The Wary Widow (5 page)

“It's nary a scrape, milord,” Mrs. Finch said, smacking him rather forcefully on the arm. “A little alcohol and a bandage and she'll be right as rain, she will. Sit tight, Mrs. Hawthorne, I'll be back in a moment. And don't let this one charm you into his bed while I'm gone.”

With another loud cackle, the woman disappeared through the doorway. Andrew turned to see Mrs. Hawthorne gaping after her.

“Don't mind her,” he said. “She's a bit spirited, but she makes a fine housekeeper.”

“Fine, indeed. Wherever did you find such a woman?”

Andrew
smiled,
liking very much that this slight woman of twenty years didn't mince words or beat about the bush. “I'll tell you if you promise not to tell Lady Elizabeth. I've no doubt she would disapprove of our unconventional housekeeper.”

Chloe scooted forward on the edge of the chair, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I promise.”

“Truth be told,” he began, “I met her at an establishment of, shall we say, questionable values?” He stopped, realizing this was an entirely inappropriate conversation to be having with a lady, alone, in his parlor, widow or otherwise.

“Well, go on, my lord. Mrs. Finch will be back any moment.”

“Yes, well...you see, this isn't all that easy to say to a lady such as yourself.”

“Oh, I'm no lady, just poor relations.”

Andrew laughed and finally gave in. “The madam gave her to me, so to speak. She was to be mine for the night, only she came to me trembling, upset, really quite terrified.”

“Oh, dear, the poor thing!”

“Poor thing is right. She was only nineteen at the time. Both her parents had died of some sort of fever and she'd fallen into the profession quite by accident. She'd been
working
, shall we say, for three years, but had, just that night, experienced something quite frightening.”

“Did she tell you what happened?”

“Yes, but do not dare ask me to repeat it. Good Lord, no woman should ever be exposed to such horrors, even second hand.”

“So, what did you do?”

“Well, Mrs. Hawthorne, I like a woman to be willing when she comes to my bed, and so I didn't touch her, naturally. Rather, I bought her out, brought her here and employed her as our housekeeper.”

A glowing smile broke out on Mrs. Hawthorne's lips. It made her eyes light up and her cheeks rosy, and he realized she was beaming at him with the pride of a mother. Good God, he had just ruined his reputation as a playboy in one fell swoop.
All because the little twit had begged him to tell his story.

“Please don't.”

“Don't what?” she asked.

“Don't look at me like...well, like that.”

“I'm sure I don't understand. I'm merely smiling at you. I think it's quite honorable what you did, no matter
how
you came by her.”

Andrew didn't miss the hint of censure in her tone and that made him smile again. “Ah, here she is. Mrs. Finch, I will be outside seeing to Daisy, if you would be so kind as to escort Mrs. Hawthorne there when you're done.”

“Not a problem, milord,” Mrs. Finch said with a wink.

He wasn't sure what the wink meant, but he decided it was best left ignored.

He turned to Mrs. Hawthorne to see she stared back at his housekeeper with badly veiled fascination. Good God, she was
fascinated
by her? Andrew wanted to laugh, but he couldn't, for he realized that just as
she was fascinated by Mrs. Finch
, he was fascinated by Mrs. Hawthorne.

Five

“Chloe!”

Chloe looked up from the letter she’d been writing to her mother. She was in the middle of telling her all about Lord Andrew's housekeeper, which was still hard to believe. Goodness, a whore for a housekeeper.

Former whore, Chloe! There you go being uncharitable in your thoughts again.

Lizzie continued to call for her, and soon there were footsteps on the landing outside her bedroom door. Chloe sighed and placed her quill back in the ink well. She would have to finish the letter later, since apparently, duty called again.

“
Chlo
—
Oh, there you are.” Lizzie bounded into the room, her blond curls bouncing. “I wish to take a walk, but naturally, I can’t go alone.”

“Naturally,” Chloe repeated, rising from her desk chair. “I’ll just fetch my pelisse.”

Lizzie followed close on her heels as she walked to her closet, and Chloe couldn’t help but wonder at her peculiar behavior.

“Don’t forget your parasol,” Lizzie advised. “It’s awfully bright today.”

