Earl of Darby: (Once Upon a Widow #4) (Wicked Earls’ Club Round 2)

by Aubrey Wynne

  “Of course, though I don’t believe that’s where your mind was just now,” argued Eliza, rubbing her swelling belly. She looked lovely in the creamy morning dress, delicately embroidered at the cuffs and hem with a pale yellow that matched her flaxen waves. “What do you consider to be your greatest qualities?”

  “That’s the problem. They aren’t visible. Intelligence, wit, common sense—”

  “Humility…” Lady Pendleton’s violet eyes shone with mischief.

  “Merciful heavens, I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that, though I only believe myself to be passible pretty.” She laughed and gave Eliza a hug. “How I will miss you, sweet sister.”

  “You’ll be home before the New Year. Perhaps even betrothed, for I don’t think it will take long for someone to fall madly in love with you.”

  “But I only have eyes for one, and I hope this season will make him loony with jealousy and realize we are the perfect match.” She sighed. “My first waltz shall be with Gideon. His strong hand on my waist, my palm against his. He will pull me close, our bodies in perfect harmony as he twirls me about the room.”

  “About Lord Stanfeld…” Eliza transferred a deep-green riding habit from the bed to the post and sat. She patted a space next to her, waiting for Hannah to sit before she continued. “Nathaniel has returned with news.”

  Hannah’s brother had gone to London on some business and to arrange for the townhouse to be opened. He most likely had seen his friends. “Is Gideon in good health? Has something happened to his mother, Lady Stanfeld?”

  “Everyone is fine.” Eliza paused. “Do you remember when he took his mother to Scotland?”

  A knot began to form in Hannah’s stomach. “Yes, his cousin was killed in that political demonstration, and the Stanfelds went to offer their condolences.” She didn’t like the pitying expression in her sister-in-law’s eyes. “He didn’t marry?”

  She shook her head. “No, but it seems he met someone, who Lady Stanfeld was also quite taken with, and she has returned with them.”

  A rock plummeted to the bottom of her belly, her chest tightening as she stared blindly at the Axminster carpet under her feet. He’d found another? She was just coming of age, and he couldn’t wait a few more months? The selfish, thoughtless scoundrel. Horsefeathers! Why she’d…win him over, of course. Hannah Pendleton was not one to give up easily.

  “You say, he’s not married?”

  “No, but Nathaniel thought he sounded quite smitten.” Eliza took Hannah’s hand, sympathy darkening her eyes to a deep plum. “Stanfeld told your brother he plans on asking her as soon as the mourning period has passed.”

  “Mourning period? For a cousin?”

  “The young lady is his cousin’s widow.”

  Hannah let out a long whistle. “The proper Earl of Stanfeld wants to court the widow of his dead cousin?” She laughed then, relief untying the knot and disintegrating the rock in her stomach. “He must feel some kind of obligation toward her, and being from the Highlands, she is sure to have a certain charm. He will come to his senses.”

  She kissed her sister-in-law on the cheek and resumed her packing. Althea, Eliza’s daughter from her first marriage, burst into the room. “Oh, the pwetty clothes,” exclaimed the toddler. “Are you putting them on, Aunt Hannah? Can I watch?”

  Hannah squatted down, her face level with the almost-four-year-old. “I’m so glad you’ve arrived. I want your opinion on each dress. Your mother and you will vote on which ones I shall pack and which shall stay behind. Can you help me?”

  Althea clapped her hands, her blue-violet eyes dancing with excitement, the black curls bobbing furiously as she nodded her head. “Oh, yes! Mama lets me pick out her dwesses when she’s going someplace vewy important.”

  Hannah gave the little girl a hug. “I’ll miss you so much, Thea.”

  “You will be back in two blinks, Mama said.” Althea returned the hug and climbed onto the bed, leaning against her mother’s swollen belly. “Little Nathaniel, it’s me again, your big sistah.” She kissed Eliza’s stomach, then settled back against her mother’s swollen belly.

