Merry Widows 02: Just One Of Those Flings

by Candice Hern

  On that occasion, Thayne had put a spoke in her wheel by taking her hand from his chest and leading her onto the dance floor. She retaliated afterward by dragging one poor girl after another to him and forcing him to reserve a dance with each of them.

  Since then, he had preempted any further motherly interference by choosing his own partners. Though he had settled on no one yet, he danced with several young women at each ball, never more than once. Lady Emmeline Standish continued to impress him, as did Yarmouth's eldest daughter, Lady Sarah Addison, and Viscount Wedmore's daughter, Miss Elizabeth Fancourt.

  The problem was that he simply could not muster up real enthusiasm for any one of them. It had no doubt been a bad idea to embark on a passionate love affair at such a time. His thoughts were consumed by a certain red-haired countess. Compared with her, every other young woman seemed incomplete—less vivid, less self-assured, less genuine. But that was not a fair comparison. Beatrice was a mature woman with more experience of life. She'd been married and had children. He should not compare her with young, innocent girls who hadn't yet lived.

  Besides, the whole point of picking a young bride was precisely that she was unformed, so that she could be molded into the perfect marchioness, the perfect wife and mother. It was something he ought to anticipate with pleasure, to have the chance to help bring a young woman into her full and complete self. He really ought to make more of an effort to find the right girl, but he found little joy in the prospect and was simply impatient to get on with it.

  Tonight, having just arrived at yet another ball in a seemingly endless round of them, he spotted Miss Fancourt standing with her mother at the other end of the room, and decided he would pay his respects and request a dance. But, as so often happened, his gaze found Beatrice in the crowd and all thoughts of Miss Fancourt were swept from his mind at the sight of her.

  He maintained his customary detachment, a haughty aloofness, but still could not keep his eyes off her. The thing was, he never tired of looking at her—the way she moved, the elegant line of her neck and throat, the deep red of her glorious hair, which he could not wait to loosen once again. And oddly enough, since he seldom noticed such things, he liked the way she dressed. She had a certain style about her, a flair that was uniquely hers. She had often complained about the burden of red hair, but Thayne suspected that it was her attempts to flatter her coloring that had allowed her to develop a style of her own over the years. Dark colors suited her, and bright jewel-like tones of green and blue. She looked especially striking tonight in a deep russet-colored gown that almost exactly matched the color of her hair. That was one thing he liked about her. She did not fight her red hair, which she must surely know was one of her best features, but embraced it and even emphasized it with the right colors. The russet silk was a bold declaration. She looked magnificent.

  But it was not simply a matter of color. She knew how to set off her body's best assets. The current high-waisted styles showcased off her slender form— it was not, as she so often claimed, thickened with age to any degree that he noticed—while revealing to advantage those curves he knew so well. Ivory breasts mounded above the russet neckline. Soft and round and perfectly fitted to his hand. Not overly voluptuous, but quite full and pushed tantalizingly upward by her stays. She called them matronly. Thayne called them wonderful.

  Damn. He could not look at her without becoming aroused.

  He ought to wrench his gaze away and make straight for Miss Fancourt or some other young woman. But his feet did not listen to reason and led him instead toward Beatrice. She narrowed her eyes as he approached, as though to warn him off, and he paused, thinking she was probably right.

  "Come along, old chap." Burnett had sidled up beside him without Thayne even noticing. "It will not be so obvious if you approach her with me at your side. You can always claim that I dragged you along against your will."

  It was an excellent plan, and Beatrice could not fault Thayne for supporting a friend in the throes of infatuation. "Ah, so you are after Miss Thirkill again this evening?" he said. "You are quite the persistent puppy, are you not?"

  "Hmm. What is that old saw about the pot and the kettle?"

  "Touché. But you know, Burnett, Miss Thirkill has completely thrown me over, so there is really no need for you to keep hanging about her."

  "Oh, do shut up, Thayne. It has nothing to do with your damnable plan for me to distract her. I am afraid she has turned the tables and quite distracted me instead."

  "You are serious about her, then?"

  Burnett shrugged. "I do not know about serious. I do not stand a chance with her in any case, so it is rather blockheaded to try. But besides her extraordinary beauty, I have once or twice caught a glimpse of cleverness, a hint that there is a brain lurking beneath all those blond curls. But I believe she goes to lengths to hide it, and relies too much on her beauty, which will not last forever."

  Thayne stared at his friend. "Egad, man. You think to change her?"

  "No, that would be foolish. She will learn the truth as she grows older, that beauty is less important than character. I would just like to be there when she realizes it. Ready to catch her if she falls. But I sincerely doubt I will have the opportunity. She flirts outrageously with every man but me. I am not worthy of her flirtation, as a mere mister without a lofty title."

  "But like a dog with a bone, you will not give up."

  Burnett grinned. "Not yet. It is much too early in the game to quit the field. I may not have a chance of winning, but I shall enjoy the play."

