Read Dare To Love Online

Authors: Trisha Fuentes

Tags: #historical, #funny, #thomas, #humorous, #maritime, #dare, #gwen

Dare To Love (7 page)

 

Coming to her rescue immediately, Phyllis
came around the two men and sat down next to Gwendolyn. She grabbed
her hand and held it in her lap for reassurance.

 

“May I introduce Lady Gwendolyn…Hollinger,”
Thomas let go, feeling the breath being taken from his very chest
another time. “My close friends, Lord Henry Barton, his twin
sister, Lady Amy Barton, Lord Devin Hale, and his sister, my
fiancée, Lady Katrina Hale.”

 

“Hollinger?” Henry acclaimed. “So you are his
cousin then? A long lost cousin?”

 

Thomas began to rub Katrina’s hand that was
firmly on his forearm. “No Henry, she is not my cousin.”

 

“Not a cousin, then whom?” Devin asked
suspicious.

 

Thomas met Gwendolyn’s frightened stare.
“Gwendolyn was my… wife,” he quietly revealed, feeling Katrina
withdraw her hand.

 

“Wife?!” She exclaimed, suddenly turning
unattractive before Gwendolyn’s very eyes. “You were married
before?”

 

“We thought the other dead,” he voiced,
continuing to stare into Gwendolyn’s unsure gaze. “Deceased in a
tragic accident.”

 

“Thomas, please tell us that you are joking,”
Devin chortled, pouring himself and his sister a glass of brandy.
Katrina yanked the tumbler away from her brother’s hand and
instantly threw it down her throat.

 

Thomas turned to look at Katrina, her eyes
were full of questions; she was about to explode. “Let me explain,”
he quietly voiced to her.

 

“Explain?” She shrieked, waiving her hands up
in the air. “You proposed to me, Thomas, to me! The banns have all
been posted, the preparation…my dress being tailored as we speak!”
Katrina stomped her feet twice on the wooden floor and ran out the
room, Amy turning as well, followed her.

 

“I will do it,” Devin stated, guzzling down
his drink.

 

“No,” Thomas stopped him. “This is my
problem, not yours. But I do need your help, dear boy.”

 

Devin grabbed his friend’s shoulder.
“Anything, you name it.”

 

“I need you to find out when Gwendolyn was
declared deceased. Our wedded state may not be under
obligation.”

 

Gwendolyn suddenly stood up from the sofa.
“My solicitor can tell you that…I met with him this morning,” she
eyed Thomas then spoke to Devin. “We were there settling my
Great-Aunt’s estate. My Great Aunt left a will, leaving me
inheritance, if there was mention of me to receive property then
surely there are documents stating my existence, correct?”

 

Devin looked at her wide eyes, “She is right
Thomas. If there are no documents in existence stating she was
declared legally dead, then your marriage”

 

Thomas interrupted him and met eyes with
Gwendolyn once again. “Is still legally binding.”

 

“Then we are still married?” Gwendolyn asked,
feeling panic rush her neck.

 

Devin stepped in between the obvious
tensions. “There are formalities that can be taken.”

 

“Formalities?” Gwendolyn asked stepping
towards Devin.

 

Devin shook his head at her loveliness,
“Uh—yes, um, although divorce is infrequent—”

 

“Divorce!” Thomas suddenly belted out.

 

“Yes, divorce—it might be the only
solution…and a simple alternative.”

 

Gwendolyn stood before Devin now and pleaded
with him, “How quick can it be done? I am about to be married as
well!”

 

Devin gave her a roguish grin, “You should
have told me before your crimson look my dear.” When Gwendolyn
narrowed her eyes on him, he stiffened and continued, “A couple of
days, five at the most? I do not think it should take longer than
that.” He then clicked his boots in resolution. “I am off—works to
do you know. Nice to make your acquaintance Duchess,” he mocked
wickedly, turning on his heel and bowing farewell to the unknown
woman on the couch.

 

Phyllis looked weirdly at the debonair young
man then grabbed hold of Gwendolyn’s trembling hands. “I had an
acquaintance once who filed for divorce, she fled to France for
isolation,” she rationalized, “We live in the country dear, no one
will ever know of your partition.”

 

After realizing Phyllis was right, Gwendolyn
began to laugh which made Thomas look her way. “Let me know when
the papers can be signed, I am going back to Gisleham.”

