A Lord for the Wallflower Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  ‘I thought that now you know who I am, you would not wish to be seen with me. I quite understand.’

  His eyebrows crashed down. ‘Why would you think such a thing?’

  She took a deep breath. ‘I know what the gossips say about me. That after one night with me, my husband found me so unappealing, he left for the battlefields of Spain.’

  He stared at her. ‘Who on earth told you that?’

  She shrugged, trying to hide her hurt. ‘It is common knowledge.’

  He glared. ‘I’ve certainly never heard it said.’ Damn. He hadn’t been in London at the time. And Laura would never have been so unkind as to pass along such malicious gossip.

  ‘Well, if you must know, it was my aunt-in-law. She had been against the marriage, the moment she heard of it, and refused to attend the ceremony. She visited Westram as soon as she learnt the news of Jonathan’s death. She was not reticent in speaking her opinion. Poor Westram did not know where to look.’

  ‘He should have looked her in the eye and told her to mind her own business.’

  Avery sounded strangely furious.

  ‘She was only repeating what she had heard. And you mustn’t blame Westram. He is a good man.’

  ‘Then what is he about letting you and his sisters set up a shop in town?’

  ‘We are widows and Westram has nothing to say in anything we do.’

  Avery turned on to Bond Street, his face set in grim lines, but he seemed to accept what she said about her brother-in-law.

  No doubt Lord Avery would now want to end their agreement. And his vague offer to see where their attraction led had probably simply been a way not to hurt her feelings. She really wasn’t cut out for this sort of thing. She knew nothing about flirting or enticing a man. She always managed to put her foot in her mouth. ‘I think it best if we do not see each other again,’ she said flatly, anxious to have an end to her shame and embarrassment as soon as possible.

  ‘Do you, now?’

  ‘Yes. I do. I am finding the whole thing terribly uncomfortable to say the least. I must ask that you never speak of what I asked of you to anyone else. It was all a foolish mistake.’

  He stiffened, his hands tightening on the reins so much one of his horses tossed its head.

  He pulled up at the spot where he had picked her up. ‘I don’t have time to discuss this right now. I have another appointment. Nor can I leave the horses to take you inside.’

  ‘I can manage to walk a few steps to my door,’ she said calmly, while her nose and eyes burned as if they wanted to cry. How very stupid.

  ‘I will visit you later this evening.’

  She took her courage in both hands and glanced at his face, which was still set in grim lines. It was exactly the same sort of face she had seen on her husband on the day of their wedding. ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I will not be at home this evening.’

  ‘You are out?’ he said. ‘Or just not at home to me?’

  ‘I don’t see what difference either one makes.’ She jumped down on to the pavement.

  Her dress caught on the carriage door. His gaze widened as it landed on a good deal of her exposed leg. Snatching it free, she shot him a glare. ‘Thank you for a wonderful afternoon.’ She marched up the alley.

  And that was that. The sound of his horses’ hoofs gradually receded. When she could hear them no more, she knocked on the door to let the porter know she had returned.

  * * *

  The next morning passed for Carrie as if the clock’s hands were weighted. For some reason, though the shop was busy, time seemed to hang heavy. Likely because sleep had evaded her the previous night. Too many images of Lord Avery escorting one of his special ladies to some ball or another. Which was ridiculous. She had hated the two balls she had attended, so why should he not go with someone else?

  Balls were the worst form of torture for a girl on the outskirts of society, unless she was really pretty or good at flirting and making herself noticed. She had only attended a couple in London before her father became seriously ill and not one young man had invited her to dance. Another reason she had accepted Jonathan’s proposal so quickly. Marrying him had been a way to escape the humiliating rituals of the marriage mart. If only she’d known that her father had more or less bribed him to come up to scratch, maybe she would not have been so quick to accept it as a way out.

  No, she was much better off staying home. And besides, she wasn’t ever going to see Avery again, was she? She had ended things very handily. It was far better being the one to bring things to a conclusion than to be the recipient of rejection. And she couldn’t imagine that his feelings would be hurt.

