Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Jemma paced the stretch of the Manning House drawing room, hoping to stir up a breeze. Normally, the cozy space dressed up in crémes and soft pinks was a favorite of hers. Not today, however. There could be no comfort found on the day she was to meet her future husband. Lifting her hand, she fanned air into her face. "I fear the room is overheated," she said sheepishly to Lady Kellen.

"Oh? I am perfectly comfortable." The countess sat regally in her chair, not a blonde hair out of place and likely not a gland in her body even capable of sweating. She was the head of the Matchmaking Mamas in Brookeside, and Jemma had long been in awe of her. Unfortunately, while Lady Kellen was a paragon of women for all to emulate, Jemma was a walking anomaly—a bluestocking who had cried off marriage and the confines of Society only to come crawling back to its comforts and the sudden appeal of a lifelong companion.

Jemma batted her hand all the harder, producing very little reprieve. The contrast between Lady Kellen, the matchmaking goddess, and Jemma, the lonely orphan with ideas far bigger than herself, felt especially acute today.

Jemma ceased her pacing. "Should I request chilled lemonade be brought up for you instead of tea?"

"Truly, I am at ease, Miss Fielding. I have always found the late spring weather in Brookeside suits me." Lady Kellen motioned to the large bay window behind them.

Was the weather one of the reasons Lady Kellen spent such little time in London with her husband during the parliamentary Season? Would Jemma soon avoid her husband for the weather too? She followed Lady Kellen's gaze to the window, half dreading to see a carriage pull up. It was a fine spring day. A soft breeze lifted the newly grown leaves on the trees, which meant the infernal heat was coming from inside her.

She went back to pacing and hoping for improved air circulation. After another few moments, she asked Lady Kellen, "When did you say Mr. Bentley was arriving?"

"I expect him at any moment." Lady Kellen smoothed her perfectly pressed dress, a classic white muslin that appeared far more expensive and beautiful because of the wearer.

Jemma adored the minor distinctions of fashion, but her mind couldn't focus on what made the dress so perfect. Not when at any moment , her life would change dramatically.

The door opened, and her heart jumped into her throat.

Miles walked in, his black locks atop his head better suited for a palace painting than a man so soon off a horse. And not another sight could be more pleasant to ease her anxious self. Simply knowing he was near allowed her to breathe again. His kind, brown eyes found hers, and his lips moved up on one side, revealing a hint of a dimple. More relief soared through her, fueling her legs toward him and the comfort his presence brought. She wasn't going to face this alone after all.

"Miles," she whispered when she reached him. "I wasn't certain if you would arrive in time."

He frowned as he observed her, keeping his own voice low. "Are you well?" He lifted one hand to cup her elbow, but she grabbed it, squeezing it with all her might.

"In body but not of mind." She was doing her utter best to keep the dramatics to a minimum, but she could not recall being more nervous in her entire life. " He is supposed to be here soon, and I cannot seem to collect myself."

Miles glanced around the room, his eyes settling on Lady Kellen. "Where are Lisette and Mrs. Manning?"

Jemma hesitated. Of course he would want to see Lisette while he was here, but Jemma had regretfully sent her away. "I asked my aunt to take Lisette to town this morning." While her aunt had known about the arrangement, Jemma had begged her not to tell Lisette just yet. She would probably turn into a watering pot and beg Jemma not to shortcut her happiness. Since Jemma would do anything for Lisette, it was better to keep her away as long as possible.

Miles squeezed her hand back, the warmth there not at all intolerable, like the rest of the room. "You need to tell her."

"I couldn't!" she mumbled. "You know how close we are. I hate to disappoint her." It was probably hard for Miles to keep a secret from Lisette when the two were so loyal to each other. She supposed real love did that to a person. She quickly added, "But your presence is all I need, so I am certain I will feel better soon. And I so dearly want to hear your opinion." Miles was more than an older-brother figure in her life; he was a man who held her greatest esteem. He'd been there for her since they were children, even though half the town had come to rely on him for one thing or another.

"Jemma . . ."

Before he could lecture her, she turned to include Lady Kellen in their conversation. She hastily dropped Miles's hand, hoping Lady Kellen hadn't seen. "Lady Kellen, I hope you do not mind, but I invited Mr. Jackson to join us this morning. I thought he could welcome Mr. Bentley to the neighborhood with us."

"Welcome him to the neighborhood? I must have misheard," Miles said, stepping forward. "This Mr. Bentley ... he is to reside here? In Brookeside?"

"Then, you didn't know," Lady Kellen answered. "The Kensington House has been purchased at last. Isn't it delightful?"

