A Wicked Earl's Widow

by Aubrey Wynne

  Instead, she soaked the tension from her muscles, the scent of lavender easing her lids closed. The image of her rescuer floated before her. A handsome man, so different from her husband. Lord Pendleton’s frame was shorter, more muscular and sturdy than Carson’s slight but taller build. He had taken off his riding jacket to cushion her head. His strong arms had strained through the thin material of his shirt. But his eyes had claimed her attention. Such kindness in those soft brandy-colored eyes, the afternoon light adding glints of gold that had quite taken her breath away.

  She wasn’t nervous around this man, though he made butterflies take flight in her stomach. Grace’s description of him had not included how handsome he was or how charitable. He had been her cousin’s best friend next to her. She remembered Grace’s letter, telling of the viscount’s death, and how Nathaniel had leaned on her. Then the tables had turned when Grace’s mother had died. Her “beloved Nate” she had called him. He had swooped in to lift her spirits each time she was at her wit’s end caring for an infant brother and a bereaved father. After Grace’s mother died, the trips to London had stopped but the visits to Boldon Estate had mercifully continued.

  Eliza rose and dried herself off. Life at Landonshire Manor had made her quite adept at taking care of her daily toilette. The marquess had not appreciated witnesses to his temper, and a lady’s maid had been hard to keep. Instead, she and her mother had assisted each other when necessary and could easily attend themselves unless formal evening dress was demanded. Those occasions had been rare. She’d only attended one ball before going to London to meet her betrothed. One couldn’t really call that a season since her marriage had already been arranged.

  She remembered her mother’s joy at the wedding. Had it been the glitter of the wedding celebration or the reprieve from her husband’s temper? Either way, it had been two weeks of bliss for both of them. Lunches in their honor, dances in the evenings, all culminating to the marriage ceremony. Eliza had seen what other girls’ lives were like, carefree with constant activity. She remembered their whines and complaints of the doldrums when they were forced to sit through another afternoon visit with their mothers. Oh, to have had a life of boredom instead of constant angst and punishment.

  Self-pity achieves nothing. Make yourself presentable and prove to the Pendletons that you are not a heathen. Donning a pale rose muslin gown with an overlay of ivory lace, she combed her hair and deftly arranged it high on her head. She pulled several strands out to fall against her neck then used her finger to wrap the locks into an illusion of curls. The delicate waves of gold brushed her cheeks as she slipped on her ivory kid slippers, the points sticking out just beneath her scalloped hem. She would check on Althea and then go down to properly meet her hosts.

  Next door, the adjoining room looked as if a storm had hit. Althea’s clothes had been pulled from her trunk and strewn about the furniture. The rug in front of the hearth was wet, and a towel hung from the mantel, drying in front of the burning coals. A small head, eyes closed and damp curls clinging to her face and neck, lay on the wrong end of the couch. A blanket had been pulled over her narrow shoulders, and she slept with the abandon of one who had nothing to fear.

  Eliza meant to keep it that way.

  She took a deep breath. This child was her life. To see her so peaceful, with no worries except finding her favorite toy, filled Eliza’s heart with happiness and relief. Her daughter’s life would be different.

  “Oh, Lady Sunderland, my apologies,” said Mrs. Watkins as she hurried around the room collecting the clothes. “She needed to run after being cooped up so long. We played a game—”

  “No need to explain, I know my daughter.” Eliza smiled to reassure the governess. “I’ve plucked you from your bed to a coach, forced you to swear secrecy on our whereabouts, and subjected you to bully ruffians who might have killed us. You are a saint, Mrs. Watkins, and my saving grace. Please accept my sincerest gratitude.”

  The woman blushed, her dimples deepening. “Why thank you, my lady. We were in the suds today, weren’t we? But it does my heart good to hear such words of praise from a fine lady as yourself.”

  “And I thank you for being so patient and understanding.”

  Mrs. Watkins flapped a plump hand at her. “It’s just my way. Now you go downstairs, forget all about this afternoon’s hubble bubble, and enjoy a fine evening. That Lord Pendleton is a fine-looking gentleman”—she winked at her mistress—“and he’ll take your mind off your troubles if you let him.”

