A Wicked Earl's Widow

by Aubrey Wynne

  Sadness passed over Grace’s face but disappeared with a smile. “We aren’t not trying. The work on Sunderland keeps me busy and my mind off of whether I’m with child.”

  Eliza reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You will have a beautiful baby, I know it. I feel it here,” she said, her hand over her heart.

  “Speaking of hearts,” Grace began with an impish smile, “what do you think of Nate? He’s quite taken with you.”

  “He’s everything you’ve described over the years. And handsome. But don’t start matchmaking. None of your plans for the two of us.”

  “Me?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Except the two of you are a striking couple. It’s obvious you’re attracted to one another.”

  “It would never work.”

  “Why?” Grace picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it. “He has a title, money, looks. He’s kind and intelligent with a sense of humor. Pendleton is quite a catch.”

  “He could do so much better than a widow already with a child. Especially a widow such as myself.” She hated the self-pity in her voice, but it was true. “He should have someone…better.”

  Grace gave an indelicate snort. “That’s absurd. I wish I could go to one of London’s fine shops and buy you some confidence. Or a magical mirror so you could yourself as others do.”

  “And that’s why I love you, Gracie.”

  “We have the same strength, cousin. Only mine shows on the outside, and yours hides on the inside. You see yourself as weak because of your past. Yet, I see as resilient and a survivor. I don’t know if I could have survived your childhood.”

  “I would need that magic mirror to myself in that light,” Eliza murmured.

  “You’re quite a catch yourself. Young, beautiful, a nice widow’s jointure and some property to bring along to the next marriage. And Althea is proof you can breed, as the men put it when they think we aren’t listening.” She popped the last bite into her mouth and took a sip of tea to wash it down. “Seriously, are you happy here? Will these arrangements be suitable for a few weeks?”

  “I am quite satisfied. More so than I imagined. The Pendletons are an excellent family and I’m growing quite fond of Hannah. I’m more concerned Thea won’t want to leave.”

  Eliza sighed, wondering about this newfound contentment, so unfamiliar yet welcome. She watched Althea play with her doll under a tree, while Mrs. Watkins lay sprawled out on a blanket spread over the tender spring grass.

  “What on-dits are we discussing, ladies?” asked Hannah as she took a chair and poured a cup. Adding a lump of sugar, she sipped it, grinned, and added another. “Mother says I will be broad as a sow if I don’t mind my sugar.”

  Grace giggled. “You do snort rather well, but I hardly think you’ll grow fat.”

  “Anyone for a game of spillikins?” She set the box on the table.

  “What will we play for?” asked Eliza. She knew Grace’s competitive nature always liked a prize. “A shilling?”

  “You’ve only been here a week, and already we have you gambling!” laughed Hannah. “How about a ribbon? We each choose one of our best, and the winner gets her pick.”

  “Perfect. A ribbon it is.” Grace opened the box and dumped out the thin ivory sticks.

  They took turns removing a stick from the jumble until one of the other pieces shifted. Eliza used one of the blunted sticks in her own growing pile to remove an especially tricky one on top.

  “That lacy lavender ribbon will go well with my eyes, don’t you think?” She laughed at the Grace’s frown. “My how you hate to lose!”

  “It’s not the losing, it’s being bested.”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “You’re splitting hairs, as always. By the way, is Althea taking a nap?”

  Eliza shook her head. “No, she’s…” Mrs. Watkins lay still on the blanket, a doll next to her, and no Althea. Dread gripped her throat. “Oh, God.”

  The women jumped from their chairs, the table wobbling precariously as the ivory sticks clattered to the ground.

  “Mrs. Watkins! Wake up, Althea is gone.” Eliza gulped air, trying to push back the panic. She ran into the small wooded area, calling her daughter’s name. Decaying leaves and wet soil assaulted her nostrils. The sun left a speckled pattern through the leaves of the tall oaks but the grove was empty. “ALTHEA!”

  “I’m sure she didn’t wander far. Let’s split up.” Grace took charge, calm as always, pointing each of them in a different direction. “Mrs. Watkins, please go to the house and tell Nate.”

