Chapter Seven
James had been dreading the chore of outfitting his sons with new clothes because it had lately been a battle of tastes, his sons declaring he was out of touch with current styles and trying to dress them like old men.
Having Gwendolyn join them as they ventured onto Savile Row—where Milbury’s tailors, Weston & Sons, had opened shop—put smiles on all their faces. His boys enjoyed her company, and so did he.
“How about a waistcoat in this fabric, Jordan?” Gwendolyn asked, showing his son an emerald silk material dotted with gold diamonds that James would never have worn in all his life, but was described as “the height of fashion” by old Weston.
“Excellent choice, m’lady. It is the rage among all the young men and yet elegant enough to never go out of style,” the tailor said, deciding to exert his persuasive powers on Gwendolyn and ignore James completely, even though he was the marquess and the one to foot the bill.
“Yes!” Jordan said with delight.
After a few more purchases and an additional hour spent in fittings that neither Jordan nor Robert would have endured without griping hard enough to make his ears bleed were they only with him, they moved on to a haberdasher’s on Regent Street, where Gwendolyn selected some jaunty straw hats perfect for boating or days on the beach for all three of them.
His youngest looked adorable as he smiled from ear to ear, so proud to be wearing a hat identical to his and Jordan’s.
James folded his arms across his chest and leaned a hip against one of the glass-top counters while Gwendolyn took the boys to the adjacent counter to select stylish pins for the white linen cravats that were also to be purchased for them.
Each son chose a formal pin for his London attire and a more playful one for his summer attire.
Gwendolyn looked upon their selections with pride. “Well, Milbury? I think we have done an excellent job. What do you think?”
That I would marry you tomorrow if you were willing.
“I doubt my sons give a fig what I think,” he replied with a chuckle. “But I approve of all these purchases. We’ve had a most successful afternoon.”
It was becoming achingly clear in everything they did that this was what he and his sons had been missing, this gentle touch Gwendolyn provided whenever she joined them in any activity, including a race to the doctor’s office the other day.
He had never seen his sons so well behaved or joyful after spending an afternoon shopping, a full hour or more of that time spent being measured and pinned. She was naturally nurturing, humorous, and anyone could plainly see that she enjoyed every moment spent with him and his boys.
This was not something easily faked, for Jordan and Robert would have picked up on her reticence and certainly any insincerity at once.
Instead, they felt her heart and warmth, which had them smiling as they marched from shop to shop. Indeed, this afternoon would have been an excursion into the pits of hell had James been the only adult with them.
They ended their shopping binge at a nearby tea shop just off Regent Street, a pleasant establishment with floral table linens and lace doilies. The aroma of apple, cinnamon, lemon, chocolate, and strawberry was most enticing, and James suddenly felt hungry.
His sons each had strawberry tarts and lemonade while he and Gwendolyn tried a chocolate-and-ginger cake neither had ever tasted before, along with mint tea.
Robert was a bit of a mess by the time he finished, having dripped strawberry onto his shirt, and there were strawberry stains and crumbs at the corners of his mouth.
Gwendolyn dabbed the crumbs and bits of strawberry off his mouth and did her best with his shirt. “I’m afraid this is a lost cause. Your laundress will have to thoroughly boil this one, Milbury.”
“I’m sorry, Papa,” Robert said, casting his eyes down.
Gwendolyn shot James a pleading glance not to berate his son.
He arched an eyebrow, for surely the boy deserved mild censure.
Of course, it would only ever be a gentle reproof, because he could never bring himself to be too stern or harsh with either of his sons.
In truth, he was a soft touch and they got away with more than they should because he could never raise a hand to them.
Gwendolyn was still looking at him in that gentle, pleading way, and he seemed helpless to resist. “We’ve had a long afternoon, Rob. Just try to be more careful next time.”
His son’s gaze was still cast down and his lips now trembled. “I will, Papa. I promise.”
“That tart looked quite delicious,” Gwendolyn remarked. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. But everyone knows those tarts can be tricky things.”
“I enjoyed mine, too,” Jordan chimed in, giving his brother a light nudge that had Robert almost slipping off his chair. “And I did not make a mess of it.”
“Mine was juicier,” Robert insisted, nudging him back. “It dribbled down my chin onto my shirt before I could stop it. Accidents happen, same way you fell out of a tree and sprained your wrist. These things just happen. Right, Lady Gwendolyn?”
“Yes, for certain. We can only try our best to prevent them.”
Robert nodded. “I did try very hard.”
“I know you did,” Gwendolyn assured him. “But I think these hours of shopping have pushed us all to our limits.” She turned to James. “Your home is along the way. Shall we drop the boys off and then you can escort me home?”
“Excellent idea.” He rose, and dragged Jordan up along with him as he was about to poke his brother again. This was what often happened when the two of them grew bored: They started to push and prod each other until one of them howled.
He took a moment to settle his account while Gwendolyn and his sons waited for him beside his carriage.
The boys clambered in as soon as James strode out, and then began to fight over who was to sit beside Gwendolyn.
“I’m sitting beside her,” James intoned, because he hadn’t the patience to listen to them whining the entire ride home over who had been chosen.
The simple solution was to choose neither son and sit beside her himself.
