Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

The next morning, Jemma hoped to find an uneventful scene at the church. She did not think she was capable of being so creative twice in sending off another entourage, and she did not care to be mean to anyone either. Thankfully, she did not meet a single person on her walk, and the grounds were blessedly empty.

Jemma weaved through the copse of trees just off the dirt path, spotting Miles sitting on the same bench as before, scribbling his thoughts into his little black book.

When Miles noticed her, he snapped his journal shut and set it under his prayer book. Drat. There would be no peeking at his work today. He looked at her with amusement, as if he knew exactly what she had been thinking.

"I see you've made our lessons a priority once more." He stood and smiled.

"And I see you have evaded your many admirers."

"Touché." He motioned for her to sit.

She glanced around once more, although she had been careful to make sure she had not been seen or followed, before taking the hard wooden seat. She wasn't going to ask, but suddenly she blurted, "Did you really promise Miss French a lock of your hair?"

"I made no promise. Some women hear what they want to hear. Speaking of Miss French, I received a gallon of turpentine yesterday to treat my abominably itchy lice."

"Oh dear."

"Not to worry. A miracle happened, and I was cured without a single treatment."

Jemma laughed. "I am happy for you."

"And I am happy you showed up when you did. I was caught unawares." Miles's smile was thanks enough.

In fact, for a moment, she was lost in it and forgot what she was doing. When she remembered, she quickly changed the subject lest he try to thank her again. "I have another reason you will be happy. I completed my homework."

"I had hoped you would say so. I brought a reward if you were a good pupil."

"For me?"

He dug under his books and pulled out a folded newspaper, handing it to her. "I know Mr. Manning isn't always free with his paper. I thought you might enjoy your own copy."

"Would I?" She accepted the paper and unfolded it. "I have been anxious for news of the outside world."

Miles gave a cheeky grin. "Should we start with the gossip column?"

Her cheeks burned, and she folded the paper again so as not to get distracted from her purpose in coming. "For your information, I read that section when I am upset and need to be reminded of how good my life is."

"Then, by all means, save it for a dreary day."

She suppressed a laugh. "I will. Thank you for thinking of me. Most of the adjustments to the Mannings' household have been smooth, but this has been a comfort I've missed."

He didn't preen like some would when giving a good gift. His simple, humble nod matched his personality. It was so subtle, in fact, that she wondered if he knew how grateful she was. It might seem like a small gesture to him, but everyone liked to be thought of and remembered. Not many knew she read the gossip column at all—which was perfectly suitable to her—but Miles had noticed. He often saw what no one else did.

"I suppose I have two things to be grateful to you for," Jemma added. "I also must thank you for saving me from yet another awkward situation with Mr. Bentley."

Miles folded his arms across his chest, his eyes going to the gray-blue clouds on the horizon. "Did you enjoy your walk to the stables?"

"I did. Mostly. To be honest, it was a bit awkward after coming out from behind the bushes with you." She couldn't suppress her giggle. "I don't suppose it looked very good."

Miles gave a short laugh. "No, I doubt it did."

"Well, I thank you just the same. The private moment allowed us to discuss the wedding arrangement properly. We approached it from a business perspective this time—he's eager to begin his new life in England, and we both know my reasons for a wedding. Once my lessons with you are complete, he will surely see potential for more."

Miles shifted.

Was he uncomfortable with her sharing such intimate details? If so, then he had to understand how painful it had been for her to live through such a discussion. Especially with a man she barely knew.

"Speaking of lessons," she said, guiding the subject to safer grounds, "you will be quite proud of what I discovered about my maid's shawl. I had to repent of my misjudgments, so you know it is a good story."

He turned to her fully. "Tell me how it went."

"I planned to buy my maid another shawl, if you remember. After asking her about it, I learned it was her deceased mother's." Jemma let her posture droop. "Strange how simply knowing its origin made it no longer offend my sensibilities. I never noticed before, but she has this tender way of wrapping herself in it that reminds me of receiving a hug. The gray shade is a versatile color, too, and perfect for pairing with any gown." When she looked up, she noticed Miles grinning, his dimples like two inverted buttons. Not for the first time, she wanted to reach out and trace the indents of them. "I am glad you find me amusing."

"Sometimes. Well done, Jemma. You had a truly heartwarming experience. Perhaps even better, you forged a connection with another person."

"Thanks to your advice," Jemma added. "I shall endeavor to produce another experience equally beloved between Mr. Bentley and myself."

He nodded. "If you must."

His tone was too bland. She studied him. Something seemed off about his reaction. Come to think of it, it mirrored a few other times when Mr. Bentley's name had come up. "You do like Mr. Bentley, don't you?"

Miles shrugged. "I don't dislike him."

What wasn't he telling her? "You are not warming to him, for some reason. Is there something about him you do not care for?"

"Nothing at all. He is a decent sort of fellow. I find no fault in him." He dropped into the seat beside her, and she wondered if it was so he did not have to look her directly in the eyes.

He was not admitting something. "If nothing is wrong with him, why have you not invited him to ride with you or to join you and the others at Gammon's?" It wasn't really a fine gentleman's club like the ones in London, or so she'd heard, just a private room off the inn, but next to the Dome and Ian's billiard's room, her male friends and the other gentleman about town liked to gather there best. She, of course, was never welcome—despite all the Rebels' loudness about Society's silly rules.

"I did not know I was expected to make Mr. Bentley my chum. Is not being welcoming and friendly sufficient? I am rather busy teaching a certain young lady how to fall in love. My schedule is all tied up at present."

