Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

Miles left Jemma's side, wandering through Rivenwood until he reached a dark, empty corridor. He sank against the wall. Tipping his head back, he squeezed his eyes shut. He'd let his guard down, and any progress in reaching Jemma was gone. An ache throbbed in his chest. He'd been so scared—so foolish. His heart raced remembering how still she had lain in his arms. He had almost lost her.

How he longed to hold her until his lingering nerves settled. She was out of harm's way now, and yet ... and yet farther out of his reach than ever. Why had he deceived himself? She would never see the possibility of them together. She didn't love him. Not enough to fight for a future by his side.

Pushing himself from the wall, he sighed. He needed to speak with Lisette. His duty demanded it. All these years, he had avoided this conversation, but it was no longer possible. It was time for him to stop tiptoeing around his mistakes and take responsibility.

Somehow, he made it to the stable and blindly road his horse to the Mannings' House. The family had just retired home, relieved that Jemma was on the mend, and had not expected his arrival. He promptly requested a private word with Lisette in the drawing room. He didn't care what the family or the staff thought. Soon enough, the whole town would know what he had done. It was only right Lisette learn it from him.

"What is it?" Lisette asked. "Has Jemma worsened already?" They took seats across from each other. Lisette perched on the edge of hers, seemingly ready to leap back into a carriage and return to Jemma's side at a moment's notice.

"It is her emotional needs that concern me, actually." Miles took a deep breath, his hands sweating. "I have injured her ... and you." When Miles finished accounting his behavior on the cricket field, Lisette paled and gripped the arm of the sofa.

Miles's own hands fidgeted for a moment. He waited for her to say something. Anything. He knew the consequences of his actions affected her as much as they did him and Jemma. They had been through a great deal together, but never something of this magnitude.

Finally, she emitted a heavy sigh. "Thank you for telling me."

He grimaced. "You alone would thank me for making such a wretched confession."

"It is grave tidings indeed." Her small smile disappeared before it reached fruition.

"I know. I am ashamed that I did not take greater pains to control myself." He would never regret kissing Jemma but vehemently regretted hurting her and his friends.

Lisette shook her head. "You mistake my words. I did not mean to imply you should feel ashamed. Only, there will be so much societal pressure to make amends."

He stared at her unblinking expression and clarified carefully. "Pressure for me to marry Jemma, you mean?"

"Yes."

Maybe if she cried, Miles would feel properly chastised. With her calmly spoken words and dry eyes, he could not gauge the level of hurt he had induced. "Lisette, for years, everyone ... maybe even you ... has thought that you and I, that we ... "

"That we would marry," she finished. "Yes, I know what everyone has said about us. I wanted it, too, for a long time."

"Wanted?" Miles was stuck on the tense of her word choice.

She nodded. "It seems strange to finally speak it out loud, to you of all people." She lifted her shoulders in a dainty shrug. "I held a place in my heart for you for many years, but the constant pressure to secure your affections slowly became burdensome to me. It was only recently that I realized I am happier when we are simply friends without expectation. I can honestly say I no longer feel the same attachment toward you. Not like Tom and Cassandra love each other or Paul and Louisa."

He was relieved and ashamed all over again. It was his fault she had suffered so long. "I do not blame you if you can never forgive me."

"I already have, Miles. I am taken back by your admission but not by your partiality toward Jemma. I cannot be the only one who has noticed the way you look at her."

"You noticed?"

"I wondered off and on the last few years, but when you danced with Jemma at Kensington Park ... Well, you have never looked at me that way before."

His face and neck grew hot, his cravat suffocating him. "I only ever wanted the best for you, Lisette, but my heart already belonged elsewhere. You deserve so much better."

She surprised him with a sympathetic smile. " We deserve better."

His brow hinged together in the middle.

"Forget any obligation you feel toward me, Miles, and follow your heart." Her somber expression turned resolute. "As for me, I plan to do the same."

