Dare To Love (14 page)

With his dynamic shape unquestionably
enticing, Gwendolyn sighed heavily and marched away from him.
Thomas immediately followed her, and Gwendolyn smiled inwardly. He
was a magnet, she thought happily, nervously wringing her palms
onto her skirt. “Then, if I recall correctly, then it should be
right here,” she playfully voiced, pointing her toe to the
ground.

Thomas idly looked down at her bare foot. “I
beg to differ,” he protested in jest, walking passed her. “I
believe it should be…right here,” he claimed, digging his heel into
the ground.

Gwendolyn smiled then looked down at his
boot. “Well…we’ll just have to see about that,” she voiced,
buckling to her knees, plowing the earth.

“Gwendolyn, you’ll get dirty.”

“So?”

“Aren’t you coming to the party?”

Gwendolyn looked up at him and brushed away
some hair that fell in her face, “You wish me at your engagement
party?” She sniggled, “So I am finally allowed liberty?”

“I’ve been thinking.”

“Does it hurt?”

Thomas smiled inwardly and looked away from
her, “I will introduce you as my cousin. Henry nearly thought so,
why not everyone else? In any event I would like to see you enjoy
the rest of your stay, I cannot appear to be inhospitable.”

“Phewy to your honor,” she retorted, “Tis
your ego that I have always tried to challenge.”

Thomas leaned down to help Gwendolyn with her
search. She had dug a deep hole and he was beginning to wonder if
he was incorrect. “That’s an understatement if I ever heard one,”
he agreed.

Gwendolyn snickered and remembered his
recollection. “I was always trying to dare you at something or
another was I not?”

“Testing me is a better word for it,” he
added, cropping up dirt with both hands.

“I was able to dive farther than you,” she
said with a sense of triumph.

“Little did you know back then…I let
you.”

Gwendolyn’s mouth flew open wide. “Why you
big lout.”

Thomas cupped his fingers into the dirt one
last time and scooped up the soil around the small chest. “Ah-ha!”
He exclaimed, puffed up pleased with himself. “I knew it was
here!”

Gwendolyn sat down now and tucked her legs to
the side. “Bigheaded oaf,” she kept teasing, picking up the chest
and unlocking the latch. Gasping in awe that everything was still
there, Gwendolyn’s jaw fell to the ground.

“Close your mouth Gwendolyn, you remind me of
some of the goldfish in my ponds.”

Gwendolyn smiled inwardly again and admired
all her mother’s old jewelry: Rings, pendants, necklaces, combs,
ear bobs and a tiara… priceless. “I bet,” she uttered, admiring a
necklace, bringing it up into the sun, “I could throw a rock
farther than you across the lake.”

Thomas looked down at her lips, “And what do
I get if I win?”

Gwendolyn lowered the necklace and watched
his eyes meet hers. “You may have your choice of jewels in the
chest I just unburied.”

Thomas chortled, “You unburied? Ha!” Thomas
stood up with Gwendolyn and arched his brow. “I accept the wager,”
he said, picking up a rock. Walking towards the water’s edge, he
flicked it towards the lake, skipping it across the water nearly to
the middle.

Gwendolyn watched the rock submerge and then
picked up her own stone. Showing his shocked gaze that it was
indeed larger than his he just threw, Gwendolyn flipped it
perfectly and eyed it as it frolicked several times above the basin
to a point farther than his.

“Very good,” he seemed satisfied by the
performance. “I see you have been practicing.”

“My daughter loves the water as well,” she
spurted unconsciously, “We challenge each other to a
competition—which could throw the farthest.”

“Your daughter?” He asked thunderstruck.

Gwendolyn brought her hands up over her
mouth. She did not mean to tell him so abruptly and nonchalant!
Thomas suddenly stood grave, unsure and shocked. Oh so traumatized!
“Oh God Thomas, I am so sorry, I tried to tell you, tried to get
you alone, but you have been so busy, never at the manor, always
away, always with Katrina.”

Thomas tried to mouth out the words,
“Wh—what, are you saying Gwendolyn?”

