To Tame a Wicked Widow

by Nicola Davidson

  Madeline tilted her head and smiled. “I’m sure you can’t. But it’s never too late to learn, dear. You could find some lovers…a strapping man, or woman, if that is your preference, and spend a few years making up for lost time.”

  Faith choked on a mouthful of soup. Winifred pounded her on the back, and a shining arc of red soared across the oak dining table to decorate the vicar’s pristine collar. The man jerked up his hands in dismay and managed to punch Mark squarely in the nose. Penelope, as she so often did, screeched and flailed her hands in horror.

  It really was the most excellent pandemonium, until Ethan deliberately cleared his throat and everyone fell silent. “I have an announcement to make. I will be travelling to London in the morning to attend to certain matters—”

  “Beg pardon?” said Madeline hoarsely, as an invisible arrow plunged into her heart and tore it open. He could truly just up and leave?

  Ethan’s amber gaze iced over. “You didn’t allow me to finish, Lady Upcott. These are estate matters, including your jointure property, so I ask that you accompany me to the city also.”

  “I knew it,” bellowed Mark, his voice only partially muffled by the handkerchief stemming the blood flow from his nose. “Pockets to let. Such a shame when young lords let everything fall to rack and ruin. You’d better go, Madeline, and while you are there find yourself a wealthy husband. Otherwise, we’ll all be out on the streets.”

  “I daresay there’ll be plenty of suitable potential spouses for your sister.”

  Madeline winced at the harsh confirmation their liaison had well and truly ended. A cloak of numbness settled around her, but she needed to leave this room before she shattered into a thousand pieces.

  “Very well,” she said woodenly, rising to her feet. “I shall go and advise the housekeeper. And begin preparations to depart. Excuse me.”

  Murmurings sounded behind her, and she could practically feel several triumphant, malicious gazes boring into the back of her head. Oh, how they reveled in her misery. And if there was an issue with the jointure property income that Ethan couldn’t mend, then it only strengthened the argument for her to marry again. This evening had been unpleasant enough. But being forced to retreat when her backside and pussy still ached from his skillful attentions…

  Hot tears burned her eyes, yet she kept her shoulders straight and head high for the entire time she spoke to the housekeeper, and managed to make it to her chamber and sink onto her bed before the drops began to spill down her cheeks.

  Damn him. And damn her for being so foolish as to let her heart get involved when it should have been no more than one uncomplicated night.

  “Madeline.”

  She didn’t turn toward the connecting door, instead quickly dabbed at her eyes. “Was there something you needed, Lord Dare?”

  “I should have told you before everyone else.”

  A short laugh escaped. “Do not trouble yourself. I’m well aware where I stand now. Actually, I am looking forward to London. Apart from legal matters, it will be lovely to revisit some old…acquaintances. And make new friends, of course. Such variety. For you as well, no doubt, now you are competent in the bedchamber.”

  Something snapped, and Madeline glanced over her shoulder in surprise to see Ethan holding a piece of broken walking cane in each hand, his expression nothing short of thunderous.

  “You’ll be far too busy,” he snarled, hurling the pieces onto the floor. “Finding that wealthy fucking husband.”

  He was angry? What bloody reason did he have?

  “Oh, that too,” she purred, her own temper rising as she got to her feet and walked toward him. “By the by, thanks to you, I now know my pussy can take far more in a day than I previously believed. Not to mention how much I enjoy spanking and toys. I’m sure my future spouse will be appreciative.”

  Ethan made a guttural sound and hauled her against his chest. One hand clamped on her tender backside, the other clasped the nape of her neck, tilting her head for a brutal, punishing kiss. Considering what had happened at the dining table, not to mention the soreness that remained from their carriage ride, it should have been impossible to want him again. But her nipples tightened, her pussy throbbed and dripped with dew, and she gripped the lapels of his jacket and melted against him.

  For a few heady seconds he held her close, grinding his hard cock against her clitoris, and she moaned in anticipation. But then he abruptly stepped back, his cheeks flushed and breathing ragged. “I apologize for my lapse, Lady Upcott. And I must thank you for such expert tutoring over the past week. I’m certain my future spouse will also be appreciative.”

