Page 77 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

James led her downstairs, where the hackney and driver were waiting for them. They hopped in for the quick jaunt to Marchand’s café, which was packed with a bustling supper crowd.

“Return for us at ten o’clock,” he instructed the hackney driver.

“Aye, m’lord.” The man smiled as James dropped several coins in his hand.

The two seemed to exchange significant nods, but Gwendolyn gave this little thought. Her heart was in her throat, for they were about to enter this café that felt as dangerous as a lion’s lair.

Once they did enter, they were seated at the best table and served a delicious oyster stew. But her stomach was in knots and she ate almost none of it.

She and James lingered in the dining room until it neared closing time and they were the last patrons remaining.

Suddenly, the atmosphere changed. The mood was no longer festive but dangerous.

“James, perhaps we ought to leave now.”

“We’ll be all right,” he assured her.

“How? There’s no one around to protect us if we are set upon.”

“Do you think I would ever come here without taking precautions? That hackney driver is actually a former Bow Street Runner. He has been positioned nearby all the while, quietly keeping watch on the place and ready to summon the authorities if Marchand tries anything.” He withdrew his pocket watch and glanced at the time. “It’s just coming on ten o’clock. He’ll pull up in front of the café now to pick us up.”

“Will he wait for us if we do not walk out right away?”

“Yes, he’ll wait. And be ready to summon help, if necessary.”

She let out a breath of relief. “I would have botched this completely were I left on my own. It never occurred to me to do anything other than come here and hope Andrew would make an appearance.”

“I had need of this Bow Street man a few years ago on a delicate matter. I sent word to him yesterday detailing the situation. He’s actually been following us for most of the day.”

“That showed great foresight on your part.”

James shrugged. “I do not like to walk into a situation unprepared.”

They waited for an hour beyond closing, sitting quietly while Marchand’s staff cleaned up for the evening.

Andrew never showed up.

Gwendolyn felt more than mere disappointment.

Hurt. Anger. Betrayal.

In truth, she did not recall ever feeling as enraged as she did now. Why was Andrew playing these childish games with her? Not only childish but cruel. Did she not deserve better after all these years?

“Lord Milbury,” Marchand said, approaching the corner table where they had remained seated out of the way while his staff worked around them, “I do not control Mr. Clement. It is obvious he has chosen not to show up this evening. Please, I need to close now.”

“Very well. My apologies for inconveniencing you.” James rose and took Gwendolyn gently by the elbow to lead her out.

A gust of warm, moist air struck her as she stepped outside. The night had turned damp with the threat of rain.

James assisted her into their waiting hackney for the short ride to the inn.

However, just before climbing in himself, he asked the driver if he had noticed anything out of the ordinary or anyone lingering outside the café. “I kept a sharp eye out all the while you were inside, m’lord. Nothing dodgy going on. No one lingering about.”

“Sorry, Gwen,” James muttered, taking a seat beside her.

Gwendolyn felt her fury rising.

She was seething by the time they returned to the inn and marched up to their room. “How could he do this to me?”