  "Then lead on, MacDuff."

  "And damn the man who gives up on his woman first and says 'enough.' "

  They elbowed their way toward Beatrice and Emily, who had her usual court of admirers dancing attendance. Thayne nodded at Beatrice and tried not to smile.

  "Lady Somerfield," he said, and bowed, "and Miss Thirkill."

  "My lord," Beatrice said. Her tone was curt and she would not meet his eyes.

  Emily gave a theatrical sigh and said, "Lord Thayne. And Mr. Burnett, of course."

  "Of course," Burnett said, and flashed his famous smile. "I am here to claim my dance."

  "What dance?" Emily glared at him.

  "Have you forgotten? You promised last evening that I might have the first reel tonight, and I do believe it is about to begin."

  Emily's brow puckered into a frown, but then she immediately schooled her features into a bland smile. She was either very much aware that a frown was not a flattering expression, or she did not wish to encourage wrinkles and lines on her brow.

  "I confess I had indeed forgotten," she said. "I am sorry, Lord Ealing, but it seems I have a prior commitment. But I still have the next-to-last set free, if you care to wait."

  Once Burnett had led Emily onto the dance floor, the ubiquitous swains disappeared, leaving Thayne standing alone with Beatrice. They both watched the dancers and did not look at each other.

  "You are incorrigible, my lord," she said in a soft whisper that he barely heard over the sound of the musicians tuning their instruments. "I ask for discretion, and yet you always seem to make your way to my side at every ball or party."

  "I cannot help it," Thayne said, biting back a smile. "You are positively irresistible in that gown. Quite delicious, in fact. I want nothing more than to take a bite of you."

  "Stop it," she said. The corners of her mouth twitched upward, giving lie to her words. "This is too dangerous."

  "I miss you. It's been two nights."

  "I know. But I cannot feign another illness. We'll have to think of something else."

  "But soon."

  She looked at him at last, and the smoldering fire in her blue eyes sent a blast of heat through his vitals. "Yes, soon. I cannot wait, either."

  She did not have to wait as long as she'd expected. Serendipity, which Gabriel often claimed had so far ruled their relationship, took matters in hand the very next day.

  Beatrice was out alone, running a few errands and e
njoying an afternoon without three young girls underfoot. Emily was spending the day shopping with Sarah Billingsley and a few other friends, and Miss Trumbull had taken her charges on an excursion to Polito's Menagerie, where Charlotte was determined to get a close look at an elephant.

  Beatrice entered a watchmaker's shop in Aldersgate and almost ran smack into a very familiar chest. "Gab—that is, Lord Thayne. What a pleasant surprise."

  And it was. She had developed such a voracious appetite for the man that to see him at all was a pleasure. But to see him at last in a more casual setting, without the eyes of all the world upon them, a as a pure delight.

  He beamed a smile at her. "Lady Somerfield. A very pleasant surprise indeed." He looked behind her and said, "And without your charges in tow."

  "It is probably very bad of me to say so, but I am grateful for an afternoon without them. Three energetic girls can be exhausting. Emily is shopping for bonnets with her friends, and my girls have gone to have a look at an elephant."

  "An elephant?"

  "It is all your fault, you know, and Mr. Burnett's, for filling Charlotte's head with tales of India. There is said to be an elephant at Polito's, along with lions and tigers and other exotic creatures to thrill my daughter."

  Gabriel smiled. "I trust Lady Charlotte will be suitably impressed."

  "And I trust that she will soon tire of elephants. Then perhaps she will stop spinning tales of how she will go adventuring in India and Africa when she's old enough."

  Gabriel laughed. "A girl after my own heart. I was about her age or even younger when I started pestering the duke with pleas for adventure. He finally gave in after I'd finished at university."

  "It is not the same for girls."

  "No, of course not. But what brings you here? A new clock, perhaps? I have just ordered a longcase for the entry hall in my new house. It's a beauty, with a revolving moon phase above the dial."

  "It sounds wonderful. But I am here on a more modest errand. My favorite watch had been running slow and I brought it in last week for Mr. Gray to clean and reset. I am here to pick it up."

  Gabriel did not leave, but followed her into the shop and waited, chatting quietly with a shop assistant while she conducted her business with the watchmaker. He then took her into the adjacent showroom where clocks of all kinds were on display—shelf clocks, longcase clocks, lantern clocks, figural mantel clocks, as well as barometers and chronometers and other instruments—and pointed out the clock he had ordered. It was enormous, with the clock face a good foot above her head.

  "It's very handsome," Beatrice said, "and very . . . large. But it suits you, Gabriel."

  He laughed. "I will take that as a compliment. But it needs to be large. I want it for the entry hall in my new town house, which has soaring ceilings. I did not want a clock that would be dwarfed in such a space. Would you like to see it? The house, I mean. If you have no other pressing plans for the afternoon."

  To spend an afternoon alone with Gabriel would be better than wonderful. "I would like very much to see your new house."

