“I don’t know how to ride a bicycle.”
“Hmmm...” Walter said, rubbing his chin before he nodded to August. “Do you know how to ride?”
“I’m afraid not, but perhaps Hannah does,” August said, turning to Hannah.
When they immediately began staring into each other’s eyes again, Hannah adding a bit of lash fluttering for good measure, Gwendolyn cleared her throat ... loudly.
Hannah pulled her attention away from August, her cheeks turned decidedly pink, and then she shook her head. “I don’t know how to ride either.”
Walter turned to Oscar. “Looks like it’ll be up to you to teach us.”
Oscar’s brows drew together. “You want me to instruct all of you on the finer points of bicycle riding?”
“Indeed. In fact I’m sure you’ll be more than up for the task, just as I’m certain you’ll relish ordering all of us about.”
Oscar scratched his nose. “Might be amusing.”
“I imagine it will.”
Oscar tilted his head, seemed to consider the possibilities of teaching everyone to ride, then nodded. “Fine. I’ll do it. I’ll meet everyone outside on the front drive in ten minutes.” With that, he strode from the room with a distinct sense of purpose in his step.
Walter watched his son disappear as a feeling of contentment settled over him—one he’d not felt in a very long time, if ever. He couldn’t keep from smiling as he helped the twins put the paint and brushes away, his smile widening when Priscilla tugged him out of the nursery, her little hand clasped firmly in his.
As they walked together down the stairwell, he heard Gwendolyn discussing the finer points of bicycle riding with Oscar, who’d rejoined them on the stairs, and in that moment, he realized his sense of contentment was a direct result of her entering his life.
And not that he’d taken an opportunity to truly dwell on a thought that kept flitting to mind, but it was becoming clear that the time he spent in Gwendolyn’s company was far more than pleasant, which was quite telling and certainly demanded closer consideration.
Thirty
It had been almost three weeks since Gwendolyn had had her first bicycle lesson, and even though she was currently managing events at the Townsend ball, she kept becoming distracted by a concerning thought that had plagued her relentlessly over the past few days. That thought revolved around the sneaking suspicion she might have broken a cardinal matchmaking rule, because somehow she’d, perhaps, developed feelings, and those of the affectionate type, for Walter.
One minute she’d found him to be the most annoying gentleman she’d ever had the misfortune to meet, but the next she’d found herself looking forward to their slightly contentious exchanges, as well as looking forward to seeing his smile or watching him interact with his children.
He was far too compelling when he smiled, and when he laughed while engaged with the twins or Oscar, her heart—something that never gave her difficulties—seemed to take on a life of its own, lurching about and feeling quite as if it might burst.
It was a very odd predicament to find herself in.
She’d thought about the matter incessantly of late, and heronly conclusion was that her change in feelings had begun when they’d learned to ride bicycles together.
It had been one of the most enjoyable afternoons in recent memory, filled with far too many scrapes to count, because learning to ride a bicycle had been no easy feat. However, even with all the tumbles she’d taken, she’d been unable to do anything but appreciate that time with Walter, helping him push the twins on their new tricycles, and then being ordered around by Oscar, who certainly seemed to delight in his role as boss as he’d gone about the business of teaching four adults how to ride a contraption that seemed to defy gravity.
“Gwendolyn, there you are,” Ethel said, walking up to join her, which pulled Gwendolyn from thoughts that were leaving her cheeks decidedly warm. “Ward McAllister is insisting on managing the dancing for me, while also proclaiming this evening an original event if he’s ever seen one, what with how we encouraged the guests to bring their children and have arranged activities that allow the children to have their fair share of amusements. With our adult revelers now in good hands, I’m free to assist you with the children, but...”
Ethel’s gaze settled on Gwendolyn’s face. “Are you alright, dear? You’re looking flushed.”
Gwendolyn flipped open the silk fan Ethel had given to all the ladies at the Townsend ball and began plying it in front of her face. “I’m fine. I’ve just been running about like mad, attempting to observe the greatest contenders for a match for Walter. They’re somewhat tricky to keep track of, given the number of guests.”
“Have you noticed any of the ladies showing a particular fondness for the children?”
Gwendolyn stopped fanning herself. “Cordelia Lowe made a point of seeking the children out when she first arrived, bearing lollipops for them, unfortunately. Priscilla and Samuel weren’t what I’d call overjoyed when I confiscated their treats the secondCordelia’s back was turned. Oscar, however, was in full agreement with my confiscation, because he recalls the tossing up of the accounts incident after the candy-apple fiasco.
“The twins kept trying to convince me they’d not been that ill, but I’m pleased to report drama didn’t commence. Priscilla was looking a little mutinous, and Samuel was eyeing my reticule, where I’d stashed the lollipops, as if he were trying to think of some magic trick the magician you brought in tonight might have taught him to get the treats back. However, after I reminded them they had a task to complete, which meant they didn’t have time for stomachaches, they accepted the deprivation of their sweets, and off they went with Oscar.”
“They’re still giving you reports on all the ladies who speak with them?”
“They are, although their reporting has been slim tonight. Besides Cordelia’s giving them treats, the only reports thus far have been that Suzette Tilden patted Priscilla on the head—something she didn’t appreciate—and Tillie Wickham tried to impress Samuel by telling him all about a fish her father recently caught, unaware that after the fish-head incident Samuel has an aversion to those.”
Gwendolyn smiled. “But no need to look disappointed. I’m sure there’ll be a few ladies who rise to the top of possible contenders once we get a rousing game of Annie Over in motion. I’ve scheduled it to coincide with a lull in the dancing in about fifteen minutes.”
