What a Widow Wants

by Jenna Jaxon

  Another of her friends, Mrs. Elizabeth Easton, climbed in and sat beside her, her oval face drawn in lines of grief. Elizabeth still deeply mourned the passing of her husband. Of course, Lieutenant Colonel Easton had been a model spouse, deserving of such devotion. Elizabeth had seemed ill at ease all throughout the morning, as they planned for the house party and which gentlemen they would invite. Most of the gathering were enthusiastically planning their conquests in August. But not Elizabeth.

  “I think Charlotte’s idea is brilliant, don’t you, my dear? Summer house parties do incline people to be more adventuresome, at least in my experience.” Fanny shot Elizabeth a knowing grin, hoping to draw her out of her somber mood.

  “I’m rather afraid I have little experience of them, Fanny. And I doubt I will be much of an asset to this one to come.” Her friend pried open her reticule and snatched out a handkerchief. “I’m more likely to be a watering pot than good company to Georgie’s brother.” She wiped her eyes, then fingered the small black lace edging. “She was a dear to suggest it, but I hope Lord Brack doesn’t come expecting an amiable companion. He will be in for a disappointment.”

  “I sincerely doubt that, my dear. With your sweet nature you couldn’t disappoint anyone if you tried.” Persuading her friend to return to Society and the hunt for another husband would not be easy, it seemed. “You should give Charlotte’s scheme a chance, Elizabeth. The party is not to be held for some weeks. As you go out more in society, you will begin to feel differently.”

  “What if I don’t want to feel differently, Fanny?” Tears cascaded down Elizabeth’s cheeks until she wiped them away with the handkerchief. “I loved Dickon and I still miss him so dreadfully.” She looked accusingly at Fanny. “Just because the year of mourning is over doesn’t mean my feelings have changed. Even if I wear bright clothes, they will still cover a broken heart.”

  Lord, what must it be like to have loved a man so deeply? “Of course that is true, my dear. No one who knows you will think you have forgotten the lieutenant colonel. However, I doubt he would wish for you to mourn him forever. And Charlotte’s party may be the easiest way for you to begin to seek the companionship of gentlemen once more. You may wish, as Charlotte and Jane do, not to marry again. But don’t close every door that could lead to a change of heart.” Fanny squeezed her friend’s hands.

  “Have you decided to marry again, Fanny?” Elizabeth asked, cocking her head.

  “Not exactly, no. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, you produced Lord Lathbury’s name so quickly when Charlotte asked for the gentlemen guests, I wondered.” Elizabeth managed a small, mischievous smile. “You said you renewed your acquaintance with him last night. What is he like?”

  She’d never dreamed Elizabeth could turn the conversation expertly away from herself and fasten it uncomfortably on Fanny instead. She’d have sworn the woman didn’t have a devious bone in her body. “As I said at the gathering, he’s a Corinthian, always has been mad about sport of any kind. Hunting, shooting, racing, boxing. If it called for him to be outdoors, on a horse, or besting an opponent with his fists, Matthew enjoyed it.”

  “Matthew?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched almost to her hairline.

  “Yes,” Fanny sighed. The woman would have to know she and Matthew were something more than friends. “We’ve known one another for years, and we became very close the year of my come-out.”

  “How close?” Elizabeth’s blue eyes bore straight into Fanny’s.

  “Close enough for him to offer marriage.”

  “He proposed?” Her eyes had rounded now. “And you refused him?”

  “I was wild for Stephen.” Fanny turned away to stare out the window. “But after I married him, I . . . I couldn’t quite give up Matthew.”

  “What?” Elizabeth gripped the edge of the seat, as if she feared she might fall off it.

  “I don’t mean it that way. But Stephen and I were stationed close to London that first year, so I often came into Town to dances and parties. Matthew would dance with me and escort me about. It was all harmless, but we became very close friends because of it.”

  “Did Lord Stephen think it harmless as well?”

  “By then Lord Stephen was off pursuing his own less than harmless affairs.” Fanny tried to keep the anger out of her voice, but it was still difficult. “I doubt he gave my flirtation with Matthew a second thought, if he even heard about it. As I said, it was nothing really.”

