What a Widow Wants

by Jenna Jaxon

  Mother of God, his own need had become so great he’d burst if he didn’t have his own Corn Maiden and quickly. The rite had not finished, but if he stayed he’d surely make an embarrassing spectacle of himself. He grabbed Fanny’s hand. “Let’s go.”

  A quiet moan from Fanny, staring at the Harvest couple, engorged him further. She turned to him, eyes wide and deep black with desire. They needed to leave now. He pulled her to him and she followed willingly, even eagerly, as he headed them for the only secluded spot around, a tree line above the cleared field. Matthew only hoped they would get there before the lust that filled his entire being overcame his better judgment and he took Fanny in plain sight of the entire village of Wrotham.

  Once out of the immediate vicinity of the harvest rite, his primal urges eased, but only minimally. He wanted to sink himself into Fanny’s warm sheath so badly he ground his teeth in the effort not to give into it. Not far now. Moaning to their left brought him up short. He stopped, peering into the darkness.

  The moon had sailed behind a cloud, so Matthew could only see the outlines of a man and a woman, in the throes of passion, lying on a blanket on the ground. A powerful rite indeed, for these were not the country people of Wrotham. In fact, if he didn’t miss his guess, the couple was the newly betrothed Wrotham and Lady Cavendish. As the seed goes to the fertile ground.

  His own seed now urging him onward, Matthew continued to run toward the trees. The sound of panting in his ear as Fanny strove to keep up with his breakneck pace only served to enrage his blood more. A sound reminiscent of those she made when in the throes.

  As they reached the trees, he dropped his hand to his fall, frantically working the buttons. With his other hand, he groped at Fanny’s long skirt. “Help me.”

  “Wait.” She shook her head and pointed to the edge of the tree line some ten yards to their right.

  A streak of errant moonlight suddenly illuminated another couple, arms entwined about one another, kissing passionately. The damned rite must be powerful beyond belief to affect all these people.

  “This way.” Fanny grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the moonlight and into the woods.

  The sudden darkness blinded him, but he strode onward, his need for Fanny too great to deter him. The lack of light never hindered this act. He bumped his shoulder against a tree and froze, pulling Fanny to a halt beside him. “Now. I have to have you now, Fanny.”

  She launched herself into his arms, her mouth claiming him in a bruising kiss that drove him over the edge of sanity. With a deep growl he spun her around and pushed her against the tree. “Hold on.”

  Nodding, she thrust her bottom at him, legs apart, and raked her skirts up.

  Groaning from his soul, Matthew freed his member, guided it to her waiting channel, and thrust home. The intense relief of claiming her almost made him spill his seed on the first stroke, but he calmed a measure and paused, glorying in their joined state.

  “More, Matthew. I need more.” Fanny’s voice broke his state of bliss.

  He leaned over her back, straining into her until he could whisper in her ear, “You feel the power too, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  He nudged further inside her.

  “Yes.” More insistent now.

  Withdrawing almost completely, he then surged forward to the hilt, every inch of him on fire for her.

  “Yes, oh, yes, Matthew,” she cried out, arching her back like a wild creature.

  All semblance of civility fell away and he abandoned himself to the raw sensuality of the moment, thrusting faster and faster, deeper and deeper until they both cried out as he spilled himself—forever it seemed—inside her. Knees buckling, he wrapped his arms around Fanny and eased them to the ground.

  They lay together panting, slowly coming back from the brink of madness that had consumed them.

  “Lord Wrotham should have warned us this might happen,” Fanny said at last. “It seems to have affected at least two couples. I couldn’t believe Elizabeth Easton had her lips glued to Lord Brack’s. I thought she was still mourning her husband.”

  “Three couples, my dear. Did you not see Lord Wrotham on the ground as we ran by?”

  “With whom?” Fanny sat up as though alarmed.

  “Lady Cavendish, I am almost certain. Who else, since they just announced their betrothal. Which reminds me.” He pulled her back against his chest, secure in his arms. “You have yet to name the date for our wedding. We agreed it would be at Hunter’s Cross, but not when.”