"No one seemed to know the name of the new owner," Miles said.

Jemma had been one of the few made aware of Mr. Bentley and his plans. "It was all very hush-hush until everything was in order."

"I have to respect a man who prefers his privacy," Miles said.

Jemma smiled, pleased that Miles thought so. She wanted him to like Mr. Bentley.

Lady Kellen took up the conversation again. "If all continues to fall into place and there is a union between them, Miss Fielding will remain amongst us. It's rather perfect. I dare say, none of us could bear to part with her."

Did it sound too perfect? A compliment from the esteemed Lady Kellen was no small thing. Jemma should be thrilled with her situation. After all, she prided herself on being quite brave and forward thinking. So, why had her anxiety given birth to a horde of angry bees storming her insides and humming in her ears? She found she'd rather walk on nails or leap through a ring of fire at the circus than meet Mr. Bentley.

They settled into their seats, she in a chair and Miles on a sofa opposite Lady Kellen.

Miles's calm voice broke through Jemma's troubling, consuming thoughts. "Miss Fielding has not made me fully aware of the situation here. Is Mr. Bentley a full participant of this intended match?" Jemma caught a strain in the fine smile lines by his eyes. He needn't be so worried for her. If she were sick on Mr. Bentley's boots, she'd surely live through the embarrassment. She hoped.

"Mr. Bentley is a full and eager participant," Lady Kellen answered. "After three years spent in the West Indies supervising his holdings, he has returned to England for good and is intent on finding someone to share his future with."

Miles leaned forward, propping his forearms on his thighs and clasping his hands together. "Did he make his fortune? Or does he desire Miss Fielding's?"

"Mr. Jackson," Jemma chided.

Lady Kellen held up her hand. "A perfectly respectable question, considering the situation. Mr. Bentley has five thousand pounds per annum. He has no need of Miss Fielding's money."

Five thousand pounds was a staggering amount. Miles did not so much as blink at it, not one to have ever cared much for money. It was clear, he did not want her taken advantage of.

Miles pressed for more. "I assume his character is upstanding?"

Lady Kellen gave a single nod. "I was thorough in my assessment. Besides providing well for Miss Fielding, his family name is well known. He also shares Miss Fielding's desire for serving the less fortunate."

The last part had eased some of Jemma's concerns. She loved the work she and the Rebels did, and she wanted a man who would support her in her efforts. However, being charitable meant different things to different people. Some men did not care to have their wives involved in any matter outside their front door. Time would tell if Mr. Bentley measured up to her own expectations.

"Excellent," Miles added, though there was no enthusiasm in his voice. "And if Miss Fielding has a change of heart and desires to remove herself from this arrangement, what contingencies are in place to allow this?"

Lady Kellen flicked a glance at Jemma, who had not even thought to ask such a thing. She hadn't wanted an out. The sooner they were married, the better. Otherwise, Jemma feared she would change her mind and disappoint herself and Grandmother. This way, her promise would be kept, and she could dive into her new life.

"Mr. Bentley requested a month to acquaint himself with Miss Fielding first. I had hoped the two of them could sort out the particulars together."

"Six weeks, at the very least," Miles said rather decisively. "Don't you agree, Miss Fielding?"

Jemma studied his raised brow as he waited for her response. He did know more about people than she did. And they would need time for their lessons together ... "Six weeks might be best."

"We will let Mr. Bentley know your preference." Lady Kellen grinned, completely in her element. Matchmaking brought her far too much pleasure. Until her own unique situation, Jemma hadn't been very happy about the Matchmaking Mama Society. Seeing two of her best friends happily married because of their mothers' machinations had softened her a little, but she still thought the Society's arrangements somewhat unusual. Unlike her friends, everything had been perfectly transparent from the moment she had contracted with Lady Kellen. It was a small but needed comfort.

The housekeeper brought in the tea things before removing herself from the room again.

Jemma glanced at the clock on the mantel. Mr. Bentley was a quarter of an hour late. Was it a bad omen or a good one?

Miles caught her eye. "Miss Fielding, are you certain this is what—"

There was a rustle in the corridor. Miles had left the door open. All their gazes swung toward it now, leaving Miles's unfinished sentence hanging in the air.

This was it. Jemma had to pull herself together. She could not make a poor first impression if she hoped to win Mr. Bentley over and fall in love with him in a mere six weeks. Facing the door, she couldn't muster any excitement. Every limb of her body became heavy with dread. Did she really want this? No ... no, not completely. But Grandmother did. And a promise was a promise.