A Wicked Earl's Widow

by Aubrey Wynne

  Scotland. Yes, her mother had family in Scotland. She could take Althea across the border and hide with relatives. Landonshire hated the Scots, so it would be highly unlikely he would search for her there. Nor would he ever believe she had enough backbone to search out strangers. Yet, there might be a life there, a kind Highlander who would not mind raising a little girl if she could give him sons in return. She had a property through Carson. Falsbury and Sunderland would help her arrange for the sale to provide a dowry. And of course her income would be maintained until she remarried. If she remarried. She had a vision of a lovely cottage, tucked in the hills, with a clear stream running behind it.

  Eliza pressed her head to the cool glass of the window. As Nate would say, she’d read too many romantic novels.

  Ezra Maxwell slammed the ledger closed with a smile. “April proved to be a good month, my lord. Our losses were minimal for the lambing season and the hay is coming up nicely. If we don’t get too much rain, we might even get three cuttings out of it this year.”

  “Excellent. Then I can turn my mind to other matters.”

  “I know something is on your mind. It wouldn’t be a certain female, would it?” his steward grinned broadly. “Lady Eliza is a fine bit of muslin.”

  “Yes, well. I’m more concerned about her future. It’s been three weeks and Landonshire has had enough time to figure out she’s not on a ship.” Nate ran a hand through his hair. “I wish there was a way to keep her safe permanently. It would ease my mind.”

  “There is, of course.”

  “Short of posting armed sentries, I don’t know what.” He rubbed the back of his neck, irritated at his helplessness. “I swear, I’d do anything to keep Eliza and that little girl safe.”

  “Marry her,” said Maxwell quietly.

  “Marry her?” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so incredulous.

  “She’s a widow and doesn’t need her father’s permission. Falsbury is in charge of her jointure. There’d be no reason for her father to harass the girl if she were someone else’s wife. His plan would be null and void.” The steward paused as the idea took root in Nate’s head. “Unless of course, you aren’t fond of her?”

  “Of course I’m fond of her.”

  “Perhaps the idea of taking on another man’s child bothers you.” The steward placed the ledger back on the shelf.

  “No! I adore Althea.”

  “Then if it were me, I’d leg shackle myself to the girl up and save myself the torture of looking for a wife in London next year. I’ve heard you talk about those soirees. Rather have a tooth pulled, I think.”

  Nate stared at his steward, his mouth slack.

  “Don’t look so shocked at the suggestion. I’ve seen the two of you together.” He picked up his hat and fitted it to his head. “But that’s just what I’d do.” He walked out of the study whistling a bawdy tavern tune.

  * * *

  Hannah was playing the pianoforte when he entered the parlor. Eliza looked up from a book and smiled. He had grown accustomed to seeing her each evening. After Grace and Kit left, Nate had returned to the duties of estate and only saw his guests in the morning and evening. How he looked forward to the evenings.

  Eliza had read extensively and, once comfortable with him, sparred well in debates on politics and philosophy. They had not been without a chaperone since the day he kissed her. The mere thought of her touch sent him in search of the cold waters of the River Wear. It was more than physical though. They had much in common besides Grace. Both enjoyed horseback riding and chess, and they shared the same philosophies in life. He appreciated the way she would listen quietly, and then think about her answer before giving an opinion. She treated Mrs. Watkins with respect and did not look down on others because of their birth. When he’d commented on this, Eliza responded that those who were born to privilege had an obligation to those who were not. It had sounded like something Maxwell would say.

  Now that his estate manager had made his approval of Lady Eliza known, she’d been on his mind even more than before. When Maxwell had planned a tour of the properties to introduce her in the village, Nate explained the need for secrecy. The man never blinked. The next day he’d invited her instead to witness the end of their lambing season. Neither man had been able to decide which event was more delightful to watch—the birth of the lamb, Eliza’s observation, or Althea playing with the wobbly newborns.

