An Earl for the Shy Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  More to the point, would he be disappointed if she and Marguerite went off to London before she had finished helping him with the journals?

  She sighed more deeply. Really. Be honest. Ethan now knew exactly what needed to be done before the start of winter. He simply did not have the money to do it. All they had done recently was try to prioritise which things must be done and in what order, until he came up with a way to finance it.

  * * *

  Two days later, Ethan glanced at the library clock. If Petra was coming today, she would have set out by now. The rain of the previous few days had cleared out and it was a bright crisp autumn day. Ethan shrugged into his coat. He really did not like her wandering the countryside alone. If he left now, he would likely meet her before she had got too far across the fields.

  She always scolded him for going to meet her, but he could tell she was also pleased. And seeing her pleased made him happy. Made him forget the dire future looming over him, though the future was rapidly becoming the here and now.

  It would soon be time to present himself in London. He had received several letters from other peers of the realm asking for his support on one issue or another in the next session of Parliament. Those letters had reminded him that if it turned out he could not continue to be a soldier, there were things he could do in government to help with the war effort. Things that might improve the lot of the men fighting for their country.

  And then there was the matter of the potential bride his man of business had discovered. The man had more or less indicated that if Ethan didn’t stir his stumps in regard to the marriage mart, she’d be snapped up by some other poverty-stricken nobleman.

  He opened the library door and discovered Petra walking down the hallway with a couple of rabbits dangling from a string. He grinned. ‘Poaching again, I see.’

  She laughed. ‘Marguerite makes a wonderful stew. Send them over with O’Cleary and come for dinner tonight, so you can find out for yourself. It is Mrs Stone’s day off today, I believe?’ Her eyes twinkled saucily.

  ‘What a clever girl you are,’ he said and kissed the tip of her nose, pulling her into the library and closing the door so he could kiss her more thoroughly. How he was going to miss this closeness once he brought home a bride.

  Although... No, he would not disrespect any woman who became his wife, despite the fact that many married men kept a mistress. And he certainly would not disrespect Petra by persuading her to continue their relationship after his marriage, no matter how much the idea appealed.

  ‘Wonderful. I shall have Jeb deliver a note of invitation when I get home.’

  He took the rabbits and, finding O’Cleary in the stables, gave him the necessary instructions. By the time he returned to the library, Petra had removed her bonnet and her spencer and was seated in his chair at the desk.

  ‘I have had another thought,’ she said, peering at the map they had carefully drawn together. ‘If we—’

  He went around behind her and kissed the delicate nape of her neck.

  She shivered, then laughed. ‘Don’t you want to hear my idea?’

  He removed the pins from her hair, watching in delight as the fine golden tresses tumbled around her shoulders. ‘I always want to hear your ideas,’ he murmured into her ear, delighted to see the fine hairs on her arms stand to attention.

  She turned her face up to his, offering her lips for a kiss. He took full advantage and words were forgotten as he brought her to her feet without breaking the kiss, taking her place in the chair and seating her so she straddled his lap.

  She moved slowly and sensually against his groin.

  He groaned and undid his falls and she sank down on to his erect cock. ‘I missed you,’ he groaned. He missed her the way he would miss an arm or a hand. He felt incomplete when she wasn’t there. He kept waiting for the feeling to die a natural death, but each time they were together it only grew stronger.

  Not that he would ever admit such feelings out loud. He would never give a woman that sort of power over him. Those wild sorts of passions led to a great deal of unhappiness and jealousy as he’d seen first-hand with his parents. No, he did not like feeling this way about Petra. Which was why he was willing to consider the northern heiress as a bride. A sensible convenient marriage was all he would ever need. One that would allow him to return to the war, if at all possible.

  He sank lower in the chair and gave her free rein to take her pleasure as she pleased. He loved watching her face as she moved on him. Loved the sensation of hot wet tightness around his shaft. The slide of her inner muscles stroking him brought him close to the edge and it was almost beyond his control to wait for her to find her release. While she pleasured him, he undid the bow at her neck and unfastened the hooks and eyes of the front-closing stays she had taken to wearing just for him. It was always a delight to expose her beautiful breasts to his gaze and his hands and his tongue. He loved their firm softness and the way her nipples hardened to the touch of his tongue.

  He suckled. A few moments later she fell apart. Desire beat a demand in his blood. He lifted her clear and she grasped his member and brought him to completion, expertly catching his seed in the tails of his shirt before collapsing against his shoulder.

  He curled his arms around her. If only he could protect her from the future. He could not. He lifted her so she sat comfortably in his arms. Entwined in his chair, satiated and content, the minutes passed. If he was honest, he had never been this contented in his life. A very foolish admission. ‘I missed you, too,’ she said sleepily.

  His heart ached in a painfully sweet way at her words. Foolish sentiment. He was a soldier. An earl. Sentiment had no place in his life. ‘Tell me your idea.’

  She sat up and he helped her straighten her clothing and she lifted up so he could button his falls.

