The Widow Wager by Jess Michaels Page A

together.
    Marcus shrugged. “I only thought it was better to cut through it to the core of the matter.”
    Gemma was staring at the floor now, her cheeks a vibrant red and her lip trembling with what he recognized were unshed tears of humiliation.
    “Married?” his mother repeated.
    Just as he had with his brother, Crispin nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so, Mama.”
    Her lips parted but to his surprise, her eyes lit up with what he thought was relief and joy. She looked away from him, toward Gemma.
    “Good afternoon, my dear,” she said.
    It must have been the gentle tone that spurred Gemma to look at her now (and what he hoped was temporary ) mother-in-law. “Good afternoon,” she whispered, her voice cracking.
    Rafe’s expression softened and he reached out to grasp her hands. He squeezed them gently and to Crispin’s surprise, Gemma didn’t pull away, but actually smiled up at his brother.
    “Obviously, we all have a great deal to discuss, Miss…Lady…I’m sorry, what is your given name?”
    “Gemma,” she said.
    “Gemma.” He smiled at her. “I promise you, everything will be all right. We’ll work this out. Stay here with my mother and my sister, who I promise will make you nothing but comfortable.”
    Crispin waited for her to show some of the anger, some of the frustration which she had vented on him earlier in the day. But no. She gifted his brother with another wavering smile. That was two Rafe had received, while none for Crispin.
    “Very well.”
    Rafe released her and turned on him. “As for you, come with me.”
    There was no arguing with the order, so Crispin followed his brother and Marcus as they exited the parlor. At the door, he turned and took one last glance at Gemma. She had her chin lifted and she looked beautiful and brave. But she wasn’t his. That was all a mistake.
     
     

Chapter Seven

     
     
    Gemma leaned back against the comfortable settee with a sigh and took a long sip of tea. She had just told Mrs. Flynn and Mrs. Rivers the whole story of how she had ended up married to Crispin, and she had to admit there was relief in having said it all out loud to them. Relief and terror, since neither woman had reacted as of yet.
    She dared a glance first at Mrs. Flynn. The older woman’s lips were pursed together into a thin line. “That boy,” she muttered.
    “He isn’t a boy, he’s a grown man,” her daughter corrected, eyes flashing fire. “Lost a bet ? Damn it, Crispin.”
    Gemma jolted at the curse, but shook her head. “What you must think of me.”
    To her surprise, the women exchanged a brief glance before they dissolved into laughter. Although Gemma wasn’t entirely certain they weren’t making fun of her, she had to admit the sound was lovely. It felt like no one had laughed in her life for months.
    “Are you mocking me?” she asked softly.
    The women stopped laughing. “Absolutely not,” Annabelle reassured her with a gentle squeeze of her hand. “It’s only that Mama and I have seen far worse than this in our family. The idea that we would think less of you is absolutely ludicrous.”
    Mrs. Flynn smiled just as warmly. “My daughter is right. Though I would like to get to know you better. Tell us about yourself.”
    Gemma’s brow wrinkled. She had met her husband’s family a few times during their marriage, but no one had ever asked her about herself. It was all cold propriety in the Laurelcross line. Once Theodore was dead, well, she might as well have died too. They had only come to collect what was theirs and politely have her removed because he had not provided for her unless she bore him heirs.
    Oh-so-politely.
    “I don’t know where to begin,” she said.
    Annabelle tilted her head. “Who is your family, Gemma?”
    “My father is Sir Oswald Quinn. My mother was Regina Quinn, though she was born into the Briarwood legacy.”
    “Oh no, you misunderstand, I don’t want to know about your pedigree,” Annabelle said with another of those