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“It’s a blessing to have you home, Avery.”
His grandmother smiled at him over her teacup, her hands holding the china piece steady despite her advanced age. Teatime was outside this afternoon, beneath the shade trees. The peace and quiet alone had been as much a comfort to Avery as seeing Rosalind Winfield and Uncle Leo again. They had both been shocked when he’d shown up in a rented carriage yesterday.
“However”—Rosalind lifted an imperious eyebrow—“you aren’t here merely to see your grandmother and uncle, are you? Another reason has brought you back to Beechwood unannounced.”
Avery chuckled as he set his cup onto the table covered in crisp linen. His grandmother’s discernment and pointed looks, coupled with her unconditional love, had drawn out a great deal of private information from him during his boyhood and youth.
“You know me too well, Gran.” When she made no reply, he shifted nervously in his chair, his gaze wandering to the pond. His uncle had finished his tea and now sat beside a fishing pole. Very few people had ever seen this relaxed side to the duke. “Yes, there are other reasons I’m home. One of them is Uncle Leo.”
Sadness filled Rosalind’s brown eyes, the same shade as Avery’s, as she glanced at her oldest son. “He told you.”
“Right before he left London,” Avery answered. “I only wish he’d told me sooner.”
His grandmother regarded him with a kind expression. “He wanted to tell you, my boy, but you weren’t ready to hear it. I’m glad you finally were and that you came to spend some time with him too. It means a lot, though he likely won’t say it.”
Her gentle art of agreeing with his mistakes, while not making him feel judged or inferior, reminded Avery of Gwen. The ache that had taken up residence inside his chest since she’d bid him farewell surfaced again. “I’m also here because . . .” He pushed his next words from his mouth, knowing he needed to say them to someone. “I believe I’ve found the girl I love, Gran. The only trouble is, she told me goodbye.”
“Oh, Avery.” Her voice held unmistakable excitement and shared regret. “Who is she?”
“She’s from America. Her name is Gwen.”
Rosalind glared at him. “That’s all you have to say about the woman who finally captured your heart?”
“Very well.” He laughed again. “She’s extraordinary. As a child, she suffered an accident that left her with a permanent limp. But it hasn’t made her bitter at all. On the contrary, I’ve never met someone so compassionate or strong. Or so honest.” He sent his grandmother a playful look. “She reminds me a great deal of you, actually.”
Her nod of approval accompanied her warm smile. “I should like to meet this girl.”
“I told you, Gran, she wants nothing more to do with me.” Avery studied the crumbs on his plate, his grief at Gwen’s goodbye cutting anew. “She bravely confronted me about not risking my heart and about running away from myself and others . . . and she was right.”
Leaning forward, Rosalind extended her hand and rested it on top of Avery’s. “Did you tell her why?”
“Why I haven’t risked myself?” He shook his head. “I only discovered the answer myself a short time ago.”
Her thin, lined fingers squeezed his strong ones. “You fear becoming like your father.”
He lifted his head and stared at her in amazement. “How did you know?”
“I’ve sensed that worry in you since your father died.”
“Then you understand why I have to accept that Gwen is lost to me.”
Rosalind drew her hand back and straightened in her chair. “Fiddlesticks. Where is that intelligence and drive that earned you top marks at university?” She didn’t wait for him to reply. “When will you learn you aren’t your father, Avery? You are your own man, with your own set of strengths, talents, and weaknesses.” She waved her hand in the air. “However, you are very likely to end up in as much pain as he was if you keep love at a distance.”
“Is that what you think I’ve done with you?”
Her tone gentled as she said, “No, my boy. But that is because I was determined you would know I wouldn’t leave you as your mother had—and, in his way, your father too. You came to trust my love, Avery. So my question to you is, do you trust Gwen?”
“With my life.”
“What about with your heart?”
Avery ran his hand over his jaw, trying to see through the dread such a question still prompted deep inside him. What if his grandmother was right? What if he was in danger of having his greatest fears fulfilled because he wouldn’t risk himself with others, particularly with Gwen? He loved her, of that he no longer had any doubt. But did he trust her as he did his grandmother?
His thoughts went to his first meeting with Gwen, when she’d been an unknown young lady bending over his injured form in the dark. He’d been in no position to bandage himself, which meant putting his trust in the hands of a kind stranger. And yet what had prompted him to kiss her back that night? It hadn’t just been the emotions her kiss had elicited inside him. A part of him had responded because he had trusted her—a young woman who was willing to do all she could to aid a man she didn’t even know. And she’d been quietly aiding him ever since.
“Yes, I trust her,” he answered at last, his voice choked with emotion. “I’ve been more myself with her than with any other person, save for you and Mack and Linwood.”
