Chapter Nine #2
In truth, they could have pressed on and reached Milbury Hill close to midnight on the third night. But James wanted Gwendolyn to see his estate in the beauty of the morning light, when the grass shimmered with dew and the sea glistened under the rising sun.
Once they arrived and settled in, he would find a moment to tell her about Cordelia.
This was preying on his mind. He had assumed Fiona would tell her, but she had not. Gwendolyn would have mentioned her during one of their extensive conversations if she had learned of his sister and her situation.
The boys were hopping about excitedly as they embarked on the final leg of their journey on the morning of the fourth day. Good weather persisted, so sunshine and sea breezes escorted them the entire way home.
His boys cheered when Milbury Hill came into view and immediately began making plans to spend the day on the beach. “We’ll all go,” James said, “but not before our bags are unloaded and I’ve given Gwendolyn a tour of our home.”
“Can we picnic on the beach, Papa?” Robert pleaded.
James glanced at Gwendolyn. “Are you up for it?”
She smiled at him. “Oh, yes. That is an excellent idea. I have never been to a picnic on the beach before.”
“It is great fun,” Jordan assured her.
“I’ll send word to Fiona and Durham to join us for an early supper tonight,” James added. “I’m sure Fiona will stop in with or without invitation because she’ll be so eager to see you.”
Gwendolyn was now beaming. “As I will be delighted to see her. Oh, Milbury, your house looks so beautiful in the morning light.”
“We love it here,” Robert said.
“I can see why.” Gwendolyn fixed her gaze on the distant manor house as the two carriages rolled up the long drive. She looked happy.
He hoped that she was. He wanted her to grow to love this estate as much as he and the boys did.
“The manor house was in quite a state of disrepair when I first purchased it. But a thorough cleaning, inside and out, new windows and roof, and several coats of paint in all the rooms went a long way to returning it to its former glory. The wood floors are the original, sturdy oak. They merely required sanding and fresh staining to be restored.”
She cast him a breathtaking smile. “I cannot wait to see all you have done to it. I’m sure I am going to love it.”
James had retained the services of a renowned landscape artist to put his grounds in proper shape, for the gardens had been neglected, too.
He had used a team of England’s best architects and decorators to restore the exterior and interior of the house.
His one instruction to all of them had been to respect their natural surroundings, the seacoast and countryside, and make his home blend in.
Of course, it was a large manor house and would never be mistaken for an earthen hut or thatched-roof cottage.
The outside walls, once properly scrubbed clean, turned out to be of Cotswold stone.
These stones were known for their soft, golden tones that looked magnificent at sunrise, and especially at twilight when the last rays of sunshine cast a glow upon them.
Red roses ran up along the walls on trellises perched on either side of the massive front door.
James spotted a family of deer grazing in the open parkland that ran alongside his drive and several rabbits hopping around the deer while foraging for their next meal. “Look, Gwen.”
She followed his gaze and laughed at the playful antics of a baby deer chasing the rabbits.
James next pointed to the woodlands that separated Fiona’s property from his. “It is but a short walk through those woods to Fiona’s house.”
He was pleased that Gwendolyn was enthralled by all of it.
James could not wait to show her the interior of his house. Since he had purchased it after Jessica’s death, the house was a masculine reflection of him and his boys. He would not mind Gwendolyn putting her feminine touches to it.
“And look there,” he said as the carriage neared the house and the glistening sea came into view. “That’s our cove. We share it with Fiona’s estate.”
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured. “No wonder you love it here.”
“I hope you will love it, too.”
She nodded. “I know I will.”
The boys leaped out of the carriage as soon as it came to a halt in the courtyard.
“Harting, we’re home!” Jordan cried as their butler opened the door and could plainly see they had arrived without the boy’s need to announce it.
“Master Jordan! Master Robert! It is so good to see you again,” the elderly, but still vigorous, man cried with genuine delight.
Several footmen also spilled out of the house with cheerful greetings and hastened to bring in their trunks.
While the boys tore into the house, James assisted Gwendolyn down from the carriage and introduced her to his butler. “This is Lady Gwendolyn Carstairs, one of Duchess Fiona’s dearest friends. She is here to help me plan a house party, Harting. What do you say to that?”
