Page 91 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

Chapter Seventeen

James masked his disappointment as he walked down to the beach with Jordan and Robert. The boys were confused about Gwendolyn’s not joining them, but he did not want to let on what had happened to throw their plans into disarray.

“But Papa,” Robert said, “she wanted to join us. She was eager for her first swimming lesson.”

“Yes, I know. However, she is still tired. Waiting up for Clement took a lot out of her.”

“Will she join us tomorrow?” Jordan prodded.

“I don’t know. That is entirely up to Gwendolyn.” This was the only honest answer James could provide his sons without giving more away. He was in no frame of mind to deal with questions that required detailed explanations.

Jordan nipped at his heels like an eager pup as they marched down the beach stairs all in a row. “Papa, you didn’t say something to anger or offend her, did you?”

“No, Jordan. I did not.” James set out their blanket, sank onto it to pull off his boots, and then shrugged out of his shirt while his sons did the same.

He could see they were still eager to press him for answers, so he wasted no time in diving into the water to avoid talking. He began to swim parallel to the beach, his strokes long and powerful so that his sons could not keep up.

There was nothing he could say to them about Gwendolyn that would allay their concerns.

After one turn across the cove, he looked over to his boys, who had not gone in yet and were at the water’s edge watching him. Robert looked about to cry.

James held out his arms to his sons. “Who’s going to swim with me?”

Of course, both boys dove in to join him.

They had only been in the water about half an hour playing their usual games when Fiona rowed over from her side of the beach. “I’ve just heard the news!”

Blast. How in blazes had she learned of Clement’s letter so fast?

Perhaps Agatha or one of his own servants had shot through the woods to advise her. Likely Agatha, but Harting must have heard Gwen going on about the letter while they stood at the study door.

Not that it mattered who had told Fiona. He was concerned she was now going to interfere and make things worse.

“What news?” Jordan asked, his ears immediately perking.

“Nothing,” James growled. “Go home, Fiona. Stop meddling.”

“I will not. We need to prepare a battle plan.”

“Why must we prepare a battle plan, Papa?” Robert asked, his eyes rounding in alarm.

James gave his son a comforting pat on the shoulder. “We needn’t. Fiona is merely worrying over nothing.”

“It is not nothing. Is he here yet? Have you left her alone with him?” She frowned as she stared at him. “You mustn’t let him anywhere near her.”

“Who, Papa?” Robert was becoming overset. “Is Gwendolyn in any danger? We must protect her.”

James took his son into his arms. “She’s in no danger. Do you think I would ever allow anything bad to happen to her? She’s expecting the visit of a friend this evening, that’s all.”

Fiona snorted in disgust. “He isn’t a friend, he’s a louse. The man is underhanded, self-absorbed, thinks he can just stroll in here and resume their betrothal after ten years of neglect. What if Gwendolyn falls for his lies?”

“She won’t,” James shot back, and then sighed. “I hope she won’t. But it is her decision to make, isn’t it?”

“You mean her mistake to make, which she might do if you leave her to face him on her own.” Fiona rowed her boat to the shore and motioned for the boys to help pull it up onto the sand. “I’ll retrieve it tomorrow. Jordan, haul it securely onto the beach and away from the water.”

“I’ll help,” Rob said, and both boys eagerly did as she asked.

“Thank you, lads. Well done.” She cast James an impatient look. “You can keep out of this if you want, but I am going to talk sense into Gwendolyn.”