  Eliza left with a lighter heart. As she descended the stairs, the sound of deep laughter drifted from the parlor. It set wings off low in her belly. The viscount just might be a distraction from her present troubles. And lead her into another kind of danger.

  “Nathaniel, this sounds like one of those ridiculous romance novel where the adventurous, independent heroine wins the day.” Lady Pendleton frowned, her fan once again tapping against her lap. “You say she beat him with a whip? Gracious! Grace always spoke of her as a timid thing.”

  “There was nothing timid about her this afternoon. But once I stopped her, she fell apart and fainted dead away. I had to carry her into the coach.” Nate remembered the warmth of her body next to his and the smooth silkiness of her hair feathered against his neck. Enough or you’ll embarrass yourself in front of your mother! “It was almost like she was another person once she came to.”

  “Perhaps she’s one of those defenders of the weak and unfortunate, like your father.” Lady Pendleton said the last word with a curled lip. “Or there are windmills in her head. Well, we won’t mention it unless Lady Sunderland brings it up first. I don’t want to embarrass her.”

  “If she’s skilled with a whip, I’d like to bring her along to London with us. It would be nice to have a champion with a weapon as deadly as Mother’s sharp tongue.” Hannah smirked and gave her brother a side glance. “Especially since she’s been a bit smoky lately.”

  “On the first count, court holy water will get you nowhere, my dear child,” her mother retorted with a smirk. “For the second, I’m distracted, that’s all. My mind is as sharp as ever.”

  He let out a guffaw. “Only you would take that as a compliment. Your wit can be quite barbed, Mother. I agree with you on the other account though. Let’s not discuss the earlier incident.”

  “Where is Gideon?” asked Hannah, changing the subject with a studied air of indifference, though her childhood crush was no secret. She picked at the beige saw tooth trim on the sleeve of her pale yellow muslin. “Did she scare him off?”

  “Of course not, he’s made of stronger stuff than that. Since I plan on escorting Lady Sunderland the rest of her journey, he decided to continue his trip to Scotland.” He noted the flash of disappointment on his sister’s face. “He promised to try to stop by for a few days on his way home. I’ll invite the Dr. Goodman for a visit when Gideon returns.”

  “That’s a wonderful idea. Perhaps we’ll include the Sunderlands and Lord Boldon. Young Samuel must be nine or ten by now, perhaps old enough to come along for a picnic. The dowager countess has a daughter also, does she not?” Nate’s mother stopped rapping her fan, her gaze fixed on the doorway. “Good evening, my dear.”

  Nate turned to find a vision of loveliness meeting his gaze. Her pale blonde hair was pulled up with ringlets caressing her pink cheeks. The rose and lace gown clung to her curves and the bodice dipped low, revealing a smooth creamy bosom. His face heated. The pulse in his neck took off like a fox in a hunt. Suddenly he was a schoolboy, fawning over his first infatuation. Except this was far from his first infatuation—or first anything. She could stir his blood with a look. He took one step forward, his hand held out in welcome.

  “Lady Sunderland, may I introduce you?” He held out his arm and her hand rested lightly on his arm. A surge of warmth shot from her fingertips through his core. “This…” Violet eyes—no deep blue?—mesmerized him. His sight flickered back and forth from her smiling full lips to those indigo
orbs.

  “This is your mother, Viscountess Pendleton?” she asked, amusement in her tone.

  Her soft, throaty voice made him wish they were alone in a dark garden. “Er, yes. Mother, may I introduce Lady Sunderland?”

  His mother nodded.

  “And my sister Lady Hannah.”

  His sister pushed back a stray strand of her dark honey-colored hair and moved forward with her arms open. “We are so thankful you are safe and all ended well.”

  Nate shot Hannah a look. Hadn’t they just agreed not to bring it up? His sister only grinned. He realized she’d just pulled him from a bumble bath and saved him from looking like a Johnny raw. Back in control, he escorted Lady Sunderland to a chair.