His butler chuckled jovially. “It is about time, my lord.”
James next introduced Gwendolyn to Harting’s wife, who was also his housekeeper.
“Welcome, Lady Gwendolyn! Duchess Fiona has told us all about you. Oh my. How she went on about how lovely you were. May I say that you are just as pretty as she described. I can already see that it will be a pleasure to have you with us.”
Gwendolyn laughed. “I hope I do not disappoint.”
Mrs. Harting shook her head. “You? Never. One can easily see what a pleasant lady you are. Besides, His Lordship would never have brought you home if he did not find you worthy. He is an excellent judge of character.”
“I like to think so,” James intoned. “Mrs. Harting and I will show you to the rooms you and Agatha are to have, and then I’ll show you around the rest of the house. That is, unless you would rather rest and refresh yourself first.”
“Oh, no. This morning’s ride was short and easy. Quite pleasant, really.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Even though Jordan and Robert would not stop bouncing in their seats?”
She laughed. “I did not mind. They were so obviously happy to be coming home. And I am eager to see whatever you wish to show me. You’ve described Milbury Hill to me in loving detail for weeks now. But I did not appreciate how truly beautiful it is. I’m so glad you insisted I join you here.”
Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at him.
After settling her and Agatha in their assigned bedchambers, he quickly strode to his own in order to wash up.
He removed his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat, for he and his boys preferred to dress informally when at home.
He had mentioned this to Gwendolyn during the carriage ride this morning. and she had not seemed to mind.
Fiona, when first describing Gwendolyn and insisting he retain her services to find a wife, had said she was sweet natured. This was true. Even when chiding him for dismissing every lady on her list of prospects, she could not bring herself to be harsh with him.
Exasperated, yes. A screeching harpy, no.
Gwendolyn’s door was open when he returned to take her on a tour of the house. She and Agatha were attending to the chore of unpacking their trunks. “I hope you like your accommodations,” he said, after giving a light knock at the door to alert them of his presence.
“We love them,” Gwendolyn assured him.
Agatha nodded enthusiastically. “They are beautiful, my lord.”
“Good. I had Mrs. Harting place you both in east-facing bedrooms because they catch the morning light.”
“And the view of the water is splendid,” Gwendolyn remarked.
“You’ll get cooling breezes off the cove waters in the afternoon.”
She smiled. “It is kind of you to give us these beautiful rooms. We feel like honored guests.”
“Which you are,” he assured her.
“But you have been more than generous with me,” Agatha said. “I did not expect to be treated so kindly. Are you certain I have not been assigned the wrong room?”
He shook his head. “You are Lady Gwendolyn’s companion. It is important that our house party guests perceive you as her proper chaperone.”
“Yes, for my reputation,” Gwendolyn remarked with obvious disdain. “I detest all these rules set out for us. Even the very lords and ladies considered pillars of Society break them. Yet they are among the loudest when condemning others. The true crime is in getting caught, I suppose.”
“This is what comes of marrying for alliances rather than for love,” James said, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied Gwendolyn. “Well, we shall see if I find love at our house party.”
Agatha snorted. “I’ve heard all about the naughty goings-on at these parties. Lots of bed hopping. I’ll be keeping careful watch over you, Lady Gwendolyn. No bounder will get his itchy hands on you while I am around to guard you.”
“Thank you, Agatha,” Gwendolyn said with a soft laugh. “I have heard wild stories, too. But I know Lord Milbury will protect me from those bounders.”
Agatha cast him a look that revealed she considered him most dangerous of all.
Which he was. He would not deny that he ached to bed Gwendolyn, but that desire was coupled with an equal desire to marry her.
“How about you leave the rest of the unpacking to Agatha while I take you on a tour of the house?” he said.
“Oh, yes.”
He held out his arm to her and they descended the stairs together, for he meant to start by showing her the formal rooms of the house where most of the entertaining took place.
It felt nice having her by his side.
They started with his formal parlor, which she would probably find too dark for her tastes because of the abundance of wood paneling along the walls, even though the paneling was an exquisite cherry that spoke of wealth and power.
Well, this was what his decorator had mentioned when giving him the hefty bill for it.