Avery couldn’t share with his grandmother all the details of first meeting Gwen at the opera, but he could tell her a piece of it. A piece he hadn’t yet admitted aloud to anyone. “I had the thought after we met that God might have had something to do with it.”
“Do you still feel that way?” The hopefulness in her tone was evident as was the glitter of tears in her eyes.
He remembered his short but heartfelt petition to Heaven after Gwen’s goodbye. Since then, he’d offered several more prayers, longer ones, even. He couldn’t deny that he felt Someone was listening. Someone knew him and his triumphs and failures, his worries and hopes. God hadn’t condemned him as his father often had, nor had God disappeared from him as his mother had. He’d been waiting all this time for Avery to finally reach out.
“Yes, I believe God had a hand in bringing Gwen into my life.”
His grandmother blinked rapidly, then pinned him with a determined glance. “Then what are you going to do?”
“I may have squandered my chance with her, Gran.” He spread his arms wide.
But she didn’t soften. “Is she still in London?”
“Until the end of the season, yes.”
“What about shortening your visit here to less than a week?” Her eyebrows arched again, prompting another laugh from him.
“You don’t mind? I promise I’ll return and stay for longer once the season is over.”
Rosalind picked up her teacup, her lips twitching once more with a smile. “If it’s to bring this Gwen to come and meet me, I shan’t mind at all.”
Grinning himself, Avery pushed back his chair and stood. He no longer felt defeated or burdened by fear. “Seeing as it’s Sunday tomorrow, would you mind if I accompany you to services in the old Beechwood chapel?”
“I would love that, my boy.”
So would he. “I’ll take the train back to London on Wednesday.” He tipped his head in the direction of his uncle. “Do you mind if I discuss something with Uncle Leo?”
“Not at all.” His grandmother took a sip of tea. “Just know that you have gladdened my heart, Avery. Today and every day since you came into this world.”
A lump in his throat prevented him from speaking, so he settled for a nod. Then he strode across the grass to his uncle’s side. “How are the fish today?”
“As lazy as I feel,” the duke replied, but his gaze twinkled with mirth. “Want to join me?”
Avery sat with his back to the same tree his uncle lounged beneath. “I have a confession, Moorleigh.”
“That sounds serious.”
“It is.” He stared at the ripples the fish made in the still water. “I haven’t wanted to inherit the title or even the estate.” He lowered his head as fresh remorse washed over him. “I even hoped I could find another way to save the place without marrying.”
Moorleigh nodded slowly. “I see.”
“That’s the trouble, Uncle. You don’t see, because I was too much of a coward to tell you any of this sooner.” Avery pushed out his breath. “But I’ve changed my mind. I want to be someone you can trust to carry on the legacy of the Moorleigh title and of Beechwood Manor. I’ve met a young lady, and if I can convince her to have me, I hope to marry her. Her fortune would certainly help the estate, though I would only be marrying her for love and no other reason.”
His uncle didn’t speak for a long moment. “What of your work with Captain Kell?”
“My . . .” The air left his lungs in a choked gasp. “H-how do you know about that?”
A rare smile appeared on the duke’s mouth. “The captain came to speak with me first, nephew. I’m a longtime friend of the Kells, and he wanted to be sure I was in agreement with his plan to recruit you.” Moorleigh turned to face Avery. “I told him that he would not find a finer candidate for whatever work he needed done for Britain.”
“All this time, you knew.” Avery let out a startled chuckle. “Why did you encourage me to marry, then?”
His uncle looked genuinely surprised by the question. “Why shouldn’t you marry? If a wife supports you in your work, that’s all that matters.”
And Gwen would, Avery knew that now. “You’re right.”
“Well, I can’t say I’ve heard that admission from you before.”
Avery chuckled. “Only because I’ve been as stubborn as we Winfield men are prone to be.”
“Ah, now it’s you who is right,” the duke said in an amused tone.
Delight and sadness mingled inside him. The two of them might have enjoyed more of this rapport years ago if Avery had been more willing to try to understand his uncle.
“I appreciate your faith in my abilities,” Avery continued, “but after I finish up my present mission, I’ve decided to resign.” He’d made the decision on the train ride to Exeter, and thankfully, he still felt good about it. “I want to spend my time with the people and places that matter most, not hidden away in the shadows, searching for secrets.”
The recognition in his uncle’s eyes told him Moorleigh understood the reference to their last conversation back in London. “You’ve become a wise man, Avery.”
“Only because God has placed wise people in my path.”
If the mention of God was a surprise to his uncle, the duke didn’t show it. Instead he asked as he adjusted the angle of his fishing pole, “Can you afford to share any details about your current assignment? I’ll admit I have wondered since Kell approached me what he’s had you doing.”
