To Woo a Wicked Widow

by Jenna Jaxon

  Jane shook her head and sat up, staring into her face as if searching for something. “All the more reason, my dear, to think before throwing away this new chance for happiness. Charlotte, you have the opportunity to make a good marriage now. A marriage with a man near your age, who you yourself have said you are drawn to. Why not accept Wrotham? You cannot seriously believe he will behave as Sir Archibald did?”

  Charlotte had to bite her tongue to keep from laughing. “No, Jane. I truly do not believe Lord Wrotham would be anything but a good husband. But why should I tempt fate and leap into another marriage when I need not? He may not have Sir Archibald’s faults, but he will certainly have some of his own. As it is now, I can do as I please, run my estate as I see fit, and find male companionship as I like.” She gave her cousin an arch look. “Considering your declaration never to marry again, I would think you understood my reasons.”

  Jane nodded but grasped her hands. “I do, my dear, but my situation is much different from yours. I had a satisfying marriage, children, and financial reasons not to marry again.”

  “As have I.”

  “But you do not have children, Charlotte. If you do not marry, you will end up alone. Or worse, you will not be careful and be forced into marriage with a man who seemed delightful in the dark but less so in the light.”

  Charlotte blotted away her tears. Why could she not have it all as she wished with no fuss? “I do want a husband and children, but not so badly as I want to make my own decisions. And mistakes. For the first time in my life, I have that ability. If I cannot have the man I loved, at least I will have a choice in what I do.”

  Jane’s kind blue eyes looked sad, but she nodded. “I believe I do understand, my dear. Now, what may I do to help you?”

  * * *

  “You look positively ravishing, Charlotte! But then, that is the idea, is it not?” Jane remarked as Charlotte entered the drawing room of the Theale town house.

  She smiled and flushed, nervous that at last she would see the Earl of Kersey. Ostensibly she awaited with her cousin for the fashionable callers now in town to make an appearance, but they both knew one particular caller was the reason for her grand appearance.

  Her white sprigged muslin, so sheer it left little of her shape to the imagination, dipped down low over her breasts, inviting male attention. Unsuitable for afternoon? Definitely. She cared not a fig. When the earl arrived, she wanted to be sure his gaze would be only on her.

  “Exactly the point, Jane.” Charlotte paced about the room, glancing out the window as she passed by. One o’clock in the afternoon. Alan had written yesterday, asking permission to call today. If only he would arrive, this panicky feeling might subside and she could once again be the gracious, flirtatious woman he had kissed in June.

  “Do sit down, Charlotte.” Jane sipped her tea and frowned. “You look ready to fly to pieces. Not the effect one wants to project when one is angling for a lover.”

  Giving her cousin a speaking glance, Charlotte dropped into a Queen Anne chair.

  “Take this tea, my dear. It will fortify you.”

  “Only if it has a large dollop of brandy in it.” Charlotte grinned and sipped the hot, sweet beverage. Her hands shook, and she forced them to steady. He would appear eventually. Pray God, no one else did.

  As the long-case clock struck the half hour, Fisk appeared. “The Earl of Kersey, my lady.”

  Charlotte sat straighter, which pushed her bosom straight out, jutting like the prow of a ship. She licked her lips, then bit them slightly to deepen the color. Her cheeks were already blooming, thanks to the Attar of Roses she had applied. Setting the teacup on the table before she spilled it, she turned toward the doorway and smiled broadly.

  Lord Kersey swept into the room and she caught her breath, for the change in him was immediately evident. The handsome blond looks were still there, curly hair still charmingly riotous, blue eyes alert and sensual. His clothing, as fashionable as ever—deep brown coat, cream silk embroidered waistcoat, and fawn-colored trousers—save the addition of a mourning armband. He looked to be the same man who had earned her the reputation of wicked at Almack’s.

  Yet his demeanor had changed. He moved with the presence of his station rather than the relaxed devil-may-care attitude that had proclaimed him unconcerned with anything save the next wager or woman to be won. Before, his eyes would have sought her out hungrily. Now he strode toward her cousin, avoiding Charlotte’s avid gaze entirely.