  She went still in his arms, for such a long time he’d have thought she’d fallen asleep, except her body remained tense. At last she sighed and sat up. “I must consult with Theale about drawing up the settlements, and with Lady Theale about arranging for my personal possessions to be packed and sent to the estate. Allow me to complete those tasks before we proclaim a date.”

  “Do not take too much time over it, my love.” He drew her back down to him and nuzzled her neck. “Not only do I want you with me as soon as possible, but after this evening, I would not at all be surprised if you are not with child.” He shook his head. “In truth, I’m surprised Wrotham Village isn’t threefold as large as it is if this rite is performed every year. I wonder if most births in the vicinity occur in June or July.”

  “I do not think we need worry on that account. I have been drinking the herbal tea suggested by a midwife my cousin in Copsale uses since just after we met in June, with no ill effects. I’m certain we are safe.”

  “I didn’t know you’d been doing that.” Not sure if he was appalled or grateful for Fanny’s forethought, Matthew laid his head on the ground, the dead leaves crackling in his ear. “Is that why you didn’t conceive when we were together in London those four months?”

  A long pause before she whispered, “Yes.”

  He’d wondered at the time if perhaps she was barren, for he certainly took no precautions to avoid getting her with child. After the first month, in fact, he’d hoped against hope she’d conceive with his child, a strong argument for her to go away with him. But it hadn’t occurred until... “You stopped taking it after you returned to Stephen?”

  After a while, when he believed she wouldn’t speak, she said, “Yes,” very low. “I felt so guilty, I thought if I gave him a child it would assuage the remorse I felt.”

  Sighing, Matthew sat them up. No need to wish back deeds long past. They must move forward, put their past to rest, and create a family of their own. “We should return to the field. The others will have gathered at the carriages.”

  He stood, then helped her to stand before adjusting his clothing.

  “Can you brush the back of my pelisse? I hope it’s not ruined.” Fanny had turned away from him, industriously patting the front of the garment.

  “I believe it is fine. It will be dark in any case. No one will see a stain or two.” He grabbed her hands, stilling them from their insistent brushing. “We will meet in London next week, after our return. I leave Kent on the morrow. When will you follow?”

  “I am promised to Charlotte until Tuesday.” She seemed to shake off her melancholy spirit and smiled. “With all the hullabaloo that took place last night and tonight, I believe she will be in need of assistance from all members of the Widows’ Club.”

  Matthew had to agree. If ever there had been a chaotic evening, tonight had been it. The robber gang that had apparently been plaguing Kent, and more particularly the estates of Lyttlefield Park and Wrotham Hall, had finally been apprehended when they tried to break into Wrotham’s manor house. To add an even more bizarre twist to the story, Lady Cavendish’s stepson, Sir Edgar Cavendish, had turned out to be the gang’s ringleader. His capture, just before dinner, had put a thrilling cap on the evening. Or so they had thought. Shortly after he’d been taken away, Lady Cavendish and Lord Wrotham had announced their betrothal. That, along with the wildly sensual pagan rite of the Harvest Festival and Fanny’s earlier acceptance of him, had made this evening one of the
wildest Matthew had ever experienced in his life.

  “I will give you time to return and settle in, then I will call upon you for tea on Friday next. By then I hope all your tasks will be complete and we can name the day and announce the betrothal.” Offering her his arm, Matthew drew her arm through the crook of his, and moved off toward the bright moonlight showing at the edge of the trees. It could not be too soon before Fanny stood beside him as his wife. Then life could begin for them in earnest.

  CHAPTER 21

  Fanny sat once more in the small front receiving room of Lord Theale’s London townhome awaiting Matthew’s arrival and dreading it. She’d not accomplished any of the tasks she’d told him she would be taking care of because she still feared Matthew’s reaction to her news about Ella. That he would be angry she knew; how angry he would be was the question.

