Benedick’s revelations about the actual reason for the rift he’d seen in his parents’ marriage had made him reevaluate everything he thought he knew about the nature of marriage itself and his own ability to embark upon the sort of relationship he saw between his brothers and their wives.
It was undeniable now that the connection he felt for Gemma, however unexpected, was more than simple lust—though there was an element of that, as well. But he felt an impulse where she was concerned, one he’d never had with any woman before, to protect her. Not just from the blackguard who’d threatened her. But from any number of things—small and large.
He’d found himself more worried than was reasonable at how chilled she’d become during their clandestine document-gathering outside Pearson Close. It had taken every bit of self-control he had to stop from taking George aside to ensure that her bath was hot enough and was sent up to her sooner rather than later. Not out of a need to control her, but simply because he wanted to ensure that she didn’t take ill.
Cam could count on the fingers of one hand when he’d felt more than a superficial concern for the health of anyone outside his immediate family.
Was that love? He regretted that he’d not thought to ask Benedick when they’d spoken earlier. But he hadn’t failed to notice that his brother seemed to pay attention to his wife’s comfort—from ensuring he brought her fresh flowers on occasion, to building up the fire when she entered a room because he knew she was cold-natured. Cam hadn’t been around Gemma enough to learn her preferences for such things. But he had little trouble believing that a bit more time in her company would have him performing similar tasks.
Ben didn’t know it, but his revelation that their father had strayed not because he didn’t love their mother, but because he did, had changed everything.
There was no way to know the exact circumstances, but he had little trouble at all imagining the duke taking a mistress at the duchess’s behest. Indeed, it made far more sense than the idea that Pemberton, who was besotted with his wife, would have ever done such a thing on his own.
It had been immature on his part to believe it was his father’s infidelity that had seemed to so distress his mother, but Cam realized now that his understanding of the world—and everyone’s, he supposed—was comprised of experiences and feelings beginning in childhood. It had taken hearing about the scene he’d witnessed in a different context to show him the effect his incorrect assumption had had on his views of marriage.
What, he wondered, would Gemma think of his change of attitude? She still believed their betrothal was a temporary thing that could easily be set aside once enough time had passed. Then, there was her belief that she needed to remain unwed in order to prove to the world, and perhaps to herself, that she took geology and fossil-collecting seriously.
That might prove to be a more difficult task than upending his misunderstandings about marriage, he thought grimly, lifting his forearm to cover his eyes.
He took a moment to question whether he was up to the task, Then realized with a laugh, that he had no choice. Gemma might not think their betrothal was real, but he was quickly coming to recognize that there was no other woman he wanted to wed.
And that, he reflected, was the real consequence of what he’d learned from Benedick. Not that he could contemplate marriage.
But that he could contemplate—and desire—marriage to her.
He’d simply have to prove to her that marriage between them wouldn’t mean she’d have to give up her passion for fossils.
He wondered suddenly how the Duke of Maitland managed it. The Duchess was also one of the heiresses, and from everything Cam had heard was a brilliant mathematician and had not, as far as he knew, abandoned her field of study. Perhaps he should have a word with the duke and see if he had any suggestions.
If nothing else, he could speak to someone other than his brother—who could be a bit insufferably smug at times about the happiness of his marriage.
The matter settled, at least for now, he forced himself to empty his mind and sleep.
Chapter 15
Despite yesterday’s excitement, Gemma awoke the next morning with a renewed desire to find her stolen fossil. She was also determined, no matter what happened, not to let herself get caught up in whatever it was that lay between her and Cam. She would keep her hands to herself, and if he tried to touch her, she would politely, but firmly, tell him she wanted no part of his seduction. At least until she found her fossil.
There would be time enough for carnality later. Thus it was that when Lord Cameron entered the library some two hours after she had risen and dressed and breakfasted, she greeted his bow with a polite but distant nod. That he too seemed to be a bit reticent should have pleased her, but instead made her chest tight.
It was all well and good to be the one doing the resisting, but not quite as pleasant to be resisted.
Still, she would try to be grateful for the lack of temptation. Though honestly, he had only to be himself to tempt her. She knew all too well now how soft his windswept dark curls were beneath her fingers, and just how enticing the scent of sandalwood and male skin was when he held her close.
“I see you have already started without me,” Cam said, apparently oblivious to her Cam-inspired fever dream.
He gestured to the pages strewn across the wide oak library table. “Have you had any luck?”
Resuming her seat, and indicating that he should take one as well, she waited before responding. When he chose the chair next to hers rather than the one across the table, she sighed inwardly but outwardly ignored it.
“I’ve only been trying to put the different studies in order,” she said, indicating the seven piles she’d formed thus far. “So far sorted out these individual essays, but without any sort of numbering it’s been slow going.”
He was once again dressed in country breeches and boots and looked far too well rested for someone who had endured the same day as she had yesterday. It had taken three cups of tea to truly awaken her and even that hadn’t completely erased the circles beneath her eyes.
“I suppose we have whoever ransacked Sir Everard’s rooms to thank for that,” Cam said with a frown. “But you’ve made good progress.”
Gemma shrugged at the compliment. It was hardly higher maths.
