Epilogue
Duchess Square, London
James leaned a shoulder against the dining room door and watched Gwendolyn fuss over the evening’s party preparations. “Can I do anything to help, love?”
She turned to him with a smile. “Oh, don’t you look handsome. No, I’m fine. Just needlessly fussing because I want everything to be perfect for our very first party as husband and wife.”
“It is perfect,” he said, taking her in his arms when she came to his side because she was a vision in blue satin. “You look so beautiful, Gwen.”
She smiled and rolled her spectacular eyes. “Never mind about me. How does the house look?”
Their home on Duchess Square was awash in candlelight, red velvet bows, and boughs of holly and ivy, not to mention mistletoe hanging above the parlor doorway.
The long buffet in the dining room was set up for a feast and soon to be laden with the traditional Christmas goose basted in a plum sauce, a ham glazed in honey, a variety of fish—steamed, fried, and smoked—and an array of vegetables sauteed in butter.
Punch bowls were set up on the opposite side of the dining room, some filled with hot apple cider and others with spiced rum or mulled wine.
James and his sons had donned their formal attire, and he thought the boys looked quite dapper in their white ties and black tails.
Jordan was already eyeing the mistletoe, no doubt fashioning his strategy because that boy was going to steal as many kisses as he could from the unattached young ladies in attendance.
Of course, they would be years older than the little cad.
But this was not going to stop him from stealing a kiss or two.
Robert, thank goodness, was still too young for rakish thoughts.
He was going to follow Gwendolyn around like a little pup because he was so happy to have her as the mother figure in his life.
She was genuinely nurturing, had a good sense of humor—a necessity around his boys and their antics—and gently challenged and inspired them.
James was quite pleased with how married life with Gwen was working out. If any two hearts were meant to be together, it was surely his and Gwen’s.
She felt it, too. They were like wanton youths who could not keep their hands off each other.
“Oh, gad. Gwen, you invited Miss Pouty Mouth?” he muttered as their guests began to arrive.
“Yes, and kindly remember her name is Eudora Blake,” she said with an impudent tip of her chin. “You never had your summer house party, so I thought to make a few matches here tonight. I have invited Lord Farley and Lord Hemming, too.”
“Who?”
She sighed. “The two bachelors from Brighton that Fiona recommended be invited to the summer party you did not have. They happened to be in London for the yuletide holidays, so I invited them here tonight. Wouldn’t it be lovely if they met their future wives here?”
“I thought your matchmaking days were over.”
Her eyes widened. “Heavens, no. James, I am inundated with requests ever since our marriage. Then Andrew married Millicent Hanford…and don’t you dare refer to her as Miss Pointy Nose.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t dare.”
“Well,” she said with a grunt of satisfaction, “I am now in high demand.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Is every bachelor and spinster here now hoping for a match made on Duchess Square?”
“Yes, I certainly hope so.”
He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “They could not be in better hands.”
Her eyes shone as bright as twinkling stars. “Thank you, James. Nothing would please me more than to encourage young love. I hope they will all find their perfect match and be as happy as we are.”
“Is it only to be young love? Or can a few old goats be included, too? There is much to be said for old love,” he muttered. “Just look at us.”
She gasped and playfully swatted his shoulder. “Oh, really? So I am old?”
“Not you, Gwen. You look like an angel. I am the old goat who never expected someone as beautiful and perfect as you to come into his life.”
“Oh, I think I have made a good bargain for myself, too. You’ll not find me complaining. The gray at your temples rather suits you. And your body is quite masculine and divine. You are easily the handsomest man attending this party tonight.”
He laughed heartily. “You are clearly in need of spectacles. But who am I to argue with you?”
They took their places on an informal reception line, warmly greeting their neighbors, who were among the first to arrive. Gwen hugged her Duchess Square friends, Berry and Miranda, and her cousin, Suzanna.
Those three were bristling with news about Lord and Lady Fullerton’s home on Duchess Square. It had been sold to the Duke of Ramsdale’s brother, Edward Langford.