  “As am I. The excitement had my Althea done to a thumb, and she’s sound asleep. My utmost gratitude for your kind hospitality. I must admit, it’s been quite a day.” She smiled and nodded in return. “Please, call me Lady Eliza. I’ve reverted to my previous title since it can be quite confusing with my cousin now married to the earl.”

  “Well then, Lady Eliza, would you care for a cordial?” he asked, more comfortable being on neutral ground. “Supper should be announced shortly.”

  “After today, a glass of claret would not be out of order.” She accepted the small crystal glass. “This is a lovely manor from what I’ve seen.”

  “Thank you. Perhaps Nathaniel would take you around the gardens after supper. They are beautiful even at night.” Lady Pendleton smiled, a gleam in her eye.

  Dash it! His mother had also noted his reaction to Lady Eliza. Thank God he would take her to Sunderland Castle tomorrow. He didn’t trust his mother when it came to the parson’s trap. Nathaniel was not unwilling to marry, but he had become accustomed to the idea of waiting until Hannah’s season. Another year and he would indeed be ready.

  But Christ, his own body betrayed him when she barely touched him. From Grace’s babble about her cousin, he’d never expected such an exquisite creature. Distance. Yes, distance was just the thing.

  Hannah moved to the side table and poured a glass of wine. “Will you be staying long with Grace?”

  “I-I don’t know. It has been three months since our last visit, so I’m certainly in no hurry to leave.” She sipped at the claret.

  Nate stared at the tiny drop of ruby red liquid on her top lip. Her tongue darted out to catch it just as their eyes locked. A becoming blush rose up her neck at the same time heat claimed his face.

  “We’ve sent a brief explanation to Sunderland that you are here. Given the circumstances, I shall accompany you on the last leg of your journey.” That delectable mouth curved up. Why was he so delighted the statement pleased her?

  “I would hate to impose, my lord,” she said quietly, eyes cast down now. “We have already put you out.”

  “Nonsense.” Lady Pendleton’s fan was tapping again. “My son would not rest well until he knew you were safely delivered. And Grace would have his head on a platter.”

  “Whatever you think is best, my lord.” She peeked at him from under her thick pale lashes. “I admit the protection would be appreciated, especially with my young daughter traveling with me.”

  “It’s settled then.” He poured himself another glass of brandy and smiled to himself. This puzzle of a woman would be out of his system by the time he returned.

  * * *

  But it wasn’t to be. The next morning, two letters arrived with the Sunderland seal. One to Nate from Kit, Lord Sunderland. The other to Lady Eliza from Grace.

  * * *

  Nathaniel,

  We will arrive at Pendle Place this afternoon. I hope it is not an imposition to put us up for a night. There is a delicate matter we need to discuss with you concerning Lady Eliza. Afterward, I will escort her if necessary.

  * * *

  Sunderland

  * * *

  Short and to the point, as always. Odd. A delicate matter? What did Kit mean by “if necessary,” he wondered, the image of the flaxen-haired hellcat, whip in hand, crowding his brain. Perhaps this beautiful creature was a shilling shy of a pound.

  Chapter Six

  Eliza stared at the red wax insignia. This could not be good news. She slid a manicured nail under the seal. Grace’s elegant slant filled the page.

  * * *

  My dearest Eliza,

  * * *

  My heart goes out to you. Not only are you sent scurrying across the country but you are accosted along the way. I thank the good Lord that Nathaniel stumbled across your path. Kit and I have discussed the situation, and he fears it is not safe for you here. But I have come up with a plan. We will come to you and enlist the aid of these dear family friends.

  Please do not fret. Rest assured you are in the best of hands. You have both heard enough about the other to almost be old friends. I would trust Lord Pendleton with my own life. Give Althea a hug for me and I will see you soon.

  * * *

  Your loving cousin,

  Grace

  * * *

  No! Her stomach churned at the thought of her shameful past coming to light in front of strangers. How could she face these people every day if they knew of her father’s depravity—and her cowardice? Eliza gritted her teeth, determined to convince her cousin otherwise. In the meantime, she would not have the lady’s maid unpack, in case she was successful. Though her stalwart cousin was rarely thwarted. Besides, Kit had every reason to worry over his wife’s safety. Why should she endanger Grace? She couldn’t, so Eliza could go along with their plan or give in to her father’s demands.