Chloe turned and practically collided with her cousin, she was so close. She brandished her parasol and waved it about, though she didn’t really see the point in them. Her bonnet almost completely covered her face and it was already five o'clock. But it seemed the thing to do in London, so Chloe held her tongue and followed her very eager cousin from the room.

“Where are we going, anyway?” Chloe inquired after her cousin.

“Hyde Park, of course.” Lizzie accepted her own parasol from the butler. “That’s where all the fashionable people go.” She delivered this last statement as if everyone should know such a fact.

“Well, then why am
I
going?”

Lizzie turned on the spot and leveled Chloe with a somewhat annoyed glare. “Because you are my chaperone and you love me and you wouldn’t dare deny me the opportunity to mingle with my friends on such a delightful afternoon.”

A conciliatory smile tugged at Chloe’s lips. She and her cousin could not have been more different if they tried. But she did love Lizzie, even for all her social climbing and city ways, and did not wish to upset her.

“You’re right,” she said at last. “I’m sorry. I promise not to say another contrary thing the rest of the afternoon.”

Lizzie seemed pleased, if not a bit skeptical with her apology—if her highly arched brows were any indication—and grabbed her arm to tug her out the door. Chloe practically had to skip to keep up with her cousin’s pace. Usually her cousin strolled in a manner befitting a lady. Today she practically ran to the park. Chloe had never known her to be in such a hurry to get somewhere before. It didn’t help matters that Lizzie’s legs extended at least five inches longer than her own.
 

They reached the park in what Chloe assumed was record time, and she was thankful when Lizzie finally slowed down. She knew it wasn’t on her account, but that was all right, they had slowed nonetheless. It was a lovely day and Chloe didn’t wish to rush their sojourn. Fluffy clouds passed lazily overhead, gravel crunched beneath carriage wheels and children squealed as they ran through the grass.

Members of the
ton
made up the majority of the scene, walking, riding, flirting; it was like some kind of civilized mating ritual. Chloe blushed at the thought. She really ought to stop reading so much about animals and their
rituals.

She followed along behind Lizzie, enjoying the warm, April sun, tilting her face towards the light.

“Why do you lag so, Chloe?” Lizzie asked as she looped her arm through Chloe’s. “You needn’t walk behind me like a maid.”

“Sorry,” she answered. “What shall I do if you wish to walk with Lord Andrew, or a friend?”

Lizzie looked at her with a sly smile. “Well,
then
you should walk behind. Especially if it’s a gentleman.”

A
gentleman? What did that mean? Her cousin was betrothed to
one
gentleman, and she couldn’t imagine Lord Andrew being very amenable to his future bride taking private walks with another man. And for that matter, she couldn’t imagine
wanting
to take walks with another man if she were the one engaged to Lord Andrew.

“You never mentioned whether or not you enjoyed your time at Ashbury Manor yesterday,” Lizzie cut into the silence as they crested a hill that looked down on what Chloe assumed was the Serpentine. She’d heard it was the place to see and be seen in London, but she never imagined it would be so beautiful.

Bright green grass dabbled with tall, leafy trees made up its banks. And the vast body of water rippled with every stroke from the little boats that carried lovers and friends alike.
Gaggles of geese waddled about, ducks
and Swans glided across the water. Groups of silly young ladies and young bucks teased and flirted with one another while their chaperones looked on. Aside from the fauna, it was quite similar to the ball they'd attended the prior evening. Minus the heat and overcrowding, or the abundance of oppressive perfume, of course.

“You seemed a bit distracted at times,” Lizzie continued.

“Oh, no, I had a lovely time. It’s just that...”

“Yes?”

“I suppose hearing about their husbands and families and such made me miss Sam all over again.”

Lizzie turned her fallen features toward the
Serpentine,
clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation had turned. Never mind that she’d been the one to ask.

“I’m sorry,” she said at last, and it almost sounded like a question. As if she were asking if that were the right thing to say to a widow who was missing her husband.

But before either could say anymore on the subject, Lizzie tensed her arm around Chloe’s. Chloe had no idea why until her cousin greeted a puffed-up looking dandy on the path. His blond hair was slicked into a greasy coif beneath a tall top hat. And his pants hugged even tighter than Lord Andrew's. Unfortunately, he did not seem nearly as fit or muscular.

“Lord
Edgmond
,” Lizzie breathed. “How pleasant to see you here this afternoon.”

