Page 30 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

“Wait, m’lady,” Agatha said as she was about to walk downstairs. “Your gloves. And let me have a look at you.”

She dragged Gwendolyn over to the mirror. Gwendolyn stared back at herself. “Why must I look at myself? Is this muslin I am wearing too plain?”

It was an understated color but sublimely elegant, with just the right amount of silk and lace trim. And was this not something Milbury would appreciate?

“Not at all, m’lady. It is perfect, but you need a little something extra.” Agatha darted to her bureau and removed a jewelry box from her top drawer. “This is perfect.”

She withdrew a silver teardrop necklace and clasped it around Gwendolyn’s neck. The teardrop fell in such a way that it subtly drew one’s eye toward her bosom.

“Lord Milbury will notice and appreciate the lovely way you are put together,” Agatha insisted. “He never dresses garishly himself, and does not appear to like ladies who do.”

Yes, Milbury was all about allowing his strength of character to mark his presence, never relying on his clothes to make a statement about him. He had been drawn to his late wife for this same reason, often describing her as a “quiet” beauty, and this was what had immediately caught his attention.

Gwendolyn smiled at her reflection, liking this gown and not going to change out of it, whether or not Agatha approved.

But something had changed between her and Milbury. She wasn’t certain what it was exactly.

He hadn’t meant anything by their kiss. However, it had meant something to her.

What was she to do about it?

Chapter Seven

James had been dreading the chore of outfitting his sons with new clothes because it had lately been a battle of tastes, his sons declaring he was out of touch with current styles and trying to dress them like old men.

Having Gwendolyn join them as they ventured onto Savile Row—where Milbury’s tailors, Weston & Sons, had opened shop—put smiles on all their faces. His boys enjoyed her company, and so did he.

“How about a waistcoat in this fabric, Jordan?” Gwendolyn asked, showing his son an emerald silk material dotted with gold diamonds that James would never have worn in all his life, but was described as “the height of fashion” by old Weston.

“Excellent choice, m’lady. It is the rage among all the young men and yet elegant enough to never go out of style,” the tailor said, deciding to exert his persuasive powers on Gwendolyn and ignore James completely, even though he was the marquess and the one to foot the bill.

“Yes!” Jordan said with delight.

After a few more purchases and an additional hour spent in fittings that neither Jordan nor Robert would have endured without griping hard enough to make his ears bleed were they only with him, they moved on to a haberdasher’s on Regent Street, where Gwendolyn selected some jaunty straw hats perfect for boating or days on the beach for all three of them. His youngest looked adorable as he smiled from ear to ear, so proud to be wearing a hat identical to his and Jordan’s.

James folded his arms across his chest and leaned a hip against one of the glass-top counters while Gwendolyn took the boys to the adjacent counter to select stylish pins for the white linen cravats that were also to be purchased for them. Each son chose a formal pin for his London attire and a more playful one for his summer attire.

Gwendolyn looked upon their selections with pride. “Well, Milbury? I think we have done an excellent job. What do you think?”

That I would marry you tomorrow if you were willing.

“I doubt my sons give a fig what I think,” he replied with a chuckle. “But I approve of all these purchases. We’ve had a most successful afternoon.”

It was becoming achingly clear in everything they did that this was what he and his sons had been missing, this gentle touch Gwendolyn provided whenever she joined them in any activity, including a race to the doctor’s office the other day.

He had never seen his sons so well behaved or joyful after spending an afternoon shopping, a full hour or more of that time spent being measured and pinned. She was naturally nurturing, humorous, and anyone could plainly see that she enjoyed every moment spent with him and his boys.

This was not something easily faked, for Jordan and Robert would have picked up on her reticence and certainly any insincerity at once.

Instead, they felt her heart and warmth, which had them smiling as they marched from shop to shop. Indeed, this afternoon would have been an excursion into the pits of hell had James been the only adult with them.

They ended their shopping binge at a nearby tea shop just off Regent Street, a pleasant establishment with floral table linens and lace doilies. The aroma of apple, cinnamon, lemon, chocolate, and strawberry was most enticing, and James suddenly felt hungry.

His sons each had strawberry tarts and lemonade while he and Gwendolyn tried a chocolate-and-ginger cake neither had ever tasted before, along with mint tea. Robert was a bit of a mess by the time he finished, having dripped strawberry onto his shirt, and there were strawberry stains and crumbs at the corners of his mouth.

Gwendolyn dabbed the crumbs and bits of strawberry off his mouth and did her best with his shirt. “I’m afraid this is a lost cause. Your laundress will have to thoroughly boil this one, Milbury.”

“I’m sorry, Papa,” Robert said, casting his eyes down.