  With the help of her audience, Hannah finished packing. It took a bit longer than expected, with Althea piping in her opinions, trying a few articles on herself, and inviting her basset hound, Cyrano, to join the party. The dog didn’t seem quite as happy as his mistress after a bonnet was wrapped around his head. When he began a long, soulful howl, Eliza packed up both dog and girl and bid Hannah good night.

  Sleep did not come quickly with so many plans and thoughts of Gideon in her head. She dreamt of a prince, dark and handsome with smoldering dark blue eyes, and a princess with sepia hair and a gilded tiara sparkling with gems. They danced until she was breathless, and as he bent to kiss her, Hannah woke.

  London

  Early November 1819

  * * *

  The trip was uneventful, the weather pleasant, and the coach ride dull, dull, dull. Hannah had forgotten to pack her latest novel. Her brother, dear sweet Nathaniel, had unearthed an ancient magazine from an innkeeper’s wife. She’d exhausted the pages of La Belle Assemblée. Thrice. She was now a fountain of knowledge concerning a wide variety of no-longer-pertinent subjects.

  Masques, popular during the reign of James I, were at once a ball and an opera. But a masquerade might be titillating, she thought. All those hidden faces identified only by the gleam in one’s eyes or the devilish smile below the guise. She’d found the Turkish tale of Jahia and Meimoune interesting the first read, the true story of George and Sophia better the second time, and never should have attempted the Fugitive Poetry section a third.

  The humorous anecdotes of famous French women had instigated a fierce bout of yawns. She knew what performances had been seen at Covent Garden or the Cobourg Theatre and what mourning fashion had been prevalent when Queen Charlotte died this time last year.

  Hannah was not accustomed to being idle. She kept busy throughout the day, either practicing the pianoforte, embroidery, painting, walking, or riding her mare. Never sitting. Just sitting. Thank goodness there was a library at the townhouse. She would remember to bring several books for the journey home. She listened to her maid’s soft snore and wished she could sleep in the dratted rocking vehicle. She should have brought her mare and been outside with her brother, but her mother had stomped her foot and forbade it.

  * * *

  The coach slowed as they finally encountered city traffic. The farther into the town center, the more congested the streets. She flicked open the wooden slats and looked out at the clamor and overcrowded walkways. Parliament would assemble in another week or two, and the ton were gathering.

  The smells of the city assaulted her nose but she breathed in deeply, anticipating the coming adventure. The curses of coachmen, chatter of those on foot, and calls of vendors all combined into a background of indiscernable nattering. The streets were still dry as the weather had been clear, and no snow had fallen yet this season.

  “How do you fare, sweet sister, with two days of inactivity?” Nathaniel’s question floated through the narrow openings of the window. She could see strips of his dark great coat and black riding boots as he pulled up next to her. “One magazine and two days of nothing to do but look at your lady’s maid.”

  “Which was why she chooses to ride in the rumble seat with the footman for the last leg of the journey. She’d rather face the chill than my sour countenance.” Hannah chuckled. “Not that I blame her. I think that last accidental kick from my jiggling foot did her in.”

  “Aunt Bertie arrived ahead of us and, according to her note, has everything in order.” He winced. “I am sorry about being unable to stay and chaperone you myself. The timing couldn’t be worse with Eliza.”

  “Don’t be a ninny. I enjoy Aunt Bertie’s outrageousness and am looking forward to it. Besides, I’d be disappointed in you if you weren’t by Eliza’s side. And Althea would be lost without at least one of us present.”

&nbs
p; “We’ll have dinner with Stanfeld and Darby once we’re settled in. They have been instructed to keep an eye on you and your chaperone. At least Darby’s sister is also coming out, so you’ll know someone before your first formal event.”

  “How old is Lady Matilda?” Please don’t let her be stunningly perfection.

  “Seventeen, I believe. Close to your age, of course.” He grinned. “She and Lady Darby will be a voice of reason, or a shield, when Aunt Bertie makes a sham of things.”

  “Perhaps our aunt has matured.” Hannah rolled her eyes when her brother guffawed. “I mean, in actions rather than years.”

