Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28

A s the carriage rumbled along the path to Blackridge, Gemma gazed out of the window, feeling a quiet thrill building within her.

It was rare for Frederick to invite her anywhere directly, let alone to his estate. She was unsure of his reasons, but her heart couldn’t help but race with anticipation. A fluttering desire sparked within her; a wild hope that he might have invited her for something more intimate than tea.

She couldn’t deny the pull she felt towards him, or the way her mind constantly returned to their stolen moments.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought and she was glad for the distraction when Vivian chuckled beside her.

“Well, my dear, is this not unexpected?” Vivian mused, eyeing Gemma knowingly. “Frederick is not one to extend invitations so casually. I wonder what he is up to.”

Gemma shrugged, keeping her voice casual. “Perhaps he is finally becoming more sociable?”

Vivian’s chuckle deepened, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Sociable? I daresay my grandson would never pursue that for himself. No, I suspect his motives lie closer to home.” She gave Gemma a pointed look. “Ever since you arrived, Gemma, there has been something different about him.”

Gemma let out a small laugh, trying to deflect. “That would be a miracle, Your Grace. I assure you, I have done nothing to change him.”

“Nonsense,” Vivian said firmly, a proud smile on her lips. “You have done more than you realize. The man was practically a ghost before you came along; brooding and distant, without a shred of animation. But now!” She lifted an eyebrow knowingly. “Now he is coming back to life, and that is all thanks to you, my dear.”

Vivian’s words warmed Gemma’s heart, even as a flicker of doubt surfaced. She thought she understood Frederick’s feelings, but his decision to invite her to Blackridge felt strangely formal, as if he was finally allowing her to enter a deeper layer of his life that he had always kept well-guarded. She hoped, foolishly perhaps, that it was a sign of something more.

The carriage finally came to a halt, and as they stepped out, Gemma took in the grand entrance of Blackridge, its austere beauty simultaneously imposing and welcoming.

She felt a small pang of disappointment when she realized Frederick was not there to greet them. But she brushed it aside as she and Vivian made their way indoors, where a footman guided them to the sitting room.

Vivian was as gracious as ever, but Gemma felt a strange sense of foreboding, a tightening in her chest as they reached the door.

The footman held it open for them, and as they stepped inside, Gemma froze. Sitting stiffly on the edge of an armchair, with an expression of unmistakable disdain, was Lady Treston. Next to her was a younger girl, and Gemma wondered if she was Lady Elizabeth—her mother’s second daughter from her marriage to Lord Treston, which Gemma had learned from the gossip sheets that the other oblates smuggled into St. Catherine’s. The girl looked out of place but curious, her gaze flitting nervously between Gemma and their mother.

The air felt thick and cold. Gemma’s heart dropped as she realized the truth. Frederick had contacted her mother without her knowledge or consent.

“Gemma?” Lady Treston’s voice cut sharply through the silence.

She looked Gemma over with a critical eye, her gaze as indifferent as it had been sixteen years ago, as though Gemma was a complete stranger to her.

“Yes, Mother,” Gemma replied, keeping her tone rigid and formal. She felt her back straighten and her heart harden.

Lady Treston’s brow creased with barely concealed contempt, as though she had been brought here under duress. Beside her, Lady Elizabeth started to rise, her expression one of genuine warmth, but as she took a step towards Gemma, Lady Treston’s hand shot out, gripping her daughter’s wrist firmly.

“Stay where you are, Elizabeth,” Lady Treston commanded, her voice low and firm. She looked at Gemma with something akin to disdain, as though afraid that her younger daughter might somehow be tainted by her proximity.

Gemma felt the weight of her mother’s rejection settle over her like a cold shroud, but she masked it with a calm, unreadable expression, her eyes locked onto Lady Treston’s. “I did not realize I would have the pleasure of family company,” she said, her voice controlled, betraying none of the anger and hurt simmering beneath.

From the corner of her eye she saw Frederick enter the room. His gaze met hers, and though he looked resolute, she felt an undeniable spark of betrayal. He had not bothered to warn her, hadn’t even thought to ask if she wanted this. Her anger flared, sharp and piercing.

“Thank you for joining us, Lady Treston,” Frederick said, nodding respectfully to her mother before turning to Elizabeth. “It is a pleasure to see you as well, Lady Elizabeth.”

Lady Treston barely acknowledged him with a nod, her eyes returning to Gemma, scrutinizing her with the same coldness she’d always shown. Elizabeth shot Frederick a shy smile, though her gaze quickly darted back to Gemma.

Vivian, always quick to sense unease, placed a gentle hand on Gemma’s arm and gave her a reassuring squeeze, her gaze narrowing slightly at her grandson. “Frederick, I think perhaps some tea would be in order?” Her words held a subtle edge, her smile tight.

