The Widowed Countess

by Linda Rae Sande

  Dorothea realized she needed to come up with some answer to Clarinda’s query. “I meant, I have good news, of course,” she hedged. “Lord Wallingham visited his favorite jeweler because I have accepted his offer of marriage,” she announced with a slight curtsy.

  Clarinda stood up just then and hurried to embrace her mother-in-law. “Best wishes!” she exclaimed as she hugged the older woman. “My goodness, when did this happen?” she asked then, thinking the viscount hadn’t yet made an appearance at Norwick Park. That meant he had to have proposed the day of the funeral. Ewww. Or maybe he had paid her a call prior to their departure from London. Or perhaps he had sneaked into Norwick House and spent the night in Dorothea’s bedchamber. The last possibility was the most likely, Clarinda realized. She was pondering these possibilities as she returned to her seat on the Greek lounge.

  Dorothea’s eyes widened just a bit, seeking Daniel’s for help. He shrugged, not about to guess what she was about. But he was rather happy that Clarinda had returned to sit exactly as she had been doing so that his thigh would once again be pressed against hers just as soon as his mother either saw fit to be seated or, preferably, left the room entirely. “Why, early yesterday morning, before we left to come here, of course,” she replied carefully, not wanting to admit it had been so early, it was essentially the middle of the night. Given the location of the Blue Room in Norwick House, it had been quite easy to sneak Lord Wallingham into the house and up to her bedchamber. “Although, he has been hinting he would do so for some time,” she added with a flutter of her eyelashes and a wave of one hand – the hand that clearly displayed a sapphire of some considerable size.

  “He probably needs her funds to pay gambling debts,” Daniel murmured under his breath, hoping Clarinda would hear him and his mother would not. The quelling look his mother gave him was the only indication his words carried too far.

  “Have you set a date?” Clarinda asked, hoping to cover Daniel’s gaff. She wondered how Dorothea had managed to keep news of her engagement a secret during the entire trip to Norwick Park.

  Dorothea finally moved into the room and took a seat in the chair nearest them. Daniel sat down, making sure his thigh ended up right against Clarinda’s. Although her eyes closed for an instant, as if she was either very excited by his improper move or very offended by it, Clarinda made no move to move her thigh away from his.

  “I think he’ll just get a special license so we can wed wherever and whenever we wish,” Dorothea replied, her hands settling onto her lap.

  “Do you expect that will be somewhere near here?” Daniel wondered. “I ask only because we really should be getting back to London,” he added, waving his hand to indicate Clarinda and himself.

  A jolt of excitement shot through Clarinda. The thought of Daniel sleeping in the chamber next to hers had her thinking of how often their thighs might be pressed against one another. He must know how her thigh looked – a painting featuring one of her bare thighs hung right above where he slept. She wondered what he thought of that painting, wondered if he found it pleasing to the eye.

  “Already?” Dorothea questioned, surprised her son would be anxious to return to London so soon.“We only just got here yesterday.”

  Daniel nodded. He’d spent the past two years, and several months of the two years before that, sequestered at Norwick Park working on the earldom’s books and overseeing the estate. He could do that just as well if he was in London, and even enjoy doing it knowing Clarinda was under the same roof. They could always return to Norwick Park for the summers. “And, yet, we’ve already stayed too long,” Daniel countered, one hand seeking Clarinda’s. When he had it securely wrapped around hers, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it.

  Stunned at the intimacy of his kiss, Clarinda’s eyes widened. “I suppose I can be ready to leave ... the day after tomorrow, let’s say,” she offered, wondering what Daniel had in mind.

  “Well! I cannot be ready so soon,” Dorothea countered, her hands going to her hips. Since she was sitting down, the action didn’t hold as much menace as it would have if she’d been standing. “Besides, Wally is due here tomorrow. You were supposed to escort me home sometime next week.” From the glare she directed in her son’s direction, Clarinda knew Dorothea to be incensed.