Avery suddenly wished he’d known of the duke’s involvement sooner. The man would have been as welcome and wise an ally as Mack had been. Though maybe it wasn’t too late. His uncle might be able to provide a new perspective or additional information on Avery’s present mission.
“If you promise not to share any of what I tell you with anyone,” Avery said with a grin, “I’ll give you all the details, Uncle.”
The duke bent close, a resolute and excited glint in his gaze. “Your secret is still safe with me, nephew.”
*
Gwen had barely finished breakfast when the butler announced she had a visitor. Her gaze went to the mantel clock. Who would be coming here so early? Her mother had already gone upstairs to change into a different dress to go shopping, so she was downstairs alone.
Maybe it was Avery here to see her. Perhaps he’d received the letter she’d sent him two days ago and had rushed back to London. However foolish an idea, Gwen couldn’t surrender the hopeful notion until the butler spoke again.
“Shall I have her wait in the parlor, miss?”
“Oh . . . yes.” So it wasn’t Avery. “Thank you. I’ll be along in a minute.”
After the butler disappeared out the door, Gwen allowed herself a moment of disappointment. Then she smoothed the front of her skirt, straightened her shoulders, and proceeded slowly toward the parlor. Inside, she found Syble pacing the rug.
“Syble!” Gwen exclaimed with a smile. “What are you doing here?”
Her best friend rushed forward and grasped both of Gwen’s hands in hers. “I know it’s early, Gwenie. But this is the first I could slip away to see you since the ball last week, and I couldn’t share everything in a note.”
“What do you mean?” Up close she noticed the paleness of Syble’s face. “What happened? Is it something with Mr. Kirk?”
Syble shook her head as she led Gwen to the settee. Only after sinking onto the cushions and tugging Gwen down beside her did Syble release her hands. “It’s that unbearable Lord Whitson,” she said, her tone full of annoyance. “He arrived at the ball after you left and asked me to dance.”
Gwen nodded for Syble to continue. She’d been relieved that neither he nor Mr. Hanbury had shown up before she’d convinced her mother to leave.
“He wanted to know where you’d gone, and I told him you had gone home. Then he started his typical boasting.”
“About his special social invitations?”
Syble frowned. “No, he was boasting about you.”
“Me?” Gwen gave a confused shake of her head. “Why would he boast about me?”
Her best friend glared across the room as if the earl himself were standing there. “He’s convinced you’re more interested in him than Mr. Hanbury. He sounded so sure of himself that I couldn’t stay silent.”
“What did you say, Syble?” Shots of alarm moved through Gwen as though her consciousness suspected what was coming, even if her head didn’t.
Syble glanced down at her hands. “I told him you hadn’t made any decisions yet, and that there were at least two other men who had captured your interest.”
Gwen’s dread increased, along with the thudding of her heart. “Which men did you name?”
“Mr. Winfield,” Syble half whispered, “and the gentleman you helped at the opera.”
“Oh, Syble.”
Gwen hadn’t yet told her best friend about kissing Avery in the alleyway or about her theory that he was the man from the opera. But that didn’t mean she wanted others hearing about that night. “Do you say the gentleman was hurt?”
“Yes.” Syble lowered her chin in a look of pure dejection. “I didn’t tell him about the kiss, though. Just that the stranger was injured, that you helped him, and that in the process, the two of you developed a special bond. Lord Whitson asked who the man was, and I informed him that you didn’t know but were eager to find out.”
She stifled a groan of frustration. Other than Mr. Hanbury, Lord Whitson was the last person she wanted knowing about her involvement in aiding the injured gentleman at the opera. Gwen considered telling Syble her discovery now, but she dismissed the notion. What if, in another moment of heated annoyance, Syble told the earl that the injured man and Avery were one and the same? Lord Whitson didn’t need another reason to throw aspersions against Avery’s character.
“I’m so sorry, Gwen.” Her friend raised her head, revealing tear-filled eyes. “I shouldn’t have let him irritate me so much.”
Compassion prompted Gwen to give Syble’s arm a gentle squeeze. “He irritates me too.”
“Which is saying a lot,” Syble said with a shaky laugh. “I know I shouldn’t have told him all of that. Will you forgive me for being so impetuous?”
Gwen offered her a genuine smile. “Of course. You were only trying to defend me.”
“I’d better get back.” Syble darted a glance at the clock and rose to her feet. “I hope the man isn’t even more unbearable now.”
It was Gwen’s turn to chuckle. “I hope so too. He’s accompanying Mother and me to the opera tomorrow night. I only agreed because Avery is out of town.”
