Gemma watched Louis escort her brother to dinner at a party held at Wheatfield, hosted by the Gillespies. His hand rested lightly in the middle of Harry’s back to guide him, and once they reached their seats, he helped Harry in, making sure he was settled before taking his own seat.
Though she hated to see her brother all grown up now, even being courted, she had to admit that the two of them were sweet together, almost unaware of their surroundings as they subtly flirted through hushed words and secretive touches to each other’s hands when they thought no one was watching. Sickening, really, but perhaps sickeningly sweet.
She continued to watch them from across the table and was unable to fully hide her own smile as she watched her brother, just barely of age, giggle into his hand as Louis told him some surely absurd joke that she herself couldn’t hear over the numerous conversations around her.
She noticed that she wasn’t the only one watching Doncaster’s newest couple. The host, Sir Gillespie, and his wife both were smiling fondly at them, as if reminiscing their own courtship. A young lady sat beside her escort, likely the man courting her, and pouted at them, jealous that Harry had his alpha’s attention and she didn’t have the attention of hers. Even a nearby butler was smiling toward them. It was clear to everyone in the room if they paid even a moment of attention that they were an amazing, if not perfect, match.
Gemma let herself smile, too.