The Virgin Widow

by Jen YatesNZ

  ‘She’s an attractive filly these days. You planning to add her to your stable?’

  Fortunately he’d swallowed his port and didn’t choke on it. Raising his eyebrows, he slanted a glance at Harry.

  ‘Don’t mind Harry. He’s almost a man himself and he needs to learn what’s what.’

  ‘He’d do better to be the kind of gentleman who protects the women of his household from the likes of me, rather than recommending them to my attention!’

  Pountney didn’t even have the grace to look abashed.

  Bax wondered who he’d become, speaking thus, but he felt oddly protective of Angular. She was—family—damn near! Though he definitely didn’t feel ‘brotherly’ towards her.

  ‘S’alright Uncle Bax. I know to look out for my sisters. I was hoping, when I come up to town next season, you might be able to show me how to go on.’

  ‘Glad to, Harry, though doubt you’ll need to worry. Will come naturally,’ Bax assured him. With the carelessly arranged black Beresford curls and exceptionally green eyes, young Harry was going to slay women with a glance. ‘Shall we join the ladies?’

  Any minute now Pountney would start on again about horses—and Zeus. And he’d managed to put that fiasco out of his mind for the last hour or two. Preferred to keep it that way. Was looking forward in fact, to getting back to the delightful distraction of Lady Rotherby—a widow with no inconvenient husband lurking somewhere. His mind was already leaping ahead, working on the problem of getting her alone.

  Again he found himself wishing he had the right to accompany her to the modiste. She’d look magnificent in emerald, turquoise, earth tones and the rich colors of a sunburst.

  Coming to himself, he realized Pountney was blocking the doorway and Harry had gone ahead. His brother-in-law’s face wore an uncharacteristic frown.

  ‘It won’t do to have you raking around Lady Rotherby while she’s chaperoning our Selena. Would appreciate it if you’d hold off until Selena’s settled. Want to do the best for my girls, you know, and if we can get the eldest successfully established then it’s to be hoped she’ll be in a position to help the younger ones.’

  Pountney’s ramble enabled him to gather his usual blasé mask of carelessness.

  ‘Damn it, Dick, we practically grew up as siblings and she’s a distant cousin of sorts! I won’t be cutting the woman to suit your social aspirations for Selena. I’m looking forward to some friendly converse with her, find out how her life’s been, how it transpires she’s a widow.’

  Pountney gaped.

  ‘Not your usual modus operandi, old man!’

  Inwardly Bax agreed. He rarely cared to know anything about a woman beyond her comeliness and willingness.

  ‘Which shows you need not worry.’

  Pountney raised that crooked brow again, as if he wasn’t quite convinced. Bax wasn’t sure he believed himself.

  Pountney wasn’t finished.

  ‘I was hoping to enlist your help with Selena. Brisco and Holly have agreed to stand in loco parentis as it were—but the pair of them are a bit otherworldly! Know what I mean? If you could see your way to maintaining a presence I’d be grateful. Selena’s a taking young miss and I worry for her. If Celia weren’t in the family way I’d come up to town myself, but I can’t leave Celie. And if the young bloods had to go through you to get to Selena they’d think twice about it, wouldn’t they? Wouldn’t toy with her and the like.’

  ‘You want me to watch out for your daughter?’

  Bax couldn’t have been more stunned.

  Pountney’s laughter echoed down the hall.

  ‘Set one to catch one!’

  It was a long time since the Great Bax had blushed, but he came damned close to it with Pountney’s next words. ‘I know your rep is a front. You’re as responsible when it comes to family as anybody I know. Watch out for my girl, Hades. Brisco’ll be relieved. He wasn’t looking forward to fending off the crowd of suitors he seemed to think she’d attract. At least there’s little there for the fortune hunters!’

  Bemused, and a little humbled, though he’d never admit it, Bax agreed.

  ***

  While sipping their tea, Celia confided her hopes Selena, though only having a modest dowry, would make a brilliant match because of her striking looks and figure, level-headed mature attitude, and her ability to manage a household.

  ‘Uncle Bax has promised to show me how to go on when I go up to London next season. He’s bang up to the trees!’ Harry interrupted, effectively cutting off Celia’s chatter.