  And then there was Althea. Nate had grown fond of the little chit. No, if he were honest, he was quite smitten. Trying to figure out some of her speech had turned into an amusing game for he and Hannah. She’d enchanted the entire household. The head groom had a pony saddled for her daily. Cyrano had become her constant companion. The hound followed her everywhere, even slept next to her bed. It had put Eliza’s mind at ease to know the dog watched over her. His howl would wake the dead if anyone approached the child.

  “Hmm, your brother looks far away tonight.”

  He blinked at the sound of her deep husky voice. “Good evening, my lovely ladies,” he said with a bow. “I’m distracted by such beauty.”

  “Gah!” cried Hannah, rolling her eyes and not missing a note on the keys.

  He took a seat next to Eliza and peeked at the title of the book she held.

  “Waverly. The historical novels with romance, by the not-so-anonymous author Walter Scott. Do you like it?”

  “I do. Have you read it?”

  “No, the Scottish Uprising, death, and multiple lost loves don’t appeal to me for leisurely reading. I prefer something thoughtful like Thomas Paine.”

  Eliza closed the book. “Do you believe the unknown author of the series is Walter Scott?”

  “The ton certainly thinks so. I’ve only read his poetry so I wouldn’t try to presume. I do think he’s a bit of a coward not to put his name on it.” He leaned back against the loveseat, their bodies almost touching. If he took a very deep breath, their shoulders would touch. “It’s warm in here. Care for a stroll in the garden?”

  “Oh, yes. Hannah, a walk?”

  His sister looked up from the pianoforte. “Go ahead, I’ll be right behind you. I need to…get this chord figured out first.”

  Nate stood and held out his hand. She took it, pink spreading across her cheeks as he pulled her toward him. Dropping her fingers, he held out his arm. “We’ll stay close until you finish,” he told Hannah as they walked by.

  “No need, I can find you easily enough.” She plunked at a combination of keys, concentration drawing her brows together.

  They walked into the cool night air. The full moon above lit their path and bathed the plants and flowers with a golden glaze. He heard Eliza sigh, a soft contented sound that made him his heart glad.

  “Are you enjoying your stay here?”

  She nodded. “I cannot express how happy Althea and I have been. I worry about Lady Pendleton though. I read to her for a bit this afternoon, but I could tell she was uncomfortable. Her legs are swollen and pain her.”

  He nodded. “Dr. Goodman will see her again tomorrow before he leaves and make a diagnosis.”

  They walked about a circle of azaleas ready to bloom and continued down another walk. The full moon revealed her silhouette through the pale blue muslin, her golden tresses glowing in the evening light. Wisteria had bloomed along the trellis, the sweet scent still clinging to the white and red petals.

  “You seemed distracted when you came into the parlor. Are you concerned for your mother?” she asked, her eyes sparkling even in the shadows.

  “I’ll be happy when we know what ails her. But Dr. Goodman will have her up and around in no time. I have complete faith in him.”

  “Yes, he seems like a fine doctor.”

  He was finally alone with Eliza, had a moment to say whatever he wanted, and they were making polite conversation. His chance would soon be gone.

  “The truth is, you were on my mind, and our trip to the lambing shed. I enjoyed watching you and Althea.” I want to watch
you every day.

  “We both enjoyed it immensely. Mr. Maxwell is a kind man to put up with us.”

  “Your daughter has commandeered my best hound too. She can’t have him, you know.” His laugh died away when a spasm of pain cross her face. “Did I say something?”

  She shook her head and turned away from him. An owl hooted in the distance. A flash of his yellow eyes gave away the bird’s hiding place. “Do you see him?”

  “The owl? No.”

  “It’s there.” He pointed and she tipped her head, searching in the direction he pointed. “Here, follow my finger.” He bent so that his head was just over her shoulder and they could follow the same path of vision. Then he straightened his arm until the tip of his finger lined up with the bird. “See it?”

  She nodded. “He’s beautiful.”

