Page 17 of A Devious Secret

Her uncle wiped the sides of his mouth before asking, “Did your father object?”

“He did,” Mr. Wycomb replied. “He wanted me to attend Oxford to prepare to take over the day-to-day operations of our shipyard, but I had a desire to serve King and Country.”

“That is a noble desire,” her uncle said.

Marielle glanced at her brother with pride as she informed everyone, “Stephen was a captain of his own ship.”

Gemma watched as Mr. Wycomb visibly stiffened and she wondered why he had such an adverse reaction to his sister’s words.

“I’m afraid those days are behind me,” Mr. Wycomb said, his voice terse. “I retired my commission once I returned home to England.”

“Do you miss the sea?” Gemma inquired. “I only ask because my late uncle served in the Royal Navy, and he spoke frequently about how he missed the freedom that was afforded to him at sea.”

Mr. Wycomb grew quiet. “There are many things that I miss, but I saw far too much death for my liking.”

A silence descended over the table and Gemma immediately regretted asking her question. The pain in Mr. Wycomb’s voice had been undeniable and she felt immense compassion for whatever it was that he had been through.

Hugh cleared his throat. “It might be best if we spoke of something more pleasurable.”

“Hear, hear,” Nathaniel agreed, bringing his gaze to meet hers. “Do you still play whist?”

“It has been some time, but, yes, I do,” Gemma replied.

Nathaniel turned towards Dinah. “Gemma is a sheep in wolf’s clothing when it comes to whist. She has managed to best us at the game since we were little.”

Gemma shrugged one shoulder. “My mother ensured that I was proficient in all card games.”

“You are more than proficient,” Hugh stated. “You could easily go to the gambling hells and make a fortune at cards.”

“A gambling hell is no place for a lady,” her aunt contended.

“Do not worry,” Gemma said. “I have no intention of going to a gambling hell. I saw firsthand what gambling can do to one’s family.”

Her aunt reached out and placed a hand over hers. “I’m sorry that my brother treated his family so distastefully.”

Gemma pressed her lips together. “It is in the past. My father can’t hurt me now.”

“No, he can’t,” her aunt agreed as she withdrew her hand.

Hugh gave her a sad smile. “It was terribly inconsiderate of me to bring up gambling,” he said. “Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” Gemma responded.

Reaching for his glass, Hugh said, “You are most generous, Cousin.”

“My past does not define me or defeat me. It has only strengthened me,” Gemma responded. “Or at least that is what I keep telling myself. Perhaps one day it will ring true for me.”

Mr. Wycomb met her gaze from across the table. “That is rather poetic,” he said. “I wish I had your strength.”

“You misunderstood me, sir. I am not strong,” Gemma said. “But, rather, I am learning to live with the hand that has been dealt to me.”

Mr. Wycomb stared at her, as if he was gauging her sincerity. Then he remarked, “I find that admirable of you. I’m afraid that I cannot say the same.”

“You will, in time,” Gemma encouraged.

“I daresay you are giving me far too much credit, Lady Hawkinge,” Mr. Wycomb said.

Gemma held his gaze for a moment longer than she knew was proper before shifting her gaze towards her aunt. “I would be remiss if I did not ask how your cousin, Mrs. Wadell, is faring.”