“That rake?” another of their friends, Maude Harcourt, intoned upon joining them.
“His scandal with Viscount Tenney’s daughters, Faith and Hope, is all over the gossip rags.
The Fullertons ought to have given the house to their granddaughter instead of selling it to that rogue.
They’ve shockingly left her with nothing. ”
“They are not dead yet,” Gwendolyn remarked. “Surely they will provide for her when the time comes.”
“I’m not so certain about that. The granddaughter is the product of their daughter’s marriage to a man of whom they did not approve. The daughter and her husband are now dead, leaving the poor girl on her own.”
“Oh, that is awful,” Gwendolyn said, putting a hand to her throat in dismay.
Maude nodded. “The Fullertons still refuse to reconcile with her because their daughter never apologized to them. She remained blissfully happy with her husband until the bitter end. Never a regret, or so the gossips say.”
“So they sought to punish their granddaughter for the choice her parents made?”
“Yes,” Maude said, obviously enjoying that all the ladies were listening to her with rapt attention. “Is it not shameful?”
“Oh, yes,” Berry said. “The poor girl.”
Maude shook her head. “No, I mean that their daughter defied the Fullertons’ wishes and never attempted to apologize to them.”
Gwen pursed her lips. “Oh, Maude. How could you say such a thing? It is the Fullertons who are at fault. Why would parents deny their own children happiness? Or take out their displeasure on an innocent grandchild? It is so unfair.”
“I would not do any such thing,” Maude admitted. “But can you not see their side of it? What would happen if we all ignored the wishes of our parents? The very fabric of Society would unravel.”
Having imparted her gossip, Maude moved on, muttering something about catching a lung infection if they continued to leave their door open.
Berry, Miranda, and Suzanna expressed their pity for the Fullerton granddaughter before also moving on.
“Do not mind Maude,” Gwen said. “She isn’t happy unless she is complaining. I think I’ll have to match her with a gentleman who has the sunniest disposition.”
James laughed. “That will drive her to madness, Gwen.”
She cast him an impish smirk. “Indeed. Can you imagine her every complaint being met with a cheerful response? She’ll pull out her hair in frustration and her stomach will be constantly dyspeptic if she is always forced to look on the bright side of things.”
“I knew you were a wicked woman,” he teased, planting a chaste kiss on her cheek. Of course, the kisses they would share once in their bedroom would not be tame at all. Thank goodness Gwen liked him, because he seemed incapable of keeping his hands off her.
“It is all your fault, you naughty man. You bring out the wicked in me.” But she laughed and shook her head. “Perhaps I shall wait until I have made a few more love matches before tackling Maude.”
“Speaking of tackling…I had better leave your side now to look after the boys. That’s the fourth young lady Jordan has kissed under the mistletoe tonight.”
“He doesn’t waste time, does he?”
“He gets away with it because he is still young and the ladies think he is harmless.” James grunted. “Blessed saints, look at his innocent smile. He has them all deceived.”
“At least Robert is behaving.”
“Ha! You think so? Both boys are working on their third cup of mulled wine, and the evening is just getting started.”
Despite his gripes about his sons, the remainder of the evening went smoothly.
He and Gwendolyn were a little tipsy as they closed up the house in the wee hours of the morning and made their way upstairs. The boys had retired to their bedchambers half an hour ago when the last of their guests departed.
When first moving into Gwendolyn’s home on Duchess Square, James had worried that his sons would not settle in easily, for they had spent most of their lives in the Milbury residence nearby.
But he needn’t have worried, for they had adapted to the change readily.
No more than a day or two had passed before they began referring to Gwendolyn’s house and Duchess Square as their home.
James retained their Milbury townhouse because he intended to give it to Jordan once he reached the age of majority.
Of course, he would hold off if the lad turned into an irredeemable rakehell.
But Jordan, despite an occasional misstep, had a good head on his shoulders.