  A few minutes later Pountney entered closely followed by Lord Baxendene, his expression a study in nonchalance.

  Celia started in on her brother almost before he’d stepped into the room. Clearly she didn’t trust him as a guide and mentor for the heir to Pountney Hall!

  ‘You’d have to admit, Cel,’ Hades said at length, his voice slightly tight with something that sounded remarkably like ‘hurt’, ‘you know nothing truly dishonorable of me and t’is better the lad learns the pitfalls of society from someone who’s experienced them rather than falling into them himself.’

  ‘Why don’t we have Selena play for us?’ Pountney interposed. ‘That always soothes you, my love.’

  Selena rose to oblige and Celia calmed, Pountney dropping to her side, after pulling the footstool closer and lifting her feet onto it.

  After a brace of Mozart sonatas Selena rested her hands on the keys and asked, ‘Do you play—or sing, Lady Rotherby?’

  Bax, who’d gone to turn the pages for his niece, fixed Jane with a challenging look.

  ‘I remember you had a beautiful voice and were accomplished on the lute!’

  ‘You said I sounded like the frogs croaking in the pond!’

  ‘Of course I did! You were only fifteen and I twenty! I couldn’t have you thinking you’d impressed me in any way!’

  He winked outrageously then asked Pountney to send for a lute from the music room.

  ‘It’s been a while,’ she murmured.

  Every song would take her back to sitting with James of an evening by the fire at Rotherby; in the garden folly in summer when the roses perfumed the air; by his bed in those last months when he’d faded before her eyes. Theirs had not been a love match in the traditional sense, James being old enough to be her father, but he’d been her savior, her hero. Every song had been a gift of love.

  As tears threatened the backs of her eyelids she forced herself to focus on the lyrics of the old Celtic ballads. As the last notes faded after the third ballad she laid the lute across her knees and brought her focus back to the room.

  Celia’s cheeks were wet and they all gazed at her with wonder in their eyes, even Lord Baxendene. Before anyone could speak, Celia begged, ‘Oh Jane, please don’t stop! That was beautiful.’

  ‘I wish I had a voice like yours, Lady Rotherby,’ Selena sighed. ‘Will you teach me to play the lute? You make it sound so—’

  ‘Poignant! That’s the word you’re looking for Selena,’ Bax commented drily. ‘Your voice has matured considerably since I last heard you sing, Jane. I’ll add my plea. More please? In fact, I’ll be specific. Do you remember the Lament? To the Last Laird of Rosen Keep?’

  Lament to the Last Laird of Rosen Keep. The words took her way beyond her time with James, to childhood evenings by the vicarage fire and Aunt Bea’s rich voice rolling the lilting Scottish words off her tongue.

  The Lion came prowlin’

  Roamin’ doon the glen

  Bidin’ fir yon time o’ passin’

  O’ the last great Laird

  O’ the true Blair blood

  And yon end o’ a line everlastin’.

  The hills will greet and the rivers run deep

  Till the Lion brings a Lamb

  Back to bonny Rosen Keep.

  Aye, the hills will greet and the rivers run deep

  Ere the Lion brings the Lamb back to Rosen Keep.’

  The ‘Lion’ referred to Bax’s grandfather, the
8th Earl of Baxendene, who’d married Lady Shierann Blair, daughter of Fergus, the last Laird of Rosen Keep, whose family emblem was the Ram. With no son to inherit after him, Laird Fergus Blair had made Rosen Keep and its lands his eldest daughter’s dowry.

  Fergus Blair’s mother had been the Auld Laird’s first wife. Jane’s family, the Bracewell’s were descended down the line from the youngest daughter of the Auld Laird’s second wife. Jane had never been to Rosen Keep, but Aunt Bea’s stories had imbued her with a bleak nostalgia for a place little more than a myth.

  As soon as she began singing, Bax’s deep base joined her, and then Celia’s soft soprano. They all had their memories of Rosen Keep, carefully inculcated by their elders.

  She wouldn’t look at him. The smoky grey eyes were too knowing.