  “And do you now think it may become something?” Elizabeth leaned forward, her own sorrow clearly forgotten in her eagerness to hear Fanny’s plans.

  “I believe so.”

  “Oh Fanny, how wonderful! Do you think he may propose?”

  “He did last night.”

  Elizabeth’s audible gasp could have been given from the stage. Her eyes widened impossibly large and she clasped her chest as though her heart might attempt an escape. “He did! Fanny, how wonderful! Why did you not say a word to me and Charlotte and the others?”

  “Because I did not accept him, Elizabeth.” Lord, her confession might not have been the most prudent thing to do. Yet, Elizabeth would need to know the truth if she was to be her companion, and look the other way when she met Matthew in Brighton.

  “You refused Lord Lathbury again?” By her tone and dumbfounded look, Elizabeth clearly thought she had lost her senses.

  “Given my experiences with Stephen for ten years, I believe I need time to be quite sure my next husband will treat our marriage vows as sacred ones.”

  “Oh, Fanny, of course.” Elizabeth had shrunk back into the seat, her gaze on her lap. “I spoke without thinking. It is not a decision to be taken lightly, even if you are well acquainted with the gentleman.”

  “Once. We were well acquainted once. However, last night was the first time I’d seen Matthew in almost seven years.” Although that time really made no difference. She knew Matthew from the top of his sleek black head to the bottoms of his brightly polished shoes. Unless given sufficient reason to do so, men didn’t change. God knew Stephen hadn’t in the ten years of their marriage. Matthew was the same now as then. Yet she still could not bring herself to accept him.

  “So Charlotte’s party will give the two of you time to become friends again? That is a marvelous idea, Fanny. Will Lord Lathbury accept the invitation, do you think?” Elizabeth grasped her hand eagerly.

  “I daresay he will. He seemed very eager to renew our friendship last evening.” Fanny couldn’t suppress the chuckle that escaped her, remembering Matthew’s body pressed to hers. “In fact, he has issued an invitation of his own.”

  “He did? What kind of invitation?” Her friend seemed to hang on every word. Good.

  “It seems he is removing to Brighton at the end of the week.” Fanny squeezed Elizabeth’s hand and forced gaiety into her voice. “He has asked me to visit there as well.”

  “With him?” Drawing back, Elizabeth sent her hand to her chest once more. How could the woman be so easily flustered?

  “He had expected I would accompany him as his wife. But now, he hopes we will meet and enjoy the delights of the seaside as friends.”

  “He does seem to wish to woo you properly, Fanny.” Elizabeth had settled back into her cocoon of propriety. She, of course, had not seen the fire in Matthew’s eyes last evening. Proper wooing had no place in his plans, Fanny would wager.

  Still, she would seize the perfect opportunity. “And of course I will need a companion to accompany me, for propriety’s sake. Will you come with me?”

  “Me?” Elizabeth squeaked. “I’d have thought Charlotte or Jane would be better suited to such a journey.”

  “Not necessarily. Besides, they have to begin the move to Lyttlefield Park, so they will not be available in July at all.” Fanny smiled and patted Elizabeth’s arm. “The sea air and sea bathing will do wonders for your spirits and your health.”

  “Oh, no.” Elizabeth pushed back in her seat until her head dug into the upholstery.
“I refuse to sea bathe. I have never done it and I will not try now.”

  Fanny frowned, but shrugged. “Very well, only the sea air for you, then. I’m not certain why you’ve taken bathing in dislike, but if you prefer to sit on the esplanade and watch, I have no objection to it.”

  At that assurance, Elizabeth relaxed a trifle. “Have you sea bathed before?”

  “Of course. Mama and Papa used to take us to Weymouth each year and insisted we take the waters and bathe.” Fond memories of her family, now gone, were always bittersweet. “I believe I was ten when I was first dipped.”

  Glancing about the carriage, Elizabeth leaned forward and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Do ladies really take off all their clothes to do it?”

  Laughing, Fanny nodded. “Some do, but they don’t have to. There are bathing dresses that cover one completely.”

  “Did you wear . . . ?” Elizabeth’s cheeks turned fiery red.

