Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

Jemma couldn't help worrying over Miles's words again: I cannot marry Lisette. They circled around in her head more times than she spun around the dance floor with Mr. Bentley. She had suppressed them, trying to pretend them away, but being in the same house as Miles flung them back in her face with full force.

What did he mean by it exactly? He couldn't be serious. Why couldn't he commit to Lisette? Jemma should have asked the reason when they were together at the pond. Maybe then she could concentrate on making conversation with Mr. Bentley.

But she'd let her temper flare instead, refusing to say more than was absolutely necessary to Miles. She regretted her behavior. The song ended, signaling another lost opportunity to win over Mr. Bentley—to convince her own heart toward his. He escorted her to Mrs. Manning's side, exchanging her hand for Lisette's. At least her cousin would dance tonight—a comfort worth noting. Mrs. Manning acknowledged it all with a smile of approval but returned to her conversation with Louisa—something about butterflies.

Instead of joining in, Jemma stepped back to the wall and took a glance around the room. Where had Miles disappeared to? He wasn't a great fan of dancing, but when he was inclined to do so, he executed the motions with more feeling than precision. Not that she'd paid him particular notice; he simply didn't dance often, so when he did, he was hard to miss.

She shook her head, clearing a sudden image of him taking her hands in his in the dance line. The spins from her previous set had left her brain addled. If she couldn't think about Miles properly, then she should have refused dancing with him when he had asked at dinner. She would pull herself together when the time came.

Her eyes flitted about the room again. Would Miles return, or had he forgotten about his invitation and gone home? And why did either idea leave her so unsettled?

Those who weren't dancing were chatting and laughing together. All those in attendance were close friends, and they'd brought Mr. Bentley into their circles like one of their own. Jemma was pleased, truly. She wanted her future husband to belong here. But her pleasure diminished to a mere fragment of gratitude since Miles's disappearance was all she could think about.

She danced with a reluctant Ian for the next set, laughing at his look of discomfort. He was a good man and the best leader of the Rebels, but he clearly preferred billiards or games to anything resembling courtship. Dancing fell neatly in the courtship realm, which meant he detested it. Amused as she was, she kept taking distracted looks toward the door.

Until Miles finally slipped back inside.

Her heart flip-flopped.

She maintained her steps, though his presence startled her. It was a relief, surely. Now she could have a civilized conversation with him and settle the argument between them before he left for the night. They would have to dance first, of course.

A sudden, unbidden thrill grew inside her at the thought.

It was the music. The mood of the night. A fleeting, fanciful whim. Absolutely nothing more.

Suppressing the rapid fire of feelings fighting for supremacy was maddening, but she would conquer it. She purposefully kept her gaze on Ian's until the final note of the pianoforte.

Ian bowed to her and extended his arm.

"I'll take your place, if the lady agrees," Miles said, suddenly beside Ian.

Jemma swallowed. The time of reckoning had come. "The lady agrees."

Ian stepped aside, allowing Miles to replace him. Miles pushed his dark hair back with a quick swipe of his hand. He seemed nervous.

Why was he nervous? She was the one battling so many confusing emotions. "I thought you had left," she breathed.

"How could I leave without dancing with you?"

His voice, soft as a caress, sent another flood of feeling through her. "I ... I did not think it so important to you."

"I find this dance especially significant." He stepped nearer, much closer than the others lining up on either side of them. "Since I missed the last opportunity to expound a lesson upon you, I thought a short bonus session appropriate."

She glanced at the others to see if they had heard, but no one seemed concerned. Her resolve. Where was her resolve ? Her gaze flitted back to him, but her eyes remained on his cravat tied modestly around his slender neck. "What sort of lesson?"

"The power of eye connection."

A string of soprano notes trilled out the beginning of Mozart's L?ndler —a slow waltz. Jemma, unable to look at Miles despite the topic of their lesson, accepted his arm. The small group of dancers promenaded about the room. Tom and Cassandra were in front of them and Mr. and Mrs. Manning behind them, but Jemma had no sense of who the other couples were. The waltz had been popular since she had been out in Society, but never had it felt so confining. So intimate. So unnerving.

Her eyes caught on Mrs. Jackson's at the piano for a fleeting moment. Was it curiosity she saw there? If only the Matchmaking Mamas knew the frantic state of Jemma's heart.

"Shall we begin?" The alluring whisper near her ear sent her pulse racing. "Retain eye connection where possible, but do not say a single word. Allow your thoughts and feelings to rise to the surface and communicate through sight alone. They say the way to see a man's soul is through his eyes."

