Chapter Twenty-One
James did not hear the knock at his study door because he was too busy trying to hold back his own tears and the ache in his heart that he should not have had, since he was a grown man, cynical and experienced.
Yet the thought of losing Gwendolyn was a blow that had him reeling as though struck in the chest by Thor’s hammer.
He was also trying to soothe his youngest son, who was on his lap and wailing in his ear. “It is not our decision to make for her,” he tried to insist, but Robert was crying too hard to listen.
Jordan was also tearful, but suddenly turned toward the door as it opened. “Papa!”
“Jordan, not you too. I—”
The words caught in his throat as Gwendolyn walked in.
“Gwen?”
Was this it? The final moment? Had she come to bid them farewell?
She cast him a hesitant smile. “May I join this tear-fest?”
He gave a curt nod, uncertain yet of her intentions. “I suppose your bags are now packed and you’ll be leaving us.”
She shook her head and marched toward him. “That is entirely up to you. My bags are back upstairs. I am not leaving, unless you want me to go.”
“You’re not?” He nudged his son off his lap and rose to face her, his heart beating quickly, in fast little thumps, much like the patter of squirrels racing across a rooftop. “You know my feelings on the matter.”
She arched an eyebrow. “And they have not changed?”
“Gwen,” he said with a groaning laugh that held a wealth of desperation and hope. “Put me out of my misery and just tell me what is going on.”
He held out his arms, intending it merely as a gesture of confusion, but she took it as an invitation, as though he was opening his arms to her.
She melted into them. “I love you, James Milbury.”
He stared at her, stunned.
His sons cheered.
James was not convinced yet.
Was this one of those “I love you but I am leaving you immediately after your house party that you never wanted, and I hope we can still be friends” polite kiss-offs? Did she believe his pride was fragile and she wanted to let him down gently?
She turned to his sons with a broad smile. “I love you both, as well. With all my heart, which fills with joy whenever I am around you.”
They believed her, and felt no hesitation in scrambling under the umbrella of his arms to hug her.
He now had the three of them wrapped in his arms and it felt awfully good, even though the scene might appear ridiculous to anyone who walked in on them.
“Gwen, do you mean it?”
She looked up at him with shimmering eyes. “I love you, James. What more of a hint do you need? I’ll love you forever and ever.”
“But?”
She laughed gently. “Good gracious, must you be so dense? There is no ‘but,’ nor will there ever be. I have made my choice. My heart is yours. It has always been yours, but I was too scared to admit it. Perhaps just too stubborn. Certainly too set in my ways. Please tell me I am not too late.”
“You’re not,” Robert insisted. “Papa loves you and so do we. Isn’t that right, Papa? Tell her.”
Having gained her love, James knew the lad meant to hold on to it with all the strength in his sticky little hands.
So did he, although his hands were not quite as sticky as his son’s.
However, he did intend to hold on to her with all the love in his soul.
Her smile was as soft as a summer breeze as she looked at his youngest. “Thank you, Robert. I love you all so much. You, Jordan, and your father. For always. That is my solemn promise.”
“What of Clement?” James asked, because he needed to know that the man was out of her life for certain.
Her cheeks turned pink and her smile was sheepish. “Um, do not make a thing of this, James.”
“What thing?” he asked warily.
She took a deep breath. “I am going to set him up with Lady Millicent Hanford. I’ve told him so and I intend to see this through.”
His mouth gaped open. What in blazes?
“Miss Pointy Nose?”
His boys eased away and began to cheer, leaving him holding on to Gwendolyn alone. He shook his head and began to laugh.
“Oh, Gwen. You didn’t.”
“Yes, I did,” she said with an impudent tip of her chin. “I want him to be happy, and are they not an obvious match? Am I not a good matchmaker?”
His sons immediately agreed she was the best matchmaker in all of England.
“Thank you, boys. I doubt I am quite that good. But I think I did a commendable job for your father. Never mind that he sabotaged all my undertakings.”
James could not hold back his amusement. “But her, Gwen?”
“Yes, her. Don’t you dare complain about her nose again. You know your excuse was nonsensical and completely made up.”
He chuckled. “It may have been a bit overdone.”
“Quite overdone,” she muttered, then cast him a loving smile that had his heart leaping for joy. “I love you, James Milbury. How many times must I say it before you believe me?”
He cupped her face gently in his roughened hands. “Boys, go back to building the bonfire with Fiona and Durham. Gwendolyn and I will join you shortly, but there are things we need to discuss first.”
Robert frowned at him. “Do not mess this up, Papa.”
Jordan was scowling, too. “That’s right, Papa. Do not be an idiot and chase our Gwendolyn away.”
James sighed. “I will not be an idiot. Now, go. And shut the door behind you.”
His sons scampered out, slamming the door behind them.
“Good grief,” he said with a chuckle as he ran his thumb lightly along her cheek. “Is this for real, Gwen?”