  In any case, she would not have had much chance to speak with Lady Theale this past week. Lavinia had already begun the process of the removal of the family to their primary estate for the coming Christmas season, and so Fanny had scarcely seen her since her return from Kent.

  Pouring more tea, and dropping in her customary two lumps of sugar, Fanny kept rehearsing what she would say. No matter how many times she said it, it never sounded very good. Pray God he could get past the initial shock so he could help counsel her on what then to do with Ella. She’d come to believe that a governess for the girl at home at Hunter’s Cross would help keep the scandal at bay for a while at least. Perhaps in the quiet society of Buckinghamshire Ella could find friends and perhaps a husband who would overlook her mother’s sins.

  “Frances?”

  Fanny jumped at the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice in the doorway. Dressed in her most fashionable brown pelisse and hat, Lavinia had stopped apparently on her way out, and now stood, head cocked. “Are you taking tea alone, Frances? Why ever are you not in the drawing room?”

  “I’m waiting on a caller, Lavinia. He should be here at any moment now.” Fanny set her cold cup back on the saucer.

  “He?” Her eyebrows rose over dark, disapproving eyes.

  “The old friend I told you I had become reacquainted with this past summer. Lord Lathbury.”

  “Ah, yes. The earl you met in June. Have you quite made up your mind about him, I hope?” The marchioness would never let that go, apparently. Well, she’d be happy when she found out the truth.

  “I believe Lord Lathbury and I are about to come to an accord. That is the reason for his visit today. He met Ella several weeks ago and she seemed very taken with him, so we are proceeding with a conversation regarding the possibility of a marriage.”

  “Why was Ella’s acceptance of him a possible impediment?” Lavinia gazed at her as though she belonged in a lunatic asylum.

  “Because I would not have my daughter made miserable living with someone she could not love and respect.” Fanny fisted her hands so tightly she feared blood would begin to flow from her nails digging into her flesh. “But as I said, she is quite taken with Lord Lathbury and he with her. That will not be an obstruction to our marriage when or if the time comes.”

  “Please do not hesitate to ask my assistance in gathering and packing your belongings once things are settled between you and the earl.”

  “Thank you, Lavinia. Perhaps after our meeting today I will be able to seek you out for that very purpose.” A devil flew up on Fanny’s shoulder. “And Ella’s belongings as well. She would be removing with me, of course, if I marry Lord Lathbury.”

  “Naturally.” The woman’s expression changed not at all; however, her normally pinched lips quivered slightly as though trying to smile. “Well, please inform me of your plans when I return.”

  “Lord Lathbury, my lady.” Noyes showed Matthew into the room where an awkward silence ensued.

  “Lady Theale, may I present Lord Lathbury, my longtime friend? My lord, Lady Theale is my sister-in-law.” Why couldn’t the woman have been gone before Matthew got here? Now they’d likely never be rid of her.

  “My lady.” He bowed politely, although his eyes and smile were for Fanny.

  “My lord. Lady Stephen has informed me of your impending marriage.” Shooting Fanny a look of triumph, Lavinia tugged on her gloves. “My heartfelt congratulations. But if you will excuse me, I must go. I am on my way to a meeting to raise funds for the Magdalen Hospital. There is always so much need.” She curtsied. “I will see you at dinner, Frances. Good day, my lord.”

  Slumping in her chair, Fanny prayed she and Matthew could come to an accord so she could remove herself and her daughter from this hateful household.

  “She’s a bit of a harridan, isn’t she?” He sat beside Fanny and kissed her cheek. “Thank goodness she’s no blood relation of yours, or I’d fear to wake up one morning some twenty years hence and find her likes in bed with me.”

  “God forbid.” Shuddering, Fanny rang the bell for more tea. “And I vow I did not tell her that we were getting married, Matthew, only that we were considering it.”

  Waving his hand, he stripped off his gloves and laid them in his lap. “I would not find it amiss if you had, love. We have done all save set the date. Some women pride themselves on having such news first.”

