Page 54 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

Jordan carried the blanket and sack of empty bottles that had once held the lemonade. Robert merely danced around his father and brother excitedly, looking very much like a garden imp with spiky hair and pointed ears.

Ridiculous tumble into the water and panic over her necklace aside, Gwendolyn could not ever recall spending a more pleasant afternoon or feeling so much at peace in those few hours on the beach.

She could have this forever if she dared put herself in contention as a match for Milbury, she knew. But this would require her to abandon Andrew.

Was she ready to do it?

Chapter Eleven

James stood alone on his terrace as the hour approached midnight, nursing a glass of brandy. He and Gwendolyn had enjoyed a light supper earlier with Fiona and her husband, Robert Durham, the Duke of Durham, most of it spent making house party plans that were now firmed because Fiona had come prepared with battle strategies to make any field general proud.

His irrepressible neighbor had given Gwen the names of two well-reputed bachelors, Lord Farley and Lord Hemming, to be added as party guests, as well as providing a small stack of written-out pages consisting of useful resources, such as the most honest local merchants from whom to order supplies and the best entertainers to engage throughout the house party.

Fiona had also mapped out schedules of activities for each day of the week. No detail was overlooked.

She handed the entire party folder to Gwendolyn.

“I told you I wasn’t needed,” Gwendolyn had teased him while they were standing at his front door waving to a departing Fiona and her husband. Indeed, Fiona had left them with little do to other than make the requisite purchases and engage the entertainers.

Well, they also needed to order the invitations and send them off as soon as possible, but he would take care of that tomorrow with Gwendolyn.

Before Fiona and Durham left, Fiona had also insisted on lending him three footmen and three maids to supplement his own roster of servants during the party. “Your staff and mine are related to each other because this is a small community and everyone knows everyone else,” she’d said. “They’ll be pleased to help you out.”

Gwendolyn had run upstairs to place these vital lists in safekeeping in her bedchamber. James thought she might simply retire now and remain in her room, but was pleased when she returned downstairs and joined him on the terrace.

“Fiona’s folders are tucked in the top drawer of my bureau, except for the merchant list, which is securely in my reticule. I did not want to forget it when the entire point of our visit to Brighton is to prepare for the party.”

“And get you a bathing costume, assuming this afternoon’s misadventure did not sour you on learning to swim.”

“Ah, yes. My swanlike splash into the water,” she said with a wince.

“I’m sure the fish were dazzled,” he teased.

She laughed. “I will do better next time, since I could not possibly do worse. But I am determined to learn. I think I’ll need at least two bathing costumes.”

“Good idea. My sons and I like to spend time on the beach, although we’ll be doing less of it once the guests arrive. I doubt most guests can swim, nor will the ladies want to stay out in the sun too long.”

“I enjoyed our day, even if I took an unexpected bath in your cove. Care to discuss which merchants we ought to visit first?”

“Now?” His heart beat a little faster as he studied Gwendolyn by the amber glow of torchlight.

She was such a pretty thing. Her bright eyes and cherry lips were a devastating combination.

“No, let’s save it for tomorrow’s ride to Brighton. We’ll have plenty of time to figure it out then. I guess this party is really going to happen.” Gwendolyn perched her elbows on the balustrade while looking out over the water and the ribbons of moonlight glistening upon it. “Oh, I think it must, or Fiona will never speak to either of us again,” she said with a trill of laughter. “She’s put an awful lot of work into her lists.”

“Yes, that much was obvious.”

The night was beginning to turn chilly, for there was a cool breeze blowing off the water.

He noticed Gwendolyn shiver. “Cold?”

She nodded. “Only a little. The temperature has gone down quite a bit since supper.”

“Yes, it often does at night because of the sea breezes. Makes for a comfortable sleep.” He removed his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Here, take this.” He had not thought to advise her to bring a wrap for herself. The gown she wore was one of those elegant silk gowns that would not keep a mouse warm. “Better?”

She nodded. “Thank you, Milbury.”

“Gad, Gwen. When are you going to stop calling me that and start calling me James?”