The Wary Widow (15 page)

It was an impossible fact to deny, as foolish as it seemed. She’d only known him for a little more than a week, but that was all she needed. Something inside her ached to be with him, to be his.

Chloe allowed her tongue to tangle with his, and when his hand slipped down to cup her breast, she nearly split in two. Dear God, it had been too long.

Even as she kissed him though, she knew it was wrong. But how could something so wrong feel so very right?
She pushed away again. “Oh, God, Andrew,” she panted. “What are we going to do?”
“Hopefully make sweet, passionate love to one another until the sun comes up,” he said gruffly.

That did sound wonderful, but... “No, Andrew, I mean about Lizzie.”

He took a deep breath and ran a hand through his dark hair. He looked so handsome in the moonlight, and Chloe imagined that under the veil of darkness, she might allow him to do just about anything to her.

He put his hands on his hips and looked at her, a serious expression marring his perfect features. “Run away with me, Chloe.”

Chloe’s jaw dropped. Had she really heard him correctly? “Run away with you?” she repeated. “And then what? You leave Michael to do our dirty work?
And Lizzie to face the
ton
alone?
No, Andrew, we must face up to this. We must confess how we feel about one another.”

“And how
do
we feel about one another?”

His dark eyes bore into her and she trembled. “Well,” she began, “I think we care a great deal about one another.”

“Is that all?” His voice was low and rumbling, and Chloe felt her knees turn to putty.

“I-I-
²

Andrew moved in and kissed her again, this time robbing her of any rational thought. Good heavens, how she wanted him.

“Chloe!” A voice shouted her name from a distance and she and Andrew jumped apart quickly.

“It’s Lizzie,” she said. “Oh, God, it’s Lizzie.”

“Chloe, where are you? Come quickly!”

The note of panic in Lizzie’s voice brought them both up short. Something was wrong.

Fifteen

Chloe ran back to the house and found Lizzie pacing and wringing her hands at the door.

“What is it?” she asked her cousin, out of breath.

Lizzie stared back at
her,
clearly reluctant to share whatever news she’d received.

“Lizzie, please, what’s happened?” she prompted again.

“It’s your sister, Grace,” she said, her voice shaking. “She’s taken a fever. You must leave for Essex at once.”

Chloe’s blood ran cold. Gracie.
Poor little Gracie.
She’d always been comprised of a rather weak composition, which made Chloe fear for the worst. The thought of fever claiming yet another member of her family caused her knees to buckle beneath her. She clutched at Lizzie’s arm, but someone grabbed her from behind and held her steady.

“Mrs. Hawthorne, are you all right?”

She scarcely heard the
question,
her head was spinning so fiercely. But she managed to nod her head and gain her footing.

“It’s her sister, Michael,” Lizzie explained. “She is ill and not expected to live. Chloe must leave for Essex tonight.”

“Then I will go with her.”

“Michael, you’ll have to take a chaperone with you,” the marchioness said as she bustled into the hall.

“I’ll call for the carriage,” Benjamin added, following at his wife’s heels. “Darling, why don’t you round up an appropriate chaperone in the meantime.”

The next several minutes were a blur to Chloe. Whispered conversations and barked orders floated around her until she was deposited into the back of a stately carriage. Someone took the seat opposite and then they lurched into motion. They bounced along for some time before a male voice interrupted her tumultuous thoughts.

“Chloe?” the voice asked cautiously. “Are you going to be all right?”

It was Andrew. Andrew had come with her. Oh goodness, what was she going to do? Surely Michael could not run around Town as Andrew for the time it took him to take her to Essex and back. Someone would find out, and if that someone was Lizzie-

“Andrew, you shouldn’t be here,” she finally whispered.

He moved from his position to sit next to her and took her hand. “I’m not leaving you,” he vowed.

“But what about Lizzie? What about Michael? What if someone finds out?”

“Then let them find out. I will not leave you,” he repeated.

Chloe was tempted to cry out of relief. He was so strong and warm, and he risked so much in accompanying her. But instead, she took a steadying breath, and allowed his caress of her palm to lull her into a calmer state. Everything would be fine, she told herself. Gracie would be fine.

“Do you want to tell me about her?”

She couldn’t resist a small smile at the thought of her baby sister. “Gracie—Grace—is seventeen, and is forever complaining that she is not well-born enough to have a Season in Town.” Chloe gave a little laugh. “She was so jealous when Papa announced that I’d be going to London for the Season. I tried to remind her that I was only going to be a chaperone, but...aren’t
we
supposed to have a chaperone?” she asked, remembering the conversation in the hallway.

“Collins is up above,” he assured her. “Not really an appropriate chaperone, but that’s the best Phoebe could do on such short notice.”

“It seems London has no shortage of inappropriate chaperones these days.”

“So Grace will not come to London when she is of age?” Andrew asked, steering the conversation back to her sister and away from Elizabeth.

“Oh, heavens, no. We haven’t the money for that.
Unless Uncle Arthur sponsors her, but he has quite a brood of his own.
It is more likely she’ll marry a local farmer.” She stopped as the tears began to choke her. She tried to swallow them down—she needed to be strong now, for her sister and her family. But when Andrew shifted to pull her into his embrace, there was naught she could do to stop them.

He stroked her hair as sobs wracked her body, and held her tightly to him. All she could think of was how grateful she was for his deception that night. How could she have made this journey without him?

“I don't know anything about the rest of your family,” Andrew said quietly into her hair. “Why don't you tell me about them?”

