Chapter 21

T he next few days were the best ones Gwendolyn had ever had.

Tom was just so nice to have around. It hadn’t occurred to her that she had been a little bit lonely until she was presented with the contrast of having him around. Considering the man she had spent the most time with was her brother she hadn’t imagined that a man could be so cheerful and good-tempered. Whether he was chatting amiably over the breakfast table or whistling while he mended her bee boles, he made every part of Gwen’s day more pleasant. He did more in three days to repair Aunt Agatha’s crumbling cottage than she had managed to do in six months. And he seemed to have a preternatural sense for when she was about to lift something heavy, because she would feel his warm hand on her shoulder and hear him murmur, “Gwen, bun, what are you doing?” before lifting it easily and carrying it wherever she needed it.

He managed to spend a few hours down at the forge. Word had spread that he was in town, and curious townsfolk found an excuse to stop by either the forge or the cottage to get a glimpse of the famous boxer and marvel that such an exalted personage was marrying their Miss Gwendolyn! Tom bore the gawking with good humor and gave boxing tips to the flocks of young men who came around asking for them.

At night, he seemed content to stay at the cottage with her, but on the evening her friends gathered for their weekly meeting of the Women’s Assistance League, he went with her to the Feathers Hotel and passed the time in the common room. When Gwen came downstairs, it was clear that he had befriended half the town. Men called out, begging him to stay, but he waved them off. “Why would I want to spend the evening with you, Drummond, when there’s fairer company to be had?” He punctuated this statement with a wink at Gwen, then proceeded to sing, cheerfully if out of tune, as they made their way home.

Gwen could scarcely believe her luck. Who would ever have guessed that an eminent figure like Tom would be so delighted by her quiet country life? She had a horrible foreboding that this impossibly potent happiness was nothing more than an illusion and that it would somehow come crashing down around her before the wedding. When had she ever had any luck, after all?

And yet, things continued smoothly and the next thing Gwen knew, it was the morning of their wedding. Tom had gone into the spare bedroom to dress while Mariah helped Gwen into her best gown, which was of apricot silk with long sleeves and a scooped neckline that she had to admit was flattering to her curvaceous figure. Gwendolyn found herself tearing up as Mariah gave a final tug at the ribbon she’d been weaving through Gwen’s hair. She would even look beautiful on her wedding day.

That was when the knock came at the door.

Mariah went to answer it. Gwen and Tom wandered into the front room at the same time. Tom looked handsome in a dark grey coat that had clearly been made to fit his broad shoulders.

He took her hand and kissed it, his eyes bright. “You look beautiful, bun.”

Gwen blushed as she smiled up at him. “And you look very handso?—”

She was cut off by a trilling voice from the front door. “Tom! There you are!”

Tom froze, and a look Gwen had never seen before, one of disgust, swept over his face. He glanced toward the door. “Gracie?” he asked, his scowl deepening. “What the devil are you doing here?”

There was a click of high-heeled shoes on the floorboards, and Gwendolyn lost her breath. The woman who strolled into the room was probably the most beautiful she had ever beheld. She was dressed for traveling but her hyacinth-blue coat and matching hat were immaculate. She had rosy cheeks, a flawless cream complexion, perfectly formed blonde ringlets, and poetic grey eyes. Her features were delicate, her wrists slender, and although she wore gloves, Gwen somehow knew that her hands were soft and white. This woman would never deign to do something so crass as kneading bread or harvesting honey.

“I came looking for you, of course.” The woman picked up the tiny wooden cup full of matches from atop the mantelpiece. It was shaped like a beehive and had been whittled for Gwen by little Timmy Michaelson who lived down the lane. She wrinkled her nose as she set it down. “From what they told me in town, it seems I arrived just in time.”

Tom’s face could have been carved from stone. “I have nothing to say to you. And it’s not a good time. Today is our wedding day.”

She laughed. “That is precisely what I was referring to! I’m here to stop you from making a terrible mistake.”

“The only mistake I ever made was taking up with you.” He reached down and took Gwen’s hand. “Come on. We don’t want to be late.”

The woman stepped brazenly into their path. “You have another choice, Tom. I was widowed two weeks ago.” She laughed, as if unable to believe her luck. “We can finally be together!”

Tom’s jaw remained stony. “The hell we can!”

Ignoring Gwendolyn, the woman seized Tom’s free hand. “That’s just it! We really can this time. I inherited Richard’s farm, you see. It brings in a fine income—eighteen hundred last year.”

Gwen’s skin went cold, because although she was regarded as something of an heiress, it was in a modest way after Maurice’s family had taken their share of her inheritance. Her income was only around half of the figure this woman had cited.

She also knew that the security that came with an income of eighteen hundred a year would appeal to Tom tremendously, as he was always so thrifty, always so concerned about the future.

She shook herself. Is this going to be it, Gwen? Are you going to just stand there and let this woman waltz in here and take away the man you love? Without even putting up a fight?

Gwendolyn lifted her chin. “I do not know who you are, but I must ask you to leave my house.”

At last, the woman deigned to look at her. She glanced Gwen up and down and a vindictive smile rose to her lips. “Allow me to educate you. I am Gracie Everett. Tom’s first love.”

The words struck Gwen like Tom’s famous punch, the Stinger. Because it wasn’t enough that this woman was incandescently beautiful and an heiress.

Oh, no. Tom had loved her.

He had never spoken a word about love to Gwen.

She dug her nails into the palm of her hand. She would not give up, not when her future happiness was at stake! “Well, I am the woman he is going to marry. If you will excuse us?—”

“ You ? Marry Tom Talbot ?” Gracie laughed wildly, as if this was the most amusing thing she had ever heard. She finally regained some semblance of calm, wiping her cheek with her gloved fingertips. “My dear, Tom could marry anyone . He could marry… well, someone like me. Why on earth would he marry the likes of you ?”

Gwen drew in a shaky breath, waiting for Tom to tell this woman to go to hell. For him to explain that Gwen was the one he wanted.

But he said nothing.

His arm had turned to iron beneath her fingers. Gwendolyn chanced a glance up at him. His jaw was clenched, and his brown eyes were filled with struggle.

Oh, God . He was considering it! He wanted to go with this woman, but he didn’t have the heart to tell Gwendolyn. He had enough decency to feel bad about the fact that his desertion would leave her ruined and that she would be shunned by everyone in the village.

She couldn’t let this happen. She needed him in her life!

And it occurred to her in a flash that he needed her, too.

“He has to stay here!” Gwen cried, her voice coming out shrill. “He has a ringing in his ears as a result of his many years of boxing. And my bees help him! Their buzzing covers the sound. He needs to stay here! He needs my bees! He?—”

Gracie laughed again, waving a hand in dismissal. “I can certainly afford a few hives of bees. I daresay I could make good money selling the honey.” She smiled up at Tom, and her beauty was almost breathtaking. “We’ll hire a beekeeper and have as many bees as you like.”

Gwen felt as if she might be ill. Because that was it. Gracie had removed the only reason Tom might have to stay with her.

A second later, Tom confirmed it. “Gwen,” he said, laying a hand on her forearm. “Why don’t you let me have a word with Gracie? Alone .”

Gwen nodded. So, he had made his choice, and it wasn’t her. It had been a foolish dream, to think that she could ever have married this man.

Gwen couldn’t have spoken even if there had been anything left to say, because her throat had seized up. Tom pressed her arm one more time, then let her go. Gwendolyn turned on her heel and walked out the back door into the garden, never once looking back.