The Notorious Widow

by Allison Lane

  “Miss Seabrook,” he said coolly, keeping his face neutral.

  Seabrook’s smile faltered, but Laura ignored the rebuff. “We are delighted that you could visit, my lord. November is usually quite dull, but I am convinced that everyone will flock to meet you.” The fan waved coquettishly, giving her smile the same predatory look as that of Miss Coburn, the most blatant of last Season’s fortune hunters.

  “I am here to investigate your sister’s difficulty,” he reminded her.

  “Of course, but that will hardly consume much time. William mentioned your success at vanquishing tyrants. You will have no trouble bending others to your will.”

  This time he made no response. Her lighthearted dismissal of Catherine’s problem irritated him. He backed a pace as she leaned closer, then noticed that William’s cheeks were pink. At her mention of his praise or at her unwarranted flattery?

  She widened her smile. “I don’t know why people believe these tales, anyway. They even contradict each other, as I pointed out to Helen Hawkins last week – she’s the squire’s daughter and usually thinks quite clearly, but this time she wouldn’t listen. She has a hopeless tendre for Jasper, poor thing. Not that he would look twice at her, being so high in the instep. He would never settle for less than a duke’s daughter, and it wouldn’t surprise me if he thought himself worthy of Princess Charlotte, for all she’s only fifteen.”

  “Then he will be disappointed.” He kept Seabrook from slipping away by nodding toward another girl, who was reading in the corner. “And who might that be?”

  “That’s just Mary,” said Laura, dismissing her with a shrug. “She always has her nose in a book. I don’t know how she expects to make her bows to society when she ignores everyone who calls. I’ve told her and told her that she must learn to speak up and be noticed, but she invariably hides in the corner.”

  “Another sister?” he asked, for it was not clear from the girl’s dress whether she was a member of the family or a poor cousin. She was ignoring his arrival.

  Seabrook nodded, obviously irritated. “Mary,” he snapped. “Put the book down and welcome our guest.”

  Mary jumped, then hastily shoved the book out of sight. “Forgive me, William. I did not hear you come in.”

  “Obviously, or you would not again be reading in the drawing room. Have you no manners at all?”

  Mary blushed.

  Blake coughed into his hand to hide a grin. This girl was more intriguing than her flirtatious sister – not that he was interested; she could not be above eighteen. But his cousin Jacob might find her much to his liking.

  Setting that thought aside until he knew her better, he waited while Seabrook made formal introductions, then kept all three talking, cutting Laura off when she grew too voluble, asking Mary questions when she became silent, and preventing William from leaving. He wanted no tête-à-têtes until he divined everyone’s goals. Only Catherine was safe. Even if she harbored secret motives behind that supposedly innocent façade, he could meet her without fear. She could hardly cry foul without further ruining herself.

  But where was she? His list of questions was growing by the minute. Had she used his concern for victims to elicit the vow that chained him here? Was her absence deliberate, to let Laura monopolize his attention? Would she join them for dinner or eat later?

  The mantel clock struck five, with no sign of a butler to announce the meal. He ground his teeth, for Catherine’s absence would force him to escort Laura into the dining room. Precedence demanded that he accompany the highest-ranking female, as he was the highest male. Catherine was both the eldest sister and the nominal hostess.

  “Forgive me for being late,” Catherine said, hurrying into the drawing room. “We had a small crisis upstairs.”

  “Oh?” Seabrook frowned.

  “Annie injured her ankle.”

  “Oh, no!” Mary’s hand flew to her mouth. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “There was no need. It is only a minor sprain.” Catherine joined the circle, filling the space Blake created by stepping away from Laura.

  “Is Sarah all right?” asked Mary.

  “Why wouldn’t she be?” snapped Laura.

  Mary lapsed into silence, but Blake could see that the question had reflected genuine concern.

  Catherine must have understood. “Rob carried Annie up to bed, but merely as a precaution. Sarah made sure she was comfortable, then returned to the nursery to eat dinner. Hannah is with her.”

  Mary relaxed.

