Page 43 of Her Notorious Rake
His driver opened the door and Dalton hurried down the steps on wobbly legs. He paused for a moment, checking his appearance in the reflection of the carriage window, before mounting the front steps and knocking. A butler answered the door and admitted him, and Dalton asked, his stomach twisting into knots, if he could inform Lady Kenway of his wish to call upon Gemma.
The butler bowed and disappeared, and Dalton paced back and forth across the foyer, pulse racing.
***
Aunt Philippa waved the folded paper in the air. She’d just received it from a runner, and Gemma listened politely as her aunt informed her of its contents. “Lord Neville’s sweet sister, Lady Sarah Neville, has sent me a note this morning inviting you and I to a little soiree. I am certain that this is her way of signaling her brother’s intentions.”
“Oh, yes. Very good,” Gemma forced a smile and nodded, though Aunt Philippa took no notice. Or else, she simply ignored it.
“You will adore Sarah. She is a great reader like yourself, and I am certain the two of you will be friends—and sisters.”
Gemma rose suddenly and crossed the room to the window, unwilling to let her aunt see the tears springing to her eyes. If the stars were out right now, she’d wish on one. She’d wish that somehow, she would find a way to be with Dalton. Though, for all she knew, this was but a spring dalliance for him, and he was merely toying with her. Aunt Philippa could be right after all, but that didn’t make Lord Neville any more of a desirable prospect.
Aunt Philippa’s butler stepped into the room, and in a low voice, informed them that Lord Blakemore had come to call upon Gemma.
Aunt Philippa went pale, her eyes sparking with indignation, and her good mood evaporated like steam. “He’s here?” she sputtered. “To—to call upon—”
“He’s in the hall, my lady.”
Aunt Philippa closed her eyes and prayed aloud. “May the good Lord grant me forbearance.”
Gemma leaned back against the wall, touching her heart. It had begun to thunder under her fingertips, and she couldn’t breathe. Lord Blakemore…here? Had her wish truly worked?
“What shall I tell him, my lady?”
“Why, send him away—”
“No!” Gemma whispered urgently, crossing the room. “Don’t send him away.”
“Gemma!” Aunt Philippa’s voice went shrill.
Gemma sank down on the settee beside her, grasping her aunt’s hand in hers as a tear ran down her flushed cheek. “Don’t send him away, Aunt Philippa. I wish to see him.”
“Think, Gemma. What good could possibly come of this?” Aunt Philippa hissed.
“Everyone can change, Aunt. Don’t you believe that?” Gemma dabbed away her tears. “He has shown me nothing but kindness, and thoughtfulness. And our connection—there’s nothing like it. Weren’t you young once, in love? Couldn’t you try to understand?”
Aunt Philippa’s mouth thinned as she stared at Gemma shrewdly. With a soft sigh, she softened and shook her head. “Very well. But let me remind you that this is against my better judgement. And if it goes amiss, you have none to blame but yourself. If Lord Neville were to hear of this—” she closed her eyes, sighing again. “Bring him in,” she ordered the butler.
Gemma flew over to the mirror to check her appearance, to tuck any loose strands of hair back into place, to dab at her reddened eyes. She’d just returned to the settee when the butler entered, and announced Lord Blakemore.
He entered, tall and imposing as usual, dressed in a fine wine-red suit, black silk cravat tied neatly at his throat, and when his piercing eyes landed on Gemma, her chest constricted. She and Aunt Philippa rose to greet him, but she twisted her hands together, heart beating faster until it might burst. His lips curved into a subtle smile.
“Lady Kenway,” he bowed. And then, to Gemma, “Miss Hayesworth. I pray you fare well this morning.”
“We do,” Aunt Philippa said stiffly, casting Gemma an exasperated look. “And to what do we owe the pleasure of your company, Lord Blakemore?”
“I thank you for receiving me,” he replied to her, though his eyes remained fixed on Gemma.
“Refreshments and tea,” Aunt Philippa instructed the butler as Lord Blakemore smiled at Gemma, and she smiled back, grateful to sink back down onto the settee. “Won’t you have a seat, Lord Blakemore?”
He acquiesced with a terse nod, lowering himself onto the settee beside Gemma.
“Miss Hayesworth,” he murmured. “How do you fare this morning?”
“Very well. And you?”
“The same. How do you find the astronomy book?”