“It is for me. I hope it still is for you.”
He kissed her on the lips, a deep, lingering kiss he hoped would convey all the love he felt in his heart. “Always and forever, my lovely matchmaker.”
“Well then…” She cast sparkling eyes upon him. “Seems the matter of finding you the perfect match has now been brought to a successful conclusion.”
“Thank goodness! Does this mean there is to be no summer house party?”
She sighed. “I suppose it is no longer necessary.”
“Hallelujah,” he said with a gust of relief. “I’ll have Harting toss out those invitations. But there is one last piece of business to address.”
“And that is?”
“The proposal. As in my proposing to you again. This time, I hope for a better outcome.”
Her expression turned serious and she looked perhaps a bit remorseful for her past rejection. “You shall have it,” she said with an ache to her voice. “I’m so sorry for—”
“Hush, love. We are here now, and that is all that matters.”
She released a light breath and nodded.
“Marry me, Gwen.”
She nodded again. “Yes, most happily.”
He kissed her with a hot, possessive ardor this time, his mouth closing upon beautiful, giving lips that felt soft as velvet against his own.
He wanted this kiss to convey so much to her, mostly that she would never be an afterthought for him but always a treasured wife.
It was a fulfilling ardor, for she would make their family whole again. Not as a replacement, but for being herself. For bringing compassion and all her strengths into the marriage. For adding wonder and joy to his life and that of his sons. They were so desperately in need of her warmth and love.
When he ended the kiss, he lifted her in his arms and cast her a wicked grin. “Is tomorrow too soon?”
“Why not today?” she teased in return, and hugged him fiercely.
He kissed her again, this time more tenderly, although his kisses would always be laced with heat because she had a stunning body that could drop any man to his knees, and he was not immune to her allure.
“Thank you, James,” she said with a shaky breath. “I thought I had lost you.”
Her admission tore at his heart. He never wanted her to doubt the faithfulness of his love. Theirs was to be a true marriage in every respect—most of all, that he would never be an absent husband. “No, that’ll never happen. You are quite stuck with me, Gwen.”
“I hope so.”
“There’s another thing we must do today besides announce our betrothal.”
She frowned lightly, obviously confused by his rakish grin. “What is that?”
“Teach you to swim.”
Her eyes widened. “Right now?”
He nodded. “If you wish it.”
“Oh, yes! Put me down and I shall run upstairs and put on my bathing costume.”
He set her on her feet, his heart still thumping and his smile as broad as an ocean. How had he won her heart?
Until a moment ago, he was certain Clement had won out.
But hearts were odd things, weren’t they?
His had known his perfect match had to be Gwen from the first.
Gwendolyn’s heart had taken longer because she was not in the least fickle, and it had been a painful process for her to disentangle herself from the hopes and dreams she had built with her former betrothed. Hopes and dreams that were built on pillars of sand that were always bound to crumble.
She must have made her choice that night at their Brighton love nest, for she would never have given herself to him, James knew, unless she had come to terms with loving him.
As he thought about it, James came to another realization.
He was always going to win out because of one simple fact: Gwendolyn trusted him. She knew he would always be there to catch her if she fell. And with that trust, she had allowed herself to open her heart and fall in love with him.
“I’ll meet you in the entry hall.”
He went to his bedchamber and changed into a pair of worn trousers and a plain work shirt, then strode downstairs to wait for her.
Harting was at his post, trying to remain as expressionless as every trained head butler ought to be.
But the poor man was failing miserably.
“My lord,” he said, addressing James with tears in his eyes, “I am so happy for you…for us all.”
James nodded. “Yes, it is quite the miracle, is it not?”
His butler nodded. “Love always is.”
James was watching the staircase and immediately noticed Gwen as she made her way down the steps with a light, bouncing air.
She looked adorable in her bathing costume, and her eyes shone big and bright as full moons beneath her pert bathing cap.
“Oh dear. The way you are looking at me… I look ridiculous, don’t I? ”
“You look beautiful. Doesn’t she, Harting? Isn’t she the prettiest sight you have ever beheld?” James met her at the foot of the stairs and took her hand in his. “Ready?”
She smiled up at him. “My friends on Duchess Square are never going to believe me when I tell them that I have learned to swim. Well, I haven’t learned quite yet.”
“But you will master it, I promise you.” He gave her hand a light squeeze, then noticed her teardrop necklace and unclasped it from her neck. “This stays here. Hold on to it, Harting. Lady Gwendolyn will reclaim it later.”
“I really ought to get that clasp fixed,” she remarked as they walked toward the beach stairs.
“No rush. It’s not like I minded sticking my hand down your front,” he teased.
Her smile was a burst of sunshine. “Naughty fellow. Perhaps I purposely did not have it fixed. Did you ever think of that?”
He laughed.
As her soft, lilting laughter mingled with his heartier bursts, he knew that he was going to have a long and happy marriage with the prettiest matchmaker in all of England.