Page 58 of Her Notorious Rake
“Mama, Lord Blakemore has asked me to marry him. And I have accepted.”
Mama stared, her mouth falling open. “You—you have accepted?”
Gemma laughed, unable to contain that exhilaration bubbling in her chest. “Yes. How could I not? I love him, dearly.”
She turned back to Lord Blakemore, and in a voice raw with emotion, he told her earnestly, “I love you. I adore you. I’ve come alive since I’ve known you.”
This must be a dream. Is he really standing right before me?
***
Dalton dined with Gemma and her mother that evening, and enjoyed his glimpse into Gemma’s life, the life he had not yet seen. And he told them everything that had transpired, from his uncle’s conspiracy against his father, to the way he had endeavoured to slowly send Mother to her grave. Gemma was white, wide-eyed with horror as he tried to delicately weave the madness that was his life into a clear-cut explanation.
“What a dreadful, dreadful man,” Mrs. Hayesworth shuddered when he finished at last. She gazed at Dalton with tremendous sympathy. “I wish that you did not have to endure such grotesque treachery, and at the hands of your own uncle.”
Dalton tried to smile, but he was still shaken by it all. It was as if the ground had shifted beneath his feet. He wondered if he’d ever quite regain his balance again. But as Gemma turned her large, searching eyes to him, something in him squeezed. As long as she was by his side, he could get through anything.
“I am so utterly sorry for all that you have gone through,” she whispered. “I wish there was something more I could do, to somehow help.”
“It is a joy to merely be here in your presence, Miss Hayesworth,” he told her, hoping she knew he meant it.
Just then a black cat strolled up to the table and began to rub against his leg, purring. Dalton stiffened, straining to see the creature under the table. Gemma laughed softly beside him. “That is my cat, Udolpho. He accompanied me to London on my late trip.”
“Did he? Well, I am pleased to meet him at last,” Dalton chuckled.
The rest of the room faded away as his eyes locked with Gemma’s, and for a long moment, he forgot about all his troubles back home, savoring her smile, basking in the aura ofher nearness.
But then, Mrs. Hayesworth cleared her throat, and the moment passed.
He had secured a room at the local inn, but promised Gemma he would return forthwith the following morning. It was difficult to bid her goodnight, to part from her, but in her eyes he read a calm reassurance that she would be there, waiting for him. He resisted the urge to kiss her again and set out on his ride back to the inn.
When he arrived at the Hayesworth cottage the following morning, Gemma took him on a walk about Willow Grove, down its many winding paths that snaked through the neighboring fields and lakes.
Behind them, her mother walked as a chaperone.
The weather was clear, not a hint of clouds in the sky. He couldn’t have asked for any of this to go more perfectly.
“I would have understood if you decided to loathe me forevermore after that night,” he told Gemma with a smile, her arm brushing his as they strolled.
“I confess, I thought it as well.” After a pause she continued, “I will confess, I was astonished that first night I heard you in the bowers at that ball. Reciting the constellations. It is so singular a passion that I did not expect to encounter anyone who shared affections for it.”
“Ah, so I astonished you, did I?”
“Very much, Lord Blakemore,” Gemma’s lips curved, her eyes dancing.
“Well, you astonished me as well, I will confess. “I did not expect to encounter someone like you, someone I could never hope to forget.”
Gemma’s eyes widened at this, and her cheeks flooded with a pretty blush.
“You singled me out at the second dance I attended. Had Ialready intrigued you so desperately by that time?”
“But of course.” Dalton drew in a deep breath and paused their stroll, turning to her. “I know I have brought you great pain, even if it was not of my own doing that last night.”
“It was not your doing,” Gemma told him earnestly. “And I fully comprehend that, I truly do. Do not fret about that any longer. My heart is wholly yours.” He could see she meant it, and wished to kiss her again. But he didn’t let himself, determined to demonstrate propriety.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “I cannot imagine what that must have been like.”
“It did shake me, I confess,” Gemma admitted in a soft voice. “I had believed, so very much, that you were sincere in your attentions towards me. But I do believe everything you’ve told me, and I hold that you speak nothing but the utter truth.”
