Page 92 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

He growled in frustration.

Fiona was giving him no choice but to follow her.

His sons were obviously on her side and already drawing on their shirts and boots. Realizing he could not toss Durham’s wife back in her rowboat and order her to row home, he stopped resisting. “Wait, Fiona. I’ll come with you.”

“Me too.” Robert scampered beside him and took his hand. “Papa, what is happening? Why is Duchess Fiona so angry about Gwendolyn’s friend visiting her?”

“He isn’t just a friend,” Jordan replied. “He’s the man Gwendolyn was supposed to marry. We mustn’t let her do it or we’ll lose her.”

Robert’s face turned ashen and he began to cry. “No! Why would she leave us? We love her.”

James handed Jordan their blanket and took his youngest into his arms. “She does love us, but that doesn’t mean she cannot love someone else too.”

“Yes, it does,” Rob declared, his voice muffled, since his face was buried against James’s chest. “She is ours.”

“No, son. We cannot force her to go against the wishes of her heart or she’ll be unhappy. We don’t want to see Gwen unhappy, do we?”

Tears fell upon the lad’s cheeks. “Doesn’t her heart wish for us?”

James was known for keeping calm under all circumstances, but he felt his composure slipping and shot a glower at Fiona for forcing this situation on them. He had intended to gently ease his sons into this possibility should the need arise.

“Let’s hope it does,” Jordan muttered. “Papa, you should have kissed her. Why did you never kiss her or tell her how much we loved her?”

Fiona arched an eyebrow, tossing him a questioning look.

He frowned back at her. “Gwen knows how we feel about her, Jordan. Trust me, she is well aware.”

Both of Fiona’s eyebrows shot up and a slow smile crossed her face. No doubt she realized what his words meant.

Yes, he had kissed her.

Yes, he had laid his soul bare to Gwendolyn.

And yes, he might have even seen her naked and pleasured her multiple times.

Gad. His eyeballs were in spasms just thinking of it.

Fiona was now beaming. “I knew you would not fail me, Milbury.”

“Stop it,” he said with a soft growl.

Agatha was on the terrace, wringing her hands as she waited for them to approach the house. “Oh, m’lord. I was just coming to find you. I did not know what to do. He’s here. That horrible man marched in as though he owned the place, and they went off in his rig!”

“What? When?” James and Fiona responded in unison.

“About ten minutes ago.”

Robert resumed crying. “She’s left us! Oh, Papa! What are we to do?”

“Did she take anything with her?” James asked, his mind racing as he tried to make a logical plan.

“Do you mean pack her clothes? Why, no,” Agatha replied. “She merely said they were going for a short ride so that they might speak privately.”

James let out a breath. “That sounds like something Gwendolyn would say.”

Fiona wasn’t in the least relieved. “He purposely showed up early, no doubt to throw us all off. What if that cur abducts her? I know the workings of his devious mind.”

James grunted. “I’ll say you do.”