Chapter Eighteen
Gwendolyn could not believe the chaos of this situation.
Everyone ran toward them as she and James slogged into the house, their boots squishing upon the entry hall floor and their clothes dripping wet.
“What in heaven’s name happened?” Fiona asked, speaking for all of those now gathered around them as they marched in.
“Nobody’s business,” James muttered, ignoring everyone as he strode upstairs and called for his valet, who was among those standing beside Fiona.
“Right here, m’lord,” Crawford replied, and hastened after him.
This left Gwendolyn facing Robert, Jordan, Fiona, and her husband, who must have raced over after receiving a frantic summons from his wife. Also there were Agatha, Harting and his wife, Alfred the footman, and several others whose faces were familiar—Milbury Hill staff.
Robert and Jordan were in tears because they thought they were about to lose a second mother, and this simply tore Gwendolyn apart. No matter what happened, she loved those boys and would always welcome them into her home as though they were her own dear sons.
They were already firmly lodged in her heart. Surely they had to be aware of this. But if they were not, she would speak to them and let her feelings be known after she dealt with their father and her betrothed.
Then there was Fiona to assuage. She stood beside the boys, obviously not pleased to see Andrew back in Gwendolyn’s life—as evidenced by the murderous frown pinned on her face.
Gwendolyn hoped she was not about to lose one of her dearest friends over this matchmaking debacle that Fiona had instigated in the first place.
“Andrew will be joining us shortly,” she said, tipping her chin up in an attempt to maintain decorum. “I expect all of you to be polite to him. By the way, he is now a viscount. Viscount Winterbrook is his new title, and he ought to be given proper deference.”
That said, she clomped up the stairs to change into dry clothes herself, ignoring Fiona’s muttered, “I’ll shove that bloody viscount’s deference right up his arse.” That brought a chuckle from the boys. Honestly, did Fiona have to be so coarse in front of those impressionable lads?
Agatha scampered after Gwendolyn, almost knocking into her when she paused suddenly midway up the staircase. “Harting, the viscount will require a change of clothes as well. See that he is properly attended to upon his arrival.”
“He’ll get my proper attention,” she heard Fiona mutter, rolling up her sleeves.
Ah, friends.
But she knew they all cared about her and were only trying to protect her from having her heart broken again. It gave her much relief and great satisfaction to be surrounded by those who cared, even if they were presently quite meddlesome and irritating.
Gwendolyn’s hair was wet, since she had fallen underwater during her tumble into the stream, so she unpinned her damp and mangled mane, brushing it out while Agatha withdrew a fresh gown for her from the wardrobe.
“You seem to be making a habit of falling into the water. Perhaps it is a good thing Lord Milbury insists on teaching you to swim. How about this one, m’lady?” She held up a cream muslin and suggested a lace fichu for adornment.
Gwendolyn gave an approving nod. “Oh, yes. That will be perfect. And no more smart remarks, Agatha. I do not need you berating me, either.”
“Oh, m’lady, I only wish to see you happy. You are that whenever you are around Lord Milbury and his sons. Some things are just obvious.”
Gwendolyn wished it were so, but she had parted ways with James while he was angry as blazes.
Agatha helped her out of her wet gown and then dried her off, rubbing her down so thoroughly that her skin was left a bright pink.
She next set aside the drying cloth and assisted Gwendolyn into the cream muslin.
“I’ll twist your hair in a simple, braided bun, then do something fancier once it dries.
Although you’re such a pretty thing, m’lady.
The simplest styles are often best because they do not distract the eye from your natural beauty. ”
“You do not need to flatter me, Agatha. It doesn’t really matter what I look like. Lord Milbury is quite furious with me and isn’t going to like anything about me just now.”
“Oh, m’lady, do not say such things. He adores you.” Her expression turned moon-eyed. “I wish I had a man whose eyes lit up as his do whenever he sees you.”
Gwendolyn remained silent, fearing anything else she said would be taken amiss. She did not need anyone, especially those who were well meaning, to interfere and create more trouble than she had already made for herself.
James had been right about Andrew’s intentions.
Not that he intended to abduct her, but he had manipulated her into believing a simple ride in his rig while they talked was a harmless and sensible thing to do.
But as soon as they had gone down the long drive and through Milbury Hill’s gate, he’d snapped the reins and urged his horse to a fast trot.