  His face lit up like a boy's. "Excellent. You are certain you have no other plans? You must know how much I would enjoy spending the afternoon with you, but if you have something more important . . ."

  Beatrice was always enchanted when Thayne's latent boyish nature overcame his more formidable bred-from-the-cradle lordliness. He could skewer a person with a single arrogant lift of his brow, but in private he let down his reserve and allowed the charming young man to take over. And very occasionally, as now, he let slip the merest hint of vulnerability. He wanted to show off his new home to her, but also wanted her approval of it.

  "I have no plans that cannot wait for another day," she said. "I had thought to visit my solicitor to discuss a few matters of business, a bit of investment strategy, but I would much prefer to see your new home."

  "Investment strategy? Your solicitor manages your funds for you?"

  Beatrice smiled ruefully. Everyone always assumed a woman could not possibly understand such things. "No, I manage my own funds. But he acts as my agent. I tell him what to buy and when to buy it. Or when to sell it. As it happens, I wish him to sell a portion of my bank stocks and use the proceeds to increase the investment in one of my mining stocks."

  The look of complete astonishment on Gabriel's face made her laugh. "Do not be so shocked, my lord. Some women do manage their own money, you know."

  "Yes, I know they do. I just never met a woman who actually cared about bank stocks or mining stocks."

  "Well, now you have. Believe it or not, I actually find it all very interesting. And, if I may be allowed to boast a bit, I am quite good at it."

  He smiled. "Are you indeed?"

  "I am. I have always had a head for finances. One of the things I love about being a widow is that for once I can actually make my own decisions, investing where and when I choose. It is what I have always wanted." She paused and frowned. "I am sorry. That was badly said. I do not mean to imply that I wished poor Somerfield dead so I could play on the Exchange. I only meant that being his widow has provided me with an amount of freedom I never had as his wife. Freedom to manage my own money, for example." She smiled again. "And to be with you, of course."

  "You are a remarkable woman," he said. "The head of a businessman and the body of a goddess. What a potent combination. Perhaps I should consult you on my own investments." He grinned, and she knew he was only joking, patronizing her. Like Somerfield, he would be unlikely to trust a woman's judgment on financial matters.

  "I can offer a few bits of advice, if you like," she said. "Beeralstone Lead and Silver Mines. And Holloway Waterworks. Look into them both."

  His brows lifted in surprise. "I shall have my man of affairs do so. In the meantime, shall we have a look at my house?"

  "Yes, please."

  "I warn you, though, that it is rather a mess. There is still a lot of work to be done. You might find plaster dust raining down on your head and drop cloths tangled at your feet. Did you come in your own carriage?"

  "No, I took a hackney."

  "Then I shall take you up in mine."

  Beatrice frowned. "Do you think that is wise? We might be seen."

  "You worry too much, Beatrice. I doubt anyone here in Aldersgate will pay us the least mind. And when we reach Cavendish Square we'll dash inside before any nosy neighbor or passerby can see us. Besides, that bonnet of yours will hide your face if you keep your head down."

  They left the showroom and Gabriel was approached by the shop assistant, who handed him a small package. Gabriel thanked him and slipped it in his pocket, then led Beatrice outside. His carriage, which she ought to have noticed before, stood across the broad thoroughfare. Gabriel signaled to his coachman, who nodded and touched his hat brim. A liveried groom had been minding the horses and he leaped up on the back of the carriage as it pulled away. The coachman waited for traffic to thin, then turned the carriage around and drove it to where they stood in front of Mr. Gray's establishment.

  Once inside the coach, and bouncing along through the crowded streets, Gabriel took her hand, removed her glove, and kissed the tips of her fingers. "An entire afternoon with you, Artemis. The Fates smile upon us once again."

  "They do indeed." Oh, the bliss of making love to him again. How had she ever thought to survive .without physical passion? "But we cannot go to Wilhelmina's house without warning her. She may be busy. Or have visitors."

  "We do not need the duchess's hospitality today. We have my house. If you can bear the clutter and noise. I am anxious for you to see it, and to see you in it. I have missed you, Artemis. You have become like a drug to me, and I fear I am quite addicted." He leaned over and kissed her softly. Then he put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close against him, and said, "I have enjoyed our time together."

  Beatrice's stomach gave a tiny lurch at the hint of finality in his words. Was he going to end their affair? So soon? But surely not yet. Not yet. "So have I
, Gabriel. Very much."

  "I want to give you something." He reached into his coat and pulled out the package from Mr. Gray's. "It is not much, but I want you to have it."

  She took it from him and tried not to give in to the wave of sadness that had washed over her. She was not ready for this passionate ride to end. She had always known, of course, that it was a temporary thing. Once he became betrothed, she would not allow their affair to continue, and she had told him so many times. It would be unfair to his bride, and Beatrice would have no part in such a betrayal. But she had thought they had more time.