Chapter 24

Gemma's throat closed as she scanned the latest scandal sheets, just released mere hours before. She'd found Aunt Philippa's copy on the breakfast table in the drawing room, and her knees buckled as she read the front page, centered upon the happenings at Lord and Lady Neville's soiree.

" Dear members of the Ton, you shall be most intrigued to note a recent impropriety between a certain rake, the one and only Lord Dalton Blakemore, and his fair cousin, who it would seem is more than a cousin to him this spring..."

Gemma crossed the room and thrust into the fire the scandal sheets she'd crumpled in her fist. Taking in a shuddering breath, she tried to ignore her churning stomach, and watched the papers burn in the hearth.

If only this were but a dream , she thought for what must be the hundredth time.

"Miss?" It was Rose, hovering in the drawing room doorway. "Your trunk is nearly packed now."

Gemma turned, swallowing past the lump in her throat. "Thank you, Rose," she whispered. She would miss the girl dearly. She would miss this house, and London. All of it. She would even miss Aunt Philippa, despite her authoritative nature.

She glanced around the empty drawing room, and her chest ached. But she needed to leave London. As soon as possible. To remain another moment longer would be insufferable. Impossible. She'd already written a letter to Mama informing her that she would be returning to Willow Grove and wondered if her mother was rejoicing.

Aunt Philippa entered just then, dressed in a simple morning gown, devoid of her usual feathers and jewels. "I've found great pleasure in your company, despite your penchant for stubbornness. Of course, I've had to remind myself that you take after my brother in that fashion."

Gemma tried to smile. "And I thank you, Aunt Philippa, for having me"

Her aunt leaned over to pick something up off the marble-topped table in the hall, and when she reappeared in the doorway, Gemma realized what she was holding. It was the book—the book that Lord Blakemore had sent to her from his own collection.

"I don't want it," she whispered, shaking her head. "Burn it, for all I care."

"It's a beautiful book, I must say," Aunt Philippa murmured. "It would be a shame to."

She set it down on the table by the window, where she and Gemma had spent so many breakfasts. "I pray you godspeed on your journey."

Gemma clasped her aunt's hand in hers warmly, a swell of affection for the older woman rising in her. As trying as her aunt's persistence had been, she was truly grateful to her for everything. Aunt Philippa had only ever been trying to look after her, for Papa's sake.

Aunt Philippa kissed her on the cheek but as she drew back, Gibbons entered and announced the arrival of Lord Neville. Aunt Phiippa's eyes widened as she turned to stare at Gemma, mouth open. "He's come to say farewell, I presume. As I've told you, he is smitten with you."

Gemma tried to smile and inclined her head slightly. Aunt Philippa beamed and told Gibbons to show in Lord Neville.

Presently he appeared, a bouquet of hothouse flowers in his hand, and he carried them over to Gemma, as Aunt Philippa retreated to the settee before the hearth.

"Miss Hayesworth, I've only just heard that you are quitting London, and I came as swiftly as I could to bid you farewell, and to implore you to reconsider—"

"Lord Neville—"

"Please, let me finish," he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. This was surprising as he tended to be a rather placid man. Gemma managed a smile and nodded, closing her mouth.

"I should be very much honoured if you would marry me, Miss Hayesworth."

Aunt Philippa gasped from her seat on the settee, and Gemma couldn't help the gasp that escaped her either. She stepped back, heart pounding hard in her chest. "Lord Neville, I—"

Again, he didn't let her finish. "You are a remarkable young woman, and I would do everything in my power to secure your happiness in every portion of our life together. I understand you have a penchant for astronomy, and I should love to indulge that passion in any way I could."

Gemma cast her aunt a shrewd glance, realizing that Philippa had likely instructed Lord Neville to say this. His eyes were full of earnest excitement, and hope. And for the first time, sympathy overtook her, as well as a deep, welling gratitude for his sincerity, his inherent goodness.

And for a moment, the words I should be so very honoured to take your hand in marriage balanced on the tip of her tongue. She could say that, and live a very pleasant life with a man who was truly good, and kind. Or, she could go home and resign herself to being a vicar's wife.

Or, she could continue to hope to marry someone, someday, for love. Love alone.

***

Someone shook Dalton hard. He groaned, rolling over onto his side, squeezing his eyes shut as the sun suddenly blazed forth upon him, where he lay on the floor. His fingers were wrapped tightly around the cool glass of a bottle, and the shaking began again. He tried to sit up but pain streaked through his skull and he cried out.