“I don’t quite understand why he would travel with all of these scientific papers in his bag,” she said aloud, trying to ignore the warmth of him sitting beside her. “Is that customary? And some of the papers are duplicates in differing hands.”
“I don’t know that it’s all that strange,” Cam said, lifting one stack to flip through the pages. “If he were planning to show them to one of the other men at the house party, for instance, it would make sense.”
“But why the different hands?” she asked. “This essay for instance. It’s word for word the same study. And both scripts are perfectly legible so it isn’t as if he was recopying poor penmanship to be read more easily.”
Cam frowned. “Let me see that.” Wordlessly she handed the duplicate essays to him.
Silently, he scanned first one set of pages, then the other.
“There’s something about this turn of phrase here,” he said, pointing to a passage about the soil around a quarry in Northumbria.
“What about it?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said, thoughtful. “It seems familiar somehow.”
“Maybe you’ve read it in a different one of Sir Everard’s papers,” she said. Then, with a speaking look, added, “When you published one of them in your scientific journal.”
“Ha-ha,” he said with a fake smile. Then, turning serious, he said, “For your information, I’ve never published him. But the quality of this is far better than the pieces he submitted and were rejected.”
“Writers do improve,” she said wryly. “Maybe he listened to your critique, or had someone else assist him.”
At that he laughed in earnest. “Can you honestly imagine
Sir Everard listening to anyone’s suggestions for improvement?”
Gemma thought about the man she’d met a few days earlier. “No. Not remotely.”
“I wish I could recall where I’d seen that phrasing,” he said again. “I can’t help but feel it will solve part of this particular puzzle.”
“Let’s put it aside for the moment,” she said, taking the pages from him and placing them back where they’d been plucked from.
He nodded, though it was obvious that he was still troubled by his inability to recall where he’d seen the words.
By agreement, they split the rest of the disordered pages and began sorting them into their own individual stacks.
They worked in silence for nearly half an hour before there was a knock on the door.
Looking up, Gemma saw Serena in the doorway.
Was that relief in her eyes at finding them working rather than in one another’s arms? Thinking back to their discussion the night before, Gemma realized it was. She’d confided her plans to keep from becoming further entangled with Cam this morning at breakfast, but clearly she hadn’t been all that convincing.
Before she could say anything, however, Serena ushered in Lord Paley.
Gemma exchanged a look of alarm with Cam. They were elbow deep in stolen papers and it was quite possible Paley was in a position to recognize Sir Everard’s writing.
She made as if to gather them up into one stack, but Cam shook his head slightly. Attempting to tamp down her nerves, she dropped her hands back down onto the table and tried to look innocent.
“Look who’s come to call, Gemma,” Serena said, entirely unaware of the distress signals her charge was sending with her eyes. “Wasn’t it kind of Lord Paley to call to ascertain your well-being after yesterday’s contretemps?”
In truth, yesterday had been such a disaster that Gemma had trouble guessing which of her embarrassments Serena could be referring to..
Then, she recalled that Lord Paley would only have known about the death of Sir Everard and her discovery of his body, and was somewhat relieved.
“Indeed,” she said with what she hoped was a welcoming smile despite her nerves over the papers, “very kind.”
Stepping forward, Lord Paley offered her a posy of violets. “I see I’m not your first visitor, however, Miss Hastings.” His gaze flickered over to Cam, and she was surprised to read enmity there. Were not the two men friendly, then? It could hardly be jealousy. She barely knew the man.
Taking the flowers from him, she buried her nose in them to stall for time. “These are lovely. Thank you so much.”
He must have found a shop that bought from a hothouse, Gemma thought. Which meant the man—or his valet more likely—had gone to a deal of trouble to secure these.
“Paley,” said Cam, coming to stand beside her. He didn’t touch her, or in any overt way indicate that they were anything more than what they seemed. Sister and brother-in-law. Or friends.
And yet, she felt the ownership he projected around her as clearly as if he’d marked a circle around her like a wolf in the wild.
Far from backing down, however, Lord Paley simply bowed. “Lord Cameron. I see that your familial concern has brought you here this morning as well. How admirable of you to look in on Miss Hastings.”
“Not so familial as all that,” Cam returned with a smile that showed far too many teeth.
Serena looked alarmed, and Gemma felt her worry about the newcomer finding the stolen papers was eclipsed by annoyance at both men.
“Perhaps we should call for some tea,” Serena said with forced brightness, moving to the bellpull.
Resigned, Gemma raised her arm to indicate the quartet of chairs before the fire. “Why don’t we have a seat.?”
She felt Cam following close behind her. So close she had to resist the urge to stop short just to make him bump into her.
Men were such absurd creatures, she thought in disgust.
Though on the bright side, she would have little difficulty resisting Cam in his present mood, which must be counted as a positive.
“I heard about what happened with Sir Everard yesterday, Miss Hastings,” said Lord Paley, taking Gemma’s hand as they came to a stop before the fire. “What a horrific scene for you to come upon. I hope you are not too overset.”
“A dreadful business,” she agreed stiffly, taking her hand back and indicating that he should be seated. “I hope we’ll find out soon who is responsible for poor Sir Everard’s murder.”
