck. “It is only because you make it bearable.”

“Well, I am happy to hear that,” she said, her gaze turning briefly to the shelves around them.

After a beat, Frederick cleared his throat, his voice quiet and slightly hesitant. “Gemma… I realize I have learned far too little about you and I regret that.”

She tilted her head, studying him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… all this time, and I have hardly asked you anything about your life before… before all this. I would like to know more about you.”

Gemma bit her lip. When questions came from others it felt stifling, like a massive rock pressing on her chest, crushing her ribs. Yet, when they came from Frederick, the same questions felt like a warm breeze, and she realized that she liked it when he asked her questions, even if they were about her past.

“It a strange story,” she said, looking down at her hands. “And probably not the most cheerful selection on such a lovely evening.”

“Then all the more reason to tell me,” he insisted, leaning forward in his chair. “No one needs a cheerful story all the time.”

God, how does he always know the perfect thing to say?

“My father… he was my entire world,” she began, her voice soft. “He was the Earl of Carrington, and… well, to put it simply, he adored me. He would take me out on adventures, teach me about constellations at night, tell me all the stories from the history books that he thought I would find interesting. He let me dream, he let me be free, even in my thoughts, despite all the rules I was supposed to follow.”

Frederick watched her intently and patiently.

“But my mother…”

Her face fell, a hint of bitterness creeping into her tone. “She wanted nothing to do with me. I was merely an obligation…a duty she would have rather not fulfilled had the choice been left up to her.” She paused, swallowing. “When my father passed, she… she was the one who sent me away to St. Catherine’s when I was seven.”

“That is… inconceivably cruel.”

“She thought of it as a kindness, but she never clarified to whom that kindness was directed,” Gemma replied, her voice laden with irony. “She always reminded me that I was not ‘fit’ for society. In truth, it was her way of discarding me, of ridding herself of any ties to my father. She never answered a single letter I wrote to her. Eventually, I stopped writing altogether.”

A silence fell between them, one that Frederick felt almost compelled to break.

“I understand the ache that comes from that kind of loss,” he said softly, and Gemma was reminded that his own heart was burdened by the loss of his sister Helen. “And I know firsthand what being cast aside by those who are supposed to love you can do to a person.”

Gemma looked at him. “You mean your sister, do you not?”

He nodded, exhaling slowly. “Helen… she was everything good in my life, and when she fell in love with the wrong man—at least, in my father’s eyes—he sent her away. She died in that convent, alone and frightened, carrying a child that had no chance of being born.”

She reached across the space between them, resting one hand over his. “I am so sorry, Frederick. I cannot imagine how that must have felt.”

He gazed down at her hand upon his and felt a degree of comfort that he hadn’t experienced in years.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his voice almost breaking. “It was as if… as if the world had lost all its color. I left London and stayed at Blackridge, no longer able to tolerate society’s shallow talk and its hypocritical judgments.”

They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of their shared confessions hanging between them like a fragile bridge.

Then, Gemma laughed softly, clearing the somber air. “Frederick… is it not strange how the two of us ended up here, after all that we have endured?”

He raised an eyebrow, curious. “What do you mean?”

“Here we are, playing the parts we once scorned, attending balls and making polite conversation. And yet… somehow, this no longer feels as unbearable as before.”

Frederick chuckled, nodding in agreement. “Perhaps not. But I think that is only because of the company,” he said, his voice warm as he gazed at her. “I never expected to find anyone here who truly understood.”

Her heart swelled with an unfamiliar tenderness. She too had never expected to feel so comfortable or be so open with anyone.

Gemma smiled. “Neither did I. And yet… here we are. Two souls with burdens to carry.”

“Gemma,” he murmured, his tone serious. “I may not believe in much of what society stands for… but… I have come to respect you greatly, and, more than that… I care for you.”

Her breath caught. “Frederick… I?—”

“I know, you wish to remain unattached and free… but I cannot help how I feel.”

“I appreciate that… I…I am just saying that… that… well, our paths will ultimately separate. I do not know when exactly, but they will, Frederick. And although it is wonderful to be in your company, I do not belong in your world. Perhaps we ought to be more careful about what we say to each other from now on.”

Frederick opened his mouth to respond but then closed it.

He knew she was right.

Finally, he nodded. “All right then.”

Without warning he wrapped her in his arms and kissed her deeply.

His kiss was heated but gentle, and when he finally pulled away she sighed softly, unhappy by the disconnect.

“Come,” he demanded, pulling her with him into a small storage room that the servants used to move between the larger lounges and the sitting rooms.

“F-Frederick.”

“I want you.”

With those words all reason melted away and all she could think about was how much she also wanted him.

She let him set her upon a small shelf in the room, lifting her skirts as he knelt down and draped her legs over his shoulders.

“Oh,” she let out as his tongue ran up and down her center, sending thunderous shivers all over her body.

God, that mouth of his. He knows exactly what to do with it.

“Please do not stop,” she panted, running her hands through his hair.

Her entire body tensed, the pleasure building at a terrifyingly quick speed—he had figured out how to push her over the edge in a matter of minutes.

He growled against her soft mound, the vibration of his voice reverberating inside her as stars exploded in her eyes.

Her thighs trembled as the delicious sensation pulsed all over her, turning her limbs into liquid honey.

Frederick licked his lips as he stood up wearing a triumphant smile, and hastily unbuttoned his breeches.

Oh, he knows how good he is and he revels in it.

“Yes,” she whispered in his ear as he entered her, his lips meeting hers once again.

The kiss was raw and slow and packed with more emotion than she cared to acknowledge.

The way he felt inside her, the way his smell surrounded her, and the way his low moans echoed in her ear only encouraged her.

It was heaven, even if it only lasted a few minutes.

They were soon holding one another and breathing heavily as they tried to compose themselves.

It is maddening how much I always want him.

Even as they emerged from the storage room to rejoin the party, all she could think about was the next time she could be in his arms.