What a Widow Wants

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What a Widow Wants Page 5

by Jenna Jaxon


  “We cannot have that, Lady Stephen.”

  Fanny squealed and danced back as the large looming figure of Lord Lathbury appeared in front of her as though he’d been conjured.

  Perhaps he had.

  “Lord Lathbury! Wherever did you come from?” Fanny caught her breath and looked askance at the handsome rogue.

  “The card room, my lady. I thought it time I claimed a dance from you before you gave them all away.” His eyes twinkled as he tugged the booklet from her hand and perused it page by page. “What is this?”

  “A dance card. Mrs. Townsend says they are all the rage in Vienna.” Fanny shrugged, keeping a wary eye on Matthew. “She and her husband returned from there just after the war. I daresay it will catch on soon enough. A lady uses it to keep track of her partners for each dance.”

  Matthew continued to thumb through the empty pages. “I see I am just in the nick of time.” He seized the pencil attached to the book with a thin, fine chain and wrote his name on the second page with a flourish.

  Drat the man. He would come along before her card had any names at all on it.

  “There and there.” Matthew had continued writing his name on the fourth and the last pages, claiming the supper dance and the final one as well.

  “My lord, you know we may only dance together twice or I will be ruined.” Fanny managed to snatch her book back before he could mar any more lines. “That is not permitted.”

  “Is there no social dispensation for widows where dancing is concerned?” His brows rose innocently.

  “You know there is not.” Fanny longed to rap his knuckles with her fan. “You must go about and engage other ladies as well.”

  Lord Lathbury turned immediately, bowed to Elizabeth then turned back to Fanny. “Will you introduce me to your friend, Lady Stephen?”

  Fanny glared at him. “You are bold tonight, Matthew.”

  “Not at all, my dear.” He smiled engagingly at Elizabeth.

  Mouth puckered to repress a smile, her friend nodded.

  Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at his obvious subterfuge, Fanny summoned her manners. “Very well, then. Mrs. Richard Easton, may I make known to you Lord Lathbury. My lord, this is my friend, Mrs. Easton, who is my companion here in Brighton.”

  “Good evening, Mrs. Easton. How do you do?” He bowed and kissed her hand.

  “Good evening, my lord. I am honored.” Elizabeth dipped a curtsy, her eyes sparkling as Fanny hadn’t seen them since her husband’s death. She might be jealous if she didn’t suspect her friend found their encounter with Matthew extremely amusing.

  “Will you allow me the pleasure of dancing the third set with you?”

  “I would be delighted, Lord Lathbury.” Elizabeth shot Fanny a mirthful look as she wrote Lord Lathbury’s name in her dance card.

  “Thank you, ma’am. I will return shortly to claim you.” He turned and offered his arm to Fanny. “I believe this one is mine, Lady Stephen.”

  With a rueful smile, she hooked her arm in his and he led her to the floor where the set for a quadrille was making up. They took their places as the first couple, and Fanny bowed to her corner, then to her partner, then they began the quick, light steps of the dance.

  Surprisingly, Matthew kept up quite well for a man of his powerful build. She’d not danced with him for many years, and he’d been little more than a young man then, accustomed to these skipping steps. Yet he seemed not to have changed at all in that respect, for he kept pace easily with her and their second couple, though the dance was spritely. They circled, going into the promenade, where she became all too aware how near she was to her partner.

  The room had not seemed so close five minutes before, however now the heat of the glittering candles and chandeliers pressed in on Fanny, intensifying the scents of hot wax, sweet pomade, and the bergamot cologne that always brought Matthew to mind. Her body began to twitch.

  He took her hand as they changed places with the other first couple, coming back to their original place as the second couples began their part of the dance. Now was the time to rest, catch her breath before the second part of the quadrille commenced.

  “Your gown becomes you, Fanny.” Matthew leaned toward her, speaking so low she had to lean toward him to catch his words.

  “You always liked me in green.” At one point she must have had four gowns in varying shades of it.

  “And you remembered.”