  He spoke to Jane and bent low over her hand, his countenance poised and respectful. Her cousin had been correct. The rake was gone. In his place a man of purpose stood, one who might also insist on a more permanent arrangement between them.

  Plague take him.

  At last, he turned to her, and his eyes warmed.

  That warmth at least was encouraging. With luck, it might be all right after all.

  “My dear Lady Cavendish. I am so pleased to see you once more.” He lifted her hand and his lips grazed her knuckles.

  Delightful shivers shot up her arm. That certainly boded well.

  “I truly regret the necessity of having to quit your house party so early in August. Indeed nothing would have persuaded me to leave your excellent company except the sad news of my uncle’s impending death.” His gaze searched her face, a mocking lift to his eyebrow. “I do hope you have forgiven me?”

  “Of course, my lord. Such an event must take precedence over any other engagement. I am sorry for your loss.”

  He continued to hold her hand, and Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest, almost visible, she’d wager, due to her extreme décolletage.

  “You are kind, my lady.” He squeezed her hand and she returned the gesture. Looking deeply into his eyes, now darker and wider than just moments before, a fleeting thought arose that he might sweep her into his town house this very evening.

  “Will you be seated, Lord Kersey, and have tea with us?” Jane asked, interrupting their heated gaze. “You must give us the particulars about your uncle’s funeral and all the fascinating things one must do to take over an earldom.”

  “I beg your pardon, Lady John, but I am, as usual these days, pressed for time.” He continued to stare into Charlotte’s eyes. “I had hoped to have the pleasure of Lady Cavendish’s company in my curricle for a turn around the park, if she is willing?”

  Charlotte clutched the arms of the chair. She hadn’t expected a drive alone with him, although it should not draw attention if she rode with him in an open carriage. If she was going to do this, they would need to be discreet above all else. He must understand that. She allowed him to assist her as she rose.

  “I would enjoy becoming reacquainted very much, my lord. And a ride in the fresh air is always welcome.” A quick glance at her cousin showed her nod of approval, though she also noted Jane’s silent sigh. “Let me prepare for the outing and I will meet you in the hall shortly.”

  He nodded and released her hand, giving it another squeeze as he did so.

  Charlotte kept a sedate pace until she exited the room, then picked up her skirts and ran for her chamber. She had no idea what this ride would lead to, but considering the man’s reputation, she needed to be ready for anything.

  Chapter 16

  “Did I tell you how lovely you look, Lady Cavendish?” Lord Kersey asked as he handed her into his curricle. The sleek vehicle, drawn by a team of smart matched bays, looked new.

  “I believe you said we were beyond Lady Cavendish and Lord Kersey since Almack’s.” Charlotte arched a brow at him as he climbed in and took the ribbons.

  He glanced at her sharply, then started the horses. “I did say that, but as you never seemed comfortable with that level of intimacy, and because we have not had a private moment in three months, I thought to err on the side of caution.” He looked at her with a wry smile. “You do look lovely, Charlotte.”

  His words and warm tone sent a thrill coursing through her. “Thank you, Alan. You too are looking extremely well.�
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  “I thought of you often while I worked at Kersey.” He frowned. “Although usually I thought of the tableau I stumbled upon of you and Wrotham.” His voice grew cool. “Are you now betrothed?”

  Charlotte’s heart gave a lurch and gripped her reticule. “No, we are not. He offered, but I refused him. What you saw was an accident.” She placed a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It happened as I explained that night. I did not find you in the drawing room, and when I saw a light under the library door I rushed in, expecting to find you there, and came upon Wrotham instead.” She struggled to control her voice, the vivid memory slicing through her resolve, bringing with it a warm tingle in her breasts. “I tripped and landed in his arms. Before I knew what had happened, we were kissing.”

  “Very thoroughly, from my perspective.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks heated, but something new in his voice made her curious. “Were you jealous?”