  “Perhaps Lord Wallingham would allow you to join him for the trip to Bognor in his carriage?” Clarinda suggested. “You could enjoy a bit of privacy before you two have to return to London. Once you’re back there, you won’t have the opportunity to spend much time together since there will no doubt be balls and soirées in honor of your betrothal,” she added, making her words sound ever so innocent.

  Daniel could have kissed her just then. Almost did, in fact, but remembered where they were and who else was in the room with them. “Clare’s idea holds merit, Mother,” Daniel affirmed. “And, if Lord Wallingham arrives on horseback, or in a gig that doesn’t afford room for all those trunks of gowns you brought from London, you can always take one of the conveyances in the carriage house here. Mr. Hammond mentioned there are several.” He was imagining the barouche, the one his brother had described as a piece of ...

  “Why, what a splendid idea!” his mother agreed, her face brightening. “Oh,” she stood up suddenly, as if she’d just remembered something. “I just remembered something!” she announced. “I really must get back to my room. I have so much to do before Wally arrives,” she said over her shoulder as she hurried out of the parlor.

  Daniel barely had a chance to stand as his mother took her leave. He seated himself just as quickly, making sure his thigh returned to what he had decided was its rightful place against Clarinda’s.

  “What do you suppose she meant by that?” Clarinda wondered absently, suddenly overcome by exhaustion.

  Taking her hand in his again, Daniel shook his head. “I can only imagine,” he murmured, “Not that I really want to, mind you. In fact, I’d rather not think of what she does with the manacles and rope she brings along on these trips.” Clarinda’s eyes widened, then blinked. “I’m teasing,” Daniel said, his deadpan manner making Clarinda wonder if he really was teasing. For some reason, it seemed perfectly reasonable that Dorothea would tie up her lovers or handcuff them to bed posts and have her wicked way with them. “And don’t even imagine it,” Daniel added, suddenly afraid he was too late with his directive.

  “Too late,” Clarinda countered, her head tipped back and her eyes closing to try and erase the image from her memory. She sat like that for a very long time, suddenly wondering if her husband had engaged in such activities prior to their marriage. It would have been legendary if David had engaged in that kind of hedonism, she thought. His string of mistresses would have been rather daring women who thought nothing of being tied up or handcuffed or tumbled every which way. However had he reformed to marry me? she wondered. He’d had to sell his brothel and gaming hell, give up all his mistresses, and swear off whores in favor of marriage to her. And he had done so, quite completely. For she knew he had been faithful to her; the two investigators she’d hired over the past four years had reported on his every move. And lack thereof.

  “He loved you,” Daniel stated suddenly, as if he’d overheard her every thought.

  Clarinda’s slight inhalation of breath suggested he had guessed correctly as to her line of thinking. Like mother, like son, he thought, secretly glad he hadn’t been the older brother. Sometimes, there was something to be said for being second.

  “He must have. I had investigators following his every move,” she replied in a quiet voice.

  Daniel’s eyebrows nearly climbed into his hairline. “What?” he responded suddenly. “You didn’t ... you didn’t trust him?”

  Sighing, Clarinda considered how to respond. “Would you? Had you been me?” she asked instead.

  Daniel started to answer but then stilled himself.
Clarinda agreed to marry me. I was the one who courted her. And yet, all that time, she thought she was being courted by his brother. She knew what a rake his brother had been, and yet she still agreed to marry him. “Why did you marry him, then?” he asked, struggling to reign in his temper, a temper definitely directed at her instead of his brother.

  “We’ve been over this Daniel,” she warned, her own indignation suddenly apparent. Her anger dissipated quickly, though, as if the volcano that had threatened to erupt suddenly settled into dormancy. In its place, there was a sad visage and tears limning her eyes.

  Daniel covered her hand with one of his. “Well, there’s no need to cry about it,” he managed to get out before he gathered her into his arms, holding her on his lap and burying his head into the space between her head and her shoulder. “David doesn’t deserve your tears.”

