But if he expected Sir Everard to look chastened and apologize, he was doomed to disappointment.
Ignoring the mention of Gemma completely, the baronet grinned. “Excellent. Excellent.”
And to both Cam and Paley’s astonishment, his task complete, Sir Everard left the breakfast room.
“I thought you two would come to blows,” Lord Paley said with a laugh once Sir Everard was gone. “You’re not involved with the Hastings chit, are you?”
“What?” To his embarrassment, Cam’s voice went unnaturally high. “Why would you ask that?”
“Calm yourself, man,” said Paley with a laugh. “I simply noted your defense of the lady. But if you tell me it was only annoyance at Sir Everard’s snide tone, I will believe you, of course.”
“Of course that’s all it was,” Cam echoed him. “And I dislike hearing anyone I consider a friend disparaged in such a way. Lady Celeste was said to be one of the great minds of her generation, lady or no. And Miss Gemma was handpicked by Lady Celeste to oversee her collection and use it for her studies. It’s infuriating to hear someone as foolish as Sir Everard demean them, that’s all.”
Lord Paley nodded, looking thoughtful.
“I’ll just go write a note to send round to Beauchamp inquiring whether the three of us, or anyone else who might wish to join us, might come view the collection tomorrow.”
He stood and gave a slight bow.
Cam wasn’t sure if it was the viscount’s watchful eye he was trying to escape or his own reaction to hearing Gemma’s intellect dismissed. Either way, he needed a moment to himself.
* * *
The skies above Beauchamp House were gray with clouds and the wind had Gemma’s hair, unruly at the best of times, flying around her face as she and Sophia stood on the drive bidding Aunt Dahlia goodbye.
“You’re sure you won’t just stay through the holidays?” she asked her aunt for what must have been the hundredth time. “There’s no need for you to go back north. Especially in this weather. Travel will be must better in the spring.”
“When the rain will make the roads impassable?” her aunt asked with a raised brow. “Don’t fuss, Gemma. I wish to go back to Manchester. I have responsibilities with the Ladies’ Lecture Society and I’ve neglected them for a month already.”
“Perhaps we could help you form something similar here,” Sophia, hugging her cloak more tightly around her, offered. “I could suggest any number of ladies in the neighborhood who might be interested. In fact, Benedick might also—”
Aunt Dahlia pounded her heavy walking stick into the shell drive. “Enough! I must go and that’s that. I’ve loved this time with you girls, but my life is there.”
She hugged each of the sisters, taking the sting from her words. “I can’t begin to tell you how proud I am of you both. Sophia, I had hoped you would devote yourself exclusively to your painting, but if you must marry, then Lord Benedick is as fine a choice as you can have made.”
Turning to Gemma, she smiled. “And Gemma, your work here, cataloging and studying the collection Celeste left for you, will be of the greatest scientific importance. If Celeste did leave you something, then you must find it and make your mark. It will be in the analysis of fossils that you distinguish yourself. Poor Mary Anning’s analysis is ignored because men have taken her finds and imposed their own theories on them. Celeste has left you an opportunity to be the first to study her fossils. Do not squander it.”
She didn’t mention their conversation the night before about the importance of remaining unmarried, but Gemma heard the warning anyway.
“Yes, aunt,” she said obediently.
And then the sisters were watching their aunt and her maid climb into the large and comfortable traveling carriage that had come with the house. Gemma had seen to it that they were supplied with a basket of food, hot bricks for their feet, and heavy carriage blankets.
To her surprise, Gemma felt tears spring to her eyes as she watched the horses take off at the signal from the coachman and begin the journey.
“Come,” Sophia said, slipping her arm through hers. “Let’s get inside before we both turn into icicles.”
She must have sensed her sister’s distress because she didn’t comment when Gemma surreptitiously wiped her eyes.
Inside, after removing their coats, scarves, and gloves, they repaired to the breakfast room, where Serena was sipping a cup of tea.
“I take it Miss Hastings has departed?” she asked, no doubt taking in the sisters’ glum expressions.