  “Of course.” He frowned as he expertly turned the horses into Hyde Park. “I could only think that it should be me standing there with you in my arms. I had gone to see to the carriage and came back to find you otherwise engaged.”

  Face now aflame, she paused, ostensibly searching the park for other acquaintances, although in truth she badly needed a moment to recover. The remembrance of that night was swift and sharp. She could feel Wrotham’s arms around her again, could smell a phantom splash of his citrusy cologne. The intensity of the memory shook her, made what she had come here to do seem almost a betrayal. A silly notion, as nothing had come of their embrace.

  Thank goodness the hour was early. Only one or two people walking and one carriage in the distance. No one would see them together. If she were to shake off the shade of the Earl of Wrotham it was time to be bold.

  “Have you forgotten that I never answered your question during our dance in August, Alan?”

  “What question?” He looked completely blank.

  Well, it had been a long month and he’d had other things on his mind.

  “You asked if you should come to my bedroom later. I have an answer, if you’d like to hear it.” Lord have mercy, had she really said that? Her heart beat oddly, blood pounding in her ears.

  His eyes widened and his hands tightened on the ribbons. “My, my. You are the Wicked Widow, aren’t you? I am all ears.”

  Charlotte smiled, confidence returning. “If one has a reputation, one should live up to it, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Indeed. That has always been my motto.” He kept glancing toward her, as though she were some new creature he’d never encountered before. His admiration made her quite giddy. Was this what being wicked felt like?

  She prayed, however, he would keep his eyes less on her and more on the path. The last thing she wanted today was an accident in the curricle.

  “Perhaps it should become mine as well. You can teach me all you know about being scandalous.” Was she actually saying these things to him? She had become the Wicked Widow. “Because my answer is yes. Come to my bed, Alan.”

  He grinned at her, deftly turning the horses toward a lesser-driven path. In moments, they were in a more secluded part of the park than Charlotte had ever seen. But of course a rake would know all the best places for seduction. He pulled the horses to a halt and turned to her.

  Grasping her hands, he peered into her face. “I scarcely think you need lessons in being scandalous at all, my lady. So why do you want me in your bed?”

  His blunt question stunned her. Her head whirled until she finally blurted out, “Because I want to have passion in my life for once. My husband had no idea of the meaning of the word.”

  “Hmm. I thought it might be something like that. Or laying to rest a tendre for Wrotham.” He squeezed her hand, an excited gleam in his eyes.

  Shock rippled through her and her stomach clenched. For a moment, she thought she might cast up her accounts, at which point her embarrassment would be so acute she would pray for death.

  “Wh . . . why would you think such a thing? I just told you I had refused him.” She pulled her hands out of his grip. Her palms had gone clammy and she rubbed them against the folds of her spencer, trying not to shake. This ride had been a mistake. The whole plan to be seduced by Lord Kersey had been a huge mistake.

  “I know what I saw that night in the library, Charlotte. Passion, or the simulation of it, has been my forte for years. That little scene had the ring of truth to it.”

  “No.” The denial came as quickly as she could spit out the word. “He . . . I . . . was taken unawares.”

  “That is quite often the best way to elicit true passion.”

  She shook her head violently, although in her heart she suspected he was right. “No. There is nothing between the earl and me.”

  “Methinks ‘the lady doth protest too much.’” His voice remained calm, but he watched her with the tension of a cat at a mouse hole.

  “And if I did have a tendre for him . . .” Even that much of a confession sent her heart racing. She tried to calm it and continued, although her patience with him was nearing an end. “Would that prevent you from acting on my request? Why should it matter to you? You’re a rakehell of the first water with a scandalous reputation. All I’m asking is for you to act like it.”

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  Charlotte wanted to crawl under the carriage just to get away from the amused wretch. She settled for straining away from him until she clung to the far edge of the seat. At the first bump, she’d likely go flying out. Then, at least, her worries would be over.