And then, cold water flooded over his head in an icy rush. He gasped, blinking and sputtering out water that ran into his mouth. With a curse, he cracked open his eyes, trying to see who had just doused him.

To his surprise, he found that it was none other than Theodore, kneeling beside him on his bedroom floor.

"For heaven's sake," Theodore said, his forehead knitted with concern. "You must pull yourself together, my friend."

He grasped Dalton's hand and pulled him to his feet, helping him over to the chair in the darker corner of the room. "Close the drapes, please," Dalton whispered, sinking down, tilting his head back to rest his eyes again. The sunlight was punishing, blinding.

Theodore sighed but acquiesced, and stood above him, arms folded, a stern look settling on his usually sunny features. "You're going to kill yourself," he told Dalton firmly.

"What do I have to live for?" Dalton murmured. He probably wasn't making sense anymore, but then again, nothing made sense. His uncle would force him to wed Celeste, and Mother was slipping away every day, further and further. She'd barely stirred from her room lately, and when he went to check on her, she was asleep still, or in a half-conscious state and the physician's expression was always grim.

He might have said all of this to Theodore in a jumbled rush, but then again, he was nearly out of his mind these days, lost in a stupor of depression and heartbreak. Or maybe, his heart had simply crumbled to dust inside. That would explain the numbness that settled over him like a blanket, making it impossible to care any longer.

Theodore leaned down and grasped him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Are you going to just let her go? Without a fight?"

"She wouldn't receive me when I called on her yesterday evening. I couldn't even get in the front door at Kenway House."

Theodore sighed, his eyes flickering with sympathy. "Heavens…"

Someone knocked, soft but urgent, on the bedroom door behind them.

"Cousin, please—I must tell you something. About my uncle," Celeste's voice was muffled, tearful as it had been the last several days, whenever she'd tried to accost Dalton. He shook her off each time with a glare that she wilted beneath.

Dalton groaned into his hands. "Celeste! I've told you—"

"Let her in—let's hear what she has to say," Theodore whispered to him.

Dalton shot him a withering glare and waved his hand in assent. "Very well," he muttered.

Theodore strode over to the bedroom door and pulled it open. "Celeste!" he hissed, motioning for her.

She hastened past him, and urged him to shut the door. Her face was pale and blotchy, her eyes and nose red as she began to weep again. "Oh, Dalton, I must tell you everything. Everything my uncle has done—"

"What has he done?" Theodore whispered, frowning.

"My uncle, and the physician—I heard them speaking last night, and they were discussing something about increasing Aunt Adelaide's doses. Of laudanum. He's paid the physician to render her insensible, with these tonics . They've—" and here she dissolved into a fit of sobbing that made her incomprehensible, and sank into Theodore's arms.

Dalton pushed himself to his feet, ignoring his protesting head. "They've what ?" he whispered. "Uncle Ernest is—he's giving my mother laudanum?"

"Yes," Celeste hiccuped. "I heard the physician say that the dose Uncle requested he dose your mother with…he said it could kill her." More sobbing. It took her several moments to catch her breath, and a shake from Dalton. "And Uncle—he got so angry, said the physician was going back on his word, after everything he's been paid. And he said to the physician, ‘You did not object all those years ago when we dosed my brother with the final dose.'" Celeste pressed a hand to her mouth, tears streaming down her cheeks. "And Dalton, it was his idea, to coerce you to wed me. He'll do anything, it's evident. To secure your estate for himself. He always has believed it's rightfully his. But I—I didn't think he would—" Theodore let her dissolve into his arms again, and he met Dalton's eyes. The air crackled with the significance of this revelation.

Dalton began to shake from head to toe, outrage clouding his senses, headier than the whiskey he'd been drinking for perhaps days on end. Uncle Ernest killed Father? Deep down in his gut, a sickening wave of shock bloomed, and he shook his head. Uncle Ernest was conniving, certainly, but was he truly capable of murder ?

"Where is he?" He whispered.

Theodore released Celeste and grabbed Dalton by the arm. "You won't do anything rash," he whispered firmly. "Or you will only bring censure upon your own head. Take this to the law, as this is a criminal offense on your uncle's part."

