Chapter Eight
The streetlights wereon by the time Serenity trudged wearily up Gemma’s front steps. The day had been endless, and each mile she’d put between herself and Luke had been like a knife through her heart. Yet somehow she’d survived the train ride and the long walk through the city.
That’s what she was, she supposed, a survivor. Even though she’d sometimes like to give up, she kept moving forward, one foot in front of the other. She’d been doing this for so long that she’d forgotten why she bothered. She’d lost all the passion and joy she’d once taken in living until Luke had returned to her.
Pausing upon Gemma’s stoop, she set down her bag and took a few minutes to compose herself, wondering if she had made a horrible mistake by coming here. Gemma was a bit prickly, and they hadn’t hit it off right away all those years ago when she had come to stay at the cottage, but eventually, they’d come to an understanding. Once Gemma had realized how very much in love Serenity and Luke were, she’d been willing to look the other way, and they’d become friends of a sort. The three of them, trapped in a tiny cottage together, had made it an oasis of love and friendship.
When Serenity had been sent away, Gemma had come with her. She’d been her companion during those heartbreaking months that followed, staying with her until Serenity had been pressed into service in Winters’ household. Serenity had been surprised when Gemma had sent her an invitation to have lunch a year or so later. Apparently, Gemma had received a small inheritance, which she’d used to purchase her own small home in the city. The two women had stayed in touch, and occasionally Serenity visited with Gemma on her day off.
Serenity had no idea how the other woman would react to finding her upon her doorstep, but she literally had nowhere else to go.
Taking a deep breath, Serenity raised her hand and knocked before she could lose her nerve.
After several moments, Browne, Gemma’s lone servant, opened the door.
“Hello,” Serenity greeted her, trying to smile. “Can you please tell Miss Cross that Miss Pratt is here to see her?”
Browne frowned. “She isn’t expectin’ you.”
Serenity nodded impatiently. “Yes, I know. But it’s very important that I see her.”
“I’ll see if she’s in.” Giving Serenity another imperious, suspicious glare, the woman abruptly shut the door in her face, leaving her standing outside in the gathering dark.
Shifting her weight from one foot to the other, Serenity wondered what she’d do if Browne didn’t return and let her in. Probably collapse in a miserable heap, she decided, too worn out to even consider trying to find an inn she could afford tonight.
At long last, the door opened, and Gemma herself stood there, looking confused and not altogether pleased. Now in her early thirties, Gemma was a homely woman with mousy brown hair and an unfortunately large nose. “Miss Pratt,” she said stiffly. “Please, do come in.”
Serenity stepped inside, blinking back a wave of emotion. She would not cry. Shewouldn’t. Gemma certainly wouldn’t appreciate such a display.
Once Gemma had led her to the small parlor, Serenity collapsed eagerly in the proffered chair and got straight to the point. “Oh, Gemma. I know it’s very presumptuous of me to come here unannounced, but I’ve been let go from my position and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“Let go?” Gemma blinked owlishly behind her large spectacles. “Whatever did you do?”
Serenity flushed and lowered her gaze, staring at the dusty toe of her shoe. “The Earl of Hawkesmere,” she admitted, feeling such a fool. “He showed up at Winters’ home yesterday morning. I hadn’t seen him since I left the country all those years ago. At first, he didn’t recognize me, but when he did... He kissed me, Gemma. Right there in the front hall.”
Gemma made a small choking sound that could have been horror or laughter. “Ah, Serenity. That man will be the death of you, won’t he?”