“She has,” Gemma said as she spooned eggs onto her plate at the sideboard. Despite her mood, she was ravenous. Cold weather always left her hungry. For good measure she added two pieces of toast to her meal before taking a seat beside Serena.
“I know you’ll miss her,” said the widow, who, as the niece of Lady Celeste, had been chosen to act as chaperone for the four heiresses over the course of their year in the manor house. “But, I’ve had a letter this morning that might cheer you up.”
“Do tell,” Sophia said as she took a seat opposite them. “We could use a bit of good news.”
“Ivy and Daphne have decided to return to Beauchamp House for the rest of the year,” Serena said, handing Gemma the letter that had been folded on the table beside her teacup. “Ivy wrote that she and Daphne crossed paths at a dinner party in town and that they’d both lamented what Daphne called ‘the hair-witted conversation to be had at ton entertainments.’”
Sophia stifled a giggle while Gemma scanned the note. “It would seem that Maitland’s slang has begun to influence her.”
The letter was penned in Ivy’s tidy penmanship, and was dated a week previously. “They’ll be here soon, according to this. She says they’re leaving tomorrow.”
Sophia clapped her hands. “Just the thing we needed to distract us from Aunt Dahlia’s departure. I hadn’t realized how much I missed them while they’d been in London, but I can’t help but feel their absence every time I come to the house now.”
“Gemma and I rub along together well enough,” Serena said with a nod, “but we’ve felt the loss of all three of you since your marriages have taken you away from the house.”
“Things have changed so much since we first arrived,” Gemma said. “There have been so many dangers and adventures. And weddings. It’s hard to believe it’s been under a year.”
“There’s still time for more adventures,” Sophia said with a grin. “And weddings for that matter. Are there any gentlemen on your dance card, sister?”
“You know me better than that,” Gemma said firmly. “I intend to remain unwed, like Aunt Dahlia and Lady Celeste.”
“You won’t hear any argument from me,” Serena said. Her late husband had been an unpleasant, sometimes brutish man. “I fully support your decision. Though of course I am happy for Sophia and Ivy and Daphne. It simply isn’t for everyone.”
“I cannot afford to let anything distract me from my studies,” Gemma said with a shrug. “I have a responsibility to the women who came before me. I cannot let them down.”
Sophia tilted her head. “I hope you won’t let Aunt’s views on the matter pressure you too much. It is possible to have both a loving relationship and a fulfilling career in your chosen field of interest. Men do it often enough, certainly.”
“But men are able to ignore the mundane tasks of running the household and caring for children,” Gemma retorted.
“Our own Mama should show you that not all ladies are tasked with those duties either,” Sophia said with a raised brow.
Their parents had been largely absent from both Gemma and Sophia’s lives, so wrapped up in one another that they were uninterested in their children except insofar as they could be held up as reflections of themselves. The raising of the sisters, and much of their education, had been left to Dahlia, who had seen to it that they were educated far better than the daughters of their parents’ middle class peers.
“Yes,” Gemma responded, “and
look how she imposed on Aunt Dahlia to afford herself that luxury.”
“I won’t argue with you,” Sophia said after a moment. “But I do wish you wouldn’t close the door on marriage before you’ve even had a chance to see if you might find a man who would suit you. It will sound silly to you, I fear, but I didn’t know life could be so content until I met Benedick.”
“It doesn’t sound silly,” Gemma said softly. It actually sounded wonderful. Gemma couldn’t remember a time before she felt this nagging in her gut. That said she had more to do. More to see. More to learn. Thus far she’d found nothing and no one who’d managed to quiet that sense of hunger. And she wasn’t sure she ever would.
Aloud, she continued. “It sounds wonderful. I’m happy for you. Truly.”
That kind of fulfillment might not be intended for her, but she was happy beyond words that her sister—and Ivy and Daphne—had found it.
They’d moved on to less fraught conversation when the footman, Edward, appeared with a note. “This came for Miss Gemma from Pearson Close.”
