Lady Corbett sat back, lips pursed, wiping at her eyes with a napkin. “Truly?” She dabbed at her eyes again. “If anything were to happen to William, Jane Emily shall come to us?”
“Of course, June. I impressed upon William the need that provision be made for Jane Emily long ago. He saw the wisdom of establishing us as her guardians should something happen to him.” George must have forgotten to tell June, feeling it wasn't something she needed to know until necessary. “I thought I had mentioned this to you. An oversight on my part, I’m afraid.” He patted her hand clumsily. “Please don't give it another thought my dear, we shall take care of Jane Emily if need be.”
“Thank you, husband.” Lady Corbett stood. “You don't know how much that eases my mind. I have worried overmuch it seems. You have it all in hand.” She stood and walked over to where he sat. Leaning over, she pecked him on the cheek. “I should never have doubted you.”
“No indeed,” George sputtered under his breath, wishing her gone so he could finally breakfast in peace.
Lady Corbett walked sedately from his side to the open doors of the morning room. “I’ll have Cook prepare something special for dinner this evening.” She inclined her head. “Enjoy your day, husband.”
He gave her a brittle smile and waited until the sound of her footsteps faded. “More eggs,” George yelled. “Mine have gone cold.”
A footman popped his head through the door. “Immediately, my lord.”
“And more tea.” George grabbed another piece of bacon. He snorted in agitation. “Tedious woman.” Jane Emily would marry Augustus. More pressing matters required George's attention, namely the true identity of his unwanted houseguest.
7
Augie steered the open brougham expertly through Hamilton, swerving to avoid the potholes that dotted the main street with a flick of his wrist. He tipped his hat to a group of gaily clad women.
The women giggled and waved in return.
Jemma frowned as the brougham sank a bit into a rut.
“Sorry.” Augie smiled apologetically, though Jemma doubted hewassorry. He adored being fawned over, and Jemma was sparse with her affection.
I shouldn’t begrudge him the admiration of others.
She gripped the edge of the leather seat with one hand while desperately attempting to keep her parasol over her head, Mercy's threats ringing in her ears.
“If you intend on going to that fair, then you must take a parasol, and I expect you to use it! I will scrub you raw with lemons if I must. Lady Corbett sent a note just yesterday. She is distressed you have ruined your complexion and the freckles are unseemly and I’m to make a special paste for you to use.”
“I will break another wheel on this road.” Augie flicked the reins. “I thought Father had all the holes filled.”
“Your attention wandered.” Jemma adjusted the angle of the parasol.
Augie shot her an apologetic glance tinged with satisfaction. “Don’t be jealous, Jemma.”
“I’m not. I would just rather you not tip over the carriage, and me with it.”
Augie leaned closer to her. “My goodness. I was just being polite.” His chest puffed out a bit. “And it isyouI escort to the festival.”
Jemma gave him a wane smile. Truly, she didn’t care who Augie smiled at. That was the problem. A rather large problem.
The day was warm, and the sun strong, so that for once, Jemma was glad of the parasol's meager protection. A breeze sifted through the streets bringing the cooling relief of the ocean. She closed her eyes in contentment as the air pulled at her parasol and tickled the strands of her hair. She sniffed in appreciation at the aroma of fried conch fritters wafting towards her from the festival. Her stomach gave an unladylike grumble.
“I’m so glad you are heeding Mother's wisdom.” Augie nodded towards the parasol. “Not that I mind,” he assured her. “But Mother is quite concerned. She can be a bit forceful on such things.” He pushed the end of the parasol with the tip of his finger so that Jemma’s cheeks were more firmly covered.
Yes, I’d hate to give Lady Corbett any cause for concern.Jemma bit her lip to keep from voicing the thought out loud. Augie rarely went against his mother’s wishes. A trait of his Jemma never paid heed to, until recently.He’s such a little boy,constantly striving for Lady Corbett’s approval.“Yes, I would hate to disappoint your mother.”
Augie either ignored or didn’t notice the sarcasm in her tone. “Since you are following Mother's advice,” he continued cheerfully, “I hope that you will follow her direction on other things?”
The bloody betrothal.
Jemma turned away to stare at the expanse of ocean visible between the apothecary shop and the dressmakers. Not a day went by that Augie or someone else didn’t mention the upcoming engagement. Her father turned a deaf ear to her questions on the subject, no doubt not wishing to hear her continued reasons for delaying her marriage.
“Isn’t this just the most glorious day?” Jemma ignored Augie’s question regarding the betrothal and instead lay a gloved hand on his arm. The urge to flee Augie, and indeed all of Bermuda, threatened to choke her. She literally crossed her ankles to keep from leaping over the side of the brougham. “I've so been looking forward to coming today. Can't you smell the conch fritters?” She closed her eyes and sat back, allowing Augie a decent view of her bosom. “I’m terribly hungry.” Jemma opened her eyes and batted her lashes as she’d seen other women do. “I'll let you win me a trifle. I should so enjoy that."
Augie took the bait. “Well of course I'll win you a trinket. I’m rather good at the bottle toss. Perhaps a ribbon for your hair? Or some earbobs?”
