Page 7 of A Match Made On Duchess Square

Suzanna laughed. “Oh, thank you. My husband is far too busy right now. Nor can I leave him. He is putting in a new pump system in one of his warehouses and requires my assistance.”

“Suzanna is brilliant when it comes to engineering matters,” Gwendolyn explained. “Her husband adores her and thinks she is the smartest person alive. I used to think so, too. Until she sided with you just now.”

Milbury chuckled. “Concede, Gwendolyn. You’ve lost this battle.”

Suzanna gave her a hug. “Oh, Gwen. Yes, do. Why should you not enjoy a little time at the seashore? When did you turn into such a joyless grump? You haven’t been out of London for years. Knowing your situation, I think this change of scenery will do you good.” She turned once again to Lord Milbury. “It is a brilliant idea. Do not permit my cousin to wriggle out of this arrangement.”

Having turned traitor, she now bussed Gwendolyn’s cheek. “See you tonight for supper. Lord Milbury, you and your sons are most welcome to join us. It’s to be a small party of neighbors, sort of a bon voyage supper for our dear friend Miranda and her husband, the Duke of Solway, who are returning to Scotland shortly.”

Milbury smiled. “I am well acquainted with Solway. I’d be delighted to attend, but I think I will leave my boys at home with my housekeeper. They are not fit to be let out of their cages just yet.”

Gwendolyn laughed softly and shook her head. “They are the sweetest boys and always a pleasure. They’ll—”

“Papa! Papa!” Robert tore into the parlor, his jacket off, shirt untucked, and face flushed. “Jordan fell out of a tree! I think his arm is broken!”

“Of all the…” Milbury ran out to the garden followed by Gwendolyn, Suzanna, and a tearful Robert.

Suzanna, who seemed to know all about this sort of thing, no doubt because of her mechanical inclinations, assured them that Jordan had merely sprained his wrist. “Of course, you ought to take him to Dr. Farthingale’s infirmary, just to be cautious. There might be a fracture that I haven’t detected. He’s our doctor and the finest—”

“He is ours, too,” Milbury said, helping Jordan to his feet with fatherly concern. Jordan seemed able to move his arm and generally stand and even walk on his own, but still appeared dazed. This was most concerning, for he might have hit his head in the fall.

“Let Robert stay with me,” Gwendolyn suggested, for the lad was quite overset by the sight of his brother injured and would be a distraction for Milbury, who needed to be free to concentrate on his eldest son and heir.

“Thank you,” Milbury said, obviously approving of the idea. “Yes, it is much appreciated.” He then turned to his youngest. “Rob, I’ll come back for you as soon as Dr. Farthingale finishes tending to your brother. Will you promise to be on your best behavior with Lady Gwendolyn?”

“But I want to go with you, Papa,” the lad whimpered.

“No, son. I cannot be worrying about both of you just now. Let me take care of Jordan.”

The boy was clearly scared and wished to be with his father and brother. “No, Papa,” he pleaded, grabbing Milbury’s jacket to keep him from walking away. “I’ll behave. I promise. I just… I can hold Jordan’s hand while the doctor treats him. I must! Don’t separate us!”

There was so much love among this family, Gwendolyn realized. The poor lad, having lost his mother at a tender age, was obviously fearing the loss of his brother next. This had to be so difficult for him.

“I’ll come with you,” she said. “Is that all right, Lord Milbury? Robert and I will sit quietly in the doctor’s waiting room and not distract you.”

“I promise,” the boy said with tears streaming down his ruddy cheeks.

Milbury’s expression turned pained, but he nodded.

Gwendolyn turned to Suzanna. “I may not make it back in time for supper.”

“Not to worry, there’ll be food aplenty should you decide to come late. Or I’ll bring some over to you even if you return at midnight.” She hugged Gwendolyn again, and then ruffled Robert’s hair. “Your brother will look quite handsome with his arm in a sling. The ladies love a wounded hero and will shamelessly flutter around him.”

That made both boys smile.

Milbury helped his eldest into the barouche, then ordered the younger boy in next. “Not next to your brother. I’m sitting there.” He helped Gwendolyn in last, taking her hand in his and then placing his other at the small of her back to help her up.

A tingle shimmered through her in response to his light touch.

Goodness, why had that just happened?

She passed it off as a response to the turmoil of the past hour, first Lady Felicity’s screeching at her and then poor Jordan’s falling out of a tree.

But his touch had felt quite nice despite its brevity, gentle and also conveying confidence and protective caring for her. As though she were his to look after as much as his sons were.

She settled beside Robert and put her arm around him, because he seemed more upset at the moment than his injured brother.

Jordan, no doubt experiencing much pain, closed his eyes and rested his head against Milbury’s broad shoulder as the barouche wound its way along the busy London thoroughfares toward Dr. Farthingale’s infirmary.