As Gemma took it from him, she felt the scrutiny of her sister and chaperone.
“Why are you receiving clandestine letters from the mysterious master of Pearson Close, I wonder?” Sophia said thoughtfully.
“It’s hardly clandestine when it’s delivered in full sight of the two of you,” Gemma said tartly as she unfolded the missive. Scanning the words, she continued. “It’s from Lord Cameron. He asks if he might bring Viscount Paley and Sir Everard Healey round tomorrow to see the collection.”
“Of course,” Sophia nodded. “I’d forgotten he was staying at the Close this week for Mr. Pearson’s gathering of fossil collectors.”
“You could have told me, you know,” Gemma chided her sister. “I wouldn’t have been angry. Not very angry, at any rate.”
Serena, however, was focused on something else. “I know I’ve supported you in your decision not to marry, but I do think you should take this opportunity to put your best foot forward among these men, your scholarly peers.”
Gemma felt a prickle of unease. “I wasn’t intending to put my worst foot forward.”
“Of course you’re intelligent and can hold a conversation with them,” Serena said kindly. “But perhaps we can take this opportunity to ensure that your attire is as confident as your knowledge of geology.”
Gemma looked down at her gown, a practical gray woolen that was warm and didn’t show dirt when she was cleaning artifacts in the collection. “What’s wrong with my attire?”
“Nothing is wrong with it, dearest,” said Sophia in the tone Gemma recognized as her managing voice. “But men are shallow creatures and I fear they will take you more seriously if you take a bit of time to make yourself pleasing to the eye. And I must admit I’ve been longing to see you in some colors.”
“That’s just because you’re an artist,” Gemma said with a scowl. But she had to admit, though she’d never say so aloud, there was a certain appeal to the notion of making a certain fossil-hunting gentleman of her acquaintance look at her in a different way. Not that she intended to let anything come of it, but it would give her a certain satisfaction to see something in his eyes when he looked at her besides exasperation.
“Fine,” she told the other ladies. “I will allow you to dress me tomorrow. But I will not allow you to have Tilly curl my hair. The last time you convinced me to try it, Sophia, I had the stench of burning hair in my nostrils for weeks.”
The incident had happened when the heiresses embarked on one of their first social outings not long after their arrival at Beauchamp House. Against her better judgment, Gemma had allowed her sister to talk her into trying something new with her coiffure. It hadn’t been a pleasant experience.
Her hair was fine and straight and frankly, the time and effort it took to coax curls out of it was not worth it to her.
“She’s gotten much better since then,” Serena said with a laugh.
“We promise,” Sophia said, placing her hand over her heart. “This is going to be fun.”
“I’m glad you’re amused,” Gemma said with a roll of her eyes. Though inside, she was looking forward to tomorrow.
And not just the discussion of geology, either.
Chapter 3
“Ouch.” Gemma made a face as Serena’s maid, Tilly, stuck a pin into the coil of curls she was transforming from a blowsy fright into the sort of elegant style Serena herself would be happy to wear.
“Now, Miss Gemma,” the maid scolded, “You know I’m as careful as an ewe with a newborn lamb with you.”
“She’s always been thus, Tilly,” Sophia, the traitor, said from her comfortable chair to the side of her sister’s dressing table.
If she weren’t attempting to convince the gentlemen from Pearson Close of her fitness for their company, Gemma would never have put this much effort into her attire. But Sophia and Serena had convinced her that perhaps her intellect alone was not enough to prove her bona fides to them. As much as it pained her to admit it, men seemed to care as much about a lady’s looks—perhaps more—than they did for the sharpness of her mind.
“You are here for moral support,” she reminded Sophia tartly. “Taking Tilly’s side against me is not that.”
“We’re all on the same side, miss,” said the maid reproachfully as she twisted another lock of hair into a coil. “I’m as intent on you showing those gents your smarts as anyone. It’s about time someone took us females serious-like.”