Gwendolyn reached out for him, but held back
her contact. “You have a daughter Thomas,” she cried, releasing
tears of joy. “Her name is Mary; I named her after my mother.”

Thomas ran his fingers through his hair,
pinning it back with clasped hands. “I…have a child?”

“Yes,” Gwendolyn cried, wiping away tears
from her cheeks.

“How? I mean, oh God, I know how,” he shook
his head, suddenly feeling foolish to a degree, “But when?”

“Ten years ago,” Gwendolyn voiced with
despondency. “When we returned to Yorkshire, I was so sick; my
Great-Aunt thought I might have gotten yellow fever. Vomiting and
sleeping all day, I was bedridden for three months. When the doctor
was finally able to examine me thoroughly, he gave me the news.”
Gwendolyn suddenly stopped and recalled her vivid joyful tidings.
“Three months enceinte…Pale and thin, I was never happier.”

“Never happier?” He repeated, gripped to her
every word.

“Ecstatic Thomas!” Gwendolyn exclaimed,
suddenly glaring into the sky. “Oh so jubilant…”

Thomas was enthralled by her admission.
“Why?”

Gwendolyn brought her head down from the
heavens to meet his eyes, “Because, Thomas…having her meant I would
never be alone.”

Thomas felt the urge to wrap his arms around
her body and pull her into him. Oh…dear…God, the circumstances
intensified. He had a child…a daughter with Gwendolyn…a descendant
to solidify their short union? He suddenly felt an unpleasant
yearning, an unfulfilled ache to know his seedling. “What…what she
like?”

“Oh God Thomas, you should see her, she looks
so much like you,” she suddenly laughed with liberation.

“Like me?” He asked astonished.

“Pitch-black hair, green eyes, skin so tan,
it turns chestnut in the summertime. She is precocious,
fun-loving…curious. She hungers for affection and has a quick
temper. Oh, let me tell you Thomas, I oftentimes have to scold her
for being so direct.”

“How is that?” He invited, intrigued.

“One time she disobeyed me and ended up
getting hurt. Oh she was all right in the end, but the disobedience
served purposeful. She was so agreeable after the incident; she
turned into a different child.

She is like that, Mary, her personality
topsy-turvy…but with all her unpredictability, I consider her my
sanctuary.”

“And why is that?” Thomas asked, further
absorbed.

Gwendolyn stared at him and searched his face
for the apparent clarification. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Thomas thought he knew the resolve but wanted
to hear it confessed. “Enlighten me.”

Because she was my gift from you, Gwendolyn
thought, but said instead, “She was a continuation of our wonderful
friendship and cherished memories…a token to hold through
life.”

Thomas could not withstand his mania any
longer and grabbed Gwendolyn into him. “I do apologize that you’ve
had to raise her alone,” he whispered openly, caressing the back of
her head.

Gwendolyn felt instant comfort from within
his enclosure. His body warm, like a tepid bath; soothing her
frosty skin on this frenzied day. And, oh God, the smell of him,
her nostrils rejoicing from fresh laundered linen, musk from some
unknown scent of his and magnetic masculinity. “You do not know how
many years I have wanted to hear you say that,” she voiced, closing
her eyes. Slowly, she allowed her hands to roam up his muscular
back…never in her life had she felt anything so exhilarating.

Thomas’ unpredicted contact with her body
caused an unanticipated spur he had not counted on in midday. He
wanted to do more than just hold her. He wanted to pull down her
bodice and examine new heights, drag her to the dirt and buss his
lips across unforgettable bare limbs. He commanded his stance and
let go of her quickly, setting her back several feet away.

Gwendolyn opened her eyes and nearly lost
equilibrium. Dizzy from dreaming of a life within his arms, she
quickly blinked back to reality.

“I must get back,” Thomas voiced gutturally.
“I forgot I had a meeting in Essex. We’ll talk later Gwendolyn,” he
expressed hastily; “I wish to know more about Mary.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

It truly was a magnificent engagement
celebration. Months of preparation must have been involved,
Gwendolyn thought, passing the elegant table settings in the
banquet room; mirrored tabletops, expensive linens, the finest
imported china, gold-rimmed crystal with buckets of champagne
everywhere. Extravagant pink Hydrangea centerpieces, sterling
silver galore, stupid ninny, what was she thinking?

