Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

Surrounded by his friends at Gammon's, Miles set his arms on the table in front of him and let his eyes trail past the heavy maroon drapes to the street outside. He couldn't say when he had ceased paying attention to the amiable chatter around him, but his mind drifted back to Jemma and to Mr. Bentley's party. To their dance.

It had been no mere movement to music. With his emotions raw, he'd wanted nothing more than to confess everything. He'd said it all in his gaze. Somewhere between figures two and four of their waltz, their friendship had shifted.

She cared. He knew she did. He'd seen it in her eyes and felt her lean into him. But feeling and wanting were not the same.

And he feared he wanted more than she did.

"Miles Jackson."

He looked up. "Pardon?"

Paul shook his head. "I asked you twice what you thought of inviting Mr. Bentley to participate in the cricket match."

"What cricket match?" Miles straightened in his seat. "I love cricket. Why has no one said anything to me about it?"

"We were just telling you." Tom's grin widened. "You must have been daydreaming about something ... or perhaps, someone?"

Ian raised his eyes to the ceiling. "We don't need any more matchmakers, Tom. Miles, pay attention. We've been issued a challenge by the Gents in Bradford. Tom's agreed to hold the match at Rivenwood since the side yard is the ideal size and flatness of ground. With only two weeks to prepare, recruitment is our top priority. Lucky us, Mr. Bentley played on the Oxford team a few years back and will be quite the Corinthian on the field."

Mr. Bentley? He would be a sportsman on top of all his other glowing assets. Miles blew out a long breath.

"We also have the four of us," Ian continued, "the Hater twins, and James Udall if his wife holds off having her baby. It's a shame it's a men's league and we cannot let Jemma and Lisette play. They both are excellent batsmen."

"Only because I taught them everything I know," Tom said, his hands going to the lapels of his jacket like some proud father.

Miles shook his head. "I believe it is because Jemma has a competitive spirit and Lisette has a fear of letting her team down. But we will have to rely on the rest of the Rebels this time."

"Don't forget Mr. Reed," Paul added, "if Miles thinks the man can rally his spirits. It might be a good distraction from his loss."

Paul's idea had merit. "I will ask him," Miles said. "Where does that put our team?"

"If everyone agrees to play," Ian said, "we will still require two more players to make eleven." He held out his hand and began listing on his fingers. "We will need a spare player or two, a scorer, and one of the two umpires. Not just any chap will do. I will only accept the elite of Brookeside on our team. He must be active in body and sharp in mind. I won't abide any lazy, sluggish players. And don't recommend a man if he is the sensitive sort. I refuse squeamish players who cannot take a bump or dirty their clothes."

Miles thought for a moment. "My younger brother's summer break from University has begun, and we expect him home in the next few days."

"Splendid! Kent is just the sort of man we are looking for," Ian said, slapping the table.

"My father would be an excellent umpire, but I think a nonrelative would be more fair." Tom gave a mischievous smile. "So long as he is a fan of Brookeside, of course."

They all chuckled and raised their glasses with cheers of, "Here, here!"

"Mortimer Gibbons could score for us," Paul suggested.

"Excellent," Ian concluded. "Be on the lookout for two more men. The Rebels of Brookeside must uphold their honor."

After a few more minutes of planning out the details, Tom and Paul excused themselves out the private exit separate from Gammon's Inn—both men eager to return to their wives. Miles envied them.

Ian nudged Miles with his foot. "What was that earlier? You were in a whole different world."

He shrugged. "I must be tired from all the dancing last night."

"From what I recall, you danced only once and left directly after." Ian leaned his tall body over the table and hunched over on his elbows. "Something strange was going on with you. I thought something was off at dinner, but it most definitely was during your one and only dance. Tell me I was imagining the immense tension radiating from you and Jemma."

"You were imagining it," he repeated, his voice even.

"I thought so, too, at first." Ian narrowed his gaze. "And then you walked out without a word to anyone. The Miles I know is too mannerly to not even thank the host or bid goodbye to his friends. What happened during that dance? When I was with Jemma, she was perfectly fine. Afterward, she was not herself at all. Do you have something to tell me, Mr. Romantic?"

Miles shrugged. "She liked dancing with me more than you?"

Ian gave a short laugh. "Apparently."

"No confessions today, Ian." If he was ever going to admit his feelings vocally, it would be to Jemma first and foremost.

"Something odd is going on here." Ian rubbed his jaw in a slow, deliberate manner. "I cannot put my finger on it, but I don't like it. Are you trying to persuade her against Mr. Bentley? Or is it worse? A love triangle? No, surely not." He dragged out his words, his steely gaze punctuating his point. "Can you imagine? Such a dreaded scenario would lead to certain pain and devastation of friendship." Ian searched Miles for an answer, but the power of eye connection worked only when one let their guard down, and Miles was not about to do that.

Ian finally sat back and released a sigh. "If you won't tell me anything, I can only make inferences based on observation. I could be wrong ... I hope I'm wrong. But I have to warn you. If I am noticing your odd behavior, who else is? Someone is liable to get hurt, Miles, and I am afraid that someone will be you. Because if it isn't you getting hurt, then it will be Jemma or Lisette, and I cannot allow that."

Miles nodded, knowing Ian's words were out of protection for their friends and not because he cared any less for him. "Everything will work out as it is meant to."

Whether he was left with a broken heart or not—he would know soon enough. There was not much time left until the six-week period ended and Jemma's engagement was announced. Would that it were his name attached to hers when that day came.