Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(11)

Not that she begrudged Bridget her happily ever after, by any means. But she had hoped… Gemma cast a longing glance over her shoulder toward the door, hoping for Wilde to come barging in, proclaiming his undying love for her. Of course, that would never happen. Hence the true reason behind her visit so early in the morning.

“I do wish to apologize for my long absence. For missing your wedding. My brother—” Gemma began.

“Do not think another moment on that, Gemma. Your brother’s temper and rash decisions are well known to me. Though I have missed you desperately, I know it was not of your doing. As far as I am concerned, there is nothing to forgive.”

Gemma breathed a sigh of relief. Her friend had always understood her better than anyone else.

Bridget gestured toward a sofa, and the two of them sat down together. Gemma clasped her hands in her lap and studied them intently.

“Is something else bothering you, sweet?” Bridget asked, taking one of Gemma’s hands in her own.

“Yes. I’m afraid the full story of my brother’s tyranny has only just become clear to me. I knew he removed me from Town in order to separate me from Sir Wilde’s company, but I had no idea the depths to which he had stooped to keep us apart.”

Bridget patted Gemma’s hand in a comforting gesture and waited for Gemma to continue.

“I heard last night, from his own lips, a confession of what he had done.”

“Oh, dear.”

“He stopped sending my letters to Sir Wilde. Sir Wilde believes I spurned his affections.” The last part was followed by an involuntary sob, though Gemma tried desperately to choke it back.

“That man!” Bridget gasped. She stood and began pacing angrily. “I would like nothing more than to take him down a peg or two for you! The absolute gall!” Moving to the mantle, she reached for her foil perched there, slipped it from the scabbard, and took a few practice swings through the air in front of her, before turning again to her friend.

“Would you like me to run him through with my blade? I haven’t had opportunity to use it for several weeks.”

Gemma smiled in spite of her tears. Her friend has always been quick to take up her cause.

“I am certain Hawke is not entirely without his merits, so perhaps we should let him live a while longer.”

Bridget frowned. Her hope seemed deflated. “Very well. But you will alert me the moment you change your mind?”

“Of course.” Gemma giggled.

Her friend reluctantly replaced her blade on the wall and returned to her seat beside Gemma on the sofa.

“I do have another idea, should you be willing to assist me…”

“I am willing. You have but to ask, dear friend.” Bridget patted Gemma’s hand once more.

“There is nothing that would gall my brother so much than for me to cause a scandal,” Gemma said, allowing her voice to lower to a whisper.

Bridget’s eyes widened. No doubt she was shocked to hear such vulgarity from Gemma’s lips. Gemma had always been entirely proper, not even willing to suffer the appearance of impropriety. In fact, hearing her own voice producing the word scandal so casually brought a sudden burning to her cheeks. She wasn’t completely at peace with the strategy. But she was completely without any other hope.

“A scandal? My sweet Gemma?” Doubt laced Bridget’s tone, and she leveled her stare at Gemma with one raised eyebrow. “Are you certain that is what you want?”

“No. But it is my only recourse.”

“For revenge?” Bridget asked, cocking her head to the side. “Or for love?”

Gemma met her gaze and they sat in silence for a long moment.

“I must seduce a rake. Will you help me?” she pleaded. If her friend refused, she would be left to her own devices, and she wasn’t entirely certain it would be enough to tame Wilde and win his heart once more.

“Yes.” Bridget squeezed her hand and smiled reassuringly. “You shall have your rake, sweet. You shall have him.”

****



Four cups of coffee, two biscuits, and one terrible cup of tea later, and Colin still hadn’t heard Gemma exit the house. “What the devil are they doing in there? She cannot be serious!”

“Oh, believe me, she seemed quite intent,” Anthony muttered, peering through the crack in the door. “And the last time I underestimated that wife of mine, she not only bested me at swordplay but was able to convince half the ton I was interested in a footman.”

Colin heard himself laugh for the first time in days. “I’ve never seen so many gentlemen hit on a person in my life.”

“There is no need to revisit that dark time,” Anthony muttered.

“Come along.” Colin led the way out of the dining room and stood right outside the ladies’ sitting room. He motioned for Anthony to put his ear to the door. They heard laughter, and what was that? Was Lady Maddox talking about murdering someone with her sword?

“What the devil are you two doing?” came Ambrose’s booming voice.

“Shh!” Colin swatted his friend. “We are simply… er…” he swallowed and looked helplessly to Anthony. “Dusting.”

“Interesting.” Ambrose leaned toward the door. “And how does one dust a door without any tools? Hmm? Is that how servants are doing it these days? Merely leaning their bodies against the doors in hopes that the dust will jump from the wood to their clothing?”