  Staying in close vicinity of the handsome viscount both excited and disturbed her. He would pity her or despise her. Either would be horrid. And the thought of her father finding her here, and the possibility of putting strangers, innocent people in harm’s way… She blinked back the tears.

  Deep breath. Deep breath. Where was that intrepid woman who saved the poor old lady yesterday? In her right mind again!

  Althea burst into the room, Mrs. Watkins waddling behind her, mopping at her forehead with a handkerchief. The little girl flew onto the bed in a whirl of pink and gray, her dark curls bouncing.

  “I won. I won. Miz Watins too swow.” She giggled, balancing precariously from knees to feet, then jumped up and down on the mattresses.

  “Gah! I’ll remember not to say the word ‘race’ until I’m closer next time.” The governess laughed and tucked her handkerchief into her bosom. “Gracious but she’s quick.”

  “C’mon!” Althea cried as she fell on her bottom, wobbled to a standing position, and began again with a squeal. “Pway wif me, Mama. Jump, Miz Watins.”

  “My dear, I’m afraid the ropes wouldn’t hold if we were to try that!” Eliza caught her daughter in midair and squeezed her tight. “I love you sooo much!”

  “I wuv you mo’.” She wrapped her arms around her mother’s neck and gave her a sloppy kiss on the cheek. “Me hungwy.”

  “Mrs. Watkins, I’m afraid there may be a change in the itinerary. It seems my cousin and brother-in-law will arrive here this afternoon.” Eliza arranged a smile on her face. “I’m not sure if we shall leave today or postpone our trip.”

  “Yes, my lady. It makes no difference to us. This child is easily entertained wherever we go.” She took back her charge, set her on the ground, and firmly clasped her hand. “The garden may be a good place for this young one after breakfast. Let her run some and perhaps she’ll take a nice nap this afternoon.”

  “That’s a grand idea. I might join you. The fresh air would do me good.”

  “Come along, dear one. Don’t get under that bed, I can’t reach you there.” Mrs. Watkins hurried after Althea, who had darted into the other room. Her voice faded as the door clicked closed. “Now where is that frock with the long ribbons? I can keep you close with those…”

  With a quick check in the mirror, Eliza smoothed back her hair and gave another quick finger curl to her side locks. The dark blue of her traveling pelisse made her
eyes appear a deeper blue. When she took it off, the purple muslin and lavender trim and waistband of her gown brought out a violet hue. She’d always hated her eyes until Carson had complimented them. She’d considered them a peculiar color while he had called them remarkable. My dear Carson. I miss our talks already.

  She headed down the stairs, hoping—no praying—that Lord Pendleton had also been informed of the alternate arrangement. It would give her more time to prepare herself for the gathering this afternoon. Knowing Grace, she did have a plan and good reasons for the change. Once again, she’d have to trust her cousin.

  Nate watched his guest descend the stairs. If she was a bit touched, it didn’t diminish her beauty. She caught his staring and gave him a bright but uncertain smile.

  “It seems you must stay here a while longer,” he said as he met her on the bottom step. “I hope you are not too disappointed. I am on my way to the breakfast room. Would you like to join me?”

  Panic flared in her eyes. His jaw clenched at being the cause of it. Was she not comfortable here or was there something else? He had the distinct feeling there was much more to this young widow than she let on. What secrets did she hide? He wished Gideon were still here for he could always figure a person out. Always knew if they spoke the truth, only part of it, or told a Banbury tale.

  “Does your mother know that I-we are not leaving immediately?”

  “Yes, I was with them when I read the letter from Sunderland.” He watched the relief brighten her eyes before they focused on her boots.

  His mother could be intimidating, but supper last night had not been awkward. Except when Mother had spoken of her hope for grandchildren and asked if her parents doted on Althea. There had been an uncomfortable silence and then she’d mumbled about her father being busy and her mother disliking travel. Hannah covered the clumsy moment with an elaborate sneeze then changed the subject to the weather.