  The coach rolled to a stop in front of the townhouse, located at the end of the long brick terrace. The brick had been covered with a plaster stucco and painted a creamy pale salmon with Maritime blue door and trim.

  A pair of pilasters stood on each side of the three steps leading up to the door, and to the left of the entrance, a bow window shone with a warm welcoming light. Above, miniature wrought-iron balconies graced the windows of the top three stories, which would hold baskets of flower in the summer.

  The door opened and a butler appeared with a stiff bow and a bewildered expression. The look was explained as Lady Roberta pushed her ample bulk through the doorway, sending the poor man in a forward spin. Aunt Bertie grabbed his arm with her beringed fingers, her brown eyes slanted with merriment, and pulled him from almost certain mishap.

  “You almost went tumbling down the stairs, Smith! Really, you should be more careful. I don’t know what we’d do without you.” She floated down the steps, always a remarkable sight due to her plump figure, and informed the neighborhood that they had arrived. “My lovelies,” she said in a booming welcome, “I’ve been waiting forever and a day! Come give me a hug. It’s been monstrous long since I’ve seen you both.”

  The attendant opened the door and helped Hannah from the coach. The weak streetlamp cast a golden glimmer on Aunt Bertie’s face that made her appear years younger as she met Hannah at the pavement. She grabbed her niece in a tight hug before she could say a word. After an air-sucking welcome, Hannah managed, “Goodness, it is good to see you too, Aunt.”

  She gave her brother a sidelong glance and saw Nathaniel maintaining a polite expression while preparing himself for the forthcoming attack. Her brother had always been slightly intimidated by their independent aunt. While their father had been cordial and compliant, his sister had been full of life, pushy, and vocal in her opinions.

  At seventeen, Lady Roberta had wed a wealthy baronet’s second son. The father had wanted to move up in society, and Aunt Bertie had wanted his handsome son. “It may not have been love at first sight, but it was certainly lust at first touch,” she’d confided to those present on her niece’s sixteenth birthday. It was the first time Hannah had seen her mother blush.

  Lady Roberta’s robust husband, however, had one major flaw. He could not swim. While on a business trip, his ship had encountered a storm and sank. The marriage contract had provided well for the widow, including a substantial jointure until she remarried or died. Finding herself plump in the pocket and independent, she shunned all future marriage proposals. At almost fifty years of age, she was still dogged by a reputation of bold flirtation and speaking her mind.

  Hannah adored her Aunt Bertie. Nathaniel remained cautiously affectionate. Their mother secretly envied her.

  “You must be famished. I’ve arranged a light repast in the parlor. I thought it would be cozier than the dining room.” Lady Roberta gave orders to the footman and driver, then turned to the butler and maid. Bodies went scurrying in different directions, trunks were hauled inside, and Hannah soon found herself shed of her traveling cape and sipping a steaming cup of tea.

  “You look well, Aunt,” Hannah said as she filled a small plate with a chunk of cheese, sliced beef, and a thick piece of buttered bread. “And this is delicious.”

  Nathaniel agreed, his cheeks full as he took another bite of the meat, quickly followed by more cheese. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” He leaned back against the stuffed brocade with a sigh. “My back is stiff from so many hours in the saddle. I shall retire early tonight.”

  “Thank you, Hannah. I’ve taken to walking every day. It adds color to my cheeks, and I feel better.” Patting her gray-streaked auburn bun, she continued chatting as she bit into chunk of the blue-veined Stilton. “I’ve also ordered cream cheese. It’s monstrous good on biscuits.

  The small hearth had a cheery fire, the coals burning red and orange. On the mantel were cameos of their grandparents, their father, and Roberta. Likenesses from years ago when the entire family had been alive. The Brussels carpet beneath her feet had been there since Hannah could remember.

  With her toe, she traced the now-faded red floral medallions that had once brightened the room, letting memories envelop her. Her grandmother had decorated this space with vivid, warm colors and personal curiosities and portraits. Aunt Bertie refused to change anything in this room, and Hannah was happy for it.

