Sixteen

Gwendolyn

30 November 1814

I had not quite wrapped my head around the events of last night. I knew, however, that a significant part of me felt disappointed that Lord Devon had not returned to the ball and now I attempted to dissect that feeling. I had been avoiding the man at every point since we met, then suddenly I yearned to see him?

What had changed?

If Julia was to believed, his defense of me to those men made all the difference. It wasn't like I hadn't heard those comments before. In truth, I heard them so often I could repeat them myself. Once, Josiah himself had heard them but, instead of defending me, he joined in the laughter.

Hunter did not. And that was what changed.

Now, suddenly the idea that I could be friends with my husband materialized out of nowhere. That perhaps we could laugh with one another, enjoy each other's company, and spend our days watching our child grow up in comfort and peace? That he may never know his mother had been called an Ice Princess? Was that even possible?

I finished putting the final touches on my recent painting—a cerulean-blue butterfly amidst a field of wild primrose. The staggering contrast between the blue and yellow colors took my breath away. I set my paintbrush down and picked up Julia's poem once more. The emotion and detail that she put into her words formed a masterpiece of its own. I often threatened if she didn't seek to publish a book of her treasures, I might be tempted to submit one for her… anonymously, of course.

I reread the poem for the hundredth time since I received it. And for some reason, those same words evolved into a different image from yesterday to today.

I sense a pull, a rising urge to dare,

To push beyond and seek a prayer,

To break the earth, I self declare.

Though roots of fear may whisper in the night,

Of dangers lurking, but flee in light,

My will is strong, my spirit takes flight.

Oh, little soul in darkness feeling numb,

Take heart from me and let your spirit hum,

For even here in shadows life can come.

"You have a caller, my lady." Appearing in the doorway, Daphne's voice pulled me from my thoughts. I had been working for hours and had yet to leave the comfort of my bedchamber, spending far too much time in my head. And if it weren't for this moving poem, I might not have finished my painting I had started a sennight ago.

I looked at her with strange anticipation. She shook her head. "I don't know who it is. A soldier."

"Soldier?" My voice caught in my throat.

"Your father and mother are with him now in the drawing room." She curtsied and departed. I held a palm to my warm cheeks. I knew very few soldiers. Hunter—though I'd never seen him in uniform. Mother said he sold his commission to become the heir—and Bently. The son of my father's dearest friend. He served in the war these last few years, but I had not seen or heard from him since my sixteenth year.

Yet, I recalled with perfect clarity that any young lady would find herself smitten by Lieutenant William Bently, he was a dream of a man.

I took my time descending the stairs, trying to calm my racing heart. When I entered the parlor, my eyes went directly to the man who stood upon my entry. He had changed little, though he wore the uniform of an officer and bowed deeply in my direction. "Lady Gwendolyn."

My name rolled off his lips and sailed across my skin like butter on a warm Chelsea bun.

"I am pleased to see you again," he added. His light-colored hair appeared darker in the shadows of the streaming sunlight and his blue eyes sparked with an unfamiliar intensity.

I curtsied and moved to join the party, swallowing a sizeable lump in my throat.

"Captain Bently will be spending the Season in London. Isn't that wonderful?" Mother asked innocently. She and father had no idea how I felt about the man years ago. The fleeting crush occurred before he went to war, but somehow some of those old feelings were inching their way back to the surface.

"You're a captain, now?" I inquired.

He nodded.

"That is splendid news, indeed," I squeaked out.

His eyes pierced mine.

"W—will your wife be joining you?" I added.

He smiled wide and my heart skipped a beat. "I am unmarried."

"Oh." Was all I could offer. Glancing past him and toward the window, the wheels of a carriage clattered to a stop at our front door. I could only see the top of the coach and not who approached. I prayed, straightaway, it was not a certain man. Though I had wished for his appearance all morning long, now was certainly not the right time for his arrival.

"Are you well, Lady Gwendolyn?" Bently asked, as my thoughts had drifted away.

I smiled softly, "Yes, I am, thank you. And how is your mother, Captain?"

"She is well but misses father greatly. She will be joining me in London shortly. We hoped to invite your family over to dine with us." He turned to my father. "It will not be the same without seeing my father beside you speaking of politics, but we would love to host you nonetheless."

"I'd be delighted to accept for us all," Father replied.

"And what of you Lady Gwendolyn, what has occupied your time these last few years?"

My lips parted to speak, though I struggled with my answer.

"Pardon me," Charles announced from the doorway. "The Marquess of Devon is here."

"Devon?" The captain stood to his feet as we all did. "I had heard…" he let his words fade. I cringed inwardly. He must not know the latest turn of events.

Hunter stepped through the door wearing a dark blue tailcoat, silver waistcoat and blue cravat. Was it possible he looked more dashing today than he did yesterday?

I subtly tilted my head in Bently's direction then whispered. "The newest marquess, Josiah's brother, Hunter."

Hunter's eyes found mine and the spark I had longed for appeared, then disappeared when his sight shifted to the soldier at my side.

"Gentlemen." He bowed. "And ladies, I apologize for the interruption, I did not know you were previously engaged."

"Oh, please, come and join us, Devon," Father waved his hand. "It is only Bently. His father and I go back many years. He and Gwen are friends."