  ‘It is about using the fields for grazing animals.’

  ‘I have no cattle to graze.’

  ‘Exactly. Why don’t we lease out the fields to those who do?’

  ‘Are there people who need grass for their animals?’

  ‘Yes. There is an article about it in this journal. The demand for wool from sheep is going unfulfilled at the moment, because France is blocking ships from reaching us. There is not nearly enough grazing land for the growing number of flocks and people are leasing out patches of land all over the place.’

  She shuffled through the papers on his desk and found a journal he had not yet had a chance to read. She flipped through the pages until she found what she sought. ‘Here. This is it.’ She handed it to him.

  He scanned the article. ‘How do we locate such a person?’

  She gave him a smile of triumph and took the journal back. She opened it to a page at the back and pointed to a paragraph set in bold type. ‘We advertise.’

  We. It was if this situation between them could go on for ever, even though she knew full well it could not. On numerous occasions she had indicated that it must end soon. Pain sliced through his chest. He swallowed.

  She stared at him, concerned. ‘You don’t like the idea?’

  He shook his head to clear it. ‘I like it very well. Indeed, it is brilliant.’

  ‘Would you like me to draft up something for you to send in to the journal? Merino sheep would do very well on your fields and they fetch a good price at market. Their grazing would bring a good income, I should think. We will have to look into what sort of prices others are asking. Lord Compton might know. I believe he pays for grazing for some of his cattle.’

  She pulled a sheet of paper and a quill towards her.

  A sound made him look up. The sound of a door opening. He frowned. Was O’Cleary back from Westram already? If so, he must have ridden—

  The library door swung back. Mrs Beckridge stared at them, slack jawed.

  ‘My lord,’ she gasped. ‘Lady Petra. Oh! Oh!’

 
; Petra leaped from the chair, but it was far too late. With her hair in disarray around her shoulders, her gown obviously askew and sitting on his lap, there was nothing she could have said that would have done any good.

  Instinctively, Ethan rose to his feet and put Lady Petra behind him. He gave the Vicar’s wife his best parade-ground stare. ‘Madam, what right have you to intrude on my privacy in this way?’

  Attack was always best when faced with an enemy.

  ‘Well, I never. Wait until the parish hears about this revolting spectacle.’

  Anger rose in a red haze before his eyes. ‘If I hear one word about your visit here today, your husband will be looking for a new living.”

  She turned white, then a mottled shade of red before she turned and fled.

  ‘That’s torn it,’ Petra said flatly, coming out from behind him.

  ‘Marry me,’ Ethan replied, knowing it was the only thing he could say.

  She looked aghast. ‘Certainly not. She won’t say anything. Not with her husband’s livelihood at risk.’

  He didn’t trust the woman an inch. ‘It is the only way.’ Though God knew how he would support her.

  She stared at him for a long moment and he was sure he saw longing in her gaze. She brushed her hair back from her face and gave him a bright smile. ‘I am a widow. I can do as I wish. In our circles it is quite normal. No one would say a word. That woman had no right barging in on you like that.’

  If he’d been able to afford a butler, she wouldn’t have been able to barge in on him. ‘Think of your reputation here in Westram.’

  ‘Oh, pooh. Even if she does say something, who is going to take any notice of that old bat? The villagers despise her.’

  ‘People love scandal.’

  ‘Well, I don’t care a fig for it.’

  ‘Petra—’

  ‘No, Ethan. I won’t be forced into a marriage neither of us wants and that is final.’

  Her rejection stung, whereas he should have felt relieved. He ought to argue with her. Make her see things his way, but if she truly did not want him... Well, he certainly wasn’t going to force her, was he? The last thing he wanted was an unwilling wife.

  She went to the mirror, pinned her hair up neatly and donned her outer clothing. On her way to the door, she paused. ‘I don’t think dinner tonight will be a good idea, do you?’

  He closed his eyes briefly. ‘No. I do not.’

  She smiled sadly and left.

  * * *

  At first everything seemed normal when Petra and Marguerite entered the church the following Sunday. She’d certainly heard not a word of gossip that would lead her to believe that Mrs Beckridge had spoken a word of what she had seen at Longhurst Park.

  Petra could only be thankful that the busybody woman had not entered a half hour before.

  She and Marguerite took their usual seats in the second row. Ahead of them in the closed pew, Ethan was already seated, his broad shoulders in his tight-fitting coat a most enjoyable sight for any woman. And especially enjoyable for her, because she knew intimately what lay beneath the snug blue fabric.

  As usual the service began right on time, but Petra felt the back of her neck prickle as if someone was watching her closely. Using the excuse of adjusting her hassock, Petra glanced back and met Mrs Beckridge’s piercing and challenging glare. How dare you show your face in the house of the Lord, the look said.

  Petra pretended not to notice and, staring to the front, lifted her chin.

  No other member of the congregation sat beside them, but that wasn’t unusual. The villagers usually