“So it’s Avery now?” Her best friend arched her eyebrows, her blue eyes twinkling. “When did this happen?”
“I’ll tell you everything soon,” she said as she stood.
Syble cast another look at the clock. “Fair enough, especially since I really have to go. But I want to hear every little detail!” They started toward the door, but Syble paused at the threshold and turned back around. “Are you all right, Gwen?”
“I am, truly.” Even if Avery didn’t return her feelings, she knew she would be all right.
Her friend embraced her. “I’m glad to hear it. Good luck tomorrow night. I wish I was going, so I could give you a moment’s reprieve from the earl at intermission.”
“I wish you were too.” Gwen walked with her into the foyer.
Syble waved and hurried out the door. Turning for the stairs, Gwen blew out a low sigh. She hadn’t been looking forward to going to tomorrow’s event with Lord Whitson anyway, but now, her reluctance had increased tenfold. Maybe it was finally time for her to inform the earl that she did not envision a life with him.
Her future was hopefully reserved for Avery, if he was willing. With that reminder, she climbed the stairs.
*
“Two missives for you, sir.”
Avery picked up the envelopes from off the salver. He’d just returned to the house after a morning of fishing with Uncle Leo. As he headed to his room, he examined the letters. The first was a telegram. Could it be from Captain Kell? Avery broke the seal and removed the notice. He glanced at the name of the sender. It read Gwen Barton.
His heart sped up even as his steps down the corridor slowed. Avery read through the short message. Meet me tonight at the opera. There’s something I need to tell you. I’ll be waiting in our opera box during intermission.
Avery dropped into the nearest chair. His surprise gave way to relief and excitement as he read through the telegram a second time. Gwen wanted to see him! But what did she mean by our opera box? He wrestled with different possibilities, but the only one that made sense was the opera box where she’d helped him when he’d been injured. Which meant Gwen knew the truth about that night. Did she want to talk because she was angry? Or for some other reason?
Blowing out his breath, he studied the other envelope. Gwen’s full name and her aunt’s London address were listed there. Why had she written him and sent a telegram too? Avery furrowed his brow as he tore open the envelope, but he felt more curious than confused. Perhaps this missive would better explain the first.
Dear Avery,
I visited St. Paul’s Cathedral again. And though it was as magnificent as before, it felt empty because you were not there to enjoy it with me. I’ve done a great deal of thinking about our last conversation. I was angry and hurt, but those feelings were as much about what I’d learned about my foot as they were about you.
Today, I feel differently in regards to both matters. You were right—I do have more to offer Heartwell House and the world than my fortune. Thank you for helping me see that. As far as you and I, there are things I need to tell you. And not in a letter. A very wise and dear friend has encouraged me from the beginning to keep being honest and brave and strong, so I will wait and share what I have to say to you in person.
For now, I want you to know that while I said goodbye, I wish I hadn’t. I’m not ready for our friendship to end. Besides, I still need the information you promised to gather on the identity of the man I helped at the opera. I believe I know who he is, but I would like it confirmed by you. If my guess is correct, I would very much like to share a third kiss with this extraordinary gentleman.
Sincerely,
Gwen
A joyous laugh fell from Avery’s mouth and echoed in the stillness of the hallway. His gaze returned to the two words she’d underlined. She knew the truth—somehow, she’d correctly guessed his identity. What was more, she’d called him a dear friend, one with whom she didn’t want things to end. And she wanted to kiss him again!
Only he still didn’t understand why she had sent the telegram. He examined both missives again, hoping for an explanation. There was definitely a sense of urgency in the shorter communication. Perhaps Gwen had written the letter first, then decided she didn’t want to wait any longer to see him.
Well, he could certainly accommodate that desire.
He grinned as he stood. Avery found his grandmother seated at her writing desk in her sitting room. “Gran, I’ve decided to return to London today instead of waiting until tomorrow.” He checked the time on the clock. “If I hurry, I can make the next train.”
“Oh?” She set down her pen.
He lifted the envelopes. “Gwen wrote and sent a telegram.”
“Does she still wish to have nothing to do with you?” Her eyes hinted at the smile she held back.
Striding toward her, Avery bent and pressed a kiss to her lined cheek. “No,” he said, easing back. “She’s decided to give me a second chance. In fact, she would like me to meet her where we first met—at the opera.”
“Then you must get yourself to the opera.” Her smile broke through as she gave his cheek an affectionate pat. “When you return, I hope it will be with your intended.”
Avery straightened. “I hope so too.”
After asking Mack to arrange for the carriage to convey them to the station, he raced up the stairs with an exuberance he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Thank You, God,” he whispered. “And please help me make it to the opera on time.”
He had a second chance with Gwen, and he didn’t plan to miss it.