  “As are you,” he whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her slender pale neck. Eliza stiffened beneath her touch.

  “I apologize for taking liberties, but it could take another week to see you alone.” He stilled, waiting to see if she would push away. Emboldened, he laid his cheek against her hair and breathed in the intoxicating smell of jasmine and mint. He closed his eyes, slowly put his arms around her, and moved against her back. Again, he stilled.

  When her body relaxed and leaned back into his, he wanted to spin her in his arms, claim her mouth, and ravish her with his tongue. She sighed, her head tipping back against his shoulder, her bodice tightening with the movement. His eyes traced the line of breasts, white against the moonlight, the curve of her jaw, the outline of a smile on her lips. She was exquisite. No other woman molded to him so perfectly, stirred his blood so quickly, or made him feel the need to protect so fiercely.

  Maxwell’s words came back to him. Marry her.

  Marriage had always been a distant obligation he would someday fulfill. He had neither disliked nor been overly fond of the institution. His steward was happily married, but his parents union had been a disaster. The odds were evenly split whether he would find happiness.

  Yet, with Eliza in his arms, he wondered how he would be happy without her.

  “I’ve been thinking about your predicament,” he began.

  “As have I. Lady Falsbury wrote with a solution that I’ve been mulling over.” Her voice sounded hesitant. “She feels that if I were to choose a husband for myself, my father would be forced to find another avenue of finance.”

  “Yes, my steward and I had come to the same conclusion.” Here was his chance if he wanted it. The opening Maxwell would see as a sign from the good Lord, himself.

  Eliza pulled his hands down gently and turned. Tears gathered in her eyes as she stared at the buttons on his waistcoat. “Nate, I—”

  He held her face in his hands, waited for her to look at him, and saw the desire. He touched his lips to hers, brushing one way then the other. Her gasp was hot against his mouth and he dipped his head for a kiss. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down, and her lips parted for him.

  Delving in, the sweetness of honey coated his tongue. Her taste, her smell, her touch was an aphrodisiac. His pulse pounded in his neck and sent jolts down his body. His desire became evident as a moan escaped his throat. She was everything he’d imagined love could be.

  Love.

  A cold shower couldn’t have shocked him more as that word penetrated his brain. Her breathing was quick, her gaze searching his face, tears of disappointment swimming in her eyes. He tried to pull her close again and reassure her, but she took a step back.

  “I-I…” Her hands clasped her stomach as if to settle it, pulling in deep breaths. “I have decided to take Lady Falsbury’s advice. I shall write to Grace for an introduction to my mother’s family in Scotland. Though I have never met them, I believe they would welcome Althea and me.”

  “Scotland? There’s no need for you to leave.” He reached for her again but she took another step. “Eliza, I want you to stay.”

  She shook her head. “No, I cannot impose upon your hospitality indefinitely. I must think of my daughter and begin a new life. Here, we are in limbo. We cannot go back, and we cannot move forward.”

  Nate’s chest tightened. It had never occurred to him she would leave, make other plans without conferring with him or Sunderland. He understood her reasons but selfishly wanted more time. More time to come to know her. More time to see if they were truly compatible. More time to see…if this was love.

  “I will try to convince you otherwise, you know.”

  She nodded and closed the distance between them. Placing a hand on his cheek, she whispered, “You are such a good man. I wish I was worthy.”

  “There you two are,” cried Hannah. “Those chords were harder to determine than I had anticipated.”

  His sister’s guise did not fool him. She had purposely given them time alone and he was grateful. The interlude had only confirmed his attraction to this delectable widow. But did he want to marry her and spend the rest of his life with her? He had long ago sworn not to follow in his father’s footsteps. When he took a wife, he would be faithful.

  The conversation from earlier this afternoon echoed again in his head.

  I’d leg shackle myself to that girl up and save myself the torture of looking for a wife in London next year.

  Lady Eliza was not an object to be bought or sold. She was pure of heart, intelligent and desirable. He would not marry her out of convenience.

