Eighteen

Gwendolyn

1 December 1814

The wedding was a mere five days hence.

Though I had not seen Hunter since his visit the day Bently arrived, I found myself thinking of the man nearly every minute of the day, wondering why he had not returned for us to finish that very revealing conversation we started in the foyer.

And tonight, I dressed for a dinner invitation at the Bentlys'. One I no longer anticipated like I might have as recently as a week ago.

I could not deny that something shifted with Hunter the day he visited, something I still failed to fully identify. When we stood face to face with his hand tenderly clasped around my wrist, the intensity that tingled between us could not be denied and, even now as I think on it, my heart thumped twice as hard.

I had never felt anything like that with any man I faced, including Josiah.

I didn't dare allow myself to feed the notion that he might be attracted to me, but the way he touched my lips and shared those precious simple words on what he attempted to accomplish, I have thought of little else these last three days.

Who would have guessed his simple request involved wanting to see me smile?

Has it been so long that I have forgotten such a straightforward muscle movement? It wasn't like I never smiled before, for I have smiled with Julia, Davina, and Daphne, though I could not recall the last time I had offered the genuine gesture in society.

I dressed in my pale blue gown for dinner and, while Daphne continued to work her magic with my hair and presentation, I no longer wished to be displayed in such an encouraging way before anyone other than Hunter.

I nearly gasped at the thought.

How could I switch so easily from avoiding the gentleman at every possible turn to longing to see him?

And long I did.

These last few days were a whirlwind of nothingness. Precious little occupied my thoughts outside of my anticipation of his possible arrival. I waited, quite impatiently, hour upon hour in the drawing room and, though visitors of all kinds paid a call, none brought satisfaction to my restless soul like I knew Hunter's arrival would. Every clip-clop of a horse's hooves against the cobbles, every whinny and snort, every coachman's shout to halt, and every creak of the wheels coming to a stop nearly had me dashing, most unrefined, for the window. Then disappointment would cloud my eyes when the appearance of anyone but Hunter emerged.

"Your parents and aunt are waiting for you downstairs," Daphne's whisper brought me out of my woolgathering. She clasped a strand of pearls around my neck and smiled. "You are as lovely as always. The captain won't be able to take his eyes off you."

I frowned. The captain.

"What ails you, my lady? Did I offend?"

"No," I shook my head. "No, everything is fine." I moved to stand up, but she reached for my hand.

"You've always shared your secrets with me, Lady Gwendolyn, but not lately. Is there something amiss?"

I bit my bottom lip.

"Is it that dashing marquess you're to wed?"

My eyes flashed back to hers. Were my thoughts so transparent?

"Oh…" her eyes widened. "It is."

I pressed a hand to my cheek. "I'm conflicted, Daphne."

"What changed?" Her head tilted slightly to the side. "You were cursing the daylights out of the gentleman mere days ago and, to be sure, still plotting on how to avoid the wedding."

I nodded. "He, uh…" I groaned. How might I explain the shift without quite understanding it myself? "I don't know what to say other than I have reason to believe he is nothing like Josiah."

She clapped her hands together and giggled. "Isn't that good news, my lady?"

A slight smile formed. "Yes, I daresay it is." And a strange spark stirred within my chest as I met Mother, Father, and Aunt Meredith at the base of the grand staircase.

Thankfully, Mother's lively discussion in the carriage allowed for me to remain relatively quiet as I watched in earnestness the engaging sights of London as we passed by. From the newly installed gas light globes, the palatial homes of the ton , past the bowed windows of Lock & Co, and the exquisite portico of Harding, Howell & Co. And Mother carried on in the background. In the last two weeks as invitations and callers have increased to their pre-duel capacity, Mother's spirits have rejuvenated, and I relished in her joy. Despite my grumblings and vexation over the betrothal, I knew she loved me in her own unusual way and wanted me to find happiness. Though our definitions of happiness vastly differed.

"Gwendolyn?" My aunt, of course, noticed my silence. "Did you look over the menu for the wedding breakfast? Cook has simply outdone herself."

"I have no doubt," I agreed and smiled politely. In truth, I had paid less attention to the wedding details than I should have but knew that every single aspect was supervised. If not by my mother, Aunt Meredith surely managed the rest.

Mother waved her gloved hand. "Regardless of the date, it will surely be spoken of for the entirety of the Season."