She took one of the chairs, while Lord Paley sat opposite her. Cam meanwhile moved a third chair closer to Gemma’s.
When she turned to look at him with a frown, he ignored her and leaned back, stretching his long legs out before him like a king getting comfortable on his throne.
“Indeed,” said Lord Paley said, perching on the edge of his own chair so that he was only inches from Gemma. His expression was troubled and she could tell that he was genuinely upset. “I knew Sir Everard was frustrated by the way we insisted he leave the fossil to return to the next day, but I had no notion he’d come back in the dead of night. It was a risk, both because of the inclement weather and the mud, but also, as he learned to his detriment, because of thieves.”
“None of us could have foreseen what happened,” Gemma said firmly. “Only the man who murdered him knows why it happened.”
“But Lord Cameron and I did ride back to Pearson Close with him,” the viscount continued, his mouth twisted with dismay. “I wanted to assure you that he said nothing in my presence about retur—”
Cam cut him off. “Nor in mine, Paley,” he said with a scowl. “Of course if he had I would have told Miss Hastings at once.”
Clearly reading the tension between the two men, Serena intervened from where she stood near the fire. “Of course, neither of you knew of Sir Everard’s plans,” she said smoothly. “I assure you, Lord Paley, we know who our friends are. And you may rest easy that none of us suspects you had any knowledge of Sir Everard’s scheme.”
The thought had crossed Gemma’s mind, but she was hardly going to contradict Serena now. Especially not with Cam and Lord Paley at daggers drawn.
“Well, that is a relief, Lady Serena,” Paley said emphatically. “I couldn’t bear it if either of you suspected me of being in cahoots with a man like Sir Everard.”
The footman came to the door then and Serena stepped aside to speak to him about the tea.
“It’s interesting you should come in person to reassure Miss Hastings,” Cam said once the chaperone was gone. “I should think a note would have sufficed.”
“And I find it intriguing that you spend so much time in this house given that your brother lives only a few miles down the road and you are ostensibly still a guest at Pearson Close.” Lord Paley didn’t look away from Cam’s steady gaze. “You didn’t come back to Pearson Close last evening, did you?”
“Are you my keeper, sir, that you pay such close attention to my comings and goings?” Cam asked, with a tilt of his head.
“No,” Paley said through clenched teeth, “but I do pay attention when a gentleman is careless with a lady’s reputation. Especially when they are newly betrothed and he leads her into indiscretion in someone else’s home.”
Gemma’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?” she demanded. But she had a sinking suspicion she knew exactly what he meant.
When he turned to her, Lord Paley’s gaze softened. “I do not wish to cause you alarm, Miss Hastings. On the contrary. But I, unfortunately, occupy the room next to Sir Everard’s at Pearson Close and couldn’t help but overhear some of what…”
Cam rose to his feet. “If you were a gentleman you would stop speaking right this moment.”
“If you were a gentleman you would not expose your lady to such scandal,” Lord Paley shot back, leaping to his feet, his fists clenched.
“You were goading me on purpose,” Cam said bitterly.“You knew all along about our betrothal.”
“I wanted to see if
it was truth or a fiction you made up on the spot to excuse your bad behavior.” Lord Paley’s words were as sharp as cut glass.
“I’ll show you bad behavior,” Cam said, stepping forward with menace.
“No,” Gemma hurrying to push between them. “Lord Paley, I appreciate the sentiment, however, I—”
“Stay out of this, Gemma,” Cam said in a low voice without taking his eyes off Paley. “This is not your concern.”
“Of course it’s my concern, you nodcock,” she said in a sharp tone. “Who do you imagine you’re arguing about?”
If she’d expected Lord Paley to see more sense than Cam, however, she was very much mistaken.
“Miss Hastings, he’s right,” he said in an apologetic tone. “You have already suffered enough indignity and—”
“What is going on?” demanded Serena in a surprisingly authoritative tone.
As Gemma watched, her chaperone came rushing forward and, in a manner only the mother of a small boy could manage, ordered, “Gentlemen, I must insist that you both sit back down and stop this nonsense this instant.”
When they didn’t, Serena stepped over to where they stood nose to nose and tried to push in between them. When that didn’t work, she turned to Gemma. “Go get George and William and tell them that we’ll need them to bring the ash buckets.”
Without waiting to ask why, Gemma began to hurry to the door.
She was almost there when she heard Cam. “Stop, Gemma. You won’t need them.”
Turning back, she saw that the two men had stepped back from one another and had relaxed their militant poses.
“I apologize, Lady Serena,” said Paley, looking sheepish. “That was unforgivable of me. I should have discussed this matter with Lord Cameron somewhere else. Away from where we would disturb you two ladies.”
Gemma put her hands on her hips. “So that you could fight over my honor without my involvement at all, you mean? I hardly think that’s an improvement, my lord.”
Lord Paley blinked at her vehement tone.
“Yes,” she told him with a sour look. “Contrary to what men believe, ladies do not wish to be fought over like a bone between curs. And this lady most certainly does not wish it when the so-called scandal was of her own making.”
One for the Rogue (Studies in Scandal) Page 15
