Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

Miles did not care to remind Jemma of their purpose for meeting today. She had a newspaper he had brought spread on the bench and was bent over it, her elbow resting on the corner of the paper, her head propped in her hand. He was sitting on the dirt with his back against the bench, his own paper in hand, stealing an occasional glance her way.

The sun warmed the top of his head, and the birds chattered playfully in a nearby thicket close to the creek. Neither the idyllic setting nor the choice in company could be beat. To top it off, no one was around to make a fuss about how incredibly improper their undignified positions were or the fact that they were once again without a chaperone.

He never imagined himself having a day like this. Ordinary in its simplicity and extraordinary in its very existence. He stole another glance at the beautiful woman beside him, and his gaze stuck. He longed to tuck the dark, wavy strand of hair hanging on her cheek behind her ear so she might read better, but for now, he was content just to be near her.

It was . . . perfection.

"It's horrific!" Jemma sat up, her brows furrowed tight. "News is trickling in about the Greek Massacre on the island of Chios. The numbers are staggering: over twenty thousand killed, twice that amount enslaved, and tens of thousands left as refugees."

His stomach tightened at the sheer inhumanity of it all. He had seen some snippets of news covering the Greeks' fight for independence, but the recent headlines were enough to make any civilized person sick. "Horrific is right. It is devastating to learn so many Christians were killed or abused. I hope the Greeks don't give up their fight against the Ottomans. Rights of worship and political representation shouldn't have to come at the cost of death."

Jemma stared at him. "Are the British sending troops to aid them?"

Miles shook his head. "Nothing has been said yet."

"Surely something must be done."

"When there is a strong enough desire to help, a way is provided." He thought of Jemma as a little girl and her willpower to keep him in Brookeside. It was the sort of merciful movement Europe needed to make.

"Let's rally as many as we can to help, Miles."

He grinned, always happy to join a good cause. "Shall we?"

She tapped the paper, and he saw wheels spinning behind her eyes. "I have some personal funds I could donate, and we could encourage our friends to do the same."

"Why not submit some of your fashion designs that truly showcase Greek culture, with your added modern flare, to some magazines?" Miles suggested. "We need as much national sympathy as we can gather."

The passion in her eyes went from a spark to a full glow. "I could still send some to the modiste in London for my other project so I won't sacrifice my cause there but have a more immediate turnaround with the magazines. What a splendid idea."

It was splendid but only because it made her smile widen.

"I have several sketches that would work perfectly," she added. "I cannot wait to get started on a few more." She began folding up the newspaper.

"Don't get carried away, mind you." He wanted to encourage her, dive in beside her in another worthy Rebel cause, but he had to remember she had a great deal on her plate. He couldn't let her wear herself out.

"Why not? It will be a great challenge."

"I agree, but will it be too much?"

She stood and dusted off her dress. "Why would aiding such a righteous cause be too much?"

"With the wedding plans and everything."

"Wedding?" Her eyes dulled. "I had quite forgotten." She nibbled on her bottom lip. "It doesn't bode well if the bride is more excited for her charity work than for her own wedding, does it?"

"Stop fretting. I shall gather support for the Greek cause on your behalf."

The worry on her face lessened. "Spoken like a true Rebel."

Spoken like a man in love , he corrected silently.

"But, Miles, I reserve the right to contribute as many ideas as I can think of."

Before he could agree, he heard his name being called. Both of them looked toward the path leading back to the church. None other than Miss Rebecca Hardwick was walking toward them, her gown too pink for her ruddy complexion and her sausage curls slapping her face with every step. Worse, she had the same determined look in her eyes as a starving person who had finally discovered her next meal.

Miles jumped to his feet and dusted off his backside.

"Should I hide?" Jemma asked, pointing to the small thicket.

"It's a little late," he grumbled, forcing an innocent smile for Miss Hardwick. "Act normal." It seemed his perfect day was coming to a rapid end.

"Oh, Mr. Jackson!" Miss Hardwick waved her closed fan in the air. "I found you."

Jemma backed up so she stood directly beside him. "Should I at least make a run for it?"

He pinched the sleeve of her dress and whispered. "Don't you dare leave me alone." Miss Hardwick had designs on him, and he would not put it beyond her to frame a scandal.

Miss Hardwick came up to the other side of the bench. "You disappeared out of thin air. But I've discovered your hiding place, and I shan't forget it." She pointed her fan at him like a long, chastising finger.

"Good day to you, Miss Hardwick," Jemma said coolly, a timely reminder to Miss Hardwick of her presence.

"Miss Fielding, I did not notice you there."

Miles did not react. Miss Hardwick was a kind, good person, but she had a tendency toward the ridiculous. She had seen Miss Fielding and, for some reason, had chosen to ignore her. Even so, it would do no good to draw Miss Hardwick's attention to his and Jemma's secreted meeting.

"However did the two of you end up all the way out here?" Miss Hardwick's lashes fluttered at such a rapid pace, it made him dizzy.

Miles opened his mouth to say something and looked to Jemma for help.

"I was ... walking by," Jemma answered.

Miss Hardwick laughed. "Indeed. I had no assumption otherwise. Everyone knows you have no inclination toward romance or marriage, Miss Fielding, so I shan't draw any unnecessary conclusions about this happenstance."

Apparently, Miss Hardwick was unaware of the arrangement with Mr. Bentley. The Matchmaking Mamas could be as discreet as the Rebels, it seemed.

Jemma glowered. "Should I thank you?"

Miles cleared his throat. "Yes, we should both thank Miss Hardwick for not jumping to the wrong conclusion."

