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Seventeen

“The roots of education are bitter, but the fruit is sweet.”

Aristotle

Aidan was still pacing mentally, desperate for an idea—any idea—that might convince Gwen of the depth of his regard. His thoughts remained a tangle, the fragments of half-formed plans refusing to coalesce. When Jenson entered the room to announce that the wives of the guests had arrived for dinner, Aidan nearly groaned aloud.

Another interruption. Another moment stolen from his already slipping grip on the problem.

The gentlemen moved to the smaller drawing room, where his sister, cousin, mother, and the Duchess of Halmesbury had gathered. The atmosphere was lively. Gowns rustled, laughter floated, and in the center of it all stood Lily hopping with anticipation, something odd clutched in her hands.

The moment her gaze caught his, she darted toward him with barely restrained glee.

“Aidan! I brought something for you,” she declared triumphantly. “Annabel found it in her attic. It took us the longest time to uncover. There was a whole crate of them, but we only brought the one. We thought it might help.”

Aidan stared at the strange object she held aloft, temporarily silenced by both her excitement and the peculiar contraption in her hands. “What is it?”

With great ceremony, Lily held it up and twisted her hands to reveal that the object expanded, telescoping into a paper sphere, light and intricate.

“It is a Chinese lantern,” she explained with pride. “Annabel had them strung across the garden for a ball a few months past. Look!” She spun it slowly, the delicate paper catching the lamplight. “We thought it would be just the thing to show Gwen that you love her.”

She paused then, frowning thoughtfully at the paper decoration. Her head tilted, her expression sharpening. “You do love her, do you not? That is the reason we are all here?”

Aidan could not help smiling despite the clamor in his head. He lifted a hand to gently tap her chin in that familiar brotherly gesture. Lily’s thoughts often tumbled out faster than most people could follow, but Aidan had learned long ago to listen for the truth buried within her words.

“Of course I do,” he said, his voice firm, the certainty finally taking shape in his chest.

Lily beamed. “I knew it! It was plain as day at the wedding. You claimed it was all a matter of honor and doing what was right and all that, but I told Brendan then … You wore the expression of a man in love. I watched you closely. You flinched, just a little, when Gwen hesitated during her vows.”

Aidan glanced around and realized every eye in the room was fixed on him. The heat crept up his neck. Blast it all! How did he find himself laying bare his soul in rooms full of people? Men and women both! Even his mother, and Gwen’s father, were present, watching with undisguised interest.

“I do love her,” he said at last, voice low but steady. “It will not be easy to convince her of that, which is why I asked for everyone’s help.”

Lily bounced on her toes, eyes alight, and caught his arm. “This is so exciting! What do you think? Do you see it now … what it could be?”

She lifted the lantern again, stretching to her full height, though she barely reached his chest. The delicate sphere spun gently in her grasp, casting shifting patterns of light across the walls. Aidan tilted his head, studying it. Slowly, a glimmer of possibility took hold.

He looked again at the lantern, truly looked, and began to understand Lily’s excitement.

Around the room, everyone was still watching, breath held as though waiting for a pronouncement. His cousin Sophia stood with her husband’s arm around her, chewing her lower lip. The Duchess of Halmesbury nibbled on a fingernail while her towering husband stood beside her, his expression unreadable but warm.

His mother stood at the back, her handkerchief delicately pressed to her lashes, as though she were already overcome. Lord Moreland remained by her side, posture formal but eyes softened with something Aidan could not name. At the door, Filminster and Mr. Smythe stood shoulder to shoulder, the latter grinning broadly, his eyes tracking the swaying of the lantern as though he, too, saw its potential.

Aidan straightened, his chest expanding with sudden certainty. A grin spread across his face.

“It is absolutely perfect,” he said.

Gwen’s stomach gave a most unladylike growl, and she clapped a hand over it, scowling. “Why is the maid taking so long with my dinner tray? It is dreadfully late already.”

Octavia, who was methodically preparing the bed for the night, turned back with a shrug. “I ate hours ago.”

“That is hardly helpful.”

The lady’s maid stifled a laugh behind her hand. “It was helpful to me.”

Gwen pulled a face. If the tray did not arrive soon, she would be forced to leave the sanctuary of her room, and she could not bear the risk of encountering her husband. Not yet. Skipping a meal would only leave her wretched and irritable come morning, and she was set to endure a night of troubled sleep.

Every time her thoughts drifted to the confrontation in her father’s study, her heart gave a sharp twist, and her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed. No. She would not think about it. She would not break again tonight.