  At least she’d had the courage to speak her mind.

  Then why didn’t she feel the slightest bit courageous? Indeed, it felt more like she had run away. Dash it all, she wished she’d never met the man.

  She sighed.

  ‘Is everything all right, missus?’ her assistant Tansy asked, looking up from where she was tying a bow on one of the bonnets. The girl was turning out to be a treasure. She had a flair for arranging things.

  ‘Why would it not be?’ Carrie asked.

  ‘That is the second time you have sighed in as many minutes,’ Tansy said, looking worried. ‘Perhaps you need a cup of tea. We’ve been so busy this morning and I don’t think you even had breakfast.’

  She hadn’t. She’d felt too miserable for food.

  But she could not be presenting a long face to her customers. That was the surest way to get a reputation as a sourpuss. Shopping was supposed to be a pleasant experience.

  She forced a smile. ‘You are right. A cup of tea is in order for both of us. I’ll go put the kettle on the hob.’

  She left Tansy in charge of things and went through the curtain. A cup of tea would cheer her up. And she would not let herself think about Lord Avery ever again. Or at least not enough to make her sigh.

  She stopped abruptly and blinked as she found him ensconced at her kitchen table, his hat and gloves set in the middle like a centrepiece, his long legs sprawled out into the middle of the floor.

  Her heart hit a gallop in a second flat. ‘Lord Avery. What are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you.’

  ‘How did you get in?’

  ‘The porter. He knows I’m a regular visitor. I simply needed to cross his palm with a bit of silver.’ He offered her a wheedling smile. ‘I thought you might prefer it, to my entering by the front door.’

  She took a deep breath. Had she smiled back? Oh, surely not. ‘As I said yesterday—’

  ‘We had a good time yesterday did we not? I enjoyed it immensely and I thought of somewhere you might like to go today.’

  ‘I cannot go anywhere today. The shop—’

  ‘Your Miss Tansy can manage perfectly well for an hour or two.’

  ‘An hour or two?’ Her voice rose. ‘Certainly not.’

  ‘I also came to apologise.’

  She stiffened. She did not want him to apologise. She did not want any of this.

  Chapter Six

  Avery had thought it would be a simple thing. Show up. Smile. Tell her he was sorry for yesterday’s argument and they could move on. It was how it had gone with other women in the past. Clearly not with this one.

  ‘Carrie, I truly am sorry. Being the son of a duke, I am a prime target for women on the marriage mart.’ That was what his father had said about Alexandra, the woman he’d thought he’d loved. Back then he hadn’t wanted to believe it. Now he wasn’t so sure. ‘When you...’ He hesitated. She had not lied about who she was, but she had certainly been evasive. ‘When you did not reveal your relationship to Westram immediately, I jumped to the wrong conclusion. I should have known better.’

  Her expression eased. A fraction. ‘I still do not think this...’ she waved vaguely between them ‘...i
s a good idea. I should never have brought it up. And I would appreciate if you would forget all about it.’

  Damn. Much as he did not want to, he gathered himself to rise and leave. A wicked thought entered his mind ‘You are actually going to break our contract?’

  She stared at him blankly. ‘Our contract? I made you an offer. I am withdrawing from it.’

  ‘Oh, no. I offered you a contract. We shook hands on it. In this very room.’

  ‘I brought the matter up first.’

  ‘I rejected your offer. You took mine. Is that the sort of dealings the members of the ton can expect from the owner of this shop?’ Blast. That really wasn’t so very kind, was it, making it sound as if he might ruin her reputation? He wouldn’t, of course, but he could see from the doubt in her face she wasn’t sure. That hurt.

  But needs must. He did not disabuse her of the notion. Instead of backing down, as he ought, he maintained an implacable expression.

  ‘If I recall correctly,’ she said, ‘we were to decide whether we found each other mutually attractive. I—’

  He jumped in before she could say something delightfully blunt that could not be got over. ‘We agreed to give it two weeks while we see if we can increase your sales.’