Miles left Lisette on far better terms than he'd expected. He knew he had injured her over the years, and it still stung his conscience to think about, but having her know his feelings for Jemma was an unexpected release. Conversing with Lisette had been the right thing to do. Years' worth of harbored feelings were finally free in the world—for better or worse. So much of his future was still uncertain.

After a short sleep, he rose at dawn to ride to Tom's to meet with Mr. Bentley. With his friends gathered in the drawing room, he forced another uncomfortable confession and apology.

"I wanted to believe you were friends alone," Mr. Bentley said, shaking his head, "but now I know my suspicions had merit."

"It was one-sided," Miles said, hating the truth of it. "Miss Fielding has been hurt by my actions, and I deeply regret coming between you both." When he finished his heartfelt apology to him, Miles slipped out of the room, leaving the rest of the difficult conversation to his friends. He couldn't bear hearing Mr. Bentley waffle over his decision to marry Jemma. Miles scrubbed a hand over his face and stumbled into the library. The hour was impossibly early, but they all were eager to have some sort of plan in place before the cricket match resumed.

He suddenly hated cricket. It seemed terribly inconvenient and trite now. He draped himself over the sofa, not caring who would see him or that it wasn't his house. It was better than storming Jemma's room and pleading for her to forgive him—to see him differently—to give them a chance. But his words would fall short. There was nothing left to say that she wanted to hear.

If God wanted to humble him, it was working. Deep down, he had felt his friendship with Jemma had superseded any hold Mr. Bentley had had over her, but how wrong he had been. He'd been wrong to hope she would set aside her desires for this man or for her cousin.

Everything was wrong. Despite what he preached about not caring what man thought and only what God thought, he was undeniably guilty. Especially as the vicar of many who would gather in the crowd today. The burden of their opinions tortured him. Not to mention he had broken the trust of his closest friends.

Several minutes passed before his friends filed through the door.

"It's done," Ian said.

Miles pulled himself into sitting position. "And?"

"And he is a better man than I would be." Tom threw himself on the other end of the sofa and kicked his feet up onto a small table.

Paul shut the library door behind him. "He has agreed to marry Jemma and pretend the kiss never happened."

Miles's stomach sank like a rock. Where was the consolation in this? How could his soul know peace if the two would still marry? "Some kiss, when the girl doesn't even remember it," Miles mumbled.

"What was that?" Tom leaned nearer to him.

Miles cleared his throat. "Nothing."

"By the way, Lisette just arrived," Paul said, shoving his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets.

Miles scratched his cheek. He had told them briefly of his apology to her the night before. No one had said anything, but he knew they hoped he would fall out of love with Jemma and resolve things with Lisette. "Did she look well?"

"She wasn't crying," Tom said, as if that were the defining level of a woman's emotions.

"Because she was too worried about Jemma's reputation," Ian added. He paced to the window. "People are already gathering on the field."

Miles sighed. "Is someone going to update Jemma before the game?"

"We will let Cassandra and Louisa take care of it," Paul said. "They have volunteered to sit with her for the morning. Besides, some things come across better from the gentler sex."

"Agreed," Tom said. "Jemma will be relieved that Mr. Bentley will still have her, no doubt."

Tom hadn't meant to injure Miles with his phrasing, but the word relieved was like a sucker punch. Would it be so terrible if Jemma married him? Apparently, they all thought it would be.

Tom inched to the edge of his seat. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I am exhausted. Let's finish the cricket match for good today, Rebels. The worst is over."

"The worst is over for you, you mean." Miles stood. "Never mind, let's go."

"Sit down," Ian said, crossing the room to him. "We aren't quite finished here."

"Ian's right," Paul said. "Besides Miles and Jemma being at odds, and Lisette no doubt upset, the neighborhood isn't going to be excited about the scandal their vicar caused."

Miles reluctantly sat down. "Am I to be the next Rebel project, then?"

