Page 56 of Her Notorious Rake
She would never forget the heartbreak in Lord Neville’s eyes as she told him in a hushed voice that she couldn’t marry him. Behind him, Aunt Philippa closed her eyes tightly, but when she’d opened them, Gemma could see the resignation lining her features.
“Very well,” Lord Neville had smiled, letting out a disheartened laugh. He couldn’t disguise the dismay in his expression as he nodded, stepping back. “I wish you every happiness, Miss Hayesworth. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance thus far.”
She’d watched him depart without another word except for a bow to Aunt Philippa. And then, he was gone.
Rose had carried in Udolpho, stashed away in his basket for the carriage ride ahead. Gemma had thanked her, and then bid her aunt farewell.
“Again, I am indebted to you, Aunt, for your goodness to me.”
“Say nothing of it. You are my brother’s child, and I have no children of my own. It shall be lonely here without you.”
Gemma had impulsively hugged Aunt Philippa tightly, before drawing back. She kissed her on the cheek before turning and hastening outside.
Gemma blinked away tears as she recalled her goodbye to Prudence.
The two girls had embraced before Gemma was helped up into the carriage by the footman. On the seat beside her rested Udolpho’s basket, and she picked it up to console him on the ride. She leaned out the window to wave to her aunt and Prudence on the sidewalk in front of the house.
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a quiet tavern just off the main road. The driver helped her down and told her to go on inside and secure a room for the night. Aunt Philippa had given her some money for a stay in one of these roadside inns, and Gemma was thankful for the prospect of sleeping. Her body ached with exhaustion.
Carriage rides always jostled her about, and it was a relief to lie down on her bed, while Udolpho leapt up beside her.
“We’re almost home,” she whispered to him, before drifting asleep.
She woke up early the next morning to continue the journey homeward and sighed as the carriage pulled away from the inn. In but a few hours, she would see Mama again, would beg her to forgive her for being such a fool.
Although…perhaps Vicar Jennings had married some farmer’s daughter by now. Gemma certainly hoped so.
She would be content to spend the rest of her life wiling away the days in the Willow Grove cottage. That would by no means be a disagreeable conclusion to all of this dreadful mess.
Leaning her head against the carriage window, Gemma glanced down at the satchel she’d kept inside the carriage, rather than letting the footmen stash it on the roof above. It contained all her most beloved mementos from this London stay, from the Opera ticket to a small elephant figurine Aunt Philippa purchased her at Vauxhall Gardens.
Gemma leaned forward, grasping the handles of her satchel, and pulled it into her lap. It was heavier than she expected, and she began to rummage through it. Her mouth went dry when she found within it the familiar cover of the astronomy book given her by Lord Blakemore.
A note had been tucked inside of it that read,It would be a shame to lose such a lovely book. Regardless of who bequeathed it to you.Signed,Aunt Philippa.
Heart lurching, she withdrew the book, letting her satchel slide to the ground. She skimmed shaking fingertips over the gilt cover, and a lump rose in her throat. A part of her was grateful to her aunt for having it returned to her satchel. But another part of her wished she’d simply let it be. The sight of the book wrenched at something in Gemma. She inhaled, trembling, and set the book to the side, wishing she could just be home already.
Chapter 25
Uncle Ernest was muttering indistinctly to himself when he entered the quiet study, where Dalton waited by the hearth. He clutched a glass of port in his hand, though he’d found it difficult to swallow the drink all evening. He’d been waiting hours for this moment. And at last, the time had come.
“What’s the meaning of this? Have you at last come to your senses about your cousin?”
Dalton’s lip curled as he set down his glass on the mantle. “Did you murder my father?” His stomach roiled with that visceral anger, digging his fingers into his palm. Staring down his uncle, he waited for the man to react, to respond.
Uncle Ernest’s face paled subtly, his eyes widening as he took a step back. As if Dalton had just struck him.
“Did I—” he pressed a hand to his heart. “Have you gone mad?” he barked out.
The door creaked open and Theodore entered, followed by the constable who clutched that rotten physician by the arm.
The physician was white as a sheet, shrinking backwards even as the constable gave him a sharp tug.
Uncle Ernest staggered back, cursing in a whisper, and wheeled about to face Dalton. Dalton gave him a smirk, folding his arms. “He told us everything. And Celeste did as well.”
Uncle Ernest lunged forward, but Dalton laid him flat on the ground before he could make it even two steps. He held himself back as the constable hurried forward and jerked the man to his feet.
“You are dead to me,” Dalton spat at his uncle. “Dead.”