  Grandmama had insisted her grandchildren visit annually, and she and Nathaniel had stayed a week each year near St. Nicholas Day. They received gifts, always something they might have asked for throughout the course of the year. How Grandmama always knew, they never did find out. Cook would let them into the kitchen and help prepare the mince pies that would be eaten on Christmas Day. Parlor games were played every night before the fire, and an ongoing tale read to them with a special sweet treat before retiring for the night. Visits here, until the death of their grandmother, had been magical and highly anticipated.

  Those weeks came to mind when she thought of her own children she would have someday. Children who would know the feel of their mother’s arms around them, kisses at bedtime, and a welcome lap when they needed comforting from a fall off their pony or a dispute with a sibling. It would be the late Lady Pendleton that Hannah would emulate when she was a wife and mother.

  Mama loved her children, but one would not describe her as warm nor overly affectionate. Yet, she was responsible for Hannah’s confidence and fearlessness in making her voice heard. She had instilled a steely graciousness in her daughter that would bide her well against the vicious tongues of the beau monde.

  Hannah had also inherited her mother’s sense of fashion and quick wit. If only Hannah knew what her father had passed on to her. Perhaps that would be a conversation with Aunt Bertie during a quiet evening spent at home.

  This was one of the few places that held memories of happy family gatherings. She rose and touched the silver frames, her finger trailing along the delicately engraved metal.

  “You were stunning, Aunt,” she said, stopping at the likeness of Lady Roberta. “Yet you never married again.”

  “Pshaw! I had no desire to let another man dictate my comings and goings. My widowhood allowed me almost the same freedom as a man. I can’t tell you how that irked the ladies of the ton. Green with envy, they were.” She grinned, the dimple appearing in her left cheek. “All that whispering about my peculiarities and unladylike behavior was driven by jealousy. I decided at an early age, if I was to be accused of something, I may as well get some pleasure from my supposed wicked deeds.”

  “But did you never love anyone again? Enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him?” Hannah couldn’t imagine not marrying or having children. Perhaps no one else had compared to her husband. “Or was your husband your true love?”

  “He was my first love,” she said wistfully, her brown eyes softening. “But not true love. He… I… Well, that’s a story for another day.”

  “He was a handsome man, my brother, wasn’t he?” Aunt Bertie changed the subject, picking up another frame. “I still miss him every day. You have his best traits, Nathaniel. The golden-brown hair and tawny eyes, his athletic nature and generosity of spirit.”

  “And I never knew him.” Hannah had heard the stories, of course, and had listened to countless comments from her mother and aunt. Her moth
er had never been reticent in her disdain for her husband. Her aunt had never believed the rumors of her brother’s infidelities. Nathaniel rarely spoke on the subject at all. “I wish I’d had the chance.” To make up my own mind on his character or lack of.

  “He was a good man, regardless of the on-dits at the time,” her aunt consoled. “Just not strong enough for this world or your mother. A gentle soul who was never meant to shoulder such heavy responsibility. If my eldest brother had survived, he would have been perfect for Lady Pendleton. Proper, rigid—”

  Nathaniel cleared his throat, indicating his unease with the direction the conversation had taken.

  She ignored him and continued speaking to Hannah. “You are at an age now where we should have a long talk about the past. Before we attend any public functions.”

  “For tonight, let us be glad to be together again. What a splendid season it shall be, eh?” Nathaniel’s voice lifted in false enthusiasm, and both women recognized it.

  “Lud! Do not fret, nephew, I will not slight your mother,” she relented. “Now, how was the trip? Uneventful, I hope.”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever hoped for that,” mumbled Nathaniel.

  “Dull. I forgot to bring a book and thought I would go mad.” Hannah whispered loudly, “I have taken to novels as of late.”

  “And with that tidbit of information, I shall take my leave.”

  She watched her brother depart, then turned her attention to a shelf with glass and ivory figurines. She picked up a tiny china bell and smiled at the clear, light tinkle.

  “Your father bought that for Mama before he went off to university. I swear that woman kept everything.” A thoughtful expression crossed her still lovely face. “She was a sentimental soul. She passed that tenderness on to her son and the good sense to me. Another reason I never married again.”