Something I hadn't seen before in any man's eyes flashed before me. Jealousy perhaps? I couldn't be certain since I had never been the source of such a sentiment.

Hunter took a chair opposite us and asked politely how our day fared. The small talk continued while I silently schemed. I had more personal questions to ask.

"How did you enjoy the ball last night, Lord Devon?" I inquired, wanting to study his reaction.

He glanced at me and forced a simple grin as he answered. "It was… fine." I had come to know his genuine smiles, and this was not one of them. I sensed him holding back, though he continued, "I fear responsibilities called me away. I did not stay past the second hour."

The hour shortly after the brawl.

I wanted to speak up and say, ‘Yes I was quite aware of your absence' but feared it would appear far too brazen. Yet, the longer I dwelt on it, the more I justified. We were to be married soon, shouldn't I be able to speak openly? Changing my mind, I added, "Yes, I noticed." And in that instant, our eyes collided with an unusual curiosity.

"Are you the Hunter Matthews that worked in the Secretary at War office under Lord Palmerston?" Bently commandeered the conversation.

"Yes, sir."

"I thought I recognized your name. I served under Sir Thomas Graham. We have you and Captain Denning to thank for the intelligence we received on Marshal Jourdan and his troops near Vitoria."

Hunter nodded. "I am pleased you received the information in time."

"You prevented the deaths of hundreds of soldiers." Bently seemed truly honored to be acquainted with him. "In truth, my commander informed me that you personally broke the French officer. That he had no intention of giving up Jourdan's location until he spent an afternoon with you."

All eyes fell on Hunter. One might think the praise from this highly decorated officer would make him swell with superiority, but it seemed to do the exact opposite. He took an extra-long inhale and forced another false smile. "I'm grateful your men survived." He humbly nodded and I found the exchange unusual, but even more so was the feeling of pride I, myself, felt for my betrothed… my betrothed . The words wrapped around my heart and squeezed mercilessly.

Hunter then stood to his feet. "I apologize for my abrupt departure, but I promised to take my aunt and cousins on a ride along Rotten Row today. Enjoy the rest of your visit." He bowed and walked out.

My mouth parted in astonishment. Why did he come? He didn't bring a gift, extend an invitation, or truly converse with me. I felt vexation build as I quickly stood to my feet and nearly ran out of the room. I caught Hunter at the front door just as he placed his hat on his head.

"That's all?" I said as I approached. I didn't even know what to say, but that was the first thing that flew out of my mouth. My deuced temper had a mind of its own.

He faced me with the playful arch of his brow. "Pardon?"

I fisted my hands on my hips. "No random felines, dairy delicacies, or clever remarks?" I steadied my breath, realizing my behavior ventured far from that of a lady.

Hunter's lips now lifted in a half smile, and I grew even more agitated as my eyes fell to the simple curvature of those handsome lips.

"Gah" I threw my hands in the air and turned away to retreat.

A hand clasped gently around my wrist and whirled me back. Hunter now stood mere inches away. "Don't run away," he spoke with an irresistible gentleness in his voice. My heart began to thump as the air between us tingled. "Tell me why you're angry."

His eyes followed the contours of my face and, at some point, they settled on my lips. I shivered at the thought. Did I want him to kiss me?

I shook free of his hold. "You play these games, my lord but to what end?"

"To what end?" His brows furrowed and he took another step closer as if the proximity could accommodate such a move. "You truly don't know?"

I shook my head then crossed my arms across my waist protectively. What might I hear? Did he tease me for fun… for amusement?

He locked eyes with me once more. "To see you smile, my lady."

The answer nearly knocked the breath out of me.

"I have never seen you genuinely smile, Gwendolyn." The tenderness of this quest caused my heart to somersault in my chest.

He reached up and brushed his thumb slowly across my bottom lip. The caress ignited a volley of quivers that exploded down my body and out each limb. When he leaned forward, I stopped breathing.

"Gwen—" My father appeared in the doorway. "Oh, forgive me, Lord Devon, I thought you had departed. I only came to retrieve her to say goodbye to Bently."

"Yes," Hunter took a step back and suddenly I could breathe, not that I truly wanted to, mind you. "You should see to your friend. Good day, Lady Gwendolyn."

I watched Hunter leave but could not will my legs to move. When Bently arrived at my side, he reached for my hand and bowed over it. "I understand felicitations are in order."

A tautness appeared in his features that was absent before.

"Your parents just informed me of your betrothal."

I nodded, still unable to find my voice.

He leaned in close enough for me to smell his musky scent. "I hope you will find the happiness you seek." Then he walked to the door and placed his cap on his head before he stepped out.

The headiness of the moment felt smothering, and I needed instant air. Though the cold outside would not do well for my health, I bundled up anyway and stepped into the back garden where a light layer of snow dusted the empty trees and stone pathway. Even the bench I sought solitude on appeared shrouded in white. I brushed my gloved hand across it and sat down.

I had two childish fantasies in my young life. Bently and Josiah. Bently had shown little attention before today; and Josiah, while he teased and charmed in my presence, he caused all sorts of mayhem behind my back and, in the end, the heartbreak came from my own self-naivety. But suddenly, another competitor arrived on the scene. A man I had never expected to have any sort of affection toward, yet when he whirled me around to face him, something very tangible sparked between us. And I was almost certain, if I had met his lean, he would have kissed me.