  She pressed her lips together.

  He pushed ahead. ‘I am asking you to come with me for an hour or two, that is all. So I can prove I am serious about my apology. It is only fair.’

  ‘Fair?’ An unwilling smile curved her lips. ‘Who are you to talk about fair? You simply want your own way.’

  Relieved, he grinned. ‘Comes of being the younger son of a duke, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Then being the younger son of a duke is bad for one’s character,’ she pronounced grimly.

  He stood up and bowed. ‘I will not argue that point. Shall we go?’

  She glanced down at herself. ‘I cannot possibly go out with you like this.’

  ‘What you are wearing is perfect for this expedition of ours. This time it is not about showing off your hat and we will not see anyone who knows either of us.’

  She frowned. ‘What on earth can you mean?’

  ‘You will see.’

  Curiosity won out over caution, as he had hoped it would. Guessed it would, actually, given her lively turn of mind. ‘You should probably wear a shawl, though. The wind is a little cool and while it is not far to walk, I do not want you catching a chill.’

  ‘We are walking?’

  ‘It will not take long.’

  She stuck her head back into the shop area. ‘Tansy, I am going out for a short while.’

  She then took down a shawl from the peg on the back of the kitchen door and shook her head as if admonishing herself. ‘Very well, then. Let us be off.’

  A slight doubt niggled somewhere in the centre of his chest. If he was wrong about this, no doubt it would be the very last he would see of her. But he was not wrong.

  He escorted her to the Strand by way of Piccadilly. He was pleased to discover that she did not dawdle and that it was very easy to match his long stride to her steps, because she was also tall. Of course, he knew why she was striding out—she planned to have this expedition of theirs over as quickly as possible.

  The Strand was busy with traffic and pedestrians, both fashionable and common folk, but as they neared his objective, she glanced his way. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Just a few more steps.’

  He drew them to a halt outside the Exeter Exchange. She wrinkled her nose at the strong smell of animals. ‘You are bringing me to a menagerie?’

  ‘Yes.’ He paid at the wicket and ushered her in and up the stairs. ‘There is someone I want you to meet.’

  The stiffness disappeared. ‘I have heard of this place,’ she said. ‘They have all sorts of exotic creatures, I am told. How did you know I had never been here?’

  He smiled. He really liked how she used her brain. He led her through a doorway into a vast room. ‘Because of this.’

  The vast room contained cages down its length, a tiger in one, a lion in another, other beasts that she would have lingered in front of if he had not hurried her along. It was the cage at the far end to which he directed her attention.

  ‘An elephant!’ she exclaimed.

  An attendant came up to them as they reached it. ‘Chunee his name is, ma’am...sir. An Indian elephant. He weighs seven tons, if you were wondering.’

  Carrie looked at the creature with an expression of awe. ‘He is enormous. This is the sort of elephant you rode in India?’

  ‘Yes, though they were draped in scarlet and gold cloth and had a houda on their backs. A sort of seat with a canopy.’

  She frowned. ‘Is he dangerous?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ the keeper said. He grinned, exposing brown teeth. ‘Though you do have to watch out for his tusks. And I am very careful to keep me feet out of his way when I clean out his stall. Wouldn’t harm a soul, he wouldn’t. Got a sixpence, sir?’

  Avery handed over a coin.

  ‘Remove your glove and hold out your hand, flat like, ma’am.’

  Carrie looked a little worried.

  ‘It will be fine,’ Avery said. He’d done this himself, but was not going to spoil her surprise.

  Carrie took off her glove and reached out, palm up. The keeper put the sixpence on it. ‘Now stand very still.’

  The animal uncurled its trunk and it glided out from between the bars.

  Avery held his breath.

  * * *

  Carrie didn’t dare breathe as the sinuous grey nose waved in front of her. She risked a quick peek upwards into the beast’s eyes and was surprised how small they seemed in such a large head. There was a glint of amusement in those dark orbs and suddenly the fear went away. No creature who could smile in quite that way could possibly mean her harm.

