Page 16 of Make My Wish Come True
“Yes—I did—but I didn’t know we were so near—” Nor has she expected him to remember the name of the house. What had he been about to say? Oh, heavens, she didn’t need Aunt Maisie overhearing this conversation.
Flustered, she began struggling to extricate herself from the blanket. The captain climbed down and came around the sleigh to lift the thick carriage blankets away and help her down, then hand her Reggie’s basket. Gwen floundered through the snow toward Maisie, who recognized her and gave a little cry of delight. In between her rambling explanation and Maisie’s cries to Gran that Gwen had come and Reggie’s squalling to be released, Gwen didn’t notice that Captain Fitzhugh had brought her valise from the back of the sleigh. He set it on the doorstep beside her as Maisie flung wide the door, calling out in reply to Gran’s questions.
Setting down Reggie’s basket, Gwen turned to him. There were things she needed to say, and now that the moment was at hand, she did not want to say good-bye to him. Even if they met by chance in the village, it wouldn’t be the same. Their acquaintance was at an end, despite the remarkable intimacy they’d shared. “Captain?—”
“Adrian,” he said again.
“Adrian.” She blushed. “Please come in and have a cup of tea,” she said urgently, even though it wasn’t her house or her tea. She couldn’t just let him walk away.
He smiled ruefully. “Alas, I am also rushing to see someone.”
She’d forgotten about that. “Of course,” she said in dismay. “Forgive me. I hope your grandfather recovers his health.”
“As do I.” He took her hand and bowed over it, touching his lips to her knuckles and lingering there a moment. “Au revoir, Guinevere Barrett.”
“I don’t want to say good-bye,” she whispered, gripping his hand. “Please, not yet.”
From inside the house came Gran’s voice, weak but full of hope. Without thinking Gwen looked away from the captain, and he released her hand.
“Gwen? Is it really my dear Gwen?” Gran was coming down the stairs, slowly, clinging to the banister, but she was well enough to do it.
Gwen couldn’t stop a wide smile of relief at the sight. “Yes, Gran,” she called. “I’m here.”
Maisie bustled back to the door, beaming. “Come in, child, come in!” Then she caught sight of Captain Fitzhugh—Adrian—and gasped. “My goodness. Sir! Come in, you are very welcome!”
He touched the brim of his hat and bowed. “Thank you, madam, but I cannot linger.”
She gave him an agonized glance. He gave her his little half smile again and tipped his head toward Gran. Eyes prickling for more than one reason, Gwen ran to her grandmother and hugged her.
Maisie was still talking behind her, gushing thanks, and she heard Adrian reply as he went back to the horses. It was shocking how attuned she’d become to the tone of his voice, and now she would likely never hear it again. Gran was exclaiming over her sudden appearance, and Gwen was straining her ears, desperate for one last word from him.
“But you’re crying,” said Gran in concern. “What is the matter?”
Gwen dashed a hand over her burning eyes. “It was the wind. I must say, now I’ve got a new appreciated for a carriage with well-fitted windows, after riding in a sleigh with the wind and snow in my face.”
“And a happy Christmas to you, my lord!” called Maisie behind her. She shut the door and hurried over to join them, her face wreathed in smiles. “Well! My dear, what a marvelous surprise! Belinda made no mention of your coming.”
“I didn’t know!” Gran beamed at Gwen. She was still in her bedclothes, with a thick shawl over her shoulders, but she was walking and there was good color in her face. “But we’re so terribly glad you’re here!”
Gwen nodded, her mind on something else. To Maisie, she said, “Did you call the captain ‘my lord’?”
Maisie looked surprised. “Of course. That was Lord Westley, wasn’t it?”
“No,” said Gwen slowly. “It was Captain Fitzhugh. Who is Lord Westley?”
Maisie nodded. “Yes, yes, Fitzhugh. He’ll be the one who went into the army. The Fitzhughs do that, have done for generations. His father died a hero, you know, back in ‘Ninety-nine.” She clicked her tongue sadly. “And I think there was another—his uncle? No, it was too long ago, perhaps it was a great-uncle?—?”
“Who is Lord Westley?” Gwen repeated.
“The young man who just left.” Maisie looked at her in bemusement. “I’ve never met him, but he’s the image of his father. Such a handsome gentleman Lord Victor was! And so kind and good-hearted. It seems his son is, too, to bring our dear Gwen all the way here.”
“How did you meet him, Gwen?” asked Gran with a puzzled smile. “Of course I’m very grateful to him for bringing you?—”
“Who is Lord Westley?” demanded Gwen for the third time, her voice rising in agitation.
Maisie and Gran exchanged a look. “The Earl of Wroxham’s grandson. His Lordship’s heir.”
Chapter 10
