Page 106 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

Gwendolyn approached them. “Agatha, I’ve had a change of heart. Please have our bags brought back to our rooms. We’re not leaving.”

“Oh, my lady!” The maid and Fiona both cheered.

Gwendolyn held up a hand to quiet them. “Well, put them back upstairs, but better not unpack them just yet. I’m not certain I will be welcome to stay on at Milbury Hill after this. Where is James?”

“Still in his study. The boys are in there with him,” Fiona said, putting a hand lightly over her heart. “They were too upset to remain with Rob and wanted to be in their father’s arms. What are you going to do next?”

Gwen glanced at the closed study door. “Undo the mess I have obviously made. Wish me luck. I think I’ll need quite a bit of it.”

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.”