Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9

G emma once again found herself hesitating outside Frederick’s study, her heart pounding in her chest.

This time she had genuinely come to thank him, to express her gratitude for his intervention with Sister Agnes, but there was another feeling that niggled at her mind which she had been unable to shake and made her yearn to see him again.

Taking a deep breath, Gemma knocked softly on the door.

There was a brief pause before she heard Frederick’s deep voice beckoning her inside. She pushed the door open and found him seated behind his desk, the same way he had been the other morning before everything had changed.

Frederick looked up from his papers, his dark blue eyes meeting hers with that same intense, unreadable gaze. His presence filled the room and temporarily overcame Gemma, who nearly lost her nerve, but she silently reminded herself of the purpose of her visit.

“Your Grace,” she began, her voice quieter than she had intended. “I wanted to thank you for what you did earlier… with Sister Agnes. You did not have to do that.”

Frederick leaned back, observing her with a neutral expression. “It was nothing,” he said, his voice calm and a touch dismissive.

Gemma’s brow furrowed. His nonchalant response was frustrating her.

She pressed her lips together, considering her next words carefully. She hadn’t planned to stay long, but something in his demeanor kept her rooted to the spot.

“I shall be leaving soon,” she added, hoping to prompt something more genuine. “I do not wish to overstay my welcome.”

Frederick only nodded. “As you wish.”

She turned to leave but something stopped her. After everything that he had done, she couldn’t simply leave like this. She just couldn’t.

She glanced back, gathering her courage to speak her mind.

“Your Grace… I am deeply sorry about Helen,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

The moment the words left her lips, she saw Frederick’s shoulders tense and his gaze darken in a way she’d never before seen.

He didn’t respond, but the flash of pain that crossed his face told her everything.

“I…” she hesitated, stepping closer. “I do not mean to pry. I only… I do not understand why you do not speak of her. She was your sister.”

Frederick’s eyes narrowed and the room seemed to become colder.

“What right do you have to speak of her?” His voice was low and rough, a warning she would be a fool to ignore.

Gemma’s heart thudded painfully. She hadn’t expected this reaction, but she couldn’t back down now.

“Because she mattered. And the way she was treated, the way the ton simply forgot about her… is wrong.”

Frederick stood up abruptly, towering over her, his frame taut with barely contained fury.

“You think I do not know that?” he questioned in a harsh voice. “You think I do not remember how easily they discarded her? How they erased her as if she had never existed?”

The passion in his words made her heart race but she refused to look away, her own ire bubbling to the surface.

“Then why do you push everyone away, as if they all deserve to be discarded, too?” Her voice rose, her words trembling with emotion. “Why do you keep punishing everyone around you, even those who?—”

Frederick’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing. “Careful, Miss Bradford.”

But Gemma pressed on as her emotions spilled over. “I do not understand you at all! You help me, even protect me, but then act as though it means nothing. Is this some cruel game you enjoy playing?”

“Game?” He laughed bitterly, a sound devoid of mirth. “You think I am enjoying this? Think again.”

“Then explain it to me!” she shot back, stepping closer to him, her hands clenched at her sides. “Explain why you feel the need to protect me when you hardly know me.”

He stared down at her, his expression unreadable, although something raw and vulnerable flashed across his eyes. But, just as quickly, it vanished behind his steely mask.

“I owe you no explanations,” he said coldly, his voice barely above a whisper. “You are safe from St. Catherine’s now. That is all that matters.”

“But that is not enough for me,” she countered. “You cannot simply swoop in and out of people’s lives without ever letting anyone see who you really are.”

Frederick’s face hardened, his jaw clenched so tightly that she believed it might shatter. “You know nothing of who I am, Miss Bradford, nor what I have endured. Helen…”

His voice broke slightly, before he quickly composed himself. “She was pure of heart. But that is not enough for this world. It never is.”

The crack in his tone, though brief, was enough to make her breath hitch, and for a fleeting second, she again witnessed the grief and anguish he carried beneath his icy facade.

Without thinking, she took a step closer and lifted her hand towards his face, but he caught her wrist in mid-reach and held it in place. His searching gaze bore into her eyes.

“What are you doing?” he whispered.

The tension between them crackled like a live wire. Before Gemma could think, her hands were on his chest pushing him away from her. But instead of moving away, Frederick’s hands gripped her wrists, his touch firm but not painful.

She had only intended to get something genuine out of him, to speak to the man beyond the daily facade. But now, as their faces were so close together, she could feel the heat radiating from him. Her breath caught in her throat.

She had been caught in some type of spell and drawn into him and did not wish that spell to break this time.

“Tell me to stop,” Gemma murmured, her eyes locked on his.

For a long, heart-stopping moment, neither of them moved. Then, almost as if pulled together by some invisible force, their lips met in a heated, desperate kiss.

Gemma gasped against his mouth, her hands gripping his shirt as she pulled him closer. Frederick’s grip on her wrists tightened briefly before his hands let go and slid down to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

Their kiss deepened slowly, and all her thoughts of confusion, frustration and anger melted away, leaving only the distilled essence of the moment. Gemma’s heart pounded in her chest as she pressed herself closer to him, her body yearning for more of him.

Without warning, a deafening crack of thunder shook the room, startling them both.

The suddenness of the storm jarred them back to reality. Frederick was the first to pull away, his breathing ragged as he stepped back, his eyes wide with shock and interrupted desire.

Gemma stood there, her lips still tingling from their passionate kiss, and her mind racing. The storm outside raged on as the wind howled around the mansion and rain began to pelt the glass in heavy sheets.

Frederick ran a hand through his hair as his composure slowly returned.

“You shall stay until the storm passes,” he said, his voice strained but controlled. “But no longer than that.”

Gemma swallowed hard and nodded, although her mind was far from calm.

“Thank you, Your Grace,” she only muttered in response.

She turned her back on him and opened the door, her emotions in a whirlwind as she left the room.

The storm outside would eventually pass, but the storm between them was far from over.