  Curse the man. “No, I didn’t. I didn’t wear this for you.” Oh, but she had, knowingly or not.

  “You protest too much. Is it a sin to admit you remember me?”

  She caught a satisfied look from the corner of her eye and clenched her fist. A moment to recall where she was and she relaxed her hands. “Not a sin to be sure, but perhaps not wise.”

  “Leave the wisdom to Athena, Fanny. You should remain Aphrodite, goddess of passion.” So close to her ear she could feel the rush of air, his lips lingered on the word and she shivered.

  Before she could protest, the second figure was called. Matthew bowed to her, but the steps of this section required him to dance mostly with the other first lady. In the third section Fanny had to dance with her other partner until the second couples again took to the floor. Now she could tell Matthew she would have both passion and wisdom in her life, as she had not had them ever before.

  Raising her chin, she opened her lips—

  “Fanny, will you marry me?”

  Her mouth remained open, though no words would come. She must look a right fool to anyone paying her any mind. With an effort she closed her mouth. Why did the man keep proposing? She’d already given him her answer. But before she could remind him of it, the third figure commenced and she was off, crossing the floor with her opposite partner. When she returned to her place she had to take Matthew’s hand as the steps demanded. The heat of his palm penetrated her glove, shooting up her arm until it flushed her face.

  At last the second couples took over once more and she smiled at Matthew, teeth clenched. “Do you intend to propose to me every time you see me, Lord Lathbury?”

  A deep chuckle rumbled up through his chest. “Only until you accept me, my dear. As soon as you say yes, I promise I will ask no more.”

  “Then I fear I am destined to hear this proposal for the rest of my stay in Brighton, if not for the rest of my life.”

  “Nonsense, Fanny.” His smile slipped a bit. “You said you needed to think about it. That was weeks ago. Have you not grown tired of freedom in all this time?”

  “Not a bit.” Fanny raised her chin. “I am enjoying myself immensely, as you can see.” The fourth figure began and they parted. Sighing in relief, she smiled at her corner partner as she bowed.

  She’d had no idea Matthew would be so persistent. Flattering though it was, she must be cautious. Before she consented to marry again, she must have no doubt whatsoever about the man’s fidelity. Far too soon to tell that about Matthew. They’d only spoken at the ball in June after seven years’ absence. The Matthew of old she knew well; this new one, however, had changes she wasn’t sure she cared for. Like his persistence. He’d not been nearly this demanding of her attention ten years ago at her come-out. If he had been, her life might have been very different indeed.

  The quadrille ended and Fanny curtsied to Matthew once more. With due solemnity, he took her hand and led her from the floor. “I fear the dance has been too spritely for us both. I am quite out of breath and your cheeks are as red as the roses I sent you. Perhaps a breath of fresh air will revive us both.”

  Before she could protest, he whisked her out through a pair of French doors that led to the formal garden. “You did receive them, did you not?”

  “Receive what?” Her head was spinning with the heat and his close proximity. She had never felt so helpless at a man’s touch. Well, except for Stephen.

  “The bouquet of hyacinth and roses. Let’s sit by the fountain.” He led her down a short flight of steps to the fountain bubbling at the g
arden’s center where they sat, quite alone. Bathed in the bright moonlight the ordinary scene suddenly seemed exotic and exciting.

  “Yes, I did.” Too breathless. Best not to give him false hope. “I sent you a thank-you note, if you recall.” Fanny pursed her lips and gave herself a mental shake. What was the man about now?

  “Ah, yes. This one, I believe.” He withdrew the note she had sent him the morning after the masquerade.

  He had kept the three scrawled lines? Her heart beat faster. “Yes.”

  Holding the paper to his nose he inhaled deeply. “You still use rose as your perfume, Fanny. It permeates everything around you, even your writing paper.” He leaned toward her, until his lips brushed her ear. “I would know you by that scent even if I were blindfolded.”

  Gooseflesh rose on the nape of her neck and she shivered. “Matthew.”

  “Fanny, I love you.” He dropped a kiss on her bare skin and she suppressed a moan of longing. “I have ever since we first met. I want no other woman for my countess. Please say you will.”

