Page 27 of The Baron’s Reluctant Bride (Marriage Mart Scandals #4)

"Discussing his association with Thorne, I imagine," Jameson finished, his tone deceptively casual. "A topic of considerable interest to me as well."

William paled. "How did you—"

"I make it my business to know many things, Lord Sinclair," Jameson replied, closing the door behind him. "Including the fact that Thorne appears to be using you to undermine my investments."

The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"I didn't know," William finally said, his voice barely audible.

"Not at first. He approached me after a particularly.

.. unfortunate night at the tables. Offered to clear my debts in exchange for what he called 'harmless society gossip.

' By the time I realized what he was truly after, I was in too deep. "

Jameson's expression remained unreadable. "And tonight?"

"I tried to end it," William said, meeting Jameson's gaze directly for the first time. "I told him I wanted no further part in his schemes."

"A noble sentiment," Jameson observed, "if somewhat belated."

"Jameson," Gemma interjected, her tone warning. "William came here tonight to warn us."

"Did he?" Jameson's gaze never left William's face. "Or did he come seeking refuge from the consequences of his actions?"

William flinched as though struck. "I deserve that," he admitted. "But I swear to you, I never meant for things to go this far. And I certainly never intended to harm you or Gemma."

"Intentions matter little against results," Jameson replied coolly. "Thorne has used the information you provided to systematically undercut Hawthorne Trading Company's ventures. Ships diverted, cargoes seized, investors frightened off. The damage is... substantial."

Gemma watched as her brother seemed to crumple before her eyes, his shoulders slumping with the weight of this revelation.

“I was quite unaware,” he whispered again. "You must believe me."

Something in his broken tone must have reached Jameson, for his expression softened fractionally. "I do believe you, as it happens. Thorne is a master manipulator, and you would hardly be his first victim."

Hope flared in William's eyes. "Then you'll help me?"

"That depends," Jameson said, "on what precisely you need help with."

William glanced nervously at the door. "He's here tonight. Watching. He expects me to slip away to the card room within the hour and lose spectacularly to Lord Bentley—who is, I suspect, in Thorne's pocket."

"Thus increasing your debt and consequently his hold over you," Jameson concluded. "Clever."

"What's more," William continued, "he said if I failed to comply, he would ensure that a certain document made its way to Lady Viola Montford by morning."

"What document?" Gemma demanded.

William's gaze dropped. "I... may have signed certain papers when I was not entirely myself. Promissory notes, agreements to share information. Things that would ruin me socially and financially if made public."

"And what of his threat regarding our matrimony?" Gemma pressed.

William shook his head helplessly. "He was vague, but confident. Said he had evidence that would 'cast new light on the hasty union.' I don't know more than that."

Jameson's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "I see."

"What shall we do?" Gemma asked, looking between the two men.

To her surprise, a small smile curved Jameson's lips. "Why, we shall give Mr. Thorne exactly what he expects."

"I am afraid I am at a loss," William said, echoing Gemma's confusion.

"You will go to the card room precisely as planned," Jameson explained. "You will play against Lord Bentley and lose spectacularly. And then, when the evening concludes, you will accompany us home rather than meeting with Thorne."

"But that's exactly what he wants," William protested. "Except for the last part, which will only enrage him further."

"Precisely," Jameson agreed. "While simultaneously buying us time to address the more pressing matter of these documents he holds over you."

"And how do you propose to do that?" Gemma asked skeptically.

Jameson's smile widened, though it did not reach his eyes. "I believe that's a discussion best held in more private surroundings. For now, we must return to the ballroom before our absence sparks fresh speculation."

William nodded, though he still appeared uncertain. "What should I say if Thorne approaches me?"

"Be anxious, evasive—precisely as he would expect," Jameson advised. "Let him believe his plan is unfolding as intended."

"That should require little acting," William muttered.

"Indeed," Jameson agreed. "Now, shall we?"

As they prepared to return to the ballroom, Gemma caught Jameson's arm.

"A moment, if you please," she said, nodding for William to proceed without them. When they were alone, she met her husband's gaze directly. "Thank you."

His brow furrowed slightly. "For what, precisely?"

"For not condemning William outright," she said quietly. "For offering help rather than judgment."

"Your brother is young and foolish," Jameson replied, "but not malicious. Besides, his predicament may prove advantageous."

Gemma blinked. "Advantageous? How so?"

"I have been seeking a means to corner Thorne for some time," Jameson explained. "Your brother's situation may provide the opportunity I've been waiting for."

"So you're using William as bait," Gemma concluded, unsure whether to be grateful or appalled. All of a sudden her heart sank. Of course.

Jameson considered this. "I prefer to think of it as turning a liability into an asset. Rest assured, my primary concern is protecting your family's reputation—and by extension, our own."

"How gallant," she murmured, though without real bite.

"Practicality, not gallantry," he corrected, though a hint of amusement lurked in his eyes. "Now, shall we return to the fray? I believe I owe you a drink."

As they reentered the ballroom, Gemma was acutely aware of the eyes that followed them—particularly those of Thorne, whose calculating gaze tracked their every move.

She took comfort in the solid presence of Jameson beside her, even as she worried for her brother, who now made his way toward the card room with the air of a man approaching the gallows.

The remainder of the evening passed in a blur of forced smiles and polite conversation. Gemma found herself unable to focus on the pleasantries around her, her attention divided between watching William's increasingly tense demeanor at the card table and monitoring Thorne's predatory circling.