  “I take it Annie is a favorite?” said Blake, holding Catherine close with the question so Laura could not push her aside.

  “She has cared for Sarah since birth, coming with us from the vicarage.”

  “Very important, then.” Blake stifled a pang for his own nurse, who had been dearer than his mother when he was young. Might still be if she had not succumbed to a fever when he’d been fifteen.

  “But not worth this much attention when we have a guest,” said Laura, managing to excise most of the sharpness from her tone. “You were telling us about your business in Devonshire, were you not, my lord?”

  He was not. He had been listening to Mary’s description of Exeter cathedral. Fortunately Rob arrived to announce dinner, saving him from a rude retort. He wondered what Laura would say if he admitted that his original business had been accompanying several courtesans to a celebratory house party. Granted, that had been a month ago, and he had since discovered better reasons for remaining, but painting himself as a rakehell might make her reconsider attaching him. Of course, it would also make his investigation more difficult. Laura did not strike him as someone who could keep information to herself.

  “Mrs. Parrish?” He offered his arm.

  Catherine’s frown closed Laura’s mouth, which had begun a protest, but he didn’t know if she was objecting to Laura’s rag manners or to her pursuit of a guest lured to the house under false pretenses.

  Seabrook shrugged, offering his own arm to Laura and leaving Mary to bring up the rear.

  * * * *

  Catherine smiled as Rockhurst seated her in the hostess’s chair. She had suspected that a man of such impeccable reputation might be a stickler for protocol, but it made little difference. As the highest-ranking male guest, he sat at her left. Laura sat on William’s right, which put them side by side, making conversation easy.

  “We need to discuss Jasper in detail,” he murmured before assuming his own chair. “I have a number of questions.”

  “Tomorrow morning,” she promised. “I must spend the evening with Sarah. Hannah has other duties.”

  “She has no governess?” The question was casual, but his mouth twitched as if he wished the words back. Might he be embarrassed at the reminder of their first encounter?

  “Mary and I share the schoolroom duties, and Annie looks after her other needs. She is—”

  “I was not criticizing.” His interruption made her realize that she’d sounded defensive.

  “Of course not,” she agreed, though plenty of people did. Some thought William should provide one, though he lacked the means. Her sisters’ governess had left four years ago and not been replaced.

  Rockhurst pulled her from the gloomy memories. “May I call on Sarah in the morning? I owe her an apology for frightening her. Even had my outburst been justified, accosting you in front of her was wrong.”

  “She will expect you.”

  To prevent further conversation, she issued a spate of unnecessary instructions to Rob so Laura could claim Rockhurst’s attention. But his admission warmed her heart. She had been fighting trepidation since he had arrived, but this proved that William was right. Rockhurst would make Laura an excellent husband – assuming he chose to make an offer. She would give them every opportunity to become acquainted, but she drew the line at coercion.

  Laura needed to remember that, she decided a few minutes later. Her behavior bordered on the unladylike as she exerted herself to appear fascinating. Even William was
working too hard at extolling her virtues.

  “Laura is a remarkable musician,” he declared over the soup. “I had to buy her a pianoforte so she could explore the nuances of that German chap’s work.”

  Laura choked. “It had nothing to do with nuances, William. I’ve explained that often enough. Beethoven’s music demands emotion. It demands passion. It cannot be performed on a harpsichord. Surely you understand what I mean, my lord.” She laid a pleading hand on Rockhurst’s arm.

  “So I’ve been told,” he said stiffly, then reached for his wineglass with his left hand, breaking the contact.

  “What can you tell us of the king?” Catherine asked to divert his attention from the unbecoming frown flashing across Laura’s face. “Is there any hope of recovery?”

  “I doubt it.” He shook his head. “He showed signs of improvement last spring, even managing a ride about Windsor Park in May, but he suffered another relapse in July. The doctors recently padded his room to protect him from injury.”

  “Poor man. I suppose the Regency will become permanent, then?”