"Thank you for keeping it small, Mother." I had not relented on this request. It had caused a handful of arguments in which Auntie had to mediate but, ultimately, we compromised. The guest list did not exceed seventy-five. If mother had her way, it would have easily tripled with guests traveling several days for the occasion.

She pursed her lips, apparently still wounded over her defeat. "Well, I cannot predict what we might face when all of these prominent families return to London to find out they missed the wedding of the most eligible lord and lady of the ton ."

"You surely do not believe that, Mother, or you would not have had the wedding until the peak of the Season."

Her mouth pinched into a tight circle. "As if you are unaware, Gwendolyn, Lord Devon is quite the catch, and I must advise you once more, do not take your eyes off of him, for there will be plenty of women ready to pounce when you do."

"Mother!" I tired of feeling like I bore full responsibility for Josiah's iniquitous behavior.

"Harriet," Father touched her arm. I wasn't even sure he had been listening. "Please do not suggest that Gwen is marrying a blackguard. Lord Devon is nothing of the sort. He will take very good care of our daughter, and do not fret one instance on whether he will make her happy." He reached over with his other hand for mine. I stared as if a complete stranger sat before me. "There is nothing to fear, love." He spoke his last sentence pointedly.

I stared, completely stunned and speechless. What had occurred to cause my father to be so inherently in tune? As far as I knew he had spent less time with my fiancé than I had.

Within minutes, we stopped before the Bentlys' pleasant looking Tudor on the west end of St. James. The black wrought iron gates appeared regal with their boundless rows of dormant rose bushes that lined the path to the front steps and an impeccably presented architecture of a sea captain. Prior to inheriting his cousin's barony, Captain Bently's father served in the Royal Navy. His death a year ago certainly must've accelerated William's return from the continent but, upon calling at our house, he still wore the uniform of an officer. I wondered if he had no intention of leaving His Majesty's armed forces and seeing to his duties as a baron.

When announced, we entered the parlor and were greeted by the flawlessly dressed gentlemanly side of Captain Bently. His perfectly tailored dark blue suit emphasized the stormy color of his eyes.

"Lord Langley," he bowed. "Ladies." He smiled directly at me. "You remember my mother, Baroness Clemmens." I curtsied. The light silver that threaded through her dark hair assured me she had aged since we last met. "And my sister, Miss Henrietta." At three years younger, she'd likely enter society soon and do quite well as the sister of both a captain and a baron.

Pleasantries were exchanged and it should not have surprised me to find that they placed me near the captain for the meal. Though my father would have been to his right in the proper order of things, he relinquished his role as host to his mother, who then seated my parents on each side of her.

"You look beautiful, Lady Gwendolyn," Bentley whispered after his footmen served the first course of tapioca soup. The enticing aroma of turnip, onion, and celery topped with crushed tapioca tickled my palette.

"Thank you." I nodded. "Your house is lovely, and I'm pleased to find you all doing so well. Thank you for the invitation." I took a sip of sherry. "While I know my father is grieving your father's absence, he enjoys the company of your entire family."

"And I, yours," he said with a hint of mystery.

I delved into the soup. Was this attentiveness new? Or had I overlooked such devotion in the past? By the time the main course had arrived, the captain had bestowed his fifth compliment.

"This roasted meat is delicious." I scrambled to think of something to say that didn't bring attention to my hair, gown, or complexion. "Is this a lemon herb on the asparagus, Captain?"

Bentley chuckled lightly. He may have seen through my poor attempt to divert. "You may call me William, Gwendolyn… like you did before I left."

I took a breath and remained silent.

"We received the invitation to your nuptials," he remarked with obvious hesitation.

When I risked a glance his way, I noted a singular tightening to his jaw. My brows furrowed. What troubled him so? "I'm pleased you received one. Mother was particular in her choices." I chuckled, though I remained entirely at fault for her limitations.

He leaned forward. "Might we take a turn in the parlor following supper? I need to speak with you."

I swallowed the lump in my throat before I nodded. While years ago, even weeks ago, this request would have sent shivers down my spine in the most delightful way, now they trailed my body in warning. With less than one week before my wedding what could he possibly need to say?

I ate slowly and said little else, though I answered questions from his mother and sister. William spoke exclusively to my parents for the rest of the meal while my mind reeled in anticipation of our pending conversation.

When the men returned to the parlor after enjoying their port, William strode toward me and sat down at my side on the sofa.

His mannerisms seemed a bit more agitated and nervous than before.

