Oh, why had she ever agreed to that contract in the first place? She’dknownhe was pretending. He’d never intended to give her a divorce or any money. He knew she’d conceive and that she’d never be able to leave her own child. It had been his plan all along. It made sense now. And like a fool, she’d begun to believe he actually cared. In fact, the part that hurt the most was realizing that she’d actually begun to believe that he was falling in love with her.
The way she’d begun falling in love with him.
Tears stung her eyes at the thought. But none of that mattered now. It wasn’t real. When she got back home, she intended to tell Lucian that she would be seeking the divorceimmediately, with or without his agreement. She’d have her brother’s backing. That would have to be enough. She refused to live a lie with Lucian.
After the footman helped her down, Gemma lifted her skirts and made her way the short distance from the road to the front of the hatmaker’s shop.
“We’ll come back around for you, Your Grace,” Mr. Bigley called from atop his perch.
“Thank you,” Gemma replied, dismissing the coach with a wave of her hand.
The coach took off in the afternoon traffic. As usual, they would circle around the nearby stores and return for her.
A bell fastened to the top of the door rang when Gemma stepped into the milliner’s shop. The space was filled with rows and rows of lovely hats. Ladies’ hats on one side, gentlemen’s on the other. Rows of bows, and feathers, and reams of ribbons graced the wall behind the ladies’ side. Gemma spent a few moments looking over all the pretty baubles. She did so love a beautiful hat. She’d commissioned the one she was here for not a fortnight ago. With Lucian smiling by her side. She shook her head. No. She would not remember such things. It did no good to act as if any of that had been real. The man didn’t have a real hair atop his head.
“There you are, Your Grace,” came Madame Renard’s voice from the back of the shop. “I’ve been expecting you. Zee hat came out perfectly, if I do say so myself. Let me get it.” The woman disappeared into the back of the shop and Gemma continued to browse through the ribbons and feathers while she waited.
She didn’t have to wait long. Madame Renard promptly returned with the green concoction in her hands. “Here it is,” she said, handing it over to Gemma.
“It’s lovely,” Gemma breathed. “Just as I imagined it would look.”
The hat was green velvet, shaped in a circle, and adorned with a bright-white bow and matching feather. It would go perfectly with a certain emerald-green gown she owned.
“Shall I send zee bill to your husband?” the milliner asked with a knowing smile.
“Please do,” Gemma replied with a decided nod. She didn’t like being reminded shehada husband, but the least he could do was pay for her pretty new hat.
Gemma waited a few more moments while Madame Renard packed the hat into a box with tissue paper, wrapped a string around the box, and gave it to her.
“Thank you, Madame,” Gemma said as she headed toward the door.
“My pleasure, Your Grace.” The milliner waved at her.
When Gemma stepped back out onto the street, her coach was not there. She pushed herself up on tiptoes and craned her neck, doing her best to search the heavy midday traffic in the congested area. She still didn’t see it.
No matter. Mr. Bigley would be around as soon as he was able. She turned to look into the window of the patisserie next door.
She’d been salivating over an éclair for a few moments when a familiar voice rang out from behind her.
“Gemma? Is that you?”
She turned to see Lord Pembroke, of all people, pushing through the crowd toward her. Odd that he’d used her Christian name. But theywerefriends.
“Your Grace, you’re looking well,” Pembroke said when he finally made it to her side.
“Good afternoon, Lord Pembroke,” she said, smiling at her old friend. “I haven’t seen you since…” She let her voice trailoff, realizing as she spoke that she hadn’t seen him since her husband had rudely told him to go away at the Chadworths’ ball.
“It’s been quite a while,” Pembroke replied with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Gemma began, feeling true regret at the way Lucian had treated her friend. She should have known what a scoundrel her husband was based on his treatment of this man, who’d never done anything more than be kind to her.
“No apology necessary,” Pembroke said, shaking his head. “May I drive you home? My coach is just here.” He motioned to the conveyance that sat in the street behind them.
Gemma shook her head. “No, thank you. My coach should be back momentarily,” she assured him. She didn’t mention that if Lucian saw Pembroke’s coach drop her off, he’d be anything but happy.Notthat she should give a toss what Lucian thought.
“It’s no bother,” Pembroke added. He splayed a hand toward his coach again.
Gemma eyed him warily. “No, thank you,” she repeated. Had he not heard her the first time? Or was he just being overly polite?