She let her frown fade. "It is certainly sufficient—if you are good at this lesson business. Your first student has yet to make much progress."

Miles objected. "If the young lady in question would stop attaching herself to me, she might actually attract a suitor. At this rate, she'll fall madly in love with the vicar before she has a chance to even dream about Kensington or its fine owner."

Jemma snorted. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Am I? I'm not a bad catch." He straightened and smoothed the lapels of his jacket.

"Can you imagine me a vicar's wife?" She scoffed. "I would be abysmal at it. Thankfully, you're off the table. Taken. Practically engaged. Why else could I sneak off unchaperoned to meet with you? Well, I'll save you the guessing. It's because you're ... safe."

"Safe?" He shook his head and dropped his hands. "I used to like the word, but coming out of your mouth, it sounds almost insulting."

The man was speaking nonsense now. "Why not apply lesson number one to Lisette? We can both be happily married by the end of the summer." She didn't know why she kept pushing him so hard. It was like she needed him to tell her his plans and how definitive they were.

Miles turned two brooding eyes her way. "Did a Rebel pressure you to change your mind about marriage?"

"No."

"Exactly. They expressed their opinions, as expected. But in the end, they supported you. When or if I ever decide to marry, you will be the first to know. Until then, I am satisfied just as I am."

"But you aren't against marriage?"

"Of course not. I simply am not ready."

Jemma nodded slowly. "I can respect that. I will be delicate in my pressuring you ... to marry Lisette ... as soon as humanly possible." His look of exasperation made her laugh again. She snapped her fingers. "Instead of Lisette, why not enact the very same challenge toward Mr. Bentley?"

Miles stared at her. "I am to fall in love with Mr. Bentley now?"

"Heavens no. You need to speak to him more, be kind to him, serve him even."

Miles shook his head. "Let's not get carried away."

"Are you shirking a challenge? That is not like you at all."

"This isn't one of our games of chess."

"I suppose not." She almost wished they were meeting to play chess today and not for a lesson. "Then again, maybe it's not so very different. Are you afraid I will be better at the art of conversation than you are?"

"Impossible."

He was too fun to tease. "A wager, then?"

He raised a brow.

She took it as permission to proceed. "Whoever does the challenge better has to forfeit a kiss."

Miles's cheeks darkened. "You want to kiss me?"

His sheepish expression made her laugh, or maybe it was her own nerves speaking at the image such a thought produced. "No, that's ridiculous. I meant, I kiss Mr. Bentley and you kiss Lisette."

He gave a fierce shake of his head. "Absolutely not."

"It's a harmless wager. After all, we'll be married to the other person someday, so where is the real scandal?"

"You're not kissing Mr. Bentley. You haven't even passed lesson one. You are hardly ready for an intimate moment. You cannot skip over building a relationship and go straight to kissing."

He was so determined that she relented. She had to admit, she enjoyed when he acted so protective of her. He had always been that way. "No wonder Tom dubbed you Mr. Romantic. Very well, you're right. I don't know anything about courtship. I thought to make it a game, but it wouldn't be real, would it?"

"No."

"So, no wager?"

He shook his head. "No wager."

She shifted in her seat to face him better. "Let's have lesson two, then."

He gave a succinct nod, as if a lesson were preferable to the talk of wagers and kissing. "The theme this time is sacrifice. Think of something dear to you that you can give up for a time."

"Is this from your prayer book? I don't see how on earth it will help me fall in love with Mr. Bentley."

"Relationships rely on personal sacrifice. If love is solely self- serving, it chokes the other person. This is merely practice. Then you can make a reasonable concession to support Mr. Bentley's happiness."

"Have you tried this before? Have you given something up for someone else?"

His brown eyes studied her. She saw a hint of sadness and perhaps regret. Whatever he had sacrificed was something momentous.

She was surprised when he said, "I gave up my time working so I can be with you."

His soft words, like the water trickling over the rocks in front of them, tickled her senses. Miles might be her best friend next to Lisette, but he had no idea his effect on women. It was a good thing Jemma had painstakingly built a wall of resistance against his charms to keep him safe for her cousin.

She swallowed and pulled her gaze away. "Very well, I will give up my pin money."

"Will it be a sacrifice?"

She wriggled in her seat. "I had planned to buy a book of sewing patterns."

Miles was trying not to smile, she could tell. "You don't sew."

She scowled. "No, but you don't know everything about me. I have aspirations for an important project. I've spent several months setting everything in order."

Curiosity peaked his brow. "A Rebel project?"

"Isn't that the only kind of project I could possibly desire to undertake?"

"I have a feeling you are going to tell me all about your dealings, despite how secretive you claim them to be." He motioned for her to continue.

"And why not? Someone ought to be privy to my brilliance." Jemma spent the next quarter hour telling Miles all her plans to publish her designs in a fashion magazine under a false name. "I'm waiting to hear back, but my modiste friends have assured me that the drawings will sell."

"I have no doubt they will."

She grinned and told him the next part, how she intended to donate the proceeds to the poor, listing a few charities in London he might be familiar with.

Miles smiled and nodded at all the right parts and even added his opinion on how to improve upon her business plan. His suggestions were always quietly offered but brilliant.

When Jemma began her walk home after their hour was up, she was creating stunning gowns in her head to steal the attention of fashion-hungry debutantes. She spared a thought about how to accomplish her tasks in the next few weeks without her pin money, but she all but forgot her motivation for doing so. In fact, Mr. Bentley seemed the furthest thing from her mind.