  “Tell me what?” he asked, coming from the stables, crop in hand.

  “Althea is missing. She hasn’t been gone long but…”

  Eliza knew the second Grace’s thoughts ran with hers. She looked at Nathaniel, his face grim.

  “I’ll get Cyrano. Find me something that has her scent on it.” He ran back to the stables and the kennels.

  “Cyrano?” Eliza did not have time to wait on anything or anyone. Her arms trembled, the deep breaths not enough to keep the anxiety at bay.

  “Nate’s best blood hound. He can pick up a scent and follow it till doomsday.” Hannah grabbed the doll. “This will work. Bring it to my brother.”

  Hannah picked up her skirts and hurried in the direction Grace had pointed. As Eliza ran after Nathaniel, she could hear the women calling over and over for Althea. Oh God, please don’t let him have her. Please.

  Cyrano was a large black and tan hound with droopy eyes and long ears. His head reached Pendleton’s thigh as he held the doll under the dog’s nose. They jogged back to the blanket and had the animal sniff again. His ears dragged across the grass and dirt as his nose went to work. He entered into the woods and out again, back in to wind around several trees and out once more. The same pattern one would expect of a toddler ambling along.

  Then his nose pointed toward the sky, and he grew still. A long, mournful bay sounded, and the dog’s nose back to the ground, and he picked up his pace. Nathaniel grabbed her hand, and they trotted after him. The other women’s voices grew faint.

  Eliza’s stomach twisted into a knot. “What if my father has taken her?”

  “He hasn’t.”

  “How do you know?” She desperately wanted to believe him.

  “Cyrano is moving too quickly. She’s close.”

  Hope surged in her chest. The tears blurred her vision, and she gripped Nathaniel’s hand tighter, stumbling after him.

  They came to a meadow on the other side of the woods. A large rowan tree stood in the center. A flash of yellow interrupted the shade of the low branches. A small yellow frock. “Althea!”

  Cyrano began his long, mournful howl again and trotted toward the scent. Eliza ran after the animal. “Don’t hurt her.”

  Nathaniel laughed behind her. The dog reached the sleeping child, sniffed her thoroughly, and let out another long yowl. Tail wagging, he slurped his long tongue across the little girl’s face. Fully awake now, she squealed in delight and threw her arms around the canine’s neck. “Puppy!”

  Eliza sank onto the grass and pulled Althea to her, swiping at her own wet cheeks. “Oh, my baby. Oh my sweet, naughty baby.” She rocked the wiggling girl back and forth, Cyrano still trying to lick her face and getting Eliza’s cheek in the process.

  Laughter bubbled up her throat. This sad-eyed, slobbering dog had found her little girl. “Cyrano, you are my hero.”

  “Wait a minute,” objected Nathaniel. “I set him on the trail.”

  Althea grabbed the dog’s wet jowls with her hands and kissed his nose. “Hewo, my hewo.”

  “Pfft! The fickle female lives on.” Nathaniel picked up Althea and hauled her onto his shoulders. “Enough excitement for one day, little one. I don’t think your mama can take much more.”

  He held out his hand to Eliza and she took it, the touch chasing away the panic and warming her cold fingers. As her racing heart slowed, she studied Nate’s profile. He still held her hand, while the other grasped a small foot that had left
grass stains on his pristine white shirt. Her eyes strayed to the form-fitting buckskin breeches and shiny black boots then back to their clasped hands. Nathaniel sang a little ditty to Althea, who tried to sing along, her hands clasped under his chin. As the song’s momentum picked up, her chubby legs beat against his barrel chest as he sang, and his grip tightened, his shoulders stretching the fine material of his blue riding coat. Her heart eased, her muscles relaxed, and she began to enjoy the walk. Her daughter looked as if she belonged climbing on this man’s back, kissing his cheek or his shoulders. Everything about this scene seemed…natural.

  “Mama, sing. Sing wif us.”

  These two had become fast friends over the week, and Althea looked for Nathaniel after breakfast each morning. As all three picked up the tune again, Cyrano added his low yelp to the voices, sending everyone into a fit of the giggles. Eliza suddenly wondered what it would be like to have a family, an entire family. She wanted more children some day.