  “I can’t help it,” Clarinda whispered, tears suddenly flowing down her cheeks. “I’m with child ... with children,” she amended, causing the tears to flow faster. “I just buried my bastard of a husband. I’m a widow with a year of mourning to endure. And I’m hungry. So, I think I’m entitled to cry,” she managed to get out between sobs.

  Chuckling softly, Daniel grinned as he held Clarinda’s body against his own. “Dinner will be served in just a few minutes,” he murmured, noticing the mantle clock was about to strike seven. Once it did, their moment of privacy would be gone. Daniel suddenly dropped to the floor, one knee down and the other supporting an elbow as he reached for her hand. “Marry me, Clare,” he whispered, his hold on her suddenly firmer. “Say you’ll be my wife.”

  Clarinda pulled her hand from Daniel’s grip, stunned at his words. “I cannot marry you,” she countered, shaking her head as she struggled to back away.

  Daniel let her go, his face displaying his surprise at her refusal. “And why not?” he countered, stunned that she would give him an answer so quickly. And not the answer he was expecting.

  “You despise me. You probably hate me ...”

  “I do not hate you, Clare,” Daniel managed to get out. “In fact, I’m ...”

  “... And I’m supposed to be in mourning,” she went on, apparently not hearing his rebuttal. “For a year!”

  “I’m sure we can work around that if you’ll just hear me out,” he responded, rising to face her. He took her hands in his again. “Please, Clare,” he whispered.

  The dinner gong sounded. Clare shook her head as she pulled one hand from his and placed it over her belly. “I have to get something to eat,” she stated. “Right now,” she added. Then she turned and practically ran from the room.

  Bereft and just a bit angry, Daniel cursed as he stood in the middle of the salon and pondered what to do next. Damn you, David Fitzwilliam! Damn you to hell! He half expected his brother to reply with “I’m already there,” or “I’m on my way,” but there was only silence surrounding him as Daniel made his way to the dining room.

  Chapter 22

  Post Proposal Prognostications

  “I heard my brother asked for your hand in marriage,” David murmured, his lips curving up. He didn’t add that he’d also heard his curses. “When will you say your vows?”

  Clarinda sat up in bed, her eyes wide, her thoughts still in the dream where she was ten months pregnant and Daniel was quite thoroughly pleasuring her. Or was that David? She shook her head. Where am I? This wasn’t her bedchamber. This wasn’t Norwick House.

  The cobwebs of sleep slowly cleared from her mind as she tried to think. “Vows?” she repeated, still surprised that David was perched on the edge of her bed. “What vows?”

  “Marriage vows,” David repeated, one of his hands reaching out for hers. It settled over the top of the one that wasn’t clutched to her abdomen.

  Clarinda realized she’d been doing that a lot lately, as if she had to in order to remind herself that she was carrying twins. Not that she really needed much reminding; she’d gained a few more pounds in the past week and was ravenously hungry. Norwick Park, she remembered suddenly. She was at Norwick Park with Daniel and his mother. “If you’re referring to Daniel’s proposal of marriage, I can assure you I told him ‘no’,” she finally spoke, her shoulders slumping. She had been tempted, albeit for only seconds, to accept his offer, there was no doubt about it. The way Daniel had looked at her, the way he’d held her hand – it was exactly the same as when David had asked for her hand in Kensington Gardens amongst the pink roses. And for the babies to have a father – that alone would have been enough for most women to say ‘yes’ to such a proposal.

  But how could she agree to marry a man who she was sure despised her? Wouldn’t he always remember how she slapped him that day? Remember her stinging rebuke? Remember how she could behave like a volcano erupting whenever her anger was provoked? No, Daniel Jonathan Andrew Fitzwilliam was far safer keeping his distance from her.

  “You have to marry him, Clare,” David whispered, one hand reaching out to caress her cheek. “It’s his turn, after all.”