Frederick nodded and gestured for them all to sit. Gemma, still tense and unyielding, took a seat across from her mother and half-sister, while Vivian positioned herself between them, a silent pillar of stability.

As they settled, Lady Treston’s gaze moved to Vivian, her voice laced with politeness but edged with contempt. “Thank you for hosting, Your Grace. Though I must admit, I was surprised by the invitation.”

Vivian inclined her head. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Treston. It is always beneficial for family to be united, do you agree?”

The words seemed to sting Lady Treston and she glanced at Gemma with a faint sneer. “Of course,” she replied icily. “Family is of utmost importance. That is why I had hoped to see my daughter sooner than this.” She shot Gemma a look filled with accusation.

Gemma’s expression hardened, her tone cool and steady. “I wrote to you for years, Mother. Every letter I sent went unanswered.”

Lady Treston pursed her lips, feigning offense. “Circumstances were different then. You know very well that you were placed where you belonged, at St. Catherine’s, where you could grow up properly.”

The anger and hurt that Gemma had kept at bay for all those years rushed up her body like a geyser, threatening to break through her controlled exterior. She willed herself to remain calm. “I was hardly given a choice in the matter.”

Frederick’s presence felt closer now, his gaze trained on her, but she avoided meeting his eyes, choosing to keep her focus entirely on her mother. His silence only intensified her anger.

Elizabeth, her face pale, reached forward tentatively, her eyes filled with emotion. “Gemma,” she whispered, almost pleading, “I have always wanted to meet you, to know my sister.”

Lady Treston’s hand clamped down on Elizabeth’s arm, her expression venomous.

“You need not concern yourself, Elizabeth. Your sister and I—” she paused, her lip curling in distaste. “It is not as though we move in the same circles.”

“Of course,” Gemma replied icily, her voice as sharp as glass. “I would never wish to intrude upon such illustrious company.”

Vivian’s gaze shifted between the two women, her lips pressed tightly together as she assessed the situation. Finally, she turned to Frederick, her voice steely. “Well, Frederick, perhaps we should proceed with tea.”

Frederick straightened, his expression cautious as he beckoned to the staff, who promptly brought in the tea service. He approached Gemma, his gaze imploring, but she met his eyes with a look of unadulterated anger. The magnitude of his betrayal crackled in her chest as the bond between them cracked under the weight of his actions.

Vivian poured the tea while maintaining her calm outward appearance, although her glance at Frederick held a distinct warning. Lady Treston, her mouth puckered into a thin line, accepted her cup without a word, her gaze briefly alighting on Gemma before turning back to Vivian.

“So,” Lady Treston began, her voice carrying an air of icy dismissal, “this is the life you have chosen for yourself, Gemma?”

Frederick’s jaw tightened, and Gemma’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I have chosen to live my life on my own terms,” she replied coolly. “Something you would never understand.”

The hostility in the room was palpable, and a heavy and unyielding silence descended upon its occupants.

Gemma’s hands gripped her teacup tightly as Lady Treston droned on, her words barbed with thinly veiled insults. Each comment she made felt like needles poking into Gemma’s skin.

“Of course, dear Elizabeth would make an excellent match for a man of standing,” Lady Treston said smoothly, a genteel smile plastered across her face as her gaze drifted dismissively over Gemma. “Such poise, such grace…and so naturally inclined to the life of the ton. I dare say she would suit a man of Frederick’s standing quite well.”

Gemma’s grip on her teacup tightened as her mother’s words snaked through her mind. She could feel the sting of the tears that were threatening to surface but blinked them back, forcing herself to appear indifferent to her caustic remarks.

“Elizabeth has a remarkable way with people,” Lady Treston continued, her tone oozing false pride. “She is adaptable and graceful, exactly what a man of Frederick’s station requires.” She shifted, directing her next comment squarely toward Frederick with a saccharine smile. “A gentlewoman who is ready for society’s eye, don’t you agree, Your Grace?”

Frederick’s expression was inscrutable, but he gave Lady Treston a short, polite nod. “Elizabeth is indeed very amiable,” he said evenly, his gaze resting on Elizabeth, who blushed under his attention.

The comment stung and Gemma looked away, unable to bear the scene unfolding before her. It was as if she had once again become invisible, a mere shadow in the corner of the room. Every word her mother spoke drove the wedge deeper, leaving her both isolated and lost.

Sensing Gemma’s discomfort, Vivian cast Lady Treston a look that was equal parts steel and elegance. “It is true that Gemma has always had a mind of her own,” she said calmly, her tone supportive as she glanced over at her future granddaughter-in-law with obvious warmth. “It is one of her many qualities that I have come to admire greatly.”

“Oh, naturally,” Lady Treston replied with a dismissive wave, her voice dripping with forced sympathy. “But one must acknowledge that certain… qualities are better suited to the quieter corners of life, do you not think?” She looked at Gemma as though she was nothing better than a simple peasant.