“Seriously, Tilly,” Gemma reminded her automatically. She’d taught the girl to read soon after the heiresses arrived at Beauchamp House and now they were working on her spoken language. Tilly had ambitions beyond life in service and Gemma was as invested as she was in making her dream of becoming an educator come true.
“Seriously,” the girl repeated. “Seriously.”
The sisters exchanged a smile in the mirror before Sophia responded to Gemma’s earlier rebuke. “I am here to ensure that you are as fine as a five pence when you go downstairs to greet your peers. It is frustrating, I know, that ladies are expected to be well turned out as well as intelligent amongst these sorts, but it is the way of things. Think of it as catching more flies with honey.”
Gemma frowned. “I’ve never liked that expression. I do not wish to catch flies in the first place.”
“Do not be so literal,” Sophia said, her exasperation evident in her tone. “You take my point. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here right now.”
Turning her attention to Tilly, she asked, “Which of the gowns I sent over did you settle on? The blue or the green?”
“The blue brings out her eyes very well, Lady Benedick,” the maid said before stepping back from the dressing table.
“There, Miss Gemma, all finished.”
Gemma, who had closed her eyes to the image in the glass, now opened them and was surprised at what she saw.
She’d never been particularly careful about her looks. Indeed, she could often be found with a pencil tucked into her messily coiled braid when she was in the library scouring the latest journals from the world of natural science. It had been a trial to her mother when she and Sophia still lived in Manchester. Aunt Dahlia had thought it a foolish concern. And unlike Sophia, who as the eldest, and the most intent on pleasing her elders, and who made an effort with both her appearance and her studies, Gemma had decided to please herself. Only when Sophia had insisted she pay lip service at the very least to society’s expectations, had she allowed herself to be pinned and coiffed and laced. But it had never felt comfortable. And certainly didn’t give her the sort of confidence it gave her sister.
Still, staring at the tidy, even elegant hairstyle she now wore, gave her a little glow of satisfaction.
Was this why Sophia had always made such a fuss over her hair then?
“Let those boors ignore your thoughts on the icthy-whatever now,” Sophia said with grin from behind her.
“Ichthysaurus,” Gemma said automatically, cor
recting her sister just as she’d corrected Tilly earlier.
“Come on, miss, and let’s get you into the blue velvet. It’s nearly ten thirty and the gentlemen are arriving at eleven.”
Dressing was not nearly the ordeal as the hairdressing had been, but once Gemma was buttoned into the long sleeved velvet, as beautifully made as it was practical, with a bright white fichu for warmth at the neck and finely embroidered red roses at the hem, she was once again feeling an uncustomary surge of pleasure at her appearance.
“If we aren’t careful, all of this elegance will go to my head and I will never have another thought for fossils or science,” she said wryly as she surveyed herself in the pier glass.
Careful not to wrinkle the gown, Sophia gave her a quick hug. “I’ve always tried to tell you, it’s possible to care about one’s coiffure and gown and whatever academic interest one has. You need not trade one for the other. Indeed, I think of my pretty gowns as armor. Maybe now you will view them in the same way?”
“That all depends on how this morning’s tour of the collection goes,” Gemma said with a rueful smile. “But I do admit that it’s nice to be pleased with my appearance in the glass rather than feeling as if I’ll disappoint you.”
Sophia blinked, her eyes narrowed with concern. “Dearest, you could never disappoint me. Not in a lifetime. I might tease you about your windblown hair and dirty hands, but you must know I don’t mean it.”
This time the hug she gave her was unmindful of the gown and Gemma felt a wave of affection for her sister wash over her. She’d missed her in these months since she’d married and moved just down the road.
“I know it,” she told Sophia, returning the hug. “I simply wish to please you. That’s all. And it feels as if a great deal of the time what pleases us is at cross-purposes.”
“I am on your side,” Sophia said. “Always.”
“And I’m on yours,” Gemma said, her smile wide. “Now, let’s go downstairs and show Serena how well I can look when I’m made to care about it.”
One for the Rogue (Studies in Scandal) Page 3
