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,
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,
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