Page 3 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

James noticed she had set out hot cross buns, ginger cake, and maids of honor, three favorites of his boys, although they were growing by leaps and bounds and would likely devour anything placed before them that had the misfortune to move too slow.

“Yes, Lady Gwendolyn. I’d love a lemonade,” Robert said, casting her a loving glance. “And may I say what a pleasure it is to see you? You look quite lovely. Is that a new frock?”

The lad was laying it on a bit thick, wasn’t he?

James tossed him a look of caution.

But Gwendolyn did look lovely in her gown of rose silk that enhanced the light blush on her cheeks. He was pleased to see the color return to her face as Robert, in his own inimitable way, charmed her.

A soft laugh escaped her lips. She rolled her eyes at James, for she did enjoy his boys and seemed to have endless patience for them. “Thank you, Robert. Yes, it is new. How kind of you to notice.”

“I’ll have an ale,” Jordan said.

James gave him a light tap on the head. “Don’t be a smart mouth.”

Gwendolyn gave another lilting laugh. “Perhaps in another five years, Jordan. But I do admire your temerity in asking. Now, as for your father…”

James knew he was the problem and felt truly remorseful for this. After all, Gwendolyn had agreed to assist him in his wife hunt as a favor to her dear friend Fiona, now Duchess of Durham. She was not charging him a fee for her matchmaking endeavors, which only made him feel worse because she had been so generous with her time.

He hoped Felicity was the only marital prospect who had invaded Gwendolyn’s home and shrieked at her like a banshee. He dared not ask, for he already felt terrible about this incident and would feel worse if others had done the same.

He resolved to interrogate Biggs in a quiet moment to get his answer.

“I think,” Gwendolyn started, her lips pursed once again as she gave thought to his situation, “that we are failing in our quest because you are meeting these ladies here in London and not in your familiar surroundings.”

James accepted the cup of tea she now handed him. “What do you mean?”

“It is time for more drastic measures.”

“Such as?”

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, as though knowing he was not going to like her plan. “You will be leaving shortly for your Milbury Hill estate, will you not?”

He nodded.

“Fiona tells me it is quite lovely, a perfect place to host a summer house party.”

The boys cheered with enthusiasm and thought the idea brilliant.

“Yes! A party!” Jordan pumped his fist in the air and cast James a very grown-up look that made him wonder what his boys were learning in school.

More to the point, what had his sons been told about these infamous summer house parties? Did Jordan think he was old enough to sneak into a young lady’s bed? Well, any young lady would be an “older” woman for him because he was still a child of thirteen.

Dear Lord, not yet.

James shook his head emphatically. “I do not think it is a good idea to bring these marriage prospects into my home. Indeed, it would be quite a disaster.”

“Seriously? Why?” Gwendolyn regarded him incredulously. “How better to judge these ladies than there? One of them is to be mistress of Milbury Hill once you are married.” He must have looked aghast, because Gwendolyn began to laugh softly again. “Oh, horrors!” she said in a gently mocking manner. “What gentleman would wish his home to be invaded by a bevy of beautiful young ladies? The loveliest the ton has to offer. What an ordeal for you.”

The boys thought her hilarious. They cheered once more with irritating enthusiasm and voted yes for her idea.

“I have given this considerable thought,” she continued on a more serious note, “and it is obvious to me what your stumbling block has been.”

“I haven’t been stumbling.” The problem was that James knew his mind too well, and for this reason had dismissed most of Gwendolyn’s candidates within minutes of meeting them. His mistake was in giving Felicity Merriweather a second and third look when he ought to have written her off after his first visit.

Felicity was a clever woman, but in a manipulative way. He’d sensed a falseness in her that took three meetings to draw out. This had been his faux pas, giving her three chances when he ought to have moved on after their first encounter.

He shook out of the thought, since Gwendolyn appeared to have more to say about this house party idea. He listened despite loathing the possibility of his country estate being overrun by strangers. “Milbury, I know you maintain several residences, but you must see how your prospective bride adapts to you and the boys in the place you consider your true home.”