"Would you prefer we call the Matchmakers in to assist you?" Ian's top lip drew back in disgust.

"No . . . no, I don't."

Ian folded his arms, and his fingers drummed against the sleeve of his jacket. "You are supposed to be the expert on love, Miles, not me. Somehow, you've created an ugly web strung with broken hearts—the center of which is your own."

Miles shrugged. "Maybe Tom will finally cease calling me Mr. Romantic."

"Not amusing," Ian said curtly. "We need a way to deflect attention from the scandal. It might be the only way to recover a few reputations."

"Including Miles's," Paul added.

Ian rubbed his prominent, dimpled chin. "Right. Protecting your employment is essential. I don't want the hassle of acclimating this town to a new vicar."

"Always the thoughtful one." Miles smirked, but inwardly he was struggling. He had come to count on his position for security, but his job meant so much more to him than a salary. One decision had cost him so much. "Please worry about Jemma and Lisette over my place at the vicarage. I volunteer to humiliate myself again if it means protecting their names."

No one looked particularly thrilled about his pronouncement. They sat in a stupor for a moment, each lost in his own thoughts.

Tom snapped his fingers, breaking the silence. "I have it. If Miles intends to embarrass himself, there is one thing we know he hates."

Miles raised his brow. "When women ask if they can have my hair made into a wig for them to wear?"

They all stared in disbelief.

"Women do that?" Paul asked.

"It's happened a few times," Miles said reluctantly.

"Actually, I was thinking along the lines of your town role as Mr. Romantic," Tom said. "We need to think of something along that vein."

"Absolutely," Ian answered, smiling smugly. "Sacrifice hurts." He was clearly still mad at Miles for hurting Jemma and Lisette.

Miles groaned. "The very subject got me in trouble in the first place." He was already suffering from following his heart, it hardly seemed fair to wound himself further. But if it protected Jemma, he wouldn't hesitate.

"What about a charity auction?" Paul suggested. "It's a sizable distraction and something generous would go a long way in healing relations with the town and certain hurt Rebels."

A charity auction. The idea had merit. The town might grow enthused enough to overlook his ungentlemanly behavior. Most importantly, it would give them something to talk about besides Jemma.

"I like it," Ian declared, pointing at Paul. "We can offer a grand prize worthy of Mr. Romantic himself."

The pieces came together, and he groaned. "Wait, you want to auction me off?" He sank against the sofa cushion, regretting everything. "I am not sure I have the stomach for you to sell me in marriage to the highest bidder."

"Stomach ..." Tom mumbled. "That's it. You don't have to marry them, just eat with them. A picnic with Mr. Miles Jackson—Brookeside's most humble and generous vicar. Chaperoned, of course."

"Won't people be displeased that I am picnicking with every available woman in town after the scandal I just created?"

Paul nodded. "I'll find a few more men willing to be auctioned for a picnic so you blend in," Paul said. "But we will set our hopes on your previous reputation. Besides, these are women who you have made yourself unavailable to in the past. You are giving them limited access. It's a diversion at its finest."

Miles gave him a flat stare. "You're doing a terrible job at convincing me."

"Only one woman would get a picnic with you, obviously," Tom said, his eyes going to the ceiling. "And it will be about the charity. It's in the presentation. Mind you, the women will have their private motivations, and we can't help that. Once they think they have a chance with you, they will forget all about your supposed interest in another."

Miles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just tell me when it's over."

"Well done, Rebels," Ian said. "It will be an unprecedented auction. If we don't shock the town's sensibilities, it might just work."

Miles hoped for the best. He had never hurt so many people. He was sick about it. Especially when Jemma was only a floor above him and wasn't even speaking to him.

Paul clasped his hands behind his back. "It would be precautionary more than a perfect solution. But we have worked with less before."

Miles slapped his hands on his knees. "We should head out to the field and start warming up."

Tom grinned. "For cricket or for the announcement of the charity auction?"

Miles grimaced. "Both."