But this was not really wise, for her nearness and the accidental graze of his shoulder against her lithe body had his heart pounding. She had her head tipped toward him, so he caught the delightful scent of honeysuckle on the delicate curve of her neck.
She would be sweet as nectar to the taste. Having kissed her, he already knew her lips were that sweet, and her mouth was made for kissing.
The ride seemed interminable for many reasons, not the least of which were the grunts and whines from his boys as they began to quibble over who was taking up most of their seat bench, which would have been ample for both of them if they weren’t behaving like ill-tempered wolves.
Gad, no wonder so many parents preferred to have nothing to do with their offspring until they reached adulthood.
His boys had obviously reached the limits of their good behavior, and James knew one of them was going to end up with a bruised jaw if they weren’t separated soon.
They were only halfway home before he said in a tone of authority, “Jordan, switch places with me.”
Robert pouted, but a quelling, fatherly glance stopped his intended protest.
As tension built within the carriage, Gwendolyn suddenly had both of his boys laughing when she leaned forward and said, “Robert, you have something on your nose,” and gave his nose a little tweak.
It was a silly gesture, but his youngest son thought it hilarious and burst into giggles. Jordan then began laughing.
James rolled his eyes and grinned at Gwendolyn.
“How did you know this would work?” he asked once the boys had been delivered home and handed over to the care of Mrs. Partinger. They were back in his carriage that now rolled on to Duchess Square, just the two of them seated opposite each other.
“I never had brothers, but my father became guardian for my two cousins, Jared and Jeremy, when their parents died. I was merely eight years old when they came to live with us, and they happened to be ten and thirteen, just like your boys. I remembered how my father used to deal with them, always distracting them with humor whenever they began to poke and prod each other, which they did incessantly.”
“I hope they eventually grew out of it,” James said with a groan.
Her smile turned pained as she nodded. “They did, and grew up to be fine young men. But they were both lost in the war.”
“Oh, Gwen. I’m so sorry.”
“So am I,” she said with a nod. “They were like brothers to me, and I felt their loss acutely. I went with my father to identify their bodies, for I was afraid he would collapse upon seeing them in their coffins. It was terrible.”
He leaned forward and reached for her hand. “I can imagine.”
“I think this is why I have been so stubborn in believing Andrew survived the war. There hasn’t been any finality. How can I stop hoping when it is just as likely he will turn up at my door one day?”
James did not know how to respond to this.
She was right, but the passage of years reduced the odds of Andrew’s ever turning up. Without a body there could be no absolute proof of death, but ten years had now elapsed since she had stopped receiving his letters, and six years since the end of the war.
While he did not wish the man dead, he did think Andrew’s condition was irrelevant at this point. These passing years were long enough to wait, to pine and yearn. Whether he was alive or dead no longer mattered.
Gwendolyn needed to move on.
“I did not mean to end this afternoon on a sad note,” he said, rubbing a hand along the nape of his neck in frustration.
“Nor did I.” She forced a smile. “My maid, Agatha, is going to act as my chaperone while I am with you at Milbury Hill. She is slightly older than me, and very bright and engaging. I am bringing her along as my companion, not as my maid. Not that I really care what anyone thinks of this arrangement. Gossips will always find a reason to gossip. Anyway, Agatha has family in Brighton that she is eager to visit. It will all work out perfectly. All I have left to do is decide upon the last two prospective brides.”
“I’m sure they’ll be delightful.”
She laughed. “Oh dear. Are you feverish, Milbury?”
“That’s James to you, and no. I am hale and fully in control of my senses. I know you always try your best for me. I’m sorry I have been so wretchedly difficult about it. May I stop by tomorrow to discuss our travel arrangements?”
“All right. Same time as usual?”
He shook his head. “I have some business meetings in the morning that cannot be rescheduled. How about I call upon you in the early afternoon?”
“Oh, that won’t do. I am entertaining the Ladies Tea Society tomorrow afternoon.
We meet every Thursday without fail. This is my week to host. Perhaps Friday will be the better day, since you are to take the boys to Weston & Sons for their final fittings that afternoon.
Would you mind if I went along with you? ”
He chuckled. “Blessed saints, that would be vastly appreciated.”
He helped her down once his carriage pulled up in front of her home.
“Thank you again for today, Gwen,” he said, walking her to her door. However, he did not go in. “I’ll call upon you Friday morning at ten o’clock.”
“Sounds perfect.” She smiled and then darted into the house the moment Biggs opened the door.
James strode to his carriage and climbed back in. “Home, Fuller.”
“Aye, m’lord.”
He released a heavy breath, grateful for a moment’s privacy before he reached his residence and had to attend to his sons or work matters.
In the quiet, he once more thought of the kiss he and Gwendolyn had shared. She’d liked it. He was not so out of practice as to be unable to sense a woman’s arousal.
Not that Gwen was ready to rip off his clothes and savage his body. Far from it. But that kiss had signified a change in their relationship. However, the next hurdle would be in getting her to acknowledge it.
As for him, he had enjoyed their kiss tremendously and was ready to pursue something serious with her.
But this raised another problem, one he knew he could not keep secret from Gwendolyn, much as he wished he could. If he ever stood any chance of winning her heart, it had to be with complete honesty.
How was he to tell her about Cordelia?