  “When I was a child I did.” Fanny grinned at her blushing friend. “Once I married, Stephen didn’t care if I wore one or not. So I didn’t.”

  “Gracious.” Elizabeth glanced all around the carriage, not wanting to meet Fanny’s gaze.

  “The water is quite invigorating and your bathing machine assures you of absolute privacy.” Fanny doubted any amount of privacy could induce Elizabeth to bathe naked. Not even if she were the only woman on the beach. That had often been her own daydream. To be able to walk the beach at Weymouth or Brighton totally naked and free, running into and out of the water at will. Some nights she’d even imagined it with a tall, dark-haired male companion.

  “Isn’t the water rather cold?”

  Her current companion’s words startled Fanny back from her musings. “That’s supposed to be why it’s healthful to do it. I suspect the waters might be even warmer in July. My family always went in October.”

  “I somehow doubt it this year.” Elizabeth shivered and pulled her cloak more securely around her shoulders. “The weather has been much colder than usual. I don’t remember it ever being this cold in June.”

  “Nor do I. But that won’t deter me in Brighton.” Fanny cocked her head and fixed Elizabeth with a keen eye. “So you will be my companion in July? I hope to stay for at least three weeks. That will give me time to become truly reacquainted with Matthew and make up my mind about marrying him. Then we will have a little rest before Charlotte’s house party.” She grasped Elizabeth’s clasped hands. “Please say you’ll come with me.”

  “If you truly need me, Fanny . . .”

  “I do. Most passionately. You can be my advisor and lay out all the reasons why I should marry again.” It would take extremely good ones to overcome the lack of trust she felt for men after her husband’s grave infidelities. But perhaps Elizabeth could find a way to persuade her to have faith in men again.

  “Then yes, I will accompany you to Brighton.” Elizabeth nodded, the frown lines in her face smoothed out. “When do you wish to leave? I will have to consult with my mother about the children, although she seems to enjoy raising them when I go away.”

  “Excellent. We will set the first of July for our departure and our return on the twenty-second, which is a full three weeks.” The prospect of being wooed by Lord Lathbury for three weeks seemed better each time she thought of it. “And you will have plenty of time to make your own acquaintances while we are there. We needn’t live in one another’s pockets. You deserve some time to yourself as well.”

  “Hmm.” Elizabeth’s smile had a knowing look to it. “That will depend on how much chaperoning you need, Fanny. You don’t want to cause talk about you and Lord Lathbury, do you?”

  “There is always some talk about any couple seen in company overmuch.” Elizabeth might prove harder to evade than she’d originally thought. “We shall see once we meet with Lord Lathbury and see what he’s about.”

  “I am certain you will do that with the swiftness of Mercury, Fanny.” Elizabeth laughed as the carriage stopped before Worth House.

  “I will send you the particulars of our journey as soon as I have them fixed,” Fanny called to her friend as she left the carriage and hurried up the steps of her parents’ town house. Settling back into her seat, she removed a pencil and a scrap of paper from her reticule and began a list of things to be done to prepare for their journey. Every so often, she thought of Matthew and her body tingled pleasantly. July would be a very warm month for her, whatever the weather.

  The carriage deposited her before the Marquess of Theale’s town house in short order, just as she had begun to consider what house agent to engage. Their three weeks would be so much more pleasant if they could acquire a house in one of the more fashionable neighborhoods. And the right agent could make all the difference. She would consult with Lady Theale as soon as possible and Lavinia would ask Lord Theale’s advice about the agent.

  Lord Theale had always made Fanny uncomfortable, though she’d never understood why. Something strange in his pale blue-eyed gaze always gave her the jimjams. She saw the man only at meals, when he turned up for them. Otherwise, she avoided his company whenever possible.

  The butler opened the door for her, and Fanny strode into the entry hall, shedding her spencer as she asked, “Noyes, where is Lady Theale?”

  “Her ladyship is in the family drawing room, Lady Stephen.” He took her wrap, but waited expectantly.

  “Thank you, Noyes. That is all for the moment.” Fanny started for the staircase.