I placed my hand on his coat sleeve. "You wanted to speak with me?"

He stood and extended his arm for mine. The sitting room proved spacious enough for us to have a private conversation while still in the sight of the others, though I never had anything to fear before in William's presence.

"Gwendolyn," he began, taking a subtle breath. "I must say how perplexed I was upon my return to London to find you betrothed… again, and after such…" He seemed to search for the right word. "…Mistreatment."

Both touched and shocked by his concern, I found myself thunderstruck. We had not spoken at all since his departure for war four years ago. "I find I'm at a disadvantage, sir, I am surprised you have concerned yourself with my engagements at all."

He stopped and stared at me. "Did you not receive any of my correspondence?"

I blinked. "Any?" I paused in my attempt to recall anything of the sort. "I received nothing, William. Our parting in 1810 was merely two friends saying goodbye."

His eyes widened. "I—I find myself… if not for a better word… astounded."

I faced him. "What, pray tell, did you presume?"

"I believed that we had the beginnings of a friendship."

"Yes," I agreed.

"With potential for more."

I was grateful that his back faced my family with no risk of them hearing such a confession. My eyes narrowed. "You never offered me any indication you held an affection for me."

"Do you deny the flirtations?"

"No, of course not. I found you to be quite charming and fun. But you paid me no singular attention."

His hand warmly covered mine. At once, I felt reassured that the fabric of my glove provided a barrier between our skin. "I wrote you several times expressing how I wished to see you upon my return."

I nearly choked at this news.

"Then I learned a year ago, around the time of my father's passing, that you were betrothed to Josiah Matthews. Though I was occupied with my family's circumstances, I felt a need to inform you of what kind of man he was."

My cheeks warmed. It seemed everyone knew what kind of man he was before I did. "I never received any letters."

He shook his head. "Why would they have been kept from you?"

I glanced briefly past him and toward my parents. Which one would have had the greatest motive for such a feat? Mother might have believed becoming a baroness was beneath me. My father… suddenly, he met my eyes and instantly I knew.

But why?

I gazed back at William and grappled with the conflict raging in my mind. This man I adored in my youth stood before me confessing to an affection for me… why did it bother me so?

"When I learned of Josiah's demise, I came as soon as I could only to find you then sold to his brother."

His use of the word sold caused an ache in my chest.

"I wasn't sold ," I whispered tightly.

William wiped his forehead as if it were coated with sweat, but he appeared cool and calm. "Forgive me, I should not have used so cruel a word, but is it not a form of bondage when a woman is given away in exchange for means? And to a family incapable of valuing her?"

My breathing accelerated and my heart pounded. "I find this conversation tremendously unpleasant. How can you claim in one breath to have affection for me, but in the next you cause injury?" I released my arm from his, but he stood in a way that prevented my retreat.

"Gwendol—"

"Lady Gwendolyn," I snapped.

"Forgive me, Lady Gwendolyn." He lowered his eyes and appeared truly repentant. "I only felt I needed to speak my mind before your wedding. I hoped in some small way you might have felt similarly for me, and I wanted you to know…" He paused and found my eyes again. "Well… I will be there for you, if…" He pursed his lips and swallowed. "If you desire moments with someone who is truly fond of you."

I wrinkled my nose. "I beg your pardon? I'm to be married soon."

He shifted his stance and grumbled, "I am quite aware."

I didn't hide my surprise.

He took a step forward and lowered his voice. "I only wanted to assure you that, even after your marriage, if you came to me… if you found yourself lonely, I would not turn you away."

My mouth parted and a slight gasp escaped my lips. Bently had just propositioned me, offering to be my lover through what he believes will be a loveless marriage. Though not unheard of, proven by my own fiancé's dalliance with the married Lady Braxton, the notion made me ill.

"Forgive me, Captain." I bowed my head and took a step backward. "I feel I am unwell and must notify my family. Thank you for your… candor."

As I turned to leave, he grabbed my hand and held on for another moment. "Promise me you'll think about it, Lady Gwendolyn. I can't watch you suffer."

My jaw tightened as a whole series of curse words passed through my mind. Thankfully, I didn't liberate them and shook free of his hold.

"Father," I called for him, fighting a glare. He shifted nervously. "I feel poorly, might we please return home?" He nodded and rose to his feet without question, but Mother spoke out.

"Gwendolyn, dear, whatever is the matter? The night is young."

