Page 33 of A Devious Secret

Marielle met Gemma’s gaze and explained, “Stephen attempted to court Evie, but her heart was already with Lord Haddington.”

“Thank you for recapping that,” Mr. Wycomb grumbled.

“It was purely for Gemma’s sake,” Marielle said. “There is no shame in admitting what happened to you.”

Mr. Wycomb frowned. “Will you not drop it?”

“I will,” Marielle replied with a smile.

Gemma took a sip of her tea as Mr. Wycomb walked over to the window and stared out. His face was solemn, but there was a sadness to his eyes that made her heart lurch. She suspected that Evie’s rejection of his suit had hurt him more than he would ever admit.

Marielle’s voice broke up the silence. “Do you intend to go to Lady Croft’s ball tonight?” she asked her brother.

“No.”

“But you must,” Marielle insisted. “You haven’t been to a social gathering in weeks.”

“I am well aware,” Mr. Wycomb said.

A pout came to Marielle’s lips. “You promised, Stephen.”

Mr. Wycomb heaved a sigh. “Fine. I will be in attendance, but I shall leave before the supper dance.”

Marielle’s lips turned into a smile. “Wonderful,” she said as she clasped her hands together. “Hugh will be thrilled to spend time with you.”

“I somehow doubt that to be true,” Mr. Wycomb stated.

“You two will become best friends before you know it,” Marielle quipped.

Mr. Wycomb walked over to his sister and kissed her cheek. “I shall see you tonight.” He turned towards Gemma. “Will I be seeing you this evening, as well?”

“You shall,” Gemma replied.

“Would it be too presumptuous to ask for you to save me a dance?”

“It would not.”

“Then I shall collect it this evening,” Mr. Wycomb said before he offered a bow and departed.

A thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought of dancing with Mr. Wycomb. What was the matter with her? Had she forgotten about Baldwin so soon? Mr. Wycomb may be handsome, but her head would not be so easily turned.

Stephen sat in his study as he reviewed the documents that his man of business had requested he sign. It was becoming increasingly difficult to efficiently oversee his shipyard when he was so far away from Brightlingsea. He needed to return home, but something was stopping him.

As much as he hated to admit it, his sister was happy with Hugh, and they complemented one another. He was beginning to realize he didn’t need to worry about his sister’s welfare because Hugh would ensure she was taken care of. Which both grated on his nerves and pleased him.

What was truly keeping him in Town? An image of Lady Hawkinge came to his mind but he quickly banished it from his thoughts. Where had that thought even come from? He had no intention of courting Lady Hawkinge. And even if he did, she was still mourning the loss of her husband deeply. He refused to pay court to a woman who had already given her heart away. Hadn’t he already learned his lesson before with Lady Haddington? Besides, he didn’t need a wife at this time.

When he had laid in his bed on the ship, he dreamed of getting married and having children. He wanted what his parents had, but it was becoming nearly impossible to obtain. What if he spent the rest of his life chasing after the promise of love?

Bandit let out a whimper in his sleep as he laid next to the hearth. Stephen leaned back in his seat and reflected on how Lady Hawkinge reacted to Bandit. Her face had lit up at the sight of Bandit and she didn’t flinch at his dirty paws on her riding habit. She was truly a remarkable woman. Furthermore, the way she spoke her words, he knew they were genuine and from the heart.

Stephen stifled a groan. Hadn’t he decided that Lady Hawkinge was not the one for him? There was no denying that she was beautiful, but he couldn’t risk getting hurt again. When it was time for him to settle down, he would be more practical on who he wished to court. He still yearned for a love match, but love could be cultivated over time. He would just need to find someone that he could fall in love with.

With a shake of his head, he turned his attention back towards the documents that were in front of him. He reached for the quill and signed each one.

His aged butler shuffled into the room. “Excuse me, but a Lord Hawthorne is here to see you, sir,” Pratt said.

“Send him in,” he ordered.