Gwendolyn was hesitant to attend, but after
what happened that morning only lured her further in; she wanted to
earn Thomas’ confidence again, secure that spark she managed to
ignite and if that meant she had to swallow her pride and overlook
the etiquette of their conflicting arrangement, then so be it.

Reaching the ballroom at last, Gwendolyn
stood wavering, soaking in the stage before her. The men dressed
mostly in courtly black, while the women wore attire of every
coloration like a spattered rainbow across the parterre.

Unique in an octagon design, the ballroom was
decorated with painted panels of warm brown and luxurious red
velvet. More masculine in motif, busts of Roman heads of state
protected every corner, while several bays of plush benches for
intimate conversation divided the walls. Several opened French
doors welcomed the guests to an outside veranda with towering
columns covered in overgenerous draping foliage. Burning fire lamps
were scattered about to help soothe the chilly air from the breezy
nighttime wind.

Then the music…ah, the violins, the cello’s,
the orchestra was heavenly, no doubt the finest musicians money
could persuade away from contracted opera houses. Wealth was
obviously demonstrated this evening, success Gwendolyn used to be a
part of but on no account measured until this moment. It was never
important to her in the past; she was content living in the
country, but now living at Wilderbrand meant existing with Thomas
and Gwendolyn wanted to be a part of it.

In the corner of her eye, she noted several
bachelors springing to her entrance, each one of them patting the
other on the shoulder. She knew she looked presentable; she planned
on wearing the silver lustring she purchased the other day, only to
open up her trunk of new dresses and found one that took her breath
away. In all her haste, she had not remembered procuring it. It was
an emerald hued silk gown commemorative of the Fifteenth Century; a
fitted off the shoulder evening dress with a white brocaded
underskirt, it incorporated flowing chemise slashed finestrella
sleeves with hints of gold integrated throughout with ribbon that
crisscrossed at the back to tie at the posterior. Wearing a radiant
diamond studded necklace with dropping pear shaped emeralds she
found in her mother’s jewelry box, her hair was finished up in an
elegant coiffure with jeweled combs she also discovered which
matched perfectly with the dazzling embroidered gemstones that
dotted her attire.

Amy, who was standing alone, spotted
Gwendolyn’s spectacular entry. “Why, Lady Hollinger, you look
absolutely stunning. That emerald gown, with all the gold and
exquisite handiwork, I have never seen its counterpart! Oh, and the
necklace, such a fine display of opulence.”

Gwendolyn focused on the gap between Amy’s
teeth as she smiled. Growing up, she would have considered Amy a
good friend but she learned through Mrs. Hornebrook that Amy was
Katrina’s close confidant since childhood, and was considered a
foe, or at least a collaborator. “Thank you Amy, you look beautiful
as well, but you do not have to call me that name, call me
Gwendolyn,” she let go realizing that Amy had brightened up with
her consent. “Tonight I am simply the cousin.”

Amy let go a wink, “Yes…the cousin, Henry had
me swear to the secret details. A mystery I shall take with me when
I depart.”

“Leaving so soon?”

“Not the party, but rather London; my last
affair I must say,” Amy gushed despondently. “I will be leaving
tomorrow to join my ailing aunt in Manchester.”

“Oh, I am sorry to hear that.”

“As am I,” Amy voiced, looking away, her
brown eyes searching the ground. “I was hoping to be married by
now, seeing it is my third season.”

“Third?” Gwendolyn asked, astonished. “But
you are such a lovely girl, any hopefuls?”

“I am afraid the only gentleman who has
approached me was fatefully compared to the only one who
mattered.”

With saying that, Gwendolyn followed Amy’s
heartrending stare. Lord Hale was in a corner speaking with a young
lady who had been fanning herself from his obvious rogue attention.
“Have you set your cap for Lord Hale?”