Page 42 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

Had Milbury undressed her?

Chapter Nine

James spotted Gwendolyn the moment she entered the common room to grab a bite to eat before they continued their journey. She had been the last of them to wake up, no doubt because she was suffering from a hangover.

He felt some remorse for her condition. He ought to have stopped her from imbibing too much last night. Obviously, she was not used to drinking more than a glass or two of wine in an evening. Also, she was slender and her body had proven too little and delicate to absorb the four glasses of Madeira she had practically guzzled after supper. She was obviously a novice when it came to getting drunk.

He rose to greet her as she approached. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” she replied, casting him a particularly vulnerable smile that had him wanting to put his arms around her. “I hope I am not delaying everyone.”

Agatha and his sons had earlier finished their breakfast and were now waiting for them outside by the carriages. His valet, Crawford, was also outside supervising the loading of their overnight bags to make certain nothing was left behind.

“No delay, I am just finishing my coffee.” He frowned as he studied her more closely. “You are looking a little peaked this morning, Gwen. Are you all right?”

She nodded. “A bit of a headache. Nothing serious. Leaving Duchess Square affected me more than I realized. My stomach was in knots all day yesterday.”

“I noticed.”

“Then last night’s meal might have been a bit too much for me after the long carriage ride. The wine did not help either. I should not have imbibed those last two glasses of Madeira with the gusto of a drunken sailor. Quite a poor decision on my part. I think I am experiencing the aftereffects.”

His smile was indulgent as he said, “Have you never been lathered before?”

“No, never. Nor do I hope to ever be again.” She gave a laughing groan. “What did I say to you as you walked me back to my room?”

Gad, what hadn’t she said? She had practically poured her heart out to him because she was in so much agony over that rotter, Andrew Clement. “Nothing terrible.”

“But I was quite chatty, wasn’t I? Oh, heavens.” She sank into the chair he’d pulled out for her and groaned again. “Was I horribly inappropriate?”

“You said nothing embarrassing, if that’s what you are worried about.” James motioned to one of the maids and ordered a pot of tea and honey for her. “The honey will help coat your stomach. I’ll prepare a breakfast plate for you. What would you like?”

She glanced up in surprise. “You would take care of me?”

“Yes, of course. Why not?”

Blessed saints, for the rest of our lives if only you will let me.

But he knew Gwendolyn was not ready to take that big step yet. However, he held out hope that she was inching toward it.

Her present agony was precisely because she felt ready to move on. Her drunken babbling gave James hope that she might move on with him.

The maid immediately brought over a pot of tea and the requested honey, so James poured Gwendolyn a cup and prepared it with the care of a doctor attending to his patient. “I think maybe a soft-boiled egg and a scone will do for you.”

“Yes, sounds like the perfect remedy for a pounding head and a roiling stomach, although my stomach is feeling much better today.”

“Just not fully resolved yet?”

She nodded and gave her belly a light pat. “Still a little delicate.”

He returned with her breakfast plate and sank down in the chair beside hers, quietly studying her as she took a tentative bite of her scone.

She looked quite pretty despite being out of sorts. Her hair was drawn back in a simple chignon at her nape that brought out the delicacy of her features. Her aquamarine eyes looked surprisingly clear. No doubt she had fallen asleep quickly and managed a full night’s rest. She wore a travel gown of dark forest green that somehow brought out the splendid sea-green and ocean-blue shades of her eyes.

Spectacular eyes.

“James,” she said with trepidation, drawing him out of his thoughts, “I don’t remember undressing myself, and…ah, Agatha claims she did not undress me.”

“And you think I did?”