"Well, go on, Miss Fielding," Miss Hardwick said with another wave of her fan. "You may continue your walk. Do not let us detain you."

Jemma turned and gave Miles a look. One that said, "She is insufferable!"

"I dare not be caught alone with you, Miss Hardwick," Miles added quickly. "You do have your reputation to consider. We had all better part ways."

Miss Hardwick let out a high-pitched whine. "Oh, fiddlesticks. Can I not at least walk you back to the church?"

"No." Miles and Jemma spoke at the same time.

He glanced at Jemma, who looked sheepish.

"I fear it would not be appropriate." He dipped his head and retrieved his newspaper and hat from the end of the bench. "Good day to you both."

He took a few steps before Jemma said, "Oh, Mr. Jackson. I have a message I need to relay to you from Mr. Manning."

"Oh, certainly," he said.

Jemma rushed to his side and stepped in pace with him just as Miss Hardwick realized she had been outed. They heard her huff behind them, but they didn't stop.

"We did not get to our lesson," Jemma whispered.

"What about Wednesday?" He glanced back, but Miss Hardwick had taken a seat on the bench, apparently choosing not to follow them. "I have an appointment at midday, so morning would work better."

"But our spot has been compromised," she hissed.

Our spot. He had called it the same, but it sounded so much better coming from her. "Can you manage to take your horse on a ride without company?"

She nodded without hesitation.

It was terribly un-vicar-like, but planning a clandestine appointment with the woman he was not supposed to be in love with was so perfectly satisfying. "If you can make it, I will be at the upper pond by eight o'clock."

Her eyes sparkled. "I will find a way."

Those words weren't meant to give him hope, but somehow, they did.

Didn't those discerning green eyes of hers see how well she worked with him? No topic was too grave or political. Ideas flowed and were freely discussed. He had offered to help her, but in the end, she had lingered to help him. They were so well matched. An hour in each other's company would never be long enough.

"Then, so shall I," he said, his courage rising. He would find a way—a way for her to see him in a different light. He couldn't keep going like this and pretending that he felt nothing for her.

y

Jemma dropped her bonnet and gloves on the walnut side table in the Mannings' entrance hall, still annoyed with Miss Hardwick's interruption of her lesson. In truth, she had been so caught up in the idea of gathering funds for the Greek people that she'd forgotten the lesson altogether. But she'd been having a perfect afternoon until Miss Hardwick had arrived. How aggravating it must be to have so many women following one about.

A bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase beside her cast-off bonnet emanated a beautiful scent, a welcome distraction from her thoughts. She bent over to smell them right when the drawing room door opened.

Lisette stepped out. "I thought it must be you. What do you think of the flowers?"

"They smell divine. Did Aunt have them cut from the garden? I didn't realize we had such a variety in bloom already."

"Mr. Bentley brought them by." Lisette crossed the entrance hall and touched the conical bloom of a syringa. "He hired someone to bring them all the way from the hot house in Leeds."

"Leeds? What trouble it must have been. And it means he stopped by again while I was out." Jemma groaned. "How do I keep missing him?"

Lisette leaned back against one end of the side table, careful not to disrupt the flowers. "He grew a little flustered when I reminded him of the hour of your daily walks. He must have been anxious to see you."

Jemma reached for the exposed brass handle on the table drawer, running her finger around the lion head. "Please tell me you kept him company so his time was not completely wasted."

Lisette's smile appeared. "We had a lovely visit, talking all about you."

"Good heavens."

"I highlighted all your best features and talents."

"Always the angel." Jemma put her arm around Lisette and rested her head on her taller cousin's shoulder.

"I find I enjoy thinking about you being married," Lisette said. "We haven't had many gentleman callers here in the last year. Not outside our Rebels friends. I'm all swept up in the idea of romance. It almost makes me believe it's possible for me."

"How could you say such things?" Jemma brought her head up. "Of course you will have romance. You know Miles has been busy establishing himself in the community, but it is only a matter of time."

"Jemma, I asked you last summer not to say such things about Miles and me. It doesn't make it any easier for me."

"Forgive me, but I am merely saying what we are both thinking."

Lisette sighed. "Perhaps once you are wed, I will start dreaming of my own wedding again."

Jemma grinned. "My thought exactly. You will need more time to plan a wedding anyway. I want your special day to be even more grand and special than my own."

Lisette frowned. "What a strange thing to wish for."

"And why not? Doesn't my favorite cousin who has been like a sister to me deserve the very best?"

Lisette's eyes twinkled. "Shall I put you in charge of the whole day?" Her teasing made Jemma forget all about the vexing Miss Hardwick. "Just don't forget to see that the groom arrives. He is a rather important feature."

Miles.

He was the sole groom Lisette would ever refer to. Though she had taken to not saying his name aloud anymore when planning her future.

Jemma opened her mouth to remind Lisette of how perfect she and Miles would be, but the words wouldn't come. It was too hard when Jemma was sneaking off to meet with him. Her lessons with Miles had become coveted time together. Once Jemma married, Lisette could have him all to herself. Jemma just needed him for a little while longer. Then she would see right by Lisette.

She would see the two of them married in the most elegant, perfect wedding one could imagine. It was the least she could do. Lisette had opened her house to Jemma every summer and never begrudged her anything—sharing her friends, her parents, her gowns, and her confidence. Lisette was the kind of person who made the world better just by being alive. She deserved everything she wished for—which wasn't much.

Just Miles.

Jemma could give her that much, right?

She gave Lisette another side hug. "Don't worry, you shall have your handsome groom. No matter what."

Miles wanted Jemma to sacrifice something. She knew one thing that would be harder to give up than money.