  “Oh, my lady, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” cried Mrs. Watkins, running up to them as they emerged onto the lawn. Her voice was hoarse, her eyes puffy. “I’ve been praying and calling.”

  “We found her in the meadow, or I should say Cyrano found her.” Nathaniel reassured the distraught woman.

  “I’m just thankful the darling is safe. I’d never have a decent night’s sleep again if anything had happened to that baby.” The governess dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I’ll go pack now, I just had to know she was safe before I left. I’m ever so sorry, ever so sorry.”

  “Mrs. Watkins, wait.” Eliza’s voice cracked. “You forgot someone.”

  The portly woman turned. “I understand if you’ve lost trust in me, my lady. If I hadn’t fallen asleep—”

  “None of us saw her wander off. She’s my daughter and my ultimate responsibility. I have every faith you will be more than zealous watching over her after this. I know I will. It can happen so quickly.”

  “Your ladyship is more than generous. I said you were a gift from heaven when you first hired me.” She made the sign of the cross and wiped her eyes again.

  “Now, please take Althea, change her clothes, and clean her up. She has dog…kisses all over her.” Eliza wrinkled her nose. “I thought my daughter gave the sloppiest kisses, but she’s met her match with Cyrano.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Of course,” cried Mrs. Watkins, tears still trickling down her cheeks as she reached for the toddler. “Come along, child. Give me a hug!”

  The pair went into the house, and Eliza felt like one of those air balloons she’d read about, once the flame had been extinguished. Utterly and completely drained.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  She nodded, tears collecting again. This time tears of relief. “I was so frightened. If anything happened to her, I don’t know…” It came full force then, that kind of sobbing that has been pushed back for so long, it will no longer be contained.

  Nathaniel’s arms came around her, pulled her close, and she buried her face in his hard chest. Her body shook with a tidal wave of emotion that demanded release. Fear, anger, even the hatred toward her father. The strong, comforting arms around her offered the kind of solace she had always longed for, and she drew strength from his closeness. Eliza let the sorrow and self-pity float away on the salty waves running down her face and neck and clung to this man who was becoming such a precious part of her life in so short a time.

  Nate gathered her close and rocked her back and forth, stroking her shoulders and hair. He murmured soft words in her ear, telling her all would be well, that she was safe with him. Her tears soaked his shirt, and still she cried. He remembered when he’d held Grace like this after her mother had died. She’d needed to purge herself of all the emotions that had cluttered her mind and burdened her soul. Eliza needed the same, and he’d give her as long as she needed. This moment had been building for a long time, years maybe.

  Her fingers clutched at his lapels, but the weeping lessened. Her pulse slowed and she hiccupped. Nate looked into her eyes, darkened to indigo with her tears, and had never seen anything more lovely. He wanted to be her hero, her knight in shining armor. Scoop her up in his arms and kiss away her tears. She hiccupped again.

  “I must look a fright,” she said, a watery smile curving her full lips.

  He cursed his riding coat for not having a pocket. “I’m sorry I don’t have a handkerchief.” He moved his hands to her face and wiped her cheeks with his thumbs, then without thought, ran the pad over her full mouth.

  Her eyes widened and he saw the need—and uncertainty—in those violet orbs. Her lips parted and he did what seemed natural. Nate pressed his mouth to hers, the barest brush of his lips. The action heated his blood, pulse racing as he pulled back slowly, and searched her face for a sign of regret. Instead, with tremulous fingers, she reached up and drew his head down, offering another kiss. His hands pushed through her thick mane, silky and sensual against his skin. Her body fit against him like a second half, as if she were something he’d been searching for all his life. The missing piece to the puzzle.

  “Did you find—” Grace’s voice broke the spell.

  Eliza jerked from his grasp, the low-cut blue and violet flowered dress revealed creamy breasts rising and falling as she panted. Her warmth slipped away from him, and he felt its loss.

  “Oh, my. I assumed Cyrano found Althea from the howls, but it seems my brother was just as successful as the hound,” Hannah said to Grace.