  She steadied her hand and watched in awe and delight at the tip of his snout, no trunk, found her fingers. A blast of wet warm air across her skin made her jump, then a sort of suction and the trunk retreated. The sixpence was gone.

  ‘Did he eat it?’ she asked in surprise, watching the animal curl up the proboscis and put it in his gaping red mouth.

  ‘Ah, not he,’ the keeper said smugly. ‘He’s no fool. Hold out your hand again.’

  Once more, the trunk came through the bars. This time it dropped the wet sticky coin in her palm. She closed her fingers around it. The elephant’s nose didn’t retreat as it had before, but reached out to touched her cheek. Again, she felt that strange sense of suction.

  She froze.

  ‘It’s all right, ma’am. Just his way of smelling you. Much like a dog does.’

  ‘Can I touch him?’ she whispered.

  ‘If you wants,’ the man said.

  ‘Don’t be afraid,’ Avery said. ‘He won’t hurt you.’

  She raised a hand and patted the grey wrinkly skin. It was rough to the touch and warmer than she expected. The trunk curled around her hand in the oddest way.

  ‘He likes you,’ the keeper proclaimed. ‘There’s not many that’s brave enough to touch him.’

  The animal shifted on its enormous feet and that’s when she became aware of the chain around one of his ankles. ‘Why is he chained?’

  ‘A precaution, ma’am. That’s a big beast.’

  Chunee flapped his ears as if listening to their words. He released her hand and the tip of his trunk wandered down her length all the way to her toes. He blew out a breath and she once more felt heat and moisture against her ankles through her stockings.

  A small boy escaped his nursemaid and ran up beside them. He had a sixpence in his hand, but when the elephant reached out to take it, the lad threw it and hared off.

  Carrie watched, fascinated, as Chunee used his trunk to search through the straw until he located the coin. The sensitive
tip of his trunk curled around it. Once more, she held out her hand and he dropped it in her palm.

  ‘It is amazing, isn’t it,’ Avery said, ‘that such a large animal can be so delicate. I have seen them pick up logs ten men would be hard pressed to lift and push over a tree as if it was kindling. And heaven help you if you make one angry. They can run faster than we can. And their charge is ten times worse than that of a bull.’

  Carrie swallowed. The very thought of him getting loose... ‘Does he ever come out?’ she asked the keeper.

  ‘He does, when he’s performing in the circus. We keeps him here between times.’

  A strangely sad feeling came over her. ‘Do you think he’s happy?’ she asked Avery.

  He looked surprised and frowned. ‘He’s well fed. He is well cared for. I don’t see why not.’

  She wanted to believe him. She really did.

  He blew out a breath. ‘You are right, Carrie. I doubt if he is truly happy. But, then, are horses truly happy? Or cows? He is very well cared for as you can see. Better cared for than some of those I saw in India, in fact.’

  She reached out and rubbed the elephant’s nose. It made a strange rumbling sound down its trunk. She jumped, but did not move away, just kept rubbing and the volume of the sound reduced.

  ‘It sounds like the purr of a very large cat,’ she said.

  ‘I heard them make that sound in India when they greeted each other. He sees you as a kindred spirit.’

  She liked that idea. She rubbed her hand higher up his trunk and he blew out a loud breath. Kindred spirit to an elephant.

  ‘He makes that noise when I washes him,’ the keeper said. He grinned. ‘He really likes his bath. So he must really like you.’

  ‘How long do elephants live?’

  ‘A very long time. Fifty or sixty years, I’m told,’ Avery said.

  ‘Extraordinary.’

  They walked back along the cages and a pacing tiger snarled. She leapt back. Avery put his arm around her waist. ‘Steady on. It can’t get out.’

  She laughed self-consciously. ‘I know. He startled me, that is all.’

  ‘Well, now you have seen an elephant, I suppose I should return you to your shop.’