Thirty-six

Gwendolyn

I awoke with a start.

This had happened on several occasions recently and my body shuddered to the movement. Had I been dreaming? Though most of my nightly visions recently were filled with angst and unpleasantness, an amiable dream somehow transpired from my memory and penetrated the quiet darkness.

As I laid there, I recalled seeing Hunter's face. His mischievous half smile and quizzical brow. Both, true characteristics of him alone. Then the rest of the dream gradually pieced together. We tarried at Lesnes Abbey, and he held my hand as we meandered through the budding trees and flowers as if it were springtime. The serenity of its ambiance must be the reason I felt so calm. Would there ever be a time that I might feel how I did that first time—so at peace?

Glancing at the hearth, my fire simmered down, but I threw the covers aside regardless. The layers of bedding had provided comfort when I went to bed, but now they felt stifling. Sitting up, I slid my feet to the floor. Though I didn't fear the darkness, it made me shiver, but not necessarily from the chill. I felt… lonely .

Discouragement eased into each of my limbs. Would I have preferred to wake to a dreadful nightmare or a dream that I longed for so much that my body suffered? Above all, I wished these last five days could be reversed. I wished to return to when Hunter smiled, winked, and flirted with me.

Peering around, I noted that the silhouette of my easel and most recent painting appeared in the corner. Daphne removed the shattered glass after I left to see Hunter's parents. Then my eyes beheld my trunks, closed and secured, and their presence reminded me of the journey Daphne and I were to make in a few short hours.

I appreciated His Grace's acquiescence to allow us to reside at the country estate, and despite the duchess' insistence to wait until Hunter returned, I felt certain I could think more clearly away from London.

But why did I still have a thread of uncertainty gnawing at me?

Reaching for my nightrail draped over the end of my bed, I put it on and lit a single candle.

Placating my restlessness stood but a staircase away. Cook's fairy cakes. Though they paled in comparison to what I truly desired, they would bring forth a slight distraction to my discouragement.

I crept toward the chamber door and endeavored to unlatch it without waking Daphne, who slept in the adjacent room. She hardly left my side the entirety of the evening and deserved a restful night. The moment I cracked the door open, something heavy pressed against it, causing me to lose my grip, and the door flung open. A man's form fell inward. I screamed. Then I screamed again when he scrambled to his feet.

Fragments of recognition flashed before me—broad shoulders, long hair, brown eyes.

Hunter?

I clambered back to the bed and flung the covers over me. Somewhere along the way, I dropped my lit candle. As I peeked over the edge of my coverlet, I spied it. Oh, there it is.

Hunter vigorously stamped out the tiny flame that ignited the rug.

Oops.

Before I could wrap my head around the sudden events, Daphne flung the connecting door open and held her own candle up with a trembling hand. When she caught sight of us, she froze in the door frame.

"Forgive me," Hunter held his hands up defensively. "I arrived late. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"What were you doing at my door?"

He took several steps forward, brushing off his trousers and adjusting his waistcoat that had wrinkled in the process. Though the only light in the room emitted from my dying fire in the hearth and the small flame from Daphne's candle, I didn't miss how both Hunter's hair and cravat hung loosely at his shoulders, and he appeared exhausted. "Henry said you are leaving for Cordon in the morning. I feared I might not see you before you left."

I nodded. Though he likely didn't see the subtle movement. I kept the covers at my chin so I could speak clearly, "And you sought to sleep on the floor outside my bedchamber?"

He studied his hands and whispered, "I missed you."

I bit my bottom lip as all sorts of chaos erupted in my chest.

When I didn't speak again, he circled back to where his coat remained on the floor and lifted it up, shaking it off. "Pardon me for the intrusion, Gwendolyn. It wasn't intended. I will leave you be." He tucked his hair behind his ears. "We can speak in the morning, but please don't depart until we do." Bowing his head, he stepped out the door and closed it securely behind him.

I stared at the closed door and blinked once, then twice. What just happened? Peering over at Daphne, she appeared as shocked as I was.

"I'm sorry, my lady, I didn't know he had arrived."

I glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle. Though its exquisiteness remained shrouded in the darkness, the black hands on the white face nearly glowed. 3:45 am . "I would venture to guess nobody knew."

She took several steps forward. "Would you like something from the kitchen? Tea? Chocolate?" She offered a significant pause before her final word. "Ice?"

I half chuckled at that last suggestion. She must've seen the heat in my cheeks flare up with Hunter inside my bedchamber. Though from his expression and genuine apologies, it was apparent he never intended on frightening me.

Was it scandalous that a part of me wished his entry was intentional?

I had long imagined his arms enveloping me, and my body snuggling against his chest only to drift asleep and awaken in the morning in that very same position.

"Ugh." I wiped the thin layer of perspiration that surfaced on my forehead in the short time I'd been awake and stepped out of bed once more. Walking toward the window, I pulled the drapes aside and scanned the grounds. The night appeared calm and very little remained of the snow, then suddenly his words sank in. I missed you .

Could those truly be the words of a man who just left a pregnant lover and travelled several hours back to London to quarter at my bedchamber door, fearing I might leave without seeing him?

Then the doubts slithered in, and my temper flared. How could a man be so dratted charming and so maddening at the same time? Had he believed I would just forget about the deception because he confessed that he missed me? What about his refusal to confide in me? Or his inability to trust me? What if he still intends to be a part of the child's life, or worse… still has affection for this mystery woman? Did I have the strength to endure that?

I glanced over at Daphne who remained completely still as I waged the internal battle within my head. "Go back to sleep, Daphne. I'm fine." I tied the sash of my nightrail tighter around my waist.

"Where are you going?" she asked tentatively.

"I need to have a word with Hunter."

She nodded. "Do you want me to wait up for you?"

I knew by the way she asked this that she feared the conversation might be difficult for me. Certainly, it carried a genuine risk. Hunter could tell me all the things I feared.

Taking a deep inhale, I answered, "No, thank you, go ahead and go back to sleep."

She handed me her single candle, then turned and closed the door between our rooms.

I stood in the shadows of the dim light for several more seconds as a hundred questions assaulted my mind.

Did I have the strength to hear him profess his secret? Did I have a choice? Was I prepared to hear his confession and still tell him that I loved him?

Then the words rolled off my tongue like a gentle wave of the sea—soothing and calm.

"I love Hunter Matthews."

And that means I love him through the taxing times too. The binding words of the archpriest at our wedding suddenly filled my thoughts… " Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honor, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

My chest physically ached for him. My body yearned to be held by him.

I raised my chin, fortifying my strength, and grasped the latch on the door. Regardless of what awaited me, I could not deny that in the short time I'd known Hunter, he owned my heart.

And he was worth fighting for.