Page 109 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

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.

Epilogue

Duchess Square, London

December 1821

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.