James expected his son would become more selective in the young bucks or the ladies with whom he kept company.
The lad had been trained throughout his young life to remain on his guard at all times. After all, this was something important to be ingrained in him, since he was James’s heir and would someday become the Marquess of Milbury.
He taught this same lesson to Robert, as well. A bit of caution in their dealings with everyone they encountered had to become second nature to them. Jordan and Robert were the “haves,” and people would always be seeking something from them.
But he set aside such thoughts as he and Gwendolyn entered their bedchamber and prepared to retire.
“I ought to be exhausted,” he remarked, helping her unlace her gown, which molded to her body in all the right ways.
He was taking too long about it because she was so lovely that he wound up kissing her and nuzzling her neck with every lace untied.
“But you’re not?” she asked with her soft, lilting laugh that always felt like a sweet summer breeze.
“Well, I am a little.” He finished unlacing her and then began to undress himself.
“But I’m not quite ready to close my eyes.
You looked so beautiful tonight, Gwen. I could not take my eyes off you the entire evening.
Still not ready to do so. I don’t know, there’s something magical about you tonight.
Or perhaps I’m just an old goat who cannot get enough of your sweet body. ”
She cast him the softest smile as she stood naked in the glow of firelight, about to don her flannel nightgown. It was a crisp, cold night, but they were cozily ensconced in their bedchamber.
Was it his imagination, or had her breasts grown larger?
Not that they hadn’t already been beautifully ample, and a luscious handful. An even more luscious mouthful.
“There might be a reason for that,” she said as the woolen fabric slid over her curves.
“For my lusting after your body? What possible…” He gasped and gently placed his hands on her shoulders while staring down at her. “Gwen?”
She returned his gaze, her eyes big and shimmering. “It is early days yet, but I’m certain. Are you ready for another Milbury?”
He laughed with the sheer joy of it, and drew her into his embrace while he kissed her with as much fervor as he dared, now knowing of her fragile condition.
“Nothing would please me more,” he whispered upon ending the kiss.
“Oh, love. Come to bed and let me hold you in my arms. How are you feeling? You haven’t complained of a thing.
Gwen, you must tell me if you feel tired or ill. ”
“Or hungry?” Grinning, she sank onto their bed and watched him as he hastily finished undressing.
He had stripped down to all but his trousers, and then paused. “Are you still hungry? Shall I bring you up something to eat?”
“Good heavens, no. Did you not notice me eating the equivalent of a horse tonight?”
He chuckled and settled in the bed beside her. “I must have missed that. Come into my arms, love.”
He kept his voice casual, but his protective instincts were now on high alert.
Those apish, feral instincts that existed within his very fabric and would likely irritate her to no end because he wasn’t going to let her lift so much as a spoon from this night forward.
This was a vulnerable time for her, and he meant to do everything in his power to keep her and their child safe.
“I would move heaven and earth for you.”
She snuggled against him. “I know, James.”
“I love you, Gwen.”
“I know that, too.”
He grinned and carefully rolled her under him, making certain not to put any of his weight on her. “I’m fairly certain I know the night it happened,” he said, propping himself on his elbows and wickedly smiling at her.
“It?”
“The night you conceived. It was that full moon in October. You were a wild woman in bed, all over me the entire evening. Atop me. Under me. Howling my name. Insatiable.”
She gave him a playful swat on his shoulder. “James! So what if I did howl a little? You were not complaining, were you?”
He kissed her softly on the lips before rolling onto his back and taking her once again in his arms. “I’ll never complain about that. I am immeasurably content with the match I’ve made.”
He watched Gwendolyn fall asleep while snuggled against his warm body.
The house was now silent, nothing but the occasional pop and crackle of the hearth fire filling the air.
Since they had not closed the drapes, James could see the silver half moon and a thousand stars against the inky black sky.
He gave Gwendolyn a feather-soft kiss on the forehead. “I’d marry you a thousand times over,” he whispered, and then fell asleep with his matchmaker in his arms.
THE END