Taming Wilde (Waltzing with the Wallflower #3)(18)

“Not a terrible life…” Anthony added. His wife swatted him on the arm and rolled her eyes.

Gemma’s eyes gleamed with fury. “At least I will not be a spinster.”

Guilt nagged at Colin’s conscience. “Sweetheart, you already are.”

Gemma reared back as if slapped. Colin stood firm. Granted, he should not have said what he had, but his anger had spoken for him. To be honest, he was more hurt than angry. Why had Gemma only recently developed the need to rebel?

“Why, Gemma?” He spoke without thinking. “Why are you so bent on destruction now?”

With tears streaming down her cheeks, Gemma stepped toward him and answered in a calm voice. “I believe you should look in the mirror and ask yourself that question, Sir Wilde. I imagine our answers would be very much the same.” Her final words delivered, she spun on her heel and stormed back inside, leaving the lot of them floundering in her wake.

“What the devil just happened?” Ambrose asked, breaking the silence.

“I…” Colin scratched his head. “Does she mean she is as hurt as I? Impossible.” He began to pace. “It is impossible, and do you know why?”

Anthony opened his mouth to speak, but Colin interrupted him. “Because she hurt me. She rejected me. She chose her family over me! And all because I had a lesser title — because her brother asked her to leave it be! Do you know how many times I wrote her? And the final time I tried to speak to her, Hawke told me she never wanted to speak to me again, that she had moved on.”

Anthony cleared his throat. “Clearly, that is not the case. Tell me, have you asked her?”

“Asked her?” Colin repeated.

“Yes.” Anthony rolled his eyes. “It is called talking. Blokes do it from time to time, and apparently the ladies love it.”

“I know all I need to know,” Colin answered. “She chose a life without me; therefore, I have chosen a life without her.”

“What was that bit of advice you gave me not long ago? Oh, yes. Wilde, perseverance is a virtue.”

“This is not the same.”

“You’re right, of course. This time it is about you. Always a tougher pill to swallow when your advice is turned back on you, my friend.” Anthony gestured toward the doors with a nod. “May I remind you, anything worth having comes at a dear price. At times at the expense of one’s pride.”

“I have no pride left,” Colin said, staring after Gemma’s cold trail.

“Then what have you to lose?” Lady Maddox asked.



****



It was working far better than Gemma had thought it would. She turned to glance over her shoulder just as Colin stepped through the doors. He was coming after her. She suppressed a triumphant smile. It wouldn’t do to let the poor fellow think she had laid the trap for him. His eyes met hers, and he paused for a moment, running his fingers through his wavy hair as though trying to work up his courage.

“Gemma, where have you been?” Hawke appeared beside her, taking her arm in a rather tight grip.

“I’ve been talking with Lady Maddox on the veranda.”

“Odd. I don’t see her anywhere around.” His fingers were digging into her arm. There would be a mark, she was certain. “And yet I do see that bumbling, good-for-nothing Wilde, who appears to be coming from the veranda just now.” He pulled her around to face him, and looked down his sharp, aristocratic nose at her. His blue eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “Truly, sister? I thought I had made my position about that philanderer quite clear.”

“And I told you,” she said as she wrenched her arm free of his grasp. “I was speaking with Lady Maddox.”

Hawke’s eyes flashed with anger. She turned away from him and glanced toward Colin. He seemed to be frozen in place, his face pale, staring back at her in frustration. There was no chance he would follow her now.

“Father gave specific instructions, as you well know. You may as well stop gazing after him with your doe-eyes. That fellow is beneath your station, and therefore any interaction with him is out of the question.”



She fixed her gaze on her brother. The vein on his temple was standing out, as it only did when he was nearing his breaking point. It wouldn’t do to press him.



His temper was notoriously short and hot. But she couldn’t help herself.

“As is my lady’s maid to you.” She waited for her meaning to sink into his thick skull and knew, when she saw the flame leap into his eyes, that her words had hit their mark.

Exasperated beyond speech, it seemed Hawke could do nothing but seethe and sputter.

That’s right, you dirty cur, your slumming is far worse than mine. And everyone knows your Achilles’ heel is servant girls and milkmaids.

“As I said… I was speaking with Lady Maddox.”

His gaze traveled past her, back to the doors across the room, apparently noticing then that Lord Maddox and Bridget were entering from the same veranda. His eyes softened a little, and he glanced at Gemma.

“Please understand, dear sister. My only thought is for your reputation and your happiness. A bright future for you. A good match.”

“Oh, there you are, Van Burge! They are calling everyone in to dinner.” Mr. Percival stepped up beside him, and Hawke’s expression promptly changed to one of nonchalance.