“A few days at best,” Mrs. Garland murmured in a soft tone that revealed a woman of intelligence and polite manners. “My husband must return to his employment soon, but we could not miss this chance to meet my husband’s sister and discover how well she has done for herself. You have our gratitude, too, for bringing her back into our lives through her marriage to such a kind and gracious man.”
“Ah, I see Stapleton has you well fooled already,” Gideon teased, then grinned cheekily at Stapleton when he spluttered. “Wait till Christmas comes around, and you will see his grace’s true colors.”
“They see me as I really am, while you notice only fabrications of your vivid imagination,” the duke exclaimed. “And besides, I have changed my mind about the necessity of winter festivities. Great good can come from hanging mistletoe about the place.”
Stapleton caught his wife’s hand and kissed the back of it passionately.
Jessica laughed. “He says that now, but in December, he was raging the halls and complaining about the stuff!”
The duchess clucked her tongue. “Can you blame him? You two are nothing but trouble when you are together,” she chided.
Gideon pasted an innocent smile on his face because it was all too true that he and Jessica had been the ones hanging it up behind the duke’s back. They’d had great fun doing it, too. And then Jessica managed to slip some into her father’s pocket one evening, and a romance with Gillian had bloomed without help from then on.
Mr. Garland chuckled. “Mr. Whitfield, I am in your debt then, too. We have much to talk about, I think.”
Her grace laughed. “Please do not give my brother any ideas for when he visits us at Christmas. He used to play the most horrid tricks on me when we were young.”
Gideon liked the Garlands very much. They seemed like good people. “How convenient to have met a solicitor who might feel indebted to me.”
Garland raised one brow. “My gratitude only goes so far, sir.”
Gideon laughed and moved to sit on the empty chair nearest Jessica. “Definitely a relation of yours, your grace. Just as mistrustful as you have always been of me.”
Garland laughed and slapped his thigh. “I easily see now why you are so loved at Stapleton Manor, Mr. Whitfield. You amuse with hardly any effort.”
“The ladies must love his company,” Mrs. Garland teased, throwing a shy smile in his direction. “But is it true no one yet has claimed your heart?”
He straightened his waistcoat to hide his discomfort that the conversation had turned to his bachelor status already. “Obviously.”
Mrs. Garland shook her head. “Such a shame.”
“I’m much too old and set in my ways for marriage now.” He hoped the subject would end there.
The duke barked out a laugh. “At least until his head is finally turned. Then like every other unwed fellow, he will plunge into a pursuit with blinkers on and not think of the consequences for his life until it is too late,” the duke warned. “If only he’d fallen for one of my daughters, he would have been my favorite son-in-law,” the duke complained. “As it is, I must wait until he yearns for company and visits.”
Gideon tried not to wince. There had once been an unspoken expectation that Gideon might make a match with one of the duke’s older daughters. Thankfully, they had married men better suited to their temperaments. “I came as soon as I learned you were home.”
The duke looked on him fondly. “I suppose I must believe you, but no doubt you’ve never lacked company in our absence.”
As he was about to refute that claim, Jessica suddenly sprang to her feet.
“If you will excuse me,” she murmured. “I have something I must attend to.”
He was disappointment she would go so soon, but it was not unexpected. Jessica was an energetic sort, always running off somewhere.
They settled in to chat, and he listened to the duchess and her brother attempt to catch up on years of news in the space of an hour. The duke and duchess shared tidbits about their adventures in London, too, but he couldn’t help but notice there was no mention of a wedding for Jessica, or even a courtship underway. They said nothing of Jessica’s future, but perhaps they would not speak of it openly yet.
The duchess caught his eye. “Will you join us for dinner, Mr. Whitfield?”
Gideon glanced at the duke when the question registered fully. He had to decline. “If I’d known you were coming home so early, I would not have arranged for my own dinner party to be held tonight. It is much too late to alter the invitations or postpone the gathering.”
“We would not want you to alter anything on our account,” the duchess assured him, “but I am sure Lady Jessica will be disappointed not to have your company at dinner.”
“I’m sure she will not miss me very much,” he promised as he checked the time. “And I am afraid I really must take my leave now.”
Though they begged him to stay a little longer, Gideon had no choice but to say goodbye. He was determined that all was in readiness for his first dinner party in years and that nothing was left to chance.
He exited the manor via the front door but, having come on foot, he took the most direct path home—a path that ran alongside Jessica’s little greenhouse. He would say a private farewell if she were there. If not, he would hear about her season tomorrow.