  And with that, he bowed then turned and stalked out of her bedchamber.

  Damn him!

  London

  By the gods, he hated the city.

  Gripping the balcony railing of the Hanover Square townhouse, Ethan inhaled deeply of the cold night air. Not overly fresh, but an improvement on the odor of perfume, sweat, and general dissipation inside at the soiree he had for some unknown reason agreed to attend.

  While he would be proud to take his seat in the House of Lords when parliament sat again, not in a thousand years would be become used to—or enjoy the company of—those in the ton. Perhaps because of his own situation, he found the peevishly cavalier and shockingly spendthrift Prince Regent and his cronies unbearable. As for the mind-numbing worship of scandal and blatant enjoyment of other people’s misfortunes…hell.

  Nor would he ever love London; the stench of the slow-moving Thames blending with that of a city that didn’t know how to manage sanitation or the needs of an ever-increasing population, despite endless clues from the Romans, Persians, and the remarkable tribes of the Indu Valley. Give him an endless and silent expanse of golden desert, lush forest, or eye-wateringly blue ocean any day. Indeed, more nature and fewer peers would suit him just fine. Especially peers with grand titles, enormous fortunes, and the propensity to hover around Madeline like flies to honey.

  Much to the annoyance of the sticklers, his former lover was holding court in the ballroom like a queen, laughing, teasing, and accepting dance after dance from besotted men. While he might pretend he’d retreated to the balcony for fresher air, in truth, if he’d stayed in there one more minute, he’d have punched every one of those bastard dandies in the nose. And ballroom fisticuffs were just poor form.

  “Dare! What a lovely surprise.”

  Ethan turned, his fixed smile becoming genuine as Lady Yardley stepped through the large double doors, her husband on her arm. “Aunt Sally! How are you?”

  “Very well,” said Sally, a smile lighting up her delicate features and making her appear far younger than her years. The petite baroness wasn’t actually a blood relation, but a childhood friend of his mother’s. The two ladies had grown apart, mainly because his mother didn’t approve at all of the Yardley’s somewhat scandalous business interests, but he remained fond of this startlingly clever and warm-hearted woman.

  “And you, Yardley?”

  The affable and slightly rotund baron grinned. “Inundated with requests for our services, but in the spirit of impossibly high standards, we are refusing most. I’m not sure why it is difficult to understand that we assist widows, widowers, bachelors, and spinsters in finding future happiness, not married people looking for an affair.”

  “Polite Society,” said Ethan, rolling his eyes. “Do as I say, not as I do.”

  Sally tilted her head, her gaze sharp. “So cynical! It makes me wonder what has happened since we last spoke.”

  His cheeks burned. “Nothing.”

  “May as well confess, lad,” said Yardley. “Sally always finds out. The choice is whether it’s quick and painless, or you are broken with a relentlessly charming but mentally agonizing interrogation.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, husband,” said Sally, and a look passed between the two of such knowledge, heat and shared laughter, that Ethan wanted another cane to break in half.

&nb
sp; He and Madeline had looked at each other like that. Well, at least he thought they had. But he’d just been an amusement to her, someone a little different until her wealthy, experienced peer came along.

  Yardley cleared his throat. “Christ, Dare. That is the scowl of a thwarted lover. Who is she?”

  Unbidden, Ethan’s gaze returned to the ballroom, where Madeline now waltzed with a damned marquess. While most of the other ladies wore pastels, her gown was a vibrant emerald-green that both contrasted with and perfectly complemented her wild red curls, so she remained damnably easy to find. “No one you know.”

  “On the contrary,” said Sally crisply. “I’ve met the lady on several occasions, and found her intelligent, witty, and refreshingly unconventional. The less said about her lump of a brother and his frightful wife the better, but as we all know, we cannot choose our relatives.”

  “Is Madeline…Lady Upcott one of your clients, then?”

  “No. But if she asked for my help, I would provide it without question. Ladies who were shoved into a most unsatisfactory first marriage have all my sympathies. With all due respect to your family, Sir Josiah was a profoundly annoying whey-faced nincompoop.”