  “Very good, my lady. A bouquet of flowers arrived for you while you were out. I took the liberty of putting it there.” Noyes gestured to a tall vase filled with masses of blue hyacinths and red roses with greenery shaped to look like a small tree. It must have measured a good two feet from side to side and towered over her from its place on a small table.

  Fanny stared at it, dumbfounded. Who had sent her such a huge bouquet? She retraced her steps until she stood before the vase, the sweet smell of the hyacinth wafting over her. She loved hyacinth. Burying her nose in the deep blue petals, she breathed in the scent she always associated with home. Her mother’s garden had bloomed with the colorful flowers all summer.

  Plucking the card out of the thick stems, she turned it over and froze. The writing, familiar even after seven years, stopped her breath as she read the inscription:

  Hyacinth for constancy, roses for love. You shall have both from me always. Matthew.

  Matthew had sent them. She might have known. Still, she couldn’t be upset with him. She had given him leave to woo her, and what more traditional way than with flowers? A very sweet and thoughtful gesture, for he’d remembered her fondness for these particular blooms. With a shaking hand, she caressed the soft petals, something inside her trying to break free of its icy lair. If Lord Lathbury continued his courtship thus—and knowing his determined nature as she did he would use every method at his command to make her say yes—her plan never to remarry would require some serious reconsideration.

  CHAPTER 5

  Dancing on her toes, almost unable to contain her delight, Fanny gazed about Mrs. Townsend’s well-appointed ballroom with growing excitement. Somehow the glittering gold and crystal room seemed more attractive, the Brighton crowd more elegant than those at other such entertainments she’d attended. Perhaps the cause was the new sense of freedom her widowhood had endowed her with. Or simply the sheer anticipation of seeing Matthew again. It had only been a little over two weeks since they’d met, still the time had seemed an eternity. Whatever the reason for her exhilaration tonight, Fanny’s nerves sizzled from her head to her feet, so she simply could not stand still.

  Lavinia had given her a letter of introduction to Mrs. Townsend, whom she and Elizabeth had called on yesterday as soon as they had settled themselves into their elegant apartment on the Steyne. According to her sister-in-law, Mrs. Townsend’s parties were all the rage, and not to be missed. Fanny now saw why. Everyone of any importance in Society attended Mrs. Townsend. She’d already recognized the power
ful Duke of Sutherland, the Marchioness of Trent who was a renowned beauty, the Earl of Graystone about whom scandalous things had recently been whispered in London, and the notorious rakehell Sir John Scarborough. If she wanted to acquire a reputation, she need only be seen to dally with any of the guests here tonight and the ton’s tongues would do the rest.

  Not that she wished to ruin herself, but the prospect of such a sensational dalliance brought her to her toes, giddy with the possibility. She snapped her fan open and waved it seductively at Sir John.

  “Fanny!” Elizabeth hissed, pulling her backward to stand behind several other ladies. “You will not make a spectacle of yourself. Do you know who that was you were flirting with?”

  “Of course I know,” Fanny said, snapping her fan closed again. “Why else would I flirt with him?”

  “Fanny, you did not tell me you planned to behave wantonly when I agreed to accompany you here.” Her companion smoothed out her modest high-necked gown. The pale blue color complimented Elizabeth’s complexion well; it would never do against Fanny’s rather dark skin. But her own gown of deep green with gold trim became her well.

  “Because you would not have come with me had I told you so.” Fanny peered about. Where had Sir John gone? Although she didn’t want him to ruin her exactly, she still longed for the adventure of an “almost compromise.” She’d not had even the prospect of anything scandalous for over a year, and oh, how she missed that excitement!

  “I most certainly would not have.” Elizabeth frowned sternly. If she could have wagged her finger in Fanny’s face without fear of social censure, she surely would have done so. “I believed you wished to go to Brighton to pursue your courtship with Lord Lathbury.”

  “I have.” Fanny glanced around, still unable to find Sir John. “Is it my fault that he has not put in an appearance yet this evening? I am sure if he does not appear soon, I shall have to fill this dance card with the names of other gentlemen.” She fanned the delicate pages of the small paper book in front of Elizabeth showing its empty leaves.