  “If nothing changes by January, its restrictions will lapse, giving the prince all the powers of the monarch. It is not yet clear how he will use them.”

  “You refer to his abandonment of the Whigs.”

  He nodded, but before he could explain, Laura again claimed his attention. “Tell us of the Season. You must miss the excitement.”

  “Hardly. London is quite exhausting.” He sounded bored.

  Catherine tried to frown Laura into curbing her enthusiasm, but she could not catch her eye. Not good, she admitted, tensing. Laura’s moods could be quite volatile, which created tension in the family and did not impress suitors. They had thought she’d outgrown the tendency, for she had been even-tempered for several months, but tonight she was unbecomingly aggressive.

  “How can you call it exhausting?” demanded Laura, bridling at his statement. “It must be exhilarating. Tessa Umber was in London last Season and can talk for hours and hours about balls and routs and Venetian breakfasts and theater and opera and her visit to Vauxhall Gardens. She met the most diverting people and swears she was busy from morning to night, receiving so many invitations that she could attend half a dozen events a day."

  “Exactly. And after a time, every gathering seems like every other one. The same people. The same gossip. The same food. Utterly exhausting.” Rockhurst turned away to accept a serving of fish from Rob.

  Catherine gestured for Bill to fill his glass, then counted the side dishes to make sure everything had been served. By then, Laura had the conversational bit firmly between her teeth and was running with it, regaling Rockhurst with Tessa’s favorite tales and repeating London gossip that was at least six months out of date. She was also making grandiose plans for his stay, trying to fill the days with activity enough to rival London and ignoring that fact that they were ostracized from local society. Even William was frowning.

  “I doubt that a picnic will be possible,” Catherine commented, interrupting a description of the home wood’s excellence for al fresco dining. “Last week’s warmth is gone. Charlie claims it will rain tomorrow and remain cold for at least a week afterward. You know he is rarely wrong.”

  “Well, pooh.” Laura pouted prettily. “But at least we can attend Saturday’s assembly in Exeter.”

  “Must we?” protested Mary. “A new theater company arrived yesterday, and I was hoping to watch a performance. If we go to the assembly, the sticklers will cut us.”

  “No one would dare cut an earl,” swore Laura. “He would be the highest-ranking man there. And isn’t his purpose to force harridans like Mrs. Telcor to accept us?”

  Catherine started to object, for Laura did not understand the gravity of their position, but William interrupted.

  “We can do both,” he said, smiling. “Saturday’s play is scheduled for two o’clock to allow people to attend the assembly.”

  She stared. William was so intent on fostering a match with Laura that he had forgotten the scandal. They could not attend the assembly. Granted, it was open to anyone with the price of admission, but appearing would force everyone to choose sides on her reputation, making it harder to change their minds in the future. And what would happen when they arrived? Even an earl lacked sufficient power to control tempers. There was bound to be enough unpleasantness to ruin the evening for everyone.

  But Mary prevented a protest. “Can we?” she demanded, sounding more excited than she’d been in weeks. She rarely left the estate, so an outing would be good for her. “What a wonderful brother you are, William. I’ve wanted to see Mysteries of the Black Tower this age and more.”

  Catherine bit her lip. Maybe it would work if she stayed behind. Rockhurst’s credit might defray doubts about her family.

  She watched as he took advantage of the informal setting to draw everyone into the conversation, quizzing William about the recent harvest and asking Mary about the book she was reading. It was so good to see Mary talking that Catherine nearly protested when Laura interrupted with another plea for London on-dits, then launched a monologue that included descriptions of a ball Tessa had attended, the most recent tales about the Regent, a local confrontation between Squire Pott and his prize pig that had left the squire stuck in a mud wallow, and a contretemps in London during which Lord Blackthorn had supposedly disowned his heir – which was probably false, judging by Rockhurst’s expression.

  Catherine frowned. Laura had been the area’s diamond before Jasper’s rumors put them all under suspicion, but tonight she had abandoned moderation, adopting the frenzied gaiety that had already cost her two suitors. As soon as they were alone, they must review proper manners.