Aunt Meredith came to my side. She was ever aware. Touching my cheek, she exclaimed, "She is pale and cold. Let us get her home so she can rest. She must recover before the wedding."

Everyone said their goodbyes, though mine were more tightlipped. I couldn't fathom in all my years of acquaintance with William Bently that he would have proposed such a thing. I was mortified that he would even believe that I could consider taking on a lover. He may have known of some of Josiah's indiscretions, but he certainly didn't know how painfully they affected me. I abhorred infidelity and would never consider partaking myself… even if I must face a loveless marriage.

Later that night, I found Father by himself in the study. He held a tumbler filled with whiskey but did not drink. His thoughts seemed to be elsewhere.

When I entered, he did not seem surprised to see me. "I wondered how long it might take you to come. How are you feeling?"

"Better." I felt significantly better the moment I stepped away from the Bently home.

He gestured to one of his wingback chairs that faced his desk. "I imagine you have questions."

I nodded and took the offered seat.

He began, "William sent his first letter several months after he departed. He had not asked my permission and it would have been gossiped about had the servants spread word that a military man wrote to you."

"We were friends, Father. We spent many summers together at their home in Eastbourne, as did they at Fallswood. Would it have been so terrible?"

He seemed to weigh my question for several seconds within his own mind before he asked, "Did you love him?"

"No." I shifted uneasily in my chair. I had never had such a raw conversation with my father. We never spoke of such things. "I do not deny I had affection for him, merely enamored with the man. I was young. And he was handsome and charming…"

"Much like Josiah, I presume," he muttered.

"Yes." It was easier to profess now. "I have been a fool several times over."

He tilted his head, curiously. "How, pray tell?"

I blew air slowly out of my cheeks and through my lips. "I naively believed I could capture the sole attention of a man who simply remained uncapturable."

Father placed his glass down and faced me, reaching for my hands. "Forgive me, Gwendolyn. Forgive me for all the wrongs I have pressed upon you."

"Father there is nothing to forgive. I always knew my duty required a marriage to a peer. I hoped it would be a man that cared for me, but the far greater good was that you never forced me to marry a cruel man."

"I could not do that to you, though I blame myself for a great deal of your heartache."

"Did you read William's letters?"

He nodded.

"Do you still have them?"

He shook his head. "I burned them."

In light of what he said to me tonight, I wondered of their content. "Was he offensive?"

"No, no not at all. Just friendly. Quite friendly. I knew that he would seek you out upon his return. If he returned."

"And why would that have been so dreadful?"

"A captain, Gwendolyn? A baron? You were always raised for more."

My face heated and the words "sold" from the captain's conversation surfaced. "Despite Josiah's lofty title, did you know the extent of his indiscretions?"

He didn't answer for several minutes. "I first learned of it in Bently's letters, then discovered more on my own."

He appeared profoundly ashamed.

"I should have protected you, Gwen. You're my only child."

I didn't pause before I fired off another question. "Yet you didn't hesitate one moment when the offer came for his brother to replace him, not even knowing what kind of man he was."

He averted his eyes back to his glass. I knew he wanted to swallow the whole of it and pretend this question never surfaced.

"I misjudged Josiah." He looked up at me and the pain in his eyes transformed into something else. "But I am not wrong about Hunter. He will be good to you."

I arched a single brow. "And how did you come to this sound conclusion?"

He shifted again.

"Father, you know something." I crossed my arms over my chest. "Tell me," I demanded. "I believe you owe it to me to be honest and forthright."

This time he reached for his drink and took several long gulps. Then shook his head. "I'm not at liberty to say."

My heart thumped twice as hard. What does he know and refuses to disclose? A sting surfaced behind my eyes, and I blinked repeatedly to keep the tears from emerging.

He brought me to my feet and to his chest. I could not recall the last time I had ever felt my father's arms securely around me and, now that they were, I wished to never leave.

"Despite that dreadful nickname, Gwendolyn, I know your heart to be fully capable of love. I have witnessed it with your friends, your painting, and regardless of our ignorance… with your mother and me." He brushed my cheek. "Allow yourself to be loved. I cannot imagine a more deserving person."

That night when I lay in bed, I could not seem to unravel the chaos inside my mind. From William's proposition, to Hunter, to my father's warm embrace and wise words, a dizziness prevailed.

While I took hope in the idea that the wedding was a proper place to begin anew, Hunter and I were virtual strangers, and if his father's words were to be hearkened, how does one become the opposite of strangers while living apart?