Chapter One #2
The boys cheered with enthusiasm and thought the idea brilliant.
“Yes! A party!” Jordan pumped his fist in the air and cast James a very grown-up look that made him wonder what his boys were learning in school.
More to the point, what had his sons been told about these infamous summer house parties? Did Jordan think he was old enough to sneak into a young lady’s bed? Well, any young lady would be an “older” woman for him because he was still a child of thirteen.
Dear Lord, not yet.
James shook his head emphatically. “I do not think it is a good idea to bring these marriage prospects into my home. Indeed, it would be quite a disaster.”
“Seriously? Why?” Gwendolyn regarded him incredulously.
“How better to judge these ladies than there? One of them is to be mistress of Milbury Hill once you are married.” He must have looked aghast, because Gwendolyn began to laugh softly again.
“Oh, horrors!” she said in a gently mocking manner.
“What gentleman would wish his home to be invaded by a bevy of beautiful young ladies? The loveliest the ton has to offer. What an ordeal for you.”
The boys thought her hilarious. They cheered once more with irritating enthusiasm and voted yes for her idea.
“I have given this considerable thought,” she continued on a more serious note, “and it is obvious to me what your stumbling block has been.”
“I haven’t been stumbling.” The problem was that James knew his mind too well, and for this reason had dismissed most of Gwendolyn’s candidates within minutes of meeting them.
His mistake was in giving Felicity Merriweather a second and third look when he ought to have written her off after his first visit.
Felicity was a clever woman, but in a manipulative way. He’d sensed a falseness in her that took three meetings to draw out. This had been his faux pas, giving her three chances when he ought to have moved on after their first encounter.
He shook out of the thought, since Gwendolyn appeared to have more to say about this house party idea.
He listened despite loathing the possibility of his country estate being overrun by strangers.
“Milbury, I know you maintain several residences, but you must see how your prospective bride adapts to you and the boys in the place you consider your true home.”
“That’s Milbury Hill,” young Robert confirmed.
Gwendolyn nodded. “This is where you are most comfortable, and I have heard not only Fiona but you describe it in loving detail. Magnificent view of the water. Close to Brighton and all the entertainments it offers. Good neighbors who provide pleasant company, including our mutual dear friend, Fiona. Her home, Shoreham Manor, abuts your property, does it not?”
He nodded to acknowledge the truth of these statements.
“Milbury Hill is where you can be yourself, where you feel most relaxed. It has become clear to me that you are much more on edge when in London, always on your guard, and I think this is why you are too quick to dismiss some of the lovely marriage prospects I have put forward.”
Perhaps. But the thought of all those people at Milbury Hill?
That home was a sanctuary for him and his boys. Summers there were especially delightful, for the air was warm and sweet, and there was always a cooling breeze in the afternoons, even on the hottest days.
“How can you feel at ease here in this bustling city when all of the ton is watching your every step?” she persisted. “Perhaps this is why you feel so out of sorts with these ladies. You cannot sneeze without it being reported to the gossip rags.”
He had not considered this, but what if Gwendolyn were right?
Her eyes took on an attractive sparkle as she continued. “Since being introduced to these ladies one at a time has not worked out well…”
“That is an understatement,” James muttered.
His boys were quick to agree with him.
Jordan nodded. “Utter failure.”
“Complete disaster,” Robert chimed in.
He ought to have been insulted by how quickly they concurred, but he merely chuckled.
Gwendolyn smiled at his sons before turning back to him. “I propose we make up a new list of bride prospects, and then you shall invite them and their families to Milbury Hill.”
James swallowed hard. “All at once?”
“Yes. I think it will relieve much of the strain on you, and the ladies, too. You needn’t single anyone out, just mingle at your leisure. Play cards with one. Dance with another. Take a walk with a third. Chat over tea with a fourth. And—”
He groaned. “How many do you plan on inviting?”
“No more than four, I think. You do not appear capable of managing more.”
In truth, he was not capable of managing any. But to resist Gwendolyn’s idea would be cowardly on his part.
After all, he was a widower above the age of forty and had a dash of silver at his temples. Of course, he was no longer as rakishly handsome as he had been in his younger days. However, he still retained some of his good looks.
After years of a happy marriage, he had no wish to return to his youthfully indulgent ways. He was a responsible father now and had two boys to care for and guide into adulthood. Jordan was already looking at the ladies with a roguish eye.
Gad, was his son ogling Gwendolyn as he sipped his lemonade?
He cast the lad a stern look to say, I know what you are doing, and cut it out.
Jordan would be impossible to manage if he saw his father doing the same.
Fortunately, James knew better than to be caught leering at respectable ladies such as Gwendolyn.
Although his heart did beat a little faster every time she pursed her lips in that schoolmistress way, as though she were about to punish the naughty schoolboy.
Yes, that little pucker got his heart racing.