Gemma could feel the hateful words sinking into her. She looked over at Frederick, her heart heavy when she suddenly saw that he had deliberately invited her mother as a way to finally be rid of her. A cold wave of understanding washed over her, and she felt herself withdrawing and protectively encasing her heart in steel.

Her mother’s voice floated over the room once more. “Perhaps,” Lady Treston mused, her gaze alight with the false care she often used when pretending to be considerate, “it would be wise to bring Gemma back into the family fold. A quiet country estate, perhaps. That way, Elizabeth and I could prepare for her future appropriately. I am only thinking of her benefit, naturally.”

The implication was clear. Lady Treston wanted Gemma hidden, out of sight, and out of the way. Gemma ground her teeth and kept her eyes fixed on the tea in her lap, her heart thudding painfully in her chest. Her breathing was tight and shallow as she listened to the echoes of her mother’s manipulative words.

Lady Treston’s gaze landed on Frederick again. “And, Your Grace, you have already been exceedingly kind to Gemma. I am certain your assistance will be remembered in the highest esteem. Perhaps we can discuss it further?”

Gemma fought to maintain her self-control. She felt Vivian’s supportive hand wrap around her forearm but was incapable of looking at her without losing her composure.

Gemma stood, measuring her words. “I think… I think I need some air,” she said with barely disguised strain.

Vivian reached out, her face etched with concern. “Gemma, darling…”

“No,” Gemma said softly, gently pulling her arm out of Vivian’s grasp. “I will be fine, truly. I just need… a moment.” She managed a tight smile, but her voice broke just enough to betray the turmoil beneath.

Vivian nodded although she was clearly concerned. “Very well, my dear,” she said gently.

Without waiting for further objections, Gemma slipped out of the room, her steps quick and determined. She held herself together until she was beyond the stifling walls, finally reaching the gardens where she could breathe freely. The cool air brushed against her skin but did little to soothe the anger and heartache writhing within her.

She wandered the garden paths, her heart aching painfully, each step weighted with sadness. She hadn’t thought it possible to feel so alone once again. She had foolishly allowed herself to believe that she had found some semblance of happiness and a place where she belonged. But it was now clear to her that Frederick only saw her as a problem to be dealt with, another burden he’d taken upon himself to resolve.

I have been so terribly na?ve.

Gemma sank onto a bench, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to hold herself together. Her mother’s cruel, loveless words still echoed in her mind, reminding her of the woman’s constant rejections, and each attempt she had made to keep her hidden away like a shameful secret. And now Frederick had also deceived her. She had dared to think he had developed feelings for her, but his actions spoke volumes.

She closed her eyes, letting the anger and despair wash over her. She had fought so hard to be free, to carve out her own place in the world, but despite her efforts, it seemed she was destined to always be someone else’s unpleasant afterthought; something inconvenient to be discarded.

The sound of approaching footsteps jarred her from her thoughts. She looked up, her gaze hardening as she saw Frederick standing a few paces away, watching her with a deeply conflicted expression on his face.

“Gemma,” he murmured, taking a cautious step closer, his voice low and tentative.

She met his gaze with an icy, silent stare.

He hesitated, his hand reaching out to her, but she recoiled and slapped away his outstretched hand.

“Do not ,” she said sharply, her voice brittle. “ Do not dare touch me.”

His hand dropped to his side, his expression wounded but resolute.

“I… I wanted to help you, Gemma,” he said, his tone quiet but firm. “I thought bringing your family here…”

“You thought ?” she interrupted, her voice growing sharper. “What did you think, Frederick? That inviting my mother , the one person who has done nothing but belittle me and cast me aside, would help me ? That seeing her look at me as though I was something vile would somehow bring me comfort ?”

Frederick’s face filled with regret, guilt and shame. “I thought you deserved the chance to face her. To have closure.”

“Closure?” Her voice trembled, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “This is not closure, Frederick. This is a summary of how deeply she has always despised me; confirmation of every single reason she abandoned me. You have only made it painfully clear to me that I do not belong here with you or with anyone.”

He took a step forward, regret embedded in his face and speech. “You cannot believe that, Gemma. You belong here with us, with me. You belong more than you could ever know.”

She shook her head, bitterness choking her words. “Stop pretending that you care, Frederick. I have seen enough to know what this was. A convenient way to be rid of me. Well, congratulations. You have succeeded.”

Frederick looked at her, his jaw tight, but his gaze softened as he absorbed the depth of her pain.

“Gemma,” he started again, his voice gentler, though the strain was evident. “I did not intend for it to turn out like this. I did not…”

“Save your words,” she interrupted. “I do not need nor want your pity or your guilt.”

Her voice wavered, betraying the depth of her hurt, but she held his gaze with unyielding strength.

The ferocity of her stare held him in place, silencing him.

Finally, she pointedly turned her back to him and walked away.