Chapter Two #3
“We are close to home now,” Milbury said, momentarily distracting her from her thoughts. “My residence is just around the corner.”
She had only seen his townhouse from the outside, having passed it often enough when going out and about in Mayfair. His home was not very far from Duchess Square.
She studied it carefully once they arrived, taking note of every detail while he escorted her through the wrought iron gate.
The house was large and impressive, built of red brick and trimmed in a cream-white paint around the windows and portico. Ivy ran up the walls, giving warmth and a welcoming look to the residence.
The front door was actually a set of double doors painted in dark blue that now opened as he and Gwendolyn were seen coming up the walk.
His butler, immediately noticing Jordan’s condition and the way he was leaning on his father, hastened to open both sides to allow them ample room to stride in together. “My lord, is the young master all right?”
“Yes, Partinger. He will survive.” Milbury nodded toward Gwendolyn.
“This is Lady Gwendolyn Carstairs, an honored guest. Please settle her comfortably in the family parlor and have tea and cakes sent for us there. The boys are to have the same, but up in their rooms. Summon Mrs. Partinger to assist me with them once you have escorted Lady Gwendolyn as instructed.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The elderly man cast her a kindly smile. “This way, m’lady.”
Gwendolyn followed him, pleasantly impressed by the understated elegance of the entry hall and the adjoining rooms that she managed to glimpse as Milbury’s butler led her down a wood-paneled hallway lined with portraits of his ancestors.
The hallway itself had a historical feel, but there was a decidedly feminine influence to the main rooms of the house that they passed by on their way to the private family parlor.
Curious to see more, she craned her neck and slowed her pace.
But she only caught glimpses of a visitors’ parlor that was smaller and narrower than most of the rooms but well appointed, an impressively large dining room, and the formal parlor that appeared large enough to easily accommodate up to fifty friends.
They next passed his study, which, like this hallway, had lots of polished wood and dark colors to indicate that this was ancestral masculine territory for every Marquess of Milbury.
“Do make yourself comfortable, m’lady,” Partinger said, opening the door to a smaller parlor that was also quite impressive. “I’ll have refreshments brought in shortly.”
She smiled in response, and then took a moment to look around the room.
It felt remarkably cozy, and she could see Milbury and his boys relaxing in here.
While it was also beautifully appointed, as were all the rooms she had glimpsed in the house, there was an inviting informality about it, an indication this smaller room was reserved for family and only the closest friends.
To be invited in here was a privilege.
She continued to look around, noting the feminine touches throughout this room, too. None were overbearing, no lace frippery or an abundance of flowery fabrics. Yet there were enough warm tones and floral influences to indicate a woman had ruled this roost.
Clearly, Milbury’s late wife had ruled with a gentle hand.
There were a few paintings on the walls, and porcelain vases tucked in niches beside bookshelves. The settees, chairs, and drapery were of damask instead of a more refined silk that would be found in the formal rooms.
A large portrait hanging above the fireplace mantel caught her attention. It was that of a pretty lady with delicate features.
Milbury’s wife?
Gwendolyn was studying it when Milbury strode in and confirmed the subject’s identity with his next words. “That was my Jessica.”
“She’s beautiful,” Gwendolyn remarked.
“Yes, she was. This house is all her doing. I haven’t changed a thing. I suppose that must say something about me.”
She smiled. “You don’t like change.”
“Quite perceptive of you,” he said with a grin.
“I am an old fossil at heart, a creature who thrives on habit and familiar routine. I think this is why I am having so much difficulty accepting someone new. Ours was a good match and a happy marriage. Everything Jessica did to this house was done with love. I cannot see allowing some stranger to swoop in and make it her own.”
“Swoop in? Like a witch on a broomstick?” Gwendolyn laughed softly.
“I understand how you feel, since I am quite proprietary about my house. But I think you’ll know when the right woman comes along, and it will not feel so hard to allow this new person into your life.
That’s why I wanted to concentrate on finding you a lady to love.
It isn’t enough to merely find a good wife to mother your boys.
When the right one comes along, you’ll trust her and won’t mind whatever changes she desires to make. ”
He stared up at his late wife’s portrait before returning his gaze to her. “What would you change, Gwendolyn?”
She shrugged. “Oh, I would touch very little. You’ve seen my home.
I think your wife’s tastes and mine are fairly similar.
Light and airy, a touch of floral, but nothing overwhelming.
It is not the things in here that matter so much as the feeling of warmth and love one gets throughout even the more formal rooms in your house. Don’t you think?”
He ran his fingers through his head of dark hair that was a lovely silver at the temples and sprinkled salt and pepper throughout. His eyes were the same shade of moss green as those of his sons, perhaps a little darker because his lacked the sparkle theirs had.
“We were happy here.” He turned away from the portrait with a grunt. “I suppose I am too stuck in the past.”
“Oh, I think I have you beat on that one,” she said with a mirthless smile.
He frowned as he stared at her. “What do you mean?”
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Do you not know about my situation?”