She had a wistful look in her eye as she regarded the man, but Chloe couldn’t figure out why. He had a handsome enough face, but one could hardly see past his brightly colored ensemble.

When did men start wearing purple striped waistcoats?

“Why, Lady Elizabeth,” the man drawled, taking Lizzie’s hand in his and kissing the tips of her fingers. “I certainly didn’t expect to find you here this afternoon.”

Why not?
Chloe tried to puzzle out the relationship, and came to the conclusion that neither one was surprised to see the other at all. Lord
Edgmond’s
next words confirmed Chloe’s suspicions.

“But since you are here, I’ve something I wish to discuss with you.” He held out his arm to her. “Would you care to stroll with me for a bit?”

Lizzie giggled, and her cheeks turned a bright pink. What in the world was going on here?
“Goodness, I hope it’s nothing serious,” Lizzie said and then turning to Chloe, added, “Why don’t you rest for a bit, dear. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

Chloe hesitated. Was this a test? Was she supposed to say “no” like a good chaperone, or was a good chaperone one that allowed her charge a bit of freedom?

Oh, blast it! This was her cousin, who was not even six months from her own age. Chloe was merely there to keep up appearances, not to keep Lizzie from doing as she pleased.

“Yes, all right,” she agreed finally, and then made her way to a soft patch of grass near the water.

***

“Good God, Michael, can we go home now, please?”
“We’ve only been here for a half an hour, Andrew. What on earth is your rush?”

Michael took his eyes from the path to observe his brother who had thrown his head back to look at the sky.

“You know I hate being here during
the fashionable hour,”
Andrew replied, not hiding his sarcasm. “I much prefer an early morning ride.”

“As do I, but the Lionesses aren’t going to give up, so it’s best we try to appease them once in a while.”

Phoebe and Katherine were relentless when it came to their social mores. As members of such an influential family, they felt it was part of their duty to parade about town and involve themselves in Society. Michael and Andrew had received the “duty” speech more times than they could count, and could recite it verbatim, but they knew their sisters’ concerns went far beyond obligation. They wanted the boys to marry, and soon.

And not for any conventional reasons like connections or heirs.
Oh, no! They wanted another sister. Another
goose
to add to their gaggle to provide them even more topics of gossip and frivolous conversation.

When Andrew had announced he was to marry Lady Elizabeth the women were nearly beside themselves with joy. Lady Elizabeth was just their sort.
Lively and pretty and smart.
She would certainly be a fine addition to their little club.

Elizabeth would be a fine addition to any gathering.

“Besides,” Michael continued, shaking away his wayward thoughts, “six o’clock is hardly the fashionable hour.”

“It’s fashionable enough,” Andrew rejoined. “And I have appeased them, remember? I’ve already found a wife, so why in hell am I required to come on these rides with you?”

“You’re not,” Michael retorted, suddenly annoyed with his brother. “It’s your betrothed you should be riding with, anyhow.”

Andrew fell silent and Michael looked over at him, but before his eyes could fall on his brother’s brooding countenance, someone caught his eye in the distance.

Lady Elizabeth.

Walking alone with Lord
Edgmond
, damn her.

The pair disappeared around a bend, and Michael pondered the situation. Was it true that
Edgmond
was after his brother’s fiancée? He’d assumed, as Andrew had, that it was merely idle gossip. But perhaps they’d been wrong.

His eyes scanned the bank of the Serpentine as they approached and he saw that Elizabeth’s cousin sat there, her foot tapping anxiously.

“Look.” Michael pointed toward the woman and Andrew followed his gaze.

“That’s Mrs. Hawthorne,” he remarked. “But what is she doing in the park alone?
And at such a late hour?
It’s almost six o’clock now.”

“I’m not sure, but perhaps you should go and find out.”

Michael hoped his brother would take the bait so he might follow to where Elizabeth and
Edgmond
had gone. Andrew didn’t need to know of her indiscretion, if there was in fact an indiscretion. But Michael couldn’t allow Elizabeth to dally with other men while she was engaged to his brother. It just wouldn’t do.

“Where are you going?” Andrew asked
,
his gaze still fixed on the little widow.

“I’m just going to give Thor here a hard ride up Rotten Row.” And then he rode off, without an ounce of guilt over lying to his brother.

***

“We meet again, Mrs. Hawthorne.”