It was only when he turned onto the road leading to Brighton that she had understood his intentions and ordered him to stop.
Yes, it had required some shouting and insistence on her part. But he had stopped.
So why was James making such a fuss?
She and Andrew could have had a serious but pleasant conversation beside the stream, and then Andrew would have returned her to Milbury Hill.
Well, likely returned her.
She refused to believe he would have ignored her wishes and absconded with her to Brighton. Nor would he have gone off in a huff and left her to fend for herself on the side of the road.
But James had not even given Andrew the chance to show whether he would do the right thing, and now she did not know whether Andrew meant to behave honorably or not.
This was most frustrating. Did she not have every right to be irritated with James for failing to give her encounter with Andrew enough time to play out?
Even if Andrew had been so wretched as to bring her to Brighton against her wishes, she was not without resources. Once there, she could have gone straight to the bakery owned by Agatha’s relatives and had them send word to James to pick her up.
Or she could have registered at one of the elegant hotels and requested the manager to send word to James to rescue her. Even if a woman alone at a hotel was considered scandalous, where was the harm? James wanted to marry her. She would not have been left shamed and cast out.
There was also the Sea Sprite Inn, that torrid love nest, where she could have sought refuge until James came for her. No one was going to care what she did there, so long as she paid for her room.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Agatha bustled across the room to open it.
“M’lady,” Mrs. Harting said, “Viscount Winterbrook has arrived.”
“Soaking wet?” Agatha asked.
Mrs. Harting obviously struggled to stifle a chuckle. “Yes.”
“Good. He deserved it,” Gwendolyn muttered.
Oops, she hadn’t meant for that remark to slip out. Now both Agatha and Mrs. Harting were grinning at her.
She cleared her throat. “Where has Lord Milbury put him?”
“In the dustbin, hopefully,” Fiona remarked, marching in behind the Milbury housekeeper. “My husband has taken the boys down to the beach to set up a bonfire and prepare another of our pagan suppers. That ought to keep them out of the way for hours.”
“Why did you not go with them?”
Fiona arched an eyebrow. “And miss the firestorm about to ignite here? Not on your life.”
Agatha and Mrs. Harting muffled giggles behind their hands.
“But seriously, Gwen,” Fiona said, putting an arm around her shoulders, “I need to be here to lend you support as a friend.”
“Oh, really? Friend? Or saboteur? You know how much I adore and appreciate you, but I am best served if everyone stops meddling and lets me handle this matter on my own.”
“Those men are going to go at each other like two growling bears in a baiting pit. Are you certain you know what you are doing?”
“Of course I do. You know I do. Otherwise, why would you have trusted me with matchmaking for James?” Gwendolyn sighed. “Never mind, you were manipulating both of us into falling in love. You brought him to me because you had ordained we were a match.”
“Was I wrong? Was he not the perfect man to push you out of your complacency? I had to do it because—and I say this with the greatest respect—you know very little about men, Gwen. You were going to shrivel away to nothing and lose all chance at happiness had I not stepped in to prevent it.”
Honestly! If anyone else spoke to her in this high-handed manner, Gwendolyn would have kicked them down the stairs. But Fiona… Well, she was being Fiona, and she did have a point.
Gwendolyn knew she was not sophisticated when it came to men. She had only ever kissed Andrew until spending last night with James, and…well, merciful heavens! What passed between them was none of Fiona’s business.
Nor could Gwendolyn deny that until last night, she had been clinging to the past with an unhealthy determination.
Would Andrew ever have come for her had she not accidentally spotted him at Marchand’s café? He claimed that he would have, but how could she ever know for certain?
James had given her back her necklace while on the ride home. She now secured it around her neck and gave the teardrop a little pat to ensure it was securely attached before walking downstairs with Fiona.
They were about to walk into the parlor when Gwendolyn held her friend back a moment. “Fiona, would you mind if I moved in with you and Rob for a few days? I need peace and quiet to sort through this most important decision of my life, and I am never going to be left alone to think while here.”
“Yes, of course,” Fiona said. “But it will be very hard on Milbury and his boys.”
Gwendolyn nodded. “I know, but it will only be for a day or two until I get my bearings.”
“Or it could be a permanent separation if you choose Andrew over Milbury.”
“I…” In truth, the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Had she already decided upon James?