  Celia thanked her emotionally and declared herself in need of retiring and when Pountney rose to accompany her, Jane rose also. She’d lulled herself into a state of relaxation.

  Which was banished when Hades said, ‘It’s still light out. I thought we might go for a stroll in the gardens, Lady Rotherby. We’ve several years to catch up on.’

  With all eyes on them, Jane could scarcely refuse. Besides, he’d asked so correctly, politely.

  As Pountney lent Celia his arm for the climb upstairs and Selena and Harry settled into playing a spirited duet on the pianoforte, Lord Baxendene helped settle her pashmina about her shoulders. With every appearance of bored politesse he escorted her through the French windows onto the neatly trimmed pathways through the rose gardens for which Pountney Hall was locally famous.

  Stopping beyond sight of the house he took her hands in his before she could protest, holding them wide. His appreciative gaze swept from the top of her head to her kid slipper-clad feet.

  ‘How,’ he demanded, voice throaty and definitely not bored, ‘did Angular Jane of youthful memory become the beautiful Lady Rotherby of exquisite form and stunning elegance? I should warn you ‘elegance ruffling’ is an art I excel at.’

  Jane slipped her hands free, continued walking, and said, ‘I’m not interested in the rakish gentleman you’ve become or the silly games he likes to play,’ she said serenely. ‘Holly adores her older brother. I’m often subjected to a litany of your latest exploits and conquests. So I’m reasonably up-to-date on who you are now. If that rakish gentleman is who you are, I’d prefer to return to the house.’

  ‘No more name-calling?’ he asked, mischief in his eyes and completely ignoring her set-down.

  That quickly he disarmed her.

  ‘We fell into old habits rather easily, didn’t we?’ she couldn’t help laughing.

  Stealing her hand once again, he placed it on his sleeve.

  He was good, Jane thought with an inward sigh; an expert at lulling females into false security.

  ‘If I promise to behave will you tell me what has happened in your life since I last saw you? How you came to marry Rotherby? The man was considerably older, if I remember.’

  ‘He was,’ she agreed, walking several steps before continuing. ‘I had four older sisters, none of us great beauties—and no dowry to sweeten the pot. I was also very tall.’

  ‘I didn’t think so!’

  There was a caressing note in his voice. Romancing a woman came so naturally she wondered if he even knew he was doing it.

  ‘That’s because you’re built like the Tower of London. No one appears tall to you.’

  He grinned down at her and she wondered how many women he’d cozened with those dancing eyes.

  ‘So tell me about Rotherby and how you came to marry him. He wasn’t often seen in town.’

  It was easy to talk of James. Much of who she was now, was attributable to James. But she’d not tell him all of it. There were some things a man of Hades’ predilections didn’t need to know.

  ‘I was as close with Abby, Rotherby’s daughter, as I was with Holly. After she married I visited him regularly for she worried about him. I liked James. He was the nicest man I knew.’

  James. So many happy, serene memories; not least of which was her desperate wish she’d had James for a father instead of the stern, harried vicar, Graham Bracewell. James’s death, while leaving her more secure than she could ever have imagined, had left her emotionally adrift, the proverbial rudderless ship. It was only in the last few months she’d come to realize in many ways he hadn’t left her at all, that during those years they’d shared he’d been quietly teaching her how to go on without him; how to lash the rudder and steer a true course under her own captaincy.

  ‘He began courting you?’

  ‘No. He considered himself too old! But I knew my time was running out when I was approaching twenty with no proposals. Papa had forced marriages on my sisters. He was only concerned to get us off his hands. Our desires were not considered. When he started inviting Squire Dunne to dinner and lauding my housekeeping skills, I knew I had to act. I was determined to choose for myself. James and I were already the best of friends. It was Abby’s idea really.’

  ‘I was still thin and shapeless, with little idea of how to dress. Marriage suited me. James suited me. He pampered me in every way; taught me how to be his Countess.’

  ‘You miss him. How long were you married?’

  ‘Almost eight years and he’s been gone two. I miss him greatly and he left me comfortably secure in my future.’

  ‘Will you settle in town now?’

  ‘Heavens no. I wouldn’t be going now if Holly hadn’t begged me to come and help chaperone Selena—and because it’s time I updated my wardrobe. James has been sitting on my shoulder for some time now with regard to that. He taught me how to dress. I’d only ever worn my sisters’ hand-me-downs, and being the youngest of five, I’d never had a new gown made just for me. James encouraged me to indulge that luxury—which I haven’t since he died.’

  ‘If a woman can afford to be well-dressed then she’s duty-bound to be so!’ Hades declared solemnly. Wickedness smoldered in the depths of his eyes. ‘From the inside out. There’s nothing more satisfying than undressing a well-dressed woman.’

  Before she could react the wicked twinkle faded.

  ‘I used to give you a hard time about your ill-fitting gowns back then and the odd scraps of mismatched materials and lace you utilized to try and lengthen them enough to hide your ankles. I was an insensitive ass and I apologize.’

  ***

  Disconcerted at the shame he felt for denigrating her when she’d lived a less privileged life than he—or his sisters—he patted her hand and continued walking. Trouble was, along with shame at the brashness of his younger self, he was consumed with jealousy for a dead man and the obvious tenderness with which she remembered him.

  He wanted to give her new memories, really show her how to dress.

  ‘I’d be honored if you’d allow me to accompany you to La Callista. I’m acquainted with Madame Callie and she avows my taste is second to none!’

  He couldn’t resist turning to watch the lovely color flood her cheeks, and smile cheekily at her as she nevertheless calmly put him in his place.

  ‘I’m not some bit of muslin you can indulge with the expectation of a return of favors! I’m Selena’s chaperone. I’d thank you not to jeopardize that. As would her parents!’

  ‘Pountney has already had his say in that direction,’ he said.

  She seemed quite unruffled apart from the becoming blush and he wondered what it would take to truly ruffle her. He’d never seriously had to forego anything he’d wanted in his life and he really wanted Angular Jane.

  Ergo, he would pursue her slowly—but persistently—for the rest of the season. Then he’d steal the prize. Sunset-fire hair, melted toffee eyes and a voice with the husky tones of passion, the rewards would be worth waiting for.

  Standing at the brick wall overlooking the great park, he was tempted to kiss her anyway, to know how she tasted, how she felt in his arms. As naturally as the thought formed his body turned towards her, his arms reaching t
o enfold her.

  With an agility he wasn’t expecting, she slipped from his grasp and turned back onto the path.

  ‘Time to return, I think. It’s been a long day.’

  With a rueful smile at the straight back already hurrying ahead of him, he strode forward and secured her arm on his once again.

  Assisting her in through the French windows, he deemed it prudent not to escort her upstairs to her room, lightly kissed her fingers and bade her goodnight. A brisk, but solitary, walk in the deepening twilight might save him from spoiling his chances through being over eager.

  ***

  Abandoning his horse to Fosse’s care, Bax rode back to London in the carriage with the ladies. He’d then to take himself to task for feeling miffed Jane didn’t thaw beyond the level of easy friendship. He discovered she had no children of her own, but enjoyed playing grandmother to Rotherby’s grandchildren. She turned the tables on him, asking for news of his reclusive Uncle Lucien and the aged retainers she remembered from The Dene, thus forcing his thoughts to a place he preferred not to think about or visit, except in the line of duty.

  He’d casually stretched his legs and occasionally managed the briefest of contacts with Jane’s feet and once, her knee. But in the main she’d sat carefully straight and contained, making ‘accidental contact’ difficult to achieve. By the time they arrived at Brisco House in Chesterfield Street, he was wishing he’d stayed with the more comfortable travel option of riding Hawk.

  But all frivolous considerations left his mind when Brisco’s butler informed him Lady Brisco was at Baxendene House because his mother was unwell. Mama was never ill, certainly never ill enough to send for Holly.

  For although Holly was a cuckoo in the Baxendene nest of Georgiana’s own hatching, she’d showered her daughter with every material luxury while denying her any shred of her loving attention. That, the lovely fairy-like child, had sought from her siblings and he, Jason, Samantha and Celia had always been Holly’s support team.