  As the trio returned to the house, his mind whirled with calculations. A message sent to Sunderland Castle and then a letter to Scotland and back would take time. He had several weeks to come to terms with his feelings and then persuade Eliza if he so desired.

  And he had yet to coax the avenging angel out into the open again. Yes, there was still had work to do before anyone left Pendle Place.

  Chapter Eleven

  “What are you saying, Dr. Goodman?” Nate ran a hand over his face. “She’s tired, weak, and distracted. I realize these are vague symptoms, but you can’t give some kind of diagnosis?”

  “You misunderstand. I said Lady Pendleton doesn’t have a physical ailment.”

  “Then what the hell is wrong with her?”

  He was frustrated. Women were so blasted exasperating. Nothing about them seemed simple. His mother was constantly fatigued yet not ill. Eliza was attracted to him but ready to bolt. Hannah grinned like a Cheshire cat at both of them yet said nothing to help. If he had a choice, he’d hide away with Maxwell, Thea, and Cyrano for a month to regain his sanity.

  “Your mother is depressed. Specifically, she is feeling the pangs of guilt from years past.” The physician accepted the glass of brandy the viscount offered. “I think the discussion of Hannah going to London next year has brought back memories.”

  “What in God’s name does my mother have to feel guilty about?” His father had been the villain in their marriage. She’d been the caring parent, always present. It made no sense. The hideaway was sounding better.

  “That is a conversation you need to have with Lady Pendleton.” Dr. Goodman swirled the amber liquid, studying it for a moment before he took a sip. “I will say, if she can ease her conscious, her health will return.”

  “Has there been one simple female in the history of mankind?” Nate asked then threw back the last of his brandy. He let out a long breath and took the stopper out of the crystal decanter for another taste. “By Christ, this is not what I expected, though I’m glad it’s not a serious illness.”

  “I wish I could have been more helpful. Tomorrow I’ll stop by the village on my way home. Mrs. Stanley can bring up some valerian root to help her sleep. Lack of rest intensifies an emotional state. I’ve told Hannah to ensure she has a cup of chamomile tea after supper as well. The rest is up to her.”

  Mrs. Maxwell ladled stewed apples onto Nathaniel’s plate, the tart fruit mixed with cinnamon and honey made his mouth water. She pinched his cheek and blew at the strands of red hair falling into her eyes as she added more slices to
her husband’s plate. The woman still made him feel like a boy of twelve. Ezra scooped another spoonful into his mouth.

  “Eat, now. I cooked this up special for you.”

  “I’ve heard that about every meal I’ve eaten here.” He winked at her and grinned at his steward. “I swear I’ll steal her away some day.”

  “Those are fightin’ words, my lord.”

  Nate sat back in his chair after the second helping and stretched out his legs. The cottage was well-kept and clean. They were in the kitchen, the room he had frequented since old enough to ride behind his father. Pots hung from hooks next to the fireplace. Stalks of coriander and basil, strung from the ceiling to dry, filled the air with a spicy pungent scent. Handwoven multi-colored rugs kept the chill away and added to the room’s coziness.

  “I need some female advice.”

  “Haven’t asked the girl to marry you yet?”

  Nate chuckled. “No, and it’s not that female. It’s my mother.”

  His steward grunted and took another bite of the fruit. “Came to the wrong place for that. We ain’t never seen eye to eye.”

  “Exactly. According to Dr. Goodman, my mother’s malady isn’t physical but mental. He believes it to be a case of conscience.”

  “Your father came back to haunt her.” Maxwell let his spoon clatter onto the plate and patted his stomach. “You’ve done it again, love. I swear you’re a gift from heaven above.”

  His wife giggled like a schoolgirl.

  “I was hoping you could give me a clue to the cause of her guilt. I don’t want to be hit on my blind side.” He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Last night I dreamed I was a bastard. The result of my mother’s flirtations with a groom. If you know of any dark family secrets, please bring them to light.”