  * * * *

  Blake finished his blancmange, then sighed in relief as the ladies left the room. The food had been excellent, but this dinner had seemed even longer than his last meal with the Regent. Laura had talked constantly – brightly, vivaciously, flirtatiously, but incessantly. Mary had rarely spoken except in response to questions, though he suspected that this was in self-defense. Laura corrected much of what she said, often sharply.

  He had managed to start William talking about the estate at one point, but then the man had abruptly fallen silent. Had he recalled his reason for issuing this invitation, or had Laura kicked him under the table? Blake couldn’t tell. Nor could he think. His ears rang from endless chatter.

  Catherine had offered occasional relief, conducting intelligent conversation on a variety of topics, but he’d soon realized that she intervened whenever he was too irritated with Laura to bear her prattle a moment longer. Each time, Laura had been more subdued when she reclaimed his attention, though it never lasted.

  By the end of the meal, he had acquitted Mary of conspiring against him, but he had yet to decide on the others. William was as bad as any London matchmaker, extolling Laura’s virtues and drawing attention to her blonde hair and blue eyes. Catherine remained an enigma. He could not tell whether her efforts to deflect his attention were based on a hostess’s desire to set a guest at ease or a matchmaker’s determination to show her protégée in the best light.

  He had no doubts about Laura. She posed a serious danger. Desperation lurked beneath her forced conviviality and bright chatter. Why was she unwed at the advanced age of twenty? She was pretty enough to attract offers despite her reduced circumstances, so he had to suspect a serious flaw. Girls who knew they would never see London chose the best of their local suitors. But whatever her former reasons, Jasper’s attacks promised her a bleak future. With scandal swirling about the family, he represented her only option.

  Hours of icy responses and lengthy silences must have warned her that he had no intention of offering. She was too like the girls he saw in London every Season. A wife who never stopped talking would make his home intolerable. Mary would be better suited, though he had no interest in her, either. Again the image of Cousin Jacob surfaced. Perhaps he should introduce them.

 
William drained the last of his port, then led him to the drawing room.

  Blake suggested that Laura demonstrate her mastery of Beethoven’s latest offering. Then he engaged William in a spirited discussion of agricultural reform.

  Two sonatas later, Seabrook left on the flimsy excuse of speaking with Rob. Blake suggested that Laura entertain them with Mozart, then detached Mary from her book to ask about Catherine’s work in the parish and how the rumors were affecting it.

  He slipped away before Laura finished the coda, not trusting her to perform another piece. At least she was talented. He would be listening to a lot of music in the days ahead.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When Blake entered the library the next morning, he was not happy. Sleep had been a long time coming. He wanted to blame the lumpy bed, but he’d slept quite soundly on worse. The real culprit was his mind.

  He had lain awake half the night as his thoughts spun in unproductive circles. If his encounter with Catherine had not muddled his thinking, he would have realized Seabrook had ulterior motives for this invitation. Men did not ask virtual strangers to investigate members of their family.

  She had a most unsettling effect on him. He still couldn’t believe he had lost his temper and promised more than he could deliver. Yet that was not his only mistake. In Exeter, the black-haired woman and bright-eyed girl had occupied his thoughts even after he believed she was immoral. Why else had he failed to ask Mrs. Telcor or Mrs. Crumleigh about William’s family? It would have prepared him for the surprises he’d encountered at the manor.

  Regrets were useless, of course. The past would never change, no matter how much he might wish it. He’d wasted more than a week on pointless invective after his father’s death, but he could not afford to make that mistake this time. Allowing his mind to drift, even pleasantly, would expose him to danger from Laura.

  Spending time with Catherine posed a different problem. To redeem her reputation, he must learn as much as possible about her, Jasper, and the other victims. Yet lengthy discussions would feed the very gossip he sought to repress. Even keeping their meetings open would not help, for servants shared information about their masters. Some gossips would assume that he was her latest paramour. Others might recognize the truth, but that, too, was dangerous. He did not want Jasper to learn of his interest as yet.