  His chuckles subsided and he leaned back in the leather seat. “Regrettably, my circumstances have changed, Charlotte. When I inherited the title, I promised a dying man I would renounce my wild ways and take up the responsibilities of the earldom.” He shook his head. “I can scarce believe it when I say it. I have never cared before what people thought of me, which is why they think so little of me now.”

  He stared out at the lane, a determination tightening his jaw. “So despite having made the declaration to become a better man, I find I do not wish to relinquish my status as a rake so easily. Which makes your offer quite tempting, my dear. Unfortunately, as I am trying to repair my reputation, taking you as my lover during my mourning period would scarcely qualify as reparation.”

  Charlotte blew out an exasperated breath. “If we were discreet no one would have to know.”

  “True. Not all my exploits became public property.” His eyes pierced her, and she squirmed in her seat. “There is, however, another solution.” He paused and grinned. “You could marry me.”

  Charlotte closed her eyes and silently cursed all men. Her hand itched to slap his handsome, self-assured face. Why did marriage seem the only answer for every man she found attractive?

  “I do not wish to marry again.”

  “From your earlier statement, it hardly seems as if you were married the first time.” He leaned in toward her, his lips less than an inch away.

  “I hardly was.” She need only lean forward and their lips would touch. “So now I want the freedom to make my own decisions about what I do, where I go, who I have in my bed. A husband would not allow that.”

  “Well, naturally not the last one.” He laughed and his eyes went dark. “Not even I, dear Charlotte, would want my wife in another man’s bed.” He pressed his lips to hers.

  Madness seized her. She grasped his head and pressed back, with an urgency designed to obliterate the image that came to her—Wrotham’s mouth on hers. Could the man not leave her alone?

  Alan slid his tongue inside her mouth. She waited for the frenzy of desire to claim her again; however, after a few moments of him vigorously thrusting in and out, all she felt was a vague sense of disgust. It seemed too stilted, too practiced. Not at all like the intense, soul-stirring experience Lord Wrotham had given her.

  She quickly broke off the kiss and peered around. Lord, if anyone had seen that wanton display she’d have little choice
in the matter of marriage. There were some lines even a widow could not cross. Discretion remained the best virtue, especially as her interest in the man was fast waning.

  “Will you marry me, Charlotte?” He kissed her temple and pressed her head against his shoulder.

  She jerked back. “That is the exact thing Lord Wrotham asked me.”

  Alan disentangled them and looked at her with raised eyebrows. “Indeed.”

  “He proposed to me just after you saw us in the library.” A proposal she now found much more appealing by far.

  The earl sat up straighter and collected his ribbons, though he did not start the horses.

  Charlotte noted his tension and smiled to herself. “Lord Wrotham has proved a persistent suitor, with very persuasive methods.” She stared into his eyes. “Remarkably similar to yours just now.”

  “Yet he has not persuaded you.”

  “To marry him, no.” She glanced around. “We should perhaps return to the more-frequented areas of the park. Remember, you now have a reputation to protect.”

  “I believe I will remain untarnished if we let the horses rest a few moments longer.” He looped the ribbons around the whipsocket and adjusted his position so that he faced her fully. “If he has not persuaded you to marry him, then has he persuaded you to some other action?” He drew off his driving gloves and began to tap them lightly on his thigh.

  Repressing the urge to laugh, Charlotte merely shook her head. “That would have been my desire precisely. Lord Wrotham, however, is a stickler where it comes to women, even widows. He will have a wedding before a wedding night. Nothing else will do.”

  “He did seem that type.” Kersey’s disgruntled tone caught her attention.

  “Arguments for a marriage between Wrotham and me are sound and well thought out, I must say.” Her gaze lingered on Alan’s face. A fine straight nose above the wide mouth, his lips full, though somewhat strained at the moment. The strong chin completed his chiseled look. Attractive an hour ago, but now . . . “Our properties adjoin, I am of sufficient station for his rank, and, as I said, he can be very persuasive when it comes to the physical aspect of marriage.”