True to Jameson's prediction, William lost heavily to Lord Bentley, each hand seemingly worse than the last. By the time the final hand was played, William's face was ashen, his attempts at good sportsmanship clearly strained.

As the evening drew to a close, Gemma found herself watching the clock with increasing anxiety. Ladies began to call for their wraps, gentlemen settled accounts from the card room, and the musicians played their final set.

"It's time," Jameson murmured, appearing at her elbow. "Is William ready?"

"I believe so," she replied, spotting her brother making his way toward them. "Though he looks ready to collapse."

"A state that will only add credibility to our charade," Jameson noted. "Ah, Lord Sinclair. Ready to depart?"

William nodded jerkily. "Thorne is by the door. Watching."

"Good," Jameson said, surprising them both. "Let him see you leaving with us. The more confused he is about your intentions, the better."

As they collected their things and made their way to the entrance, Gemma felt Thorne's gaze burning into her back. She resisted the urge to look over her shoulder, focusing instead on maintaining an air of casual conversation.

"Lady Brokeshire, Lord Sinclair," Thorne's smooth voice cut through the air as they reached the foyer. "Departing so soon?"

Gemma turned, her heart hammering behind her ribs. "Mr. Thorne. How pleasant to see you again."

"Indeed," he replied, his smile not reaching his cold eyes. "I had hoped to have a word with your brother before the evening's end."

"I fear William is indisposed," Jameson interjected, his tone pleasant but firm. "Too much excitement, I expect. We're seeing him safely home."

Thorne's gaze flickered between them, calculating. "How considerate. Perhaps tomorrow, then, Lord Sinclair?"

William swallowed visibly. "I—yes, perhaps."

"Excellent," Thorne said, his eyes gleaming with something dark. "I do so dislike unfinished business."

"As do I," Jameson agreed pleasantly. "Good evening, Mr. Thorne."

With that, he ushered Gemma and William toward the waiting carriage, his hand a reassuring pressure at the small of Gemma's back.

The carriage ride home was fraught with tension. Gemma sat rigidly, her thoughts a whirlwind of concern for her brother and gratitude towards Jameson. The weight of unspoken words pressed down on them, filling the small space with an almost tangible heaviness.

She stole glances at Jameson, trying to read his expression in the dim light, but his face remained an inscrutable mask. William, too, was silent, his gaze fixed on the darkened streets passing outside the window.

"You'll stay with us tonight," Jameson said suddenly, breaking the silence. "It's safer than returning to your lodgings, where Thorne might have men waiting."

William looked up, startled. "I couldn't possibly impose—"

"It's not an imposition," Gemma said firmly. "It's common sense."

"Besides," Jameson added dryly, "we have more than enough room. The advantages of an ancestral home built for entertaining half the ton."

As they arrived at the Brookfield townhouse, Jameson quickly excused himself, citing urgent business that required his immediate attention.

"Jameson will see to everything," Gemma assured William as a footman showed him to a guest chamber. "Try to rest, if you can."

"How can you be so calm?" William asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "After everything I've done—"

"Because you're my brother," she said simply. "And because I believe Jameson when he says he can help."

William searched her face. "You trust him that much?"

The question gave her pause. Did she trust Jameson? The man she had entered into matrimony with out of necessity rather than choice? The man whose true nature remained largely a mystery to her?

"Yes," she realized with faint surprise. "I do."

After seeing William settled, Gemma found herself restless, unable to retire for the night with so many questions unanswered.

Unable to let the evening end without expressing her gratitude, Gemma followed the direction Jameson had taken.

Her heart pounded as she approached his study, determination overriding her usual reticence.

The door stood slightly ajar, a strip of warm light falling across the darkened hallway. She raised her hand to knock, then hesitated, hearing the low murmur of voices from within.

"—cannot believe the audacity," came Christopher's voice, tight with controlled anger. "To threaten your wife's brother so openly—"

"Thorne has always been bold," Jameson replied, his tone measured. "Though this particular gambit suggests desperation rather than confidence."

"And the document William mentioned? Could it be genuine?"

A pause. "Possibly. Though I wonder what Thorne believes he knows about my matrimony that could cause such damage."

"The timing, perhaps," Christopher suggested. "The hasty arrangement, the lack of a formal courtship. You must admit, it has all the hallmarks of a scandal covered by convenience."

"The truth is far more mundane," Jameson said, a hint of weariness in his voice. "A practical arrangement between two consenting parties, nothing more. Why can people not comprehend that I would never wish to sully an innocent woman’s reputation?"

Something in Gemma's chest tightened at his words, though she could hardly fault him for stating the simple truth.

"Nothing more?" Christopher echoed, a note of skepticism in his voice. "Are you quite certain about that, old friend?"

Another pause, longer this time. "What precisely are you implying?"

"Merely that I've seen the way you look at her when you believe no one is watching," Christopher replied mildly. "It bears little resemblance to mere practicality."

Gemma's breath caught in her throat.

"You're imagining things," Jameson said dismissively. "Besides, we have more pressing matters to discuss. The shipment from Barbados—"

Gemma stepped back, unwilling to eavesdrop further. Her cheeks burned with a confusion of emotions—embarrassment at overhearing such a private conversation, and surprise at Christopher's observation.