She gulped.

Lifting her gaze to meet his took all her courage. She didn't want him to see into her soul. There were secrets hiding within that she could not reveal. With a tug of her hand, he turned her body to face him. He set his hand on her waist and gently pulled her closer. She did the same with her own hands, lifting one above her head as he did. In the window of their arms, she finally met his gaze.

What she saw in him, however, made her momentarily forget her carefully crafted walls. Swirled in amber and onyx was the Miles she had known forever—a man she could trust. Useless to resist, she became his student, searching the depths beyond the Miles she knew and seeing more than she had ever seen before.

His eyes were gentle, as always, but far more intent, accentuating the fine smile lines in the corners. Beyond the surface lay a startling truth. Longing. Heartache. Unyielding determination. One thing was very clear. The subject of his attention was no one but her.

She blinked, unbelieving, too caught up in the moment. But his gaze, his steady, enveloping gaze pulled her in once more, completely and utterly capturing her own. No matter the dance steps or the dizzying spins, her eyes couldn't stray for long. The truth was, she wanted to read his soul. She craved to know it backward and forward. Fear alone made her hesitate. Unnerved in one breath, the next she was pulled in by the comfort she always relied on from him.

A light filtered through his caressing gaze, full of warmth and startling affection. With an exhale of breath, she let her feet drift closer to him. His hand tightened on her waist. She longed to close the gap completely. His eyes were so welcoming—so adoring. They held her as surely as his arms and shattered her cold resistance.

Mr. Romantic was an excellent teacher. The communication happening between them was extremely educational. Her favorite subject, in fact. The entire dance was an impossible dream she hoped to never wake from. The music pulled at her heartstrings, resurrecting buried longings with every note until its sweet but bitter end.

Miles stepped back.

She was supposed to look away now. She screamed Lisette's name in her mind. Told herself to look for Mr. Bentley. Even thought of Grandmother. But her yearning for Miles had awakened.

It was Miles who broke the connection first, three distinct emotions crossing his face: pleasure, pain, and ... reluctance. He walked away without a word, disappearing through the drawing room door.

The rest of the night passed in a haze. Jemma barely registered the goodbyes, the carriage ride home, the walk to her room, or her donning her nightgown.

She sat at her dressing table, staring into the mirror, wondering what she'd seen in Miles's eyes—wondering what he'd seen in hers.

Lisette came in humming a tune from a quadrille she had danced, waking Jemma from her fog. "Did you not think the party simply lovely?"

Jemma uttered the first response she could think of. "Yes, Mr. Bentley was an excellent host." Mr. Bentley ... Had she even thanked him when they had parted? What a terrible guest she had been. And friend, she might add. Had Lisette witnessed her dance with Miles?

By the way Lisette was humming, it could not be possible. She was much too happy.

She wouldn't be happy at all if she knew Jemma was thinking romantic thoughts about Miles. How she longed to be back in his stirring embrace and for him to gaze at her with his entire soul night after night for forever. She held back the deep moan threatening to escape. She could not be so disloyal! She wouldn't!

Lisette picked up the brush on the dressing table and started ministering to Jemma's hair in gentle, smooth strokes. "I thought it so kind of Mr. Bentley to include all our friends. He really is so thoughtful."

He was. There was nothing in his person that she might criticize. "He deserves better," she mumbled.

"Nonsense. Once you have spent more time in each other's company, you will see how well suited you are." More happy humming.

The sound was so sweet ... so cheerful. How could she diminish Lisette's happiness for her own? She turned in her seat and, on impulse, grabbed Lisette's free hand. "Thank you for believing in me. I am committed to knowing Mr. Bentley better, just as you said."

Lisette gave a quiet laugh. "Good."

"You believe me, don't you?" Jemma asked. "Now it is your turn to be cared for." She pulled Lisette into the seat in her place and took over brushing her cousin's silky blonde ringlets. "Once I sort out my own problems, we will begin turning you into a bride."

Jemma clenched her jaw, determined to bury her feelings for Miles. It would be harder this time, infinitely so. But she'd done it before, and nothing could stop her from doing it again. A dance was the perfect place to confuse one's heart, but all dances came to an end. One night of weakness need not define her future nor her friends'.

Miles was meant for Lisette. Somehow, she had to convince him.

She took a shaky breath. And then she had to convince herself again too.