Page 47

There was an ease in the daily routine, a rhythm Gemma found comforting, even as the uncertainty of what her future held lingered in the back of her mind.

Vivian, as always, was full of energy and plans. One week after they’d settled in, she announced over tea that they were to attend a prestigious ball at the nearby estate of the Duke and Duchess of Islington.

“A ball?” Gemma asked, her teacup pausing halfway to her lips. The very idea of attending such a grand event both thrilled and unnerved her. She had never been to a ball. “Do you think it is a good idea, Your Grace? I am not sure that I am prepared for something so grand.”

“Nonsense, my dear,” Vivian replied, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You will fit in perfectly. You have grace, wit, and charm in abundance. And besides…” she paused, her tone growing even more playful, “…Frederick will also be there.”

At the mention of Frederick’s name, Gemma’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t seen him since the day they left Blackridge Manor. Despite the awkwardness between them, she could not help feeling a pull in his direction. The memory of their heated moments still lingered in her mind, making her both nervous and excited at the prospect of seeing him again.

Gemma’s reverie broke as Vivian clapped her hands together. “I have a surprise for you, dear.” With a sly smile, she motioned for a servant to bring something to her.

Moments later, a maid entered carrying a stunning gown. It was a light blue silk dress, with delicate lace embellishments and a flattering silhouette that seemed to shimmer in the light. Gemma’s breath caught in her throat.

“This…” Gemma gasped, running her fingers over the sleek fabric, “this is beautiful.”

“I had it tailored just for you,” Vivian said with a satisfied smile. “You will look like an angel in it, my dear. Perfect for your grand debut.”

Gemma’s heart swelled with gratitude, although her nerves still gnawed at her.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her eyes misting slightly.

She had never had someone do something so kind for her before; it felt overwhelming in the best possible way.

Vivian patted her hand. “You deserve it, Gemma. Now, do not fret. You will be the most dazzling lady at that ball, I am certain of it.”

The evening of the ball had arrived, and Gemma stood before the mirror in her room at Greenwood Hall, barely recognizing the woman staring back at her.

The light blue gown fit her perfectly, accentuating her curves while still being modest. Her hair was pinned in soft curls, and a small silver necklace adorned her neck; a finishing touch that infused her appearance with a sense of elegance she had never known before.

As the carriage pulled up to the grand estate of the Duke and Duchess of Islington, Gemma felt her heart race. The mansion was glowing with light, laughter and music that floated on the night air as carriages lined the drive. In the tall windows she could see silhouettes of couples enjoying themselves on the dance floor, and her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement

“Remember,” Vivian whispered as they stepped out of the carriage, “you belong here, Gemma. Hold your head high.”

Gemma nodded, though her palms were damp with anxiety. She followed Vivian inside, her senses immediately overwhelmed by the grandeur of the ballroom.

The ceiling was high and domed, with glittering chandeliers casting a warm glow over the elegantly dressed crowd. Soft music was being played by a small orchestra in the corner, while couples glided across the floor in perfect synchronization.

For a moment, Gemma felt like she had stepped into another world.

As they moved through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries and nods, Gemma’s searching gaze swept across the room.

And then she saw him. Frederick.

He stood near the edge of the dance floor, his tall, muscular frame impossible to miss. He looked as serious and brooding as ever, dressed in a sharp black coat and waistcoat, his dark hair elegantly styled. But she spotted a change in his eyes as he registered her presence that made her heart skip a beat.

She quickly looked away, feeling a flush of warmth rise on her cheeks. But before she could dwell on it, a tall, handsome man approached her with a charming smile.

“Miss Bradford, I presume?” he asked, bowing slightly. “I am Andrew Gulliver, Earl of Newfield. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Gemma blinked, momentarily taken aback by his sudden approach, but managed to offer a polite smile. “The pleasure is mine, Lord Newfield.”

Andrew was strikingly handsome, with sandy blond hair, warm hazel eyes and a boyish charm that instantly put her at ease. His smile was wide and his eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief that suggested he was accustomed to charming everyone in the room.

“I must say,” he continued, glancing at her dress appreciatively, “you look absolutely ravishing this evening.”

Gemma blushed, a little taken aback by his boldness, but there was something light-hearted in his tone that made her smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

“Please, call me Andrew,” he said, grinning. “After all, we are practically neighbors, now that you’re living with Her Grace.”