Page 20 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

His instincts warned that the news would not be favorable for Gwendolyn. Indeed, there was something quite off about Andrew Clement.

Gwendolyn’s lips were still trembling as his carriage drew up in front of her home. Her chin was wobbling, too.

But her eyes were clear, no doubt because she had spent all her tears while crying into his chest.

James reached out to place his hand over hers. “Gwen…will you be all right? Do you need a little more time? We can take another turn around Mayfair.”

She released a breath. “No, I’ll pull myself together now that I am home.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He spoke with a measure of hopefulness, for this day had been a bad one, and he’d been to blame.

He would not be surprised if she sent over a note in the morning telling him that she never wanted to see him again.

She scrambled out of his carriage the moment it came to a stop. “Yes, tomorrow. At ten o’clock. Just try not to send any more screaming harpies my way…and not another word about Andrew.”

Although she was the one who kept raising him despite insisting on putting an end to that conversation.

Because that wretched man festered in her mind.

James watched her dart into her house without a farewell or a glance back at him. She was eager to be away from him.

“Milbury, you idiot,” he muttered.

Would she decide to dismiss him as a client come morning?

Chapter Five

“Home, Fuller,” James said to his driver, his thoughts in a jumble as a damp and slightly malodorous breeze off the Thames swirled around him. He would not blame Gwendolyn if she decided to cut off all ties to him, for he’d given her nothing but matchmaking frustration for months now, and today he’d given her unrelenting pain.

“Aye, m’lord.”

The sun was particularly bright, and the clang and clatter of carriages and wagons created quite the din. He shut his eyes a moment to close out the world around him.

Was this matchmaking business all a futile waste of time? And was it not ironic that, after all these failures, it turned out he wanted the matchmaker herself?

But Gwendolyn would not have him while she was stuck in a bog of her own making and refusing to let go of an undeserving beau.

James had no chance of winning her heart while that cur remained present in her heart.

Perhaps all of this effort was no use. Why not put an end to his search for a bride? Did it make any sense to continue the pretense when he’d found what he wanted in Gwendolyn, the one lady he could not have?

After all, his boys seemed to be doing better now. Far better than those first few years after their mother had died.

Her loss had been so hard on them. On him, too. The three of them had been in desperate need of a woman’s light touch, someone soft and sweet to make a good home for them.

Things were better now. It was possible they could do without, just the three of them making a go of it as best as possible.

Yet James still believed a woman’s influence was important. Jordan was already exhibiting rakish tendencies and would be difficult to control without a motherly influence to keep him in line.

Well, James had a few years yet to work on that problem.

Upon returning home, he checked on his boys, who had remained subdued and were still quietly reading in Jordan’s room. Well, at least he had done something right today. Robert was seated in one of the two cushioned chairs in his brother’s large bedchamber, engrossed in a book about pirates, while Jordan was reading one about ancient Roman military tactics.

James stood at the threshold and watched them for a moment before he stepped in.

“Papa!” Robert leaped up, the first to notice him.

“How is Lady Gwendolyn?” Jordan asked.