 

Thomas eyed her walking away. He really
should go talk to Katrina. Remember your fiancée dear boy? The one
who ran out of the room crying and carrying on? But Thomas simply
could not get Gwendolyn out of focus. “Where are you staying
Gwendolyn? Surely you are not spending the night in that ruin.”

 

Gwendolyn blinked out of her trance observing
him following her departure, “No—no, certainly, I am, we are
staying at The Quail Inn.”

 

“Stay here,” he asked cautiously, watching
Gwendolyn’s face flush with animation. “No, what I meant was, as my
guest. You can have your old room.”

 

“The nursery?” She smiled, feeling a touch of
repose. “You wish me to sleep in a bassinet?”

 

Thomas began to smile as well. His heart
skipped a beat by her quick humor. “Silly girl, I had Fitzwater and
Mrs. Hornebrook restore that room years ago.”

 

“You still have Fitzwater and Mrs.
Hornebrook?” Gwendolyn asked astonished. Oh how she loved playing
hide-and-seek with them!

 

Thomas let go an adoring grin, “Why
certainly, and most of my father’s staff. Please say that you’ll
stay.”

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

“Oh child…the Lord works in mysterious ways,”
Mrs. Constance Hornebrook declared hugging the life out of
Gwendolyn. She was a hefty woman, full of compassion and influence.
She used to be under the employ of the 4thDuke of Norwin, but had
been joyously working for His Grace for the past eight winters as
Head Housekeeper. Having lost her husband twenty winters back, she
considered Thomas her only family. Gwendolyn felt overwhelmed with
so much emotion from being within Mrs. Hornebrook’s arms, her tears
turned into a bawl.

 

“Oh Mrs. Hornebrook—”

 

“Constance, dear…you are old enough to call
me by my first name,” she interrupted her.

 

“Constance then…I am so happy to see you,”
Gwendolyn gushed, releasing her embrace. Mrs. Hornebrook was the
closest thing she had to her own mother. She then eyed the short,
skinny gentleman to her left. “And Mr. Fitzwater—”

 

“You can call me Fitzwater, dear,” he smiled.
Virgil Fitzwater had been with the Hollinger’s for nearly thirty
years, servicing the nobles as Head Steward, and had witnessed the
births of three Hollinger boys; there was no other place he would
rather be, he was already part of the family. “Fitzwater…yes, I
feel like a part of me has been reborn, walking through Gisleham,
being in this house, seeing…Tommy.” Gwendolyn stopped and then
bowed her head.

 

“He has changed, hasn’t he?” Constance asked,
watching Gwendolyn’s tears disappear.

 

Gwendolyn stepped away from her and eyed the
kitchen quarters. “So many things have changed, Constance.”

 

“He is still the same person, deary,”
Fitzwater chimed in. “He has just improved.”

 

“Improved?” Gwendolyn laughed, feeling a pit
in her stomach, a change for the better or for worse? “And now the
Duke of Norwin… heavens me, I would have never imagined.”

 

“You knew the title was heritable dear,”
Constance claimed, taking out the teacups for service.

 

“Yes,” Gwendolyn proclaimed, taking a seat.
“So was my father’s. Just so funny though, thinking of everyone
calling Tommy His Grace.”

 

“Yes, and it took him months to finally
accept the entitlement,” Constance acclaimed, handing Fitzwater the
service tray. “Did you know that these two children used to cause
so much trouble when they were younger?” Constance asked Phyllis
who was sitting at the farm table.

 

Fitzwater grabbed the hot teapot and began to
serve everyone a cup. “I remember when His Grace and Gwendolyn were
ten and got into his father’s shaving blades. I walked in on them
shaving Mr. Whiskers, the cat’s tail. Oh, I have never seen two
kids run so fast!”

 

Constance started to hoot, “What about the
time when the two of them put frogs in Miss Pinkel’s wash
basin?”

 

“The governess?” Gwendolyn asked, amazed that
they still remembered.

 

“Yes…I have never heard a woman scream that
loud!” Constance chuckled, slapping her thighs with her hands. “She
ran down the stairs so fast she tripped on her way down, tumbling
through to the lower steps. How it was possible to get up from that
plunge and run straight out the door was some miracle.”

