“For my back,” the baronet bit out, not opening his eyes.
His back.The threat of spasms.The very real fear he’d shown at the mention of needing a doctor—Hal lounged in the doorway and considered the baronet.
Yes, it was the fashion for poetical young men to affect a tremulous, languishing temperament.But this was something more.It reminded Hal of the way his brother’s wife had become obsessed with her own health whenever they were too long in the country; any illness she heard about or thought of, no sooner had it crossed her mind than she was certain she suffered from it.
Her only true ailment, from what Hal had seen, was chronic boredom, but the constant whirl of physicians, bed rest, medications, treatments, poultices, and certainty of imminent death had kept her very well entertained.And it had the added benefit of forcing the entire household to divert every scrap of attention in her direction.
Hal thought of the chaos downstairs in the kitchen and realized why it had felt familiar.It was exactly the sort of scene his sister-in-law’s bouts of malaise had caused.
On the floor, Gemma shifted again, clearly in some discomfort, only to have her dozing suitor pout and pull her down more firmly at his side.He could at least let her share the mattress, Hal thought absently, then stood up straight in surprise at the volcano of rage the image ignite in his belly.
MINE.
He was still angry with Gemma for pursuing this ludicrous course.He was angry that she stubbornly clung to the hope of a vapid, empty life as a London socialite instead of seeing the possibilities that were right in front of her.He was angry that he might have chosen to see something in her that wasn’t there.
Because of all that, he’d assumed it would be enjoyable to watch this absurdity play out.To watch her dance attendance on this querulous baronet who clearly cared more for his own comfort than anything else.
Hal thought it would make him feel better, or at least cure him of this ridiculously tenacious fixation on her.To see Gemma betray herself by cynically, desperately setting her cap at some awful gentleman.
But it didn’t.If anything, it made the gnawing ache in his gut sharper and the anger in his chest hotter.
He hated it.He wanted it to stop.
And suddenly, he realized he knew exactly how to get rid of Sir Gilbert Gracy.
Hal locked eyes with Gemma for a moment.Unhappiness and defiance seemed to be fighting for control of her countenance, but of course defiance won.
He almost smiled to see it; of course, Gemma would not be daunted by this suitor’s eccentricities—not if he had a fortune large enough to make up for them.And seven thousand a year would keep her and her family in comfort.
So long as Gemma didn’t mind being a nursemaid to a perfectly healthy man, instead of merely his wife.
His mind on the first steps of his plan, Hal turned to leave.He was arrested by a quiet noise from Gemma, a sound he hadn’t heard before, almost like a plea.But when he looked back over his shoulder, she had turned her lovely face away so all he had was her profile.As cool and perfect as a cameo brooch.
She looked distant, untouchable in a way that made Hal’s hands close into fists to keep from reaching for her.But there was no time.He had things to do.
There was an unsuitable suitor to send packing.
* * *
Shooting pains streaked through Gemma’s hips and lower back every time she moved.If she didn’t get off this hard floor soon, she was going to scream.
Patience, she reminded herself with a clenched jaw and fine mist of perspiration breaking out at her hairline.This is all worth it.
Hard to remember that fact when Hal abandoned her to her fate, but she didn’t have time to wonder where he’d gone—the moment Hal left, Sir Gilbert’s eyes popped open.
Giving her what he what he seemed to think was a seductive smile, he said, “Ah, alone at last, my sweet one.I’m sure you couldn’t tell, but I was merely feigning sleep!Yes!So that your interfering manservant would leave.”
“How clever of you,” Gemma murmured, trying once again to get her knees under her so she could at least sit up.
“Mmm, my dear, you’re so delightfully wriggly,” Sir Gilbert said with relish.He dropped the bell he’d been tormenting them with for three days so that he could roll over on the mattress and grasp Gemma’s other hand.His fingers were long and thin, his palms clammy.She fought back a shudder.
“Wouldn’t you like some water?”she improvised, finally managing to get to a kneeling position.Her entire right leg had fallen asleep and now tingled sharply as the blood rushed back into it.“I could get up and pour you some.”
“No, no!Stay right there, you are a picture.A vision.A Muse!I feel a poem coming on…”
With that, he was off, an unstoppable wave of the worst rhyming verse she’d ever heard pouring from him in a melodramatic undertone that she thought was meant to convey a towering passion, but instead blurred into a low, droning sound in her ears that nearly rendered her unconscious.If she hadn’t been kneeling on a hard wood floor, she probably would have fallen asleep.
As it was, Hal’s return nearly startled her into toppling over.
