Page 57 of Her Notorious Rake
Uncle Ernest tried to wrench away the constable but got shaken roughly. “You and your blighted father were going to runthis estate into the grave. Better him than generations worth of a fortune. Squandered by you and him.”
Dalton’s eyes blurred as he watched the constable and Theodore wrest the two men out into the hall and towards the front door. His legs buckling, he sank onto the nearby sofa, and buried his head in his hands.
He needed to see Gemma.
Rising, he rushed into the hall, sending Wilson for his hat and cane. And out the door he rushed. It didn’t take long to reach the Kenway residence several streets over. And when he did, he tripped his way up the steps, knocking on the door. The butler presently opened it, but his eyes widened when he recognized Dalton. But before he could close the door again, Dalton stabbed his cane into the door’s path, preventing it from closing. “Please,” he whispered. “I must see Miss Hayesworth.”
“Miss Hayesworth isn’t here any longer, sir,” the butler told him, giving the door a shove to close it.
From within the house, Philippa Kenway’s voice rang out, commanding as always. “Who is that, Gibbons?”
“Lord Blakemore, my lady.”
Philippa let out a cry. “Good heavens, what could he want? After everything he’s done?”
“Please,” Dalton called, lifting his voice. “I must speak with her. This has all been a great misapprehension. And I have every means of demonstrating this to you.”
The door opened wider and Philippa appeared, fixing him with a scathing glare. “She is no longer here, Lord Blakemore. Though, if she were, what would ever give you cause to hope to see her again. After the way you—”
“As I said,” Dalton shook his head, “This is all but a misapprehension. Orchestrated by my uncle. And if you would permit me just a moment, I can explain it all to you. Should you desire further attestation, you need only speak with mycousin herself and Lord Theodore Longworth. But when you do understand, I must implore you to tell me where Miss Hayesworth now dwells.”
Philippa stared. After a long pause, she sighed, and closed her eyes. “Very well,” she whispered.
***
Life picked up slowly where it left off, as Gemma settled back into life in Willow Grove. This evening, she’d spent the day picking strawberries, and she would bake them into a pie tomorrow. But for now, she enjoyed the quiet evening, the air filled with the garden flowers that blossomed amply this time of year. Beside her, Mama stitched away at a pillowcase set. And around them in the quiet parlor, cats spread out, napping before the blazing hearth. It was late afternoon, and the sun was lowering steadily in the sky.
Gemma had sat up half the night reading the astronomy book Lord Blakmore gave her, poring over each page until she at last fell asleep and dreamt of the stars, bound by silver threads into a constellation. She followed the constellation like it was a path, a bridge across the sky. She must have tripped in this dream, for she stumbled forward and found herself caught in Lord Blakemore’s arms. His lips sought hers, briefly, before the dream slipped away and she awoke.
Someone knocked on the door just then, startling the cats out of their doze, and Gemma out of her stupor. She and Mama exchanged looks, frowning. “It must be Vicar Jennings,” Mama whispered, before setting aside her work and rising. She hastened over to the door to admit the caller, and Gemma picked up her book again. The words on the page blurred together when she heard the visitor speak. “I’ve come to see Miss Hayesworth. Does she dwell here?”
Gemma lurched to her feet, going cold and then hot all over.She shook her head at Mama, hoping she’d merely send him away.
“Gemma,” Lord Blakemore called. “Please, permit me to explain everything to you.”
“I—” Gemma stepped back, faltering. Was this truly happening? She rushed to the door, glaring up at him, her eyes blurring. “Why should I listen to a thing you say?” she whispered, throat closing. “You’ve toyed with me. All this time. And I—”
“Gemma, I didn’t,” Lord Blakemore’s eyes were also misty, his voice cracking. “I didn’t. My uncle was cruel, and treacherous. He wished to entrap me with Celeste, so that I would be compelled to wed her. He sought control of my father’s estate. And his only means of securing it—” he drew in a shaky breath. “His only means of securing it was to exact his will, deceitfully, upon my cousin and me. I—I love you, Gemma. Only you. And ever since I’ve met you, I’ve been transforming into someone I thought I’d never be again.”
Gemma couldn’t breathe. “I don’t understand,” she whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t understand.” Hot tears slipped down her cheeks.
“My uncle devised that whole encounter between Celeste and me. He forced her to advance upon me, so I would be compelled to marry her, to salvage our reputations. But he is imprisoned now, for all his vileness.”
Gemma clamped a hand to her mouth as sobs wracked her. It took several moments to compose herself, and when she at last did, Lord Blakemore stepped closer and inquired if he could speak with her in the garden. She nodded dazedly and followed him outside into the shade of the towering nearby tree that drooped over the cottage. They walked over to a bench beside the tree trunk, and she lowered down upon it. Her knees would give out if she didn’t.
“Gemma,” Lord Blakemore whispered. “I love you. Iloveyou.”
Gemma swallowed, unable to believe what she was hearing. “You—you do?”
“Deeply. You’re everything I’ve ever sought in a wife. You are the very person I’ve been dreaming of. More than ever, I’m certain we are bound by the stars to one another.”
Gemma could barely get her reply out. “I love you as well.” She’d scarcely finished before Lord Blakemore gathered her in his arms, kissing her at last. When he drew back, he smiled, his eyes wet with emotion, his voice hoarse.
“Will you do me the great honour of becoming my wife?”
“Your wife?” Gemma repeated blankly. But instead of the trepidation and unease that tugged inside her when Lord Neville asked for her hand, joy swelled in her chest, and she nodded. She’d never been more sure of anything before in her life. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, yes, yes.” She was babbling nonsense, but Lord Blakemore didn’t seem to mind. He grinned, and kissed her again.
"Oh good heavens!" Mama’s voice from the cottage doorway broke them apart. Gemma’s face warmed but she couldn’t bring herself to care.