  “I was only… Eliza began to cry… If you breathe a word of this, I’ll hang you both by your thumbs and—”

  Laughter drowned out the rest of his threat. To his relief, Eliza smiled shyly, picked up her skirts, and ran to the house. His two female nemeses flanked him.

  “Where did you find Althea?”

  “Is she all right?”

  “Where is Mrs. Watkins? Poor thing was in bad loaf, wailing and sniffling.”

  Nate sighed. “Althea was in the meadow under the rowan, Cyrano is hero for the day, and Mrs. Watkins is appropriately contrite and extremely relieved.”

  “And Eliza?” asked Grace, a mischievous gleam in her green eyes.

  He grinned. A big stupid grin that he couldn’t wipe off his face. Good God, this is what Kit warned me about.

  Chapter Ten

  Early May

  Eliza saw the familiar Falsbury seal on the envelope and clutched it to her chest. She wished Grace was still here to read this with her. Her cousin was a pillar of strength.

  Please be good news.

  Not that she was in a hurry to leave. She loved this beautiful estate and was growing close to Hannah and Lady Pendleton. And then there was Nathaniel. Nate, he had asked her to call him last night as they walked in the garden with Lady Hannah. They had not been alone again since Althea had wandered off and…the kiss, which had caused both disappointment and relief. It would not have been proper, even as a widow.

  The attraction between them had grown. A look across the table, his hand a moment too long on the small of her back, a shared smile. Her heat fluttered each time he walked into the room. Her nights were filled with his kiss, reliving it in her dreams over and over, each time adding a touch or caress. She would wake with a throbbing low in her belly, her body covered in sweat from a desire she’d never felt before, even with Carson.

  With a deep breath, she sat at her toilette and opened the letter.

  * * *

  Dearest Eliza,

  * * *

  I hope this finds you well and my granddaughter happy. We miss you both dreadfully and hope to see you soon. Grace wrote to explain the circumstances of your new residence. I knew Lady Pendleton years ago when we were both girls, and she is a gracious woman. I trust your stay there will be pleasant.

  We went to London and met with Landonshire. I wish you could have seen the look on his face when he found out you were not there. Falsbury was brilliant, calling his bluff and almost sending your father
into an apoplectic fit. Chester hasn’t enjoyed himself so much in years. It almost came to fisticuffs, but Landonshire is a coward at heart. He left pell-mell, most likely to confer with the despicable Mr. Bellum.

  Though you are presently safe, Falsbury does not think the matter is closed. Your father will check the ships that have left dock and send out more spies, no doubt. I’m afraid there may be only one way to keep you permanently out of his reach. We must find you a suitable husband. This is not a conclusion we came to easily since I would be devastated if you left us. But my husband pointed out my selfishness in this matter, and our honor demands we present this option to you in the best light.

  If you are married to another, Landonshire will give up his foolish scheme. You cannot hide at Pendle Place forever. Both you and Althea deserve to be happy and loved. Please consider your future choices carefully until we see you again.

  * * *

  L. Falsbury

  * * *

  Marriage? Eliza stood and paced the length of the room. Pish and perdition! Marriage to a suitable husband. One closer to my age. It made sense but to open herself up again to another man… She was damaged property, certainly no great match for anyone despite her bloodline. Especially once her father’s financial situation became common London on-dit. Where would she find someone? It wasn’t as if she could traipse off to London for a season. She’d be discovered as soon as she re-entered society.

  Tears pricked the back of her lids, and she closed her eyes. It would not help to cry. As much as she loved it here, Eliza knew the marchioness was right. Breathe in…and out. In…and out. Althea needed a father who would dote on her like Nate. Nate! If only he weren’t such a good man, perhaps they might have made a match. No, he deserved so much more than a flawed, fearful wife. He should have a confident, intelligent, beautiful woman who would never cringe from an unexpected shout or startle at a sudden wave of a stranger’s hand. Besides, Hannah had said he planned to look for a wife when she attended her first season next year. Nate could have his pick of women in London. He didn’t need to settle for a widow and another man’s child.