Chloe knew he was trying to distract her, but she didn't care. It was working. “All right,” she said, accepting the handkerchief he held out to her. She dabbed her eyes with it and then asked, “
Who
should I start with?”

“Your parents, of course.”

“My parents.” Chloe settled into the nook of Andrew's arm and blew out a breath. “Father is a pig farmer-”

“So you always have bacon, I assume?”

She looked up at him. “Are you going to interrupt all the way through?”

With a smile, Andrew shook his head. “No, I promise I'll be quiet. Go on.”

“Ahem...father is a pig farmer, but no, there is not always bacon. Sometimes lighting the house or clothing the children is more important than eating the meat. But of all the meats, pork is the most common in our home.”

“What is your father like?”

“Wonderful. Quiet. He smiles a lot. And he finds ways to make each of his children feel special. He is quite a remarkable father.”

“Then I cannot wait to meet him.”

Chloe thought about that.
About her family meeting Andrew.
It should have been an exciting occasion, but how could it be under these circumstances? It wasn't as if it mattered what they thought of one another.

“And your mother?”

“A lot like father, really. Quiet, most of the time. Of course, whenever Stevie or James got into trouble as children, she was the one to blister their bottoms. She can be rather fierce when she needs to be, though I know she prefers peace in the house.”

“Who are Stevie and James?” Andrew wondered as he lazily twirled Chloe's curls around his fingers.

“My brothers. James is the eldest.
He's four-and-twenty now
,
Stevie is two-and-twenty
. They both help father with the pigs and are responsible for taking them to market as well. But they are just as depraved as you and Michael,” she added with a smile.

“Ah, then we will get along just fine, won't we?”

Chloe laughed and allowed Andrew to hug her closer, if that was possible. “And then there are Cassandra and Jonathan, the youngest in the family. Cassie is eight and Jonathan is five.”

“Such a large gap in ages.”

“Yes, well, mother miscarried several times after Gracie. But they are the true life of the family. I always think one should try and view life through the eyes of a child.”

“Even Julia?” Andrew smirked.

Chloe gave a little snort. “Well, maybe not just any child. Do I get to hear about your family now?”

Andrew cleared his throat in preparation and began. “Well, my father was the fifth
Marquess
of
Eastleigh
, and not only was he a brilliant steward of the
Eastleigh
coffers, he was a wonderful father as well. Sadly, he passed away two years ago, shortly after Benjamin and Phoebe married.”

“Do you ever miss him?”

“All the time,” he replied quietly. “It wasn't sudden though. We had time to prepare, to say our goodbyes. Mother recovered well. She and Phoebe's mother are the best of friends now. They even toured the continent together last year.”

“And what of your sister, Katherine.”

Andrew let out a long breath. “Ah, Katherine. She is a perpetual thorn in my side.” Chloe elbowed him in the ribs and they both laughed. “But I do love her tremendously. And the duke, as I'm sure you've noticed, dotes on her quite lavishly.”

“Just as it should be,” Chloe commented.

They both fell silent. Chloe felt her eyelids droop and she let out a giant yawn.

“Is my family that boring?”

Chloe would have giggled if she had any energy left to do so. “Hardly,” she yawned again. “I'm just so...so...”

***

In the wee hours of the morning, the
Eastleigh
carriage pulled in front of a small house along a country road. A cock crowed his good morning as the sun began to rise over the horizon, and the sounds of the waking village infiltrated the thin windows of the carriage.

Andrew looked down at Chloe, still snuggled in his arms. She had fallen asleep crying, and had slept the rest of the way. It was a good thing, he thought. Better than her worrying through the night.

No, he had done enough of that for both of them. He’d sat there, wide awake, pondering their predicament for the last six hours, yet he’d come to no sound conclusions. Sure, they could run away, but where would that leave Elizabeth? And what would his family think of him? If nothing else, he valued his family and their opinions of him. He would not disgrace them by jilting his fiancée.

Perhaps the only option left was to come clean.
To profess his desire to marry Chloe, and not her cousin, and hope for the best.
But he didn’t have time to think about that now.

“Chloe?” He shook her gently in his arms and kissed the top of her head. She smelled so sweet and looked so darling that he hated to wake her. But if he were fortunate enough, he would get to wake to that sweet face every morning for the rest of his life.

Chloe stirred slightly, as if she might wake, but then burrowed back into his arms and went still again. Andrew gave a little chuckle and tried again.

“Chloe,” he repeated in a singsong whisper. “Come, darling, we’re here. In Essex.”

At the mention of Essex, Chloe’s eyes opened wide and she sat up with alarm. Clearly, she was trying to remember why they were there. When she did finally come to, she lapsed into a panic.

“Oh, God, Gracie,” she whispered and then flinging open the door, shouted, “Gracie!”

She hurled herself from the carriage and Andrew followed her quickly to the dilapidated little cottage. She barged through the door and then disappeared up a set of stairs. Andrew stayed downstairs alone and made himself as comfortable as he could at what must have been the family’s dining table, though it was nothing like the dining tables he was accustomed to. It looked more like a table and bench from an ancient pub.

He could hear faint voices from upstairs, but there was no indication of Grace’s condition. Assuming he was going to be there a while, he divested himself of his coat and hat and settled back down at the table again.

It was hard to believe someone like Mrs. Hawthorne had grown up in a home like this one. She was so poised and lovely, but this house was dingy and small, hardly fit for a woman of her disposition.

Andrew smiled. How he wanted to give her all the things she’d clearly never had.

A large, black bug ran by his hand just then, and he brought his fist down hard to smash it.