  Gasping, Clarinda regarded her dead husband with a look of disbelief. “His turn? What? And I have no say in the matter?”

  David shrugged and seemed suddenly a bit confused by her response. “No,” he answered simply. “You were supposed to marry him in the first place.”

  Silence filled the space between them for several heartbeats. Clarinda’s mouth opened in shock. She shut it about the time David’s hand reached over to push up her lower jaw. “What are you saying, David?” she asked, a surge of anger building inside. Molten lava, or at least the remains of her late night snack, threatened to erupt if she didn’t control the sudden urge to throttle her dead husband to death. What, indeed, was he saying? Had Daniel been telling the truth when he claimed to have been the one to ask for her hand that day in Kensington Gardens?

  David noted the sudden wash of red that colored Clarinda’s face and thought of a volcano’s eruption. He took a step back, not even thinking that she could do him no harm. He was dead already, after all. “I admit, I ... I sort of ... usurped Daniel’s place in your heart. In your life. Actually, in all of life, truth be told,” he stammered, not sounding the least bit like the earl he had been when he was alive. Death had taken his confidence, it seemed, along with his sense of entitlement and his apparent dislike of his younger brother.

  He had to admit to himself, ‘dislike’ wasn’t quite the right word to describe his feelings toward Daniel. It was jealousy. Simple, green jealousy. For Daniel was always right there on his heels, from the time they were born. And then, when it really counted, Daniel had somehow stepped ahead of David and managed to secure the love of a woman David realized he wanted for himself. How could he live with himself if he allowed his wife to believe his lie any longer? Especially now that he was dead?

  The irony of that last thought went unnoticed by the late David Fitzwilliam as he pondered his fate and those of his wife and his brother. He had been a rotten brother, a scoundrel and a rake, and yet his brother had forsaken a carefree life as one of London’s young bucks and willingly taken over the responsibility of the earldom’s business affairs, had overseen the management of Norwick Park and seen to its tenants in David’s stead. All David had done was attend sessions of Parliament, listening intently when something was of interest to him and spending the rest of the time daydreaming of what he might be doing if he was at White’s or in Hyde Park or at home with Clarinda.

  Sighing, Clarinda regarded David for a very long time. He was lost in thought, an activity she knew him to engage in at some of the most inopportune times. “Explain yourself,” she demanded, suddenly wary.

  Crossing his arms, David cocked his head first to one side and then to the other. “It’s tough being a twin, you know.” When the statement didn’t elicit the sympathy he was looking for from Clarinda, he sighed. “Danny and I fought constantly. From the time we were in the
womb ...”

  “The womb?!” Clarinda countered, her eyebrows indicating her growing impatience with the only man she thought she had loved for the past four years. The man with whom she was currently quite miffed. The man who was now making no sense. But then, for a moment she had to remind herself that he had been dead for several days and was now finally buried. It was a miracle he was even here talking at all.

  “Aye,” he answered with a nod. “Ask Mother. She’ll tell you. It’s a wonder my brother and I are so poor at pugilism,” he added as his attention seemed to stray for a moment. “Horses and guns, no problem, but swords and fists ... I’d die in a duel if I had to fight with a rapier. Or my fists.”

  “David,” Clarinda sighed in exasperation. “You’re dead already,” she whispered, no longer caring if she offended him. What was he going to do? Haunt her? He was doing that quite effectively at the moment.

  “It’s true!” David insisted, ignoring her comment about him being dead. “Ask the dowager countess,” he said in a voice that suggested he was daring to bring up the matter with Dorothea. “I’d kick Daniel, and then he would hit me with an uppercut to the jaw, so I’d counter with my left hook, and then he’d kick me,” he pantomimed as one leg seemed to intersect the edge of the bed. The contact made no sound, nor did the bed seem to move. “It’s a wonder we were both born with balls. It’s a bigger wonder we didn’t kill each other. There’s not a lot of room in there,” he added as he pointed toward her slightly rounded belly.