  A reluctant laugh escaped. “I know.”

  Yardley frowned. “So what is the problem? Does Lady Upcott not like you?”

  For an excruciating moment Ethan froze as memories pounded his brain. He and Madeline tangled in bed. Against the wall. In his carriage. Laughing in the library. Bantering over tales from his Egypt journal. Her fingers stroking his hair in the quiet, exhausted aftermath, the way she curled into his side and rested her cheek on his chest…

  “She likes me just fine,” he bit out. “But she likes money far more. And older, experienced gentlemen.”

  “Really?” said Sally, frowning. “That doesn’t sound at all—”

  “I’d rather not discuss the lady any further. Actually…I’m hoping you might instead allow me to reschedule my appointment. Men are supposed to have dozens of lovers before they settle down, are they not? Perhaps one of your lovely widows could assist.”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Of course, lad,” said Yardley abruptly, exchanging yet another glance with his wife that somehow appeared an entire conversation. Remarkably, Sally relaxed and smiled. “Are you free tomorrow evening?”

  Hell. That soon? He’d been thinking in a few weeks’ time, when Madeline no longer resided under his roof, tormenting him with too-polite conversation and form-fitting gowns just begging to be torn off. It was incredibly fortunate they would be meeting with his banker to discuss the jointure property and possible austerity measures in the morning. After that, there would be no reason for her to stay. And no reason for him to lie in bed, aching to be with her, next to her, inside her…

  “Yes,” Ethan said eventually, firmly suppressing a sharp twinge in his chest. “I’m free.”

  “For heaven’s sake, Madeline, stop pacing. You are giving me the headache.”

  Curling her fingers into fists to stop herself strangling her sister-in-law, Madeline instead walked over to the parlor window of Ethan’s townhouse that overlooked Manchester Square. The oval-shaped expanse of grass and trees reminded her a little of Surrey, something to soothe amongst the disagreeable hustle and bustle of London.

  In truth, after this morning’s meeting with Ethan’s banker, she needed the calming effects of nature more than ever.

  It had been horrid to learn that Mark’s gossiping cronies were correct for once, and that the viscountcy teetered on the brink of ruin. The banker Mr. Giles, whom she’d liked instantly for his brisk, thoughtful manner, had chosen not to openly criticize the previous Lord Dare for his recklessly lavish spending and the incompetent stewards he’d employed, but the implication was unmistakable. Ethan had remained so stoic throughout the meeting, even as he apologized for his inability to absorb the losses and outlined some possible measures of austerity for her to incorporate, but she’d seen the flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. And her heart had ached for him. How well she knew the anger and frustration at being landed with the responsibility of financial messes caused by those who lived well beyond their means.

  Then again, her heart hadn’t stopped aching since they’d left Guildford.

  She missed Ethan’s company terribly, in bed and out. No one she’d met at various parties since coming to London held a candle to him when it came to intellect or conversation. And no matter how many glasses of wine she drank, or waltzes she danced, not a single gentleman even vaguely tempted her. In fact, the thought of one of them attempting to spank her, or fuck her in a carriage, or pleasure her with that lovely leather dildo was decidedly nauseating.

  “You still haven’t told us how the meeting went,” said Mark from where he lounged on a chaise, helping himself to a plate of sugar cookies. “I hope they advanced you some extra funds. Eating at the Clarendon or Grillon’s is frightfully expensive.”

  Madeline glared at him. “No, they did not. As a matter of fact, I strongly advise you learn to enjoy pasties from a pie cart.”

  Her brother blanched, as though she’d just suggested skipping naked along Rotten Row. “Excuse me? A pasty? Those are for cits and servants.”

  “They are for people like us without the money for fine dining.”

  Penelope gasped. “What a dreadful thing to say! Fancy comparing us to the common poor.”

  Hell and damnation. If she ground her teeth any harder, they would be powder. “You are right. Such a comparison does a grave disservice to the poor.”

  “Here, now,” said Mark, sitting up and looking rather bewildered. “That’s uncalled for. If the coffers are depleted, the solution is simple. Marry a wealthy man, and we’ll all be happy.”