  “No, Lavinia does not care for that sort of thing, at least I don’t think so. She just wants to know when I will be moving out of her house so she and Theale won’t have the care of me and Ella.” She couldn’t bear this, couldn’t bear him not knowing any longer. He had a right to know Ella was his, even if it resulted in his leaving her. She must tell him. No more delays.

  “Well, and that is fine. They will not have the care of you and Ella very shortly. Where is she?”

  The footman entered with the fresh tea and Fanny seized on it as a drowning man does a lifeline. “Thank you, Thomas.” She busied herself pouring tea and adding sugar. Anything to keep from answering his question. “You take two lumps, is that correct, Matthew?”

  “You know it is, Fanny. You’ve been making me tea for months now.” A shake of his head, and he took the cup and sipped. “Delicious as always.” He set the cup in its saucer and took Fanny’s hands. “Why are you so nervous? It’s not as though I’m your first beau at a dance or your first man on your wedding night.”

  “I know.” She couldn’t wait. She must do it now. “It’s about Ella, Matthew.”

  “Why isn’t she here?” He glanced at the door. “I wanted us both to tell her that I am to be her new papa. She isn’t ill, is she?”

  “No, she is quite well. But I need to tell you something about Ella.” Squeezing his hands, she said, “You are her father, Matthew.”

  He shook his head, gazing at her in confusion. “Yes, I know that, but she does not. I wanted us both to tell her of our marriage and that I will be her papa from now on.”

  “No, you don’t understand.” How could she make him comprehend? “I didn’t realize it myself until you came for tea with your mother. And then I saw you and Ella together, and couldn’t help but see it.”

  “See what? You’re not making sense, Fanny.” He shook off her grip.

  “See that you are Ella’s father, not Stephen.”

  His brows wrinkled into a deep V and he shook his head in little bursts, as though shaking water from his ears. “No. You can’t mean that. It’s not possible.”

  “It is possible. She looks just like you. No one who sees you together can think anything else. Your mother saw it immediately. And Beatrice.” Miserable, Fanny rose and paced to the blazing fireplace, feeling not an iota of warmth from it.

  “No.” He rose and followed her, his steps thudding loudly on the polished wooden floor. “They would have told me.” Staring at her with the coldest eyes she’d ever seen, he said, “You lie.”

  Tears trickled down her cheeks, her worst fears about this moment coming true. “No, I do not lie. If you like, I will have Ella brought here, a mirror fetched, and show you both faces together and see if you wish to deny it.”

  “Wh
y didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I didn’t know! I never saw the two of you together until that day.” All the things she’d thought to say over the past weeks came pouring out. “I told you, when we were together back in ’09, I found out about the herbs to prevent children and I took them. I drank the tea every day until the day I left you because I didn’t want this kind of complication. When I returned to Stephen’s bed, I stopped the herbs. As I told you in Kent, it was part of my atonement to him. Two months later I realized I was increasing, so I believed it was Stephen’s. When Ella was born I thought nothing of the fact that she didn’t look like Stephen. She has my dark coloring so again, why would I suspect?”

  “How do you explain why your herbs didn’t work? If you took them every day when we were together, why would they not work this one time?” Pacing back and forth, not giving her any room to move, Matthew at last halted in front of her, his glare accusing.

  “God knows, I have thought back to those days many times since I discovered the truth, trying to understand what happened.” Her own folly, in the end, had tripped her up. “As I recollect, my supply of the herbs, they are seeds really, had come to an end as I was grappling with the decision of whether or not to leave with you. I didn’t think missing a day or two would make much of a difference, and I wouldn’t need them once I returned to Stephen.” She waited, wanting to ask a question but not quite daring to until she could stand it no longer. “Are you angry because you didn’t know, or are you angry because you are Ella’s father?”

  Jerking his arms behind his back, Matthew strode to the doorway and back again. A fierce glare at her and he paused. “I am angered to find more than six years of my daughter’s life have passed without my knowing that she was my daughter. I still find you at blame here, Fanny. Did you have no notion at all that the child might be mine?”