 

“It was a sight to behold,” Fitzwater
declared. “How about the day I found His Grace covered head to toe
in honey because the two of them decided to count the bees in a
tree hive? Miraculous the boy was not stung.”

 

“Or the time the Duchess found Gwendolyn
daring His Grace at a horse race…oh my, she nearly fainted at the
sight of her daughter wearing breeches!”

 

The four of them remained laughing when
Thomas suddenly appeared. Like the wind blowing out four candles,
each one of them shut up and said nothing further.

 

“You were talking about me, weren’t you?” He
asked, turning to every one of them and then setting eyes on
Gwendolyn.

 

Gwendolyn’s heart stopped momentarily when
their eyes locked. How does he do that? Oh, she has to stop
thinking about him so much. You are getting married
Gwendolyn…married? “Not all subjects are about you, you know. You
may recommence and do, whatever—Duke’s do, Your Grace,” she
curtsied, eyeing the lines around his mouth beginning to curl. He
was going to smile, but he held back.

 

“Ten winters absent, five minutes back, and
she acts like the mistress of the manor,” he retorted, leaving them
all alone.

 

Constance wondered at the door for a moment
and then leaned into Phyllis. “No one speaks to His Grace that way;
I am amazed by the way they feel comfortable around each other.
Like two halves of the same person.” Constance stood idle for a
second more than twirled around to peek through the door, before
whispering to Gwendolyn, “Have you met her yet?”

 

Gwendolyn knew immediately whom she was
speaking about, “Lady Hale?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Yes, briefly…she seems quite nice.”

 

Constance and Fitzwater both shot looks at
one another. “Seems, is too good a word dear. She purrs like a
kitten when around him, but she is an alley cat
through-and-through.”

 

Gwendolyn was taken-back, she had never heard
Mrs. Hornebrook, Constance, talk like that before! She wondered if
she was always this over-bearing person who loved to gossip. “Oh?”
Gwendolyn asked, batting her eyelashes, the intrigue choking her.
“But he must care for her, correct? They are getting married?”

 

“Yes, my dear, does it distress you to see
him with her?”

 

“Well, I—”

 

“Oh, I don’t know about him sometimes, unsure
what possessed him to solicit this engagement; I don’t know what he
sees in her.”

 

Fitzwater grabbed the sugar bowl and scooped
some into his cup with a spoon, “She is quite pleasant on the
eyes.”

 

Constance swatted Fitzwater on the shoulder,
“Dirty old man, don’t think I won’t tell your mistress about your
latest perception—see if I don’t.”

 

Oh, dear, God, what did she get herself into?
Gwendolyn thought, rolling her eyes away. Mr. Fitzwater has a
mistress? Gwendolyn tried to erase the shocked look on her
face.

 

“I say, at least she is more comely than the
other’s.” Fitzwater spurted out feeling the wrath of Constance’s
dagger stare. Constance tsked at her daft friend and shook her
head.

 

Others? Gwendolyn then closed her eyes and
pretended she did not hear that particular word and what it meant.
Knowing her former husband had been frolicking the country looking
to replace her, affected her heart in a peculiar sort of sting.

 

Like Constance could read her mind, she
subsequently turned to Gwendolyn and lifted up her chin. “I
remember once when His Grace used to follow someone around like a
magnet,” she stated, kissing Gwendolyn on the forehead. “His pull
to her was more than an attraction, more like an obsession if you
ask me.”

 

Gwendolyn puffed up with sentiment again, her
tears bursting at the edges of her eyes. “Never a fixation
Constance, more like admiration. We were just good friends.”

 

“Married friends.”

 

That darn arrangement! If it weren’t for her
father’s excess gambling and bad judgment in business investments
Gwendolyn would have never married at sixteen. She would have been
brought out properly at eighteen, introduced to the ton, and set
the world on fire! She would have never had that burning question
lingering inside her mind, even to this very day. Did Thomas ever
love her? If it weren’t for their forced matrimony, would Thomas
Hollinger have asked for her hand? “Yes, married, because of the
mandatory arrangement between our two fathers,” Gwendolyn spat out
shaking her head.

 

“No dear,” Constance mouthed, disagreeing
with her. “I will believe that decree when they prove to me the
world is round.”

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