  Penelope nodded. “Oh, yes. That marquess you danced with last night at the soiree seemed quite taken with you, Madeline. Perhaps a little older than you hoped, but I’m sure he would be generous with an allowance, and think of the jewels and gowns you could loan me. Well, I’d have to take in the gowns of course...”

  “Quite,” added Mark gravely. “You are getting a little rounded, sister. Gentlemen prefer slender ladies. Much more refined. I recommend a few days of fasting—”

  A knock sounded on the parlor door, and a footman walked in, which was incredibly fortunate for the continuation of her brother and sister-in-law’s existence. Never had she been closer to disemboweling them both with a cake fork.

  “Excuse me, Lady Upcott,” said the footman with a bow. “But a runner has arrived with an urgent message. He’ll wait for your reply.”

  Startled, she hurried from the parlor and across the ostentatious ground floor entrance hall. Knowing that the ridiculous gilt furnishings and near-new Italian marble floor would have added a great deal to Ethan’s burden, she scowled at the click-clacking of her slipper heels on the cold, pale surface.

  “Lady Upcott, ma’am?” said a neatly dressed young lad waiting just inside the front door.

  “Yes,” she replied, a trifle breathlessly. Was the message from Ethan? Surely no one else would have urgent news. Oh God. He’d had an appointment with a law clerk after the banker. Had it gone very badly?

  The lad handed her a note sealed with a drop of red wax. “A private message from Lady Yardley.”

  Madeline frowned. Sally Yardley? How peculiar. The older woman was delightful, but it would be a stretch to say they were friends.

  Sliding her fingernail under the wax, she flicked it away and opened the folded paper.

  Lady Upcott,

  A certain viscount has an appointment here at seven o’clock this evening. If you care about him as much as he does you, then may I suggest you arrive at six. The address is Number 4, Bedford Square.

  Kindest regards,

  Sally Yardley

  Sucking in a harsh breath, Madeline stared at the baroness’ words until they blurred.

  Ethan cared for her.

  The news made her heart soar, especially after the unha
ppiness of the past week in this townhouse, culminating in the infuriating parlor conversation. For far too long she had been the dutiful daughter and older sister, while they behaved like damned barnacles. And to know that they would never change, they would always expect her to sacrifice all while they did nothing…well, no more. Because Ethan cared for her. And if she went to Sally’s, she might well be able to secure the kind of happiness she’d only ever dreamed about, if she could convince him that in truth, a wealthy, experienced, older man wasn’t right for her at all.

  Madeline looked up at the messenger, almost dizzy with anticipation and nerves. “P-please tell Lady Yardley I accept her kind offer with grateful thanks, and will see her at the specified time.”

  The lad bowed and ran from the house. Turning on her heel, Madeline made her way to the stairs.

  There was much to do before six o’clock.

  Chapter 5

  “Good evening, Dare. Do come in.”

  Ethan forced a smile and inclined his head toward Lady Yardley as he entered the sumptuous drawing room. “Good evening, Aunt Sally. Thank you for helping me with this favor when I don’t really meet your criteria anymore.”

  She laughed, her silver-touched blonde curls bouncing. “Nonsense. I am devoted to your happiness. And that of your future wife. Besides, honing one’s skills in preparation to be a good husband can never be a bad thing. A blissful marriage bed is the cornerstone of a blissful marriage, in my humble opinion.”

  He sighed inwardly. The likelihood of a blissful marriage with a woman other than Madeline seemed impossible, especially considering his established desire to dominate sexually, talk explicitly and use toys. The milk and water misses who had been at last night’s soiree would be horrified, and he’d never insist a woman did something she didn’t want to do. His only alternative was a subscription to one of the high-end London establishment that catered to diverse sexual tastes like the ‘nunneries’ in King’s Place, Miss Fawkland’s Temple of Flora and Temple of Mysteries in St. James’s Street, or the White House in Soho Square, but they were eye-wateringly expensive. The clubs also had another drawback: they were popular with aristocrats, diplomats, and politicians. Hell, with his luck, he’d probably bump into whichever rich, experienced lord Madeline married.