Page 64 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

“If he wishes to see me?”

“Yes, Gwen. Do not assume he is as eager to resume your acquaintance as—”

“Our acquaintance? James, he and I were betrothed…are betrothed.”

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. Perhaps he will make himself known to you, if it really was Clement that you saw.”

James said nothing more as he led her away at a brisk pace. Obviously, he wished to get away from the café as fast as possible.

She could not blame him. Even she would admit her behavior could be viewed as odd.

“James, please slow down. I cannot keep up with your stride.”

After a moment, he slowed down and released a frustrated breath. “Sorry, but can you blame me for wanting to get away from that place?”

“No, I suppose not.”

He grunted. “Perhaps it is for the best to finally bring a resolution to the matter of your betrothal. It is long past time, Gwen. You have been betrothed to this man for ten years. There isn’t a court in England that would hold you to this marriage arrangement, especially not after what he has put you through. To be honest, I think I will punch him if he dares show up at Milbury Hill and declares he loves you.”

“Because you are jealous?”

“No, because he means to dupe you. Where in blazes has he been all these years? And not one word sent to you in all that time? Do not dare spout that rot about his being a Crown agent on an important secret mission.”

“But—”

“You will not sway me.” He abruptly stopped walking and turned to face her. “I’ve told you before, a man in love will move heaven and earth to be with his beloved. At the very least, send word. Or send an anonymous token. Something. Anything to ease her suffering and let her know he is alive and thinking of her. What has Andrew done other than leave you in the lurch? Do not make excuses for him. It will just get my blood boiling.”

“I’m not going to make excuses for him. I am quite angry, especially knowing he is alive and well, and in Brighton of all places. Perhaps I might have softened toward him had he walked in on crutches or limping. But he strode in looking as hearty as you or me. I have a right to know what happened and why he did not come back to me when the war ended.”

James merely stared at her.

“I do have the right to know,” she insisted, feeling the pain of Andrew’s loss as acutely as she had all those years ago. “And now is the time to solve the mystery of his disappearance. This must end. One way or another.”

They said little else to each other as they walked along the seafront promenade.

The sun had now dipped behind darkening clouds that were, in Gwendolyn’s mind, a reflection of the turmoil and disquiet she was now feeling.

James looked equally upended, his expression still dark and thunderous. She could see the tension in the tight clench of his jaw.

This was her fault. They had been having a most enjoyable time together, and she had ruined everything. Still, she did not want anger simmering between them.

“I’ve spoiled our lovely day,” she said.

“No, Gwen. The ghost of Andrew Clement has done that.”

“His ghost? You think I am merely resurrecting him in my imagination? But I know what I saw. I am not mad, nor is my mind playing hysterical tricks on me. He is alive. He was at Marchand’s café.” She slowed her pace as they neared the bakery belonging to Agatha’s uncle. “You’ll scare Agatha if you maintain that scowl.”

“Ah, you wish me to smile and pretend all is well?”

“No, I don’t suppose I do. I always prefer honesty and would not like you to pretend that you are not feeling hurt.”

“I am angry, not hurt.”

“Your anger stems from my having wounded you. Well, probably left you feeling frustrated because you think I am never going to get over Andrew now.”

“Am I wrong?”

“I do not take what happened between us last night lightly, James. You gave me a beautiful kiss in the moonlight. Several kisses, in fact. That is something I have never experienced before. You’ve offered me everything I had always hoped to have with Andrew.”