"He murdered my father, Theodore," Dalton's stomach churned. "He—" He closed his eyes as a tear slid down his cheek. "And now, he will kill my mother." Turning to his cousin, he roared out, "Where is he, Celeste?"

Theodore grasped Dalton by his shirtfront. " Think, Dalton. The man is dangerous. We must proceeded delicately. First of all, we must see to your mother, ensure that she is safe."

"She is scarcely awake now. She's slipping away because of that monster."

Theodore turned to Celeste, grasping her by both arms and fixing her with those stern looks of his. "Celeste, is your uncle out of the house? I didn't notice him earlier." When Celeste nodded and confirmed that Ernest was gone, he told her, "Go and sit with your aunt. I will call my carriage around, and have your mother taken to my home, so she may be safe. Celeste, you will accompany her. I fear that your uncle will do anything to achieve his end, and that may mean that your life, your aunt's life, and Dalton's are in terrible danger."

Celeste nodded and flew out the door.

Dalton tried to breathe. "And what of my uncle?"

"I have a plan," Theodore told him in a whisper.

***

The carriage left London hours ago, and now Gemma watched the hills and fields blur past as she drew closer and closer to Willow Grove. She and Udolpho would need to stop over at an inn, perhaps, since it was already late in the day, and before long, it would be nightfall.

She would never forget the heartbreak in Lord Neville's eyes as she told him in a hushed voice that she couldn't marry him. Behind him, Aunt Philippa closed her eyes tightly, but when she'd opened them, Gemma could see the resignation lining her features.

"Very well," Lord Neville had smiled, letting out a disheartened laugh. He couldn't disguise the dismay in his expression as he nodded, stepping back. "I wish you every happiness, Miss Hayesworth. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance thus far."

She'd watched him depart without another word except for a bow to Aunt Philippa. And then, he was gone.

Rose had carried in Udolpho, stashed away in his basket for the carriage ride ahead. Gemma had thanked her, and then bid her aunt farewell.

"Again, I am indebted to you, Aunt, for your goodness to me."

"Say nothing of it. You are my brother's child, and I have no children of my own. It shall be lonely here without you."

Gemma had impulsively hugged Aunt Philippa tightly, before drawing back. She kissed her on the cheek before turning and hastening outside.

Gemma blinked away tears as she recalled her goodbye to Prudence.

The two girls had embraced before Gemma was helped up into the carriage by the footman. On the seat beside her rested Udolpho's basket, and she picked it up to console him on the ride. She leaned out the window to wave to her aunt and Prudence on the sidewalk in front of the house.

The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a quiet tavern just off the main road. The driver helped her down and told her to go on inside and secure a room for the night. Aunt Philippa had given her some money for a stay in one of these roadside inns, and Gemma was thankful for the prospect of sleeping. Her body ached with exhaustion.

Carriage rides always jostled her about, and it was a relief to lie down on her bed, while Udolpho leapt up beside her.

"We're almost home," she whispered to him, before drifting asleep.

She woke up early the next morning to continue the journey homeward and sighed as the carriage pulled away from the inn. In but a few hours, she would see Mama again, would beg her to forgive her for being such a fool.

Although…perhaps Vicar Jennings had married some farmer's daughter by now. Gemma certainly hoped so.

She would be content to spend the rest of her life wiling away the days in the Willow Grove cottage. That would by no means be a disagreeable conclusion to all of this dreadful mess.

Leaning her head against the carriage window, Gemma glanced down at the satchel she'd kept inside the carriage, rather than letting the footmen stash it on the roof above. It contained all her most beloved mementos from this London stay, from the Opera ticket to a small elephant figurine Aunt Philippa purchased her at Vauxhall Gardens.

Gemma leaned forward, grasping the handles of her satchel, and pulled it into her lap. It was heavier than she expected, and she began to rummage through it. Her mouth went dry when she found within it the familiar cover of the astronomy book given her by Lord Blakemore.

A note had been tucked inside of it that read, It would be a shame to lose such a lovely book. Regardless of who bequeathed it to you. Signed, Aunt Philippa.

Heart lurching, she withdrew the book, letting her satchel slide to the ground. She skimmed shaking fingertips over the gilt cover, and a lump rose in her throat. A part of her was grateful to her aunt for having it returned to her satchel. But another part of her wished she'd simply let it be. The sight of the book wrenched at something in Gemma. She inhaled, trembling, and set the book to the side, wishing she could just be home already.