  It would be easy to do. Open her lips and say “yes.” Matthew was a good man who would likely be a good husband to her and a wonderful father to Ella. Unlike Stephen, who’d been away most of his daughter’s life. She hardly knew what a father was.

  Just open her mouth . . .

  “As I told you before, Matthew, I may never marry again.”

  The smiling lines on his face turned hard, brittle in the moonlight. As though his face were a mask that might crack at any minute. “Don’t say that, Fanny.”

  “I must say it because it’s true. I made a mistake once. I won’t do it again.” If only she could get her trembling hands under control, she might be able to put more conviction into her words. “I intend to be a little wild and wicked before I even begin to think about marriage again.”

  “You have always been so.” Matthew relaxed, the hard planes of his face softening once more. “I wouldn’t expect you to change now.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “If you truly wish to be wicked, you should go sea bathing tomorrow morning.”

  “Sea bathing? What is so wicked about sea bathing?” A healthful regimen that had never had a breath of scandal laid upon it.

  “If you go to the beach tomorrow morning at six o’clock, you will find out. Send a note to order your bathing machine as soon as you return home. The beach in front of the aquarium is reserved for ladies at that time.” His dark eyes twinkled mischievously. “I will arrange for a dipper for you.”

  “I do not need a dipper, thank you. I have plunged before and am perfectly capable of doing so now.” What was this rogue up to? She should refuse to go, if only it didn’t sound like a marvelous lark.

  “I will not insist, then. But I will expect you to do your duty when the time comes.” Matthew rose and offered his arm.

  “I will do my duty, Lord Lathbury.” She grasped his arm, glad his mood had turned. She didn’t like for them to be at odds. “But where will you be? Gentlemen are not allowed anywhere near the beach while ladies are bathing.”

  “I do know that. So you will trust me to provide for your wicked experience even if it is in absentia.”

  Giggling, Fanny accompanied him back toward the house as excitement filled her. Whatever Matthew had in mind, she could count on it being an adventure, and a wicked one at that. Once Lord Lathbury gave his word on something he would move heaven and earth to make it happen.

  So if he had set his heart on marrying her, she might well find herself caught out, compromised and made to marry him or lose her reputation. She’d not put that past him. Such a quality in him, however, made her want to go to the beach so very badly. Flirting with danger had always been an exhilarating experience for her. Certainly she would not stop now.

  CHAPTER 6

  “He wants to meet you at six o’clock in the morning?” Elizabeth’s outraged voice filled the hired carriage as they sped toward their apartment. Brows furrowed, nostrils flaring, lips pursed, she reminded Fanny of some mythological monster. “His lordship is up to something, I’ll wager. He dances much too well for a large man.”

  “What does his dancing have to do with sea bathing?” Fanny cocked her head, eyebrows lowered as well.

  “It has to do with his character. If a large man has taken the time to perfect his dancing, when he could have spent it hunting or riding or shooting, then he learned it for a reason.”

  “And the reason is?”

  “To seduce women.”

  “By dancing with them?” Fanny burst out laughing. What had Matthew said to her friend when they had danced together? “Did he try to seduce you, Elizabeth?”

  Even the scant moonlight entering the carriage showed Elizabeth’s glare. “Of course he didn’t. But he’ll try to seduce you if you don’t have a care for where you go or when you see him.”

  “I’m only to go to the beach, get into a bathing machine—which I shall order as soon as we reach our apartment—and plunge myself into very cold water.” Fanny shivered at the thought. “I won’t even see Matthew once I leave the promenade. He won’t be able to come onto the beach while the ladies are there.”

  “Then why is he even coming?”

  “I’m not sure. But he promised me something wicked and I plan to hold him to that.”

  “Something wicked?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows threatened to disappear into her hairline. “Then I refuse to be a part of any of this, Fanny. This is not what we came to Brighton for. We have our reputations to think about.”

  “I am thinking about my reputation and I want to be a ‘Wicked Widow,’ just like Charlotte.”

  “That sobriquet was an unfortunate mistake perpetrated by the ton.” Elizabeth sniffed. “Fortunately, it’s died down quickly and did not seem to harm her much. I daresay her removal to Kent shortly will help people forget.” Elizabeth stared her down. “Therefore you can go unaccompanied to the beach. I will have nothing to do with whatever scandalous behavior Lord Lathbury has in mind.”

  “Elizabeth,” Fanny said, grasping her friend’s hands and turning her voice soft and wheedling. “You promised you would chaperone me in Brighton, and since sea bathing is part of the world here, you are all but obligated to come with me.” Fanny squeezed the cold hands. “Do say you’ll accompany me?”

  Sighing, Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I will.”

  “Bless you, my dear.” Fanny sat back, tension draining away.

  “I do have certain conditions, however.”

  “What conditions?” She could smell trouble whenever her sensible friend had that arch tone in her voice.

  “You must not bring Lord Lathbury nor any other gentleman to our apartment, save for an invitation to tea, and even that I will strongly discourage. I am not old enough to chaperone you properly, so you must act with utmost discretion, should you decide to flirt with him.” Elizabeth stared at her frankly, and Fanny’s stomach sank. No possibility for a discreet tryst with Matthew. She’d be lucky to stand up with him twice at a dance under Elizabeth’s gimlet eye.

  “I agree to that condition. What other rules do you wish for me to abide by?”

  “You are not to act scandalously at any public assembly we attend.”

  “I do not court scandal, Elizabeth.” Fanny squirmed on the seat. Apparently she’d have to curtail the glorious ideas she’d had about their time here in Brighton.

  “Perhaps not, although it certainly finds you often enough.” With a sniff, Elizabeth sat back in the carriage. “Do you agree to that condition as well?”

  “I suppose I will have to.” Brighton was becoming less a lark and more a jail. “Are there any other ways you propose to deter me from having fun while we are here?”

  “Only this.” Her companion laced her fingers together on her lap. “I know you are eager to venture out in society once more. Please be careful about the gentlemen you allow to court you. I do not include Lord Lathbury in that warning, as his intentions are perfectly clear. Others may not be so matrimonially incl
ined, however.”

  “Well, thank God for that.” Especially since she had no intention of marrying at the moment. “I believe I can talk and dance and flirt with a variety of gentlemen here without getting myself compromised.”

  The carriage pulled to a stop before their lodgings.

  “You had better hope so, Fanny,” Elizabeth said as she rose.

  “So you will accompany me to the promenade in the morning?”

  “Yes, but I will not sea bathe. I detest cold water, so you must do that alone. I’ll remain on the beach so the proprieties will be satisfied.”

  The coachman handed Elizabeth down and Fanny followed her, outwardly sedate, inwardly dancing a jig. Tomorrow morning she would see what kind of wickedness Lord Lathbury had in mind.

  * * *

  A brisk breeze buffeted Fanny and Elizabeth as they stood on the promenade, the horizon lightening in a gorgeous array of pinks and purples as dawn approached. Fanny wished for a thicker cloak as she eyed the sole bathing machine sitting on the deserted beach. What scheme had Matthew devised that could be called wicked? And by whom if no one else was there to see?

  “Whoever believes sea bathing is good for the health obviously has not attempted it in such cold weather.” Elizabeth huddled next to her, her gloved hands clenched tightly, her teeth chattering as she spoke.

  “It’s hard to believe, but many people sea bathe during the autumn months. The chilled water is invigorating.” Fanny tried to make her voice sound enthusiastic. When she’d gone bathing at the age of ten years old, she’d thought it a grand adventure and hadn’t minded the chilly water. Later, with Stephen, the weather had been much warmer. Now the sight of the dark gray waves and the brisk breeze on her exposed face filled her with dismay.

  With a skeptical rise of her eyebrows, Elizabeth tugged her cloak closer. “I’d think you’d rather catch your death of cold.” She peered down the deserted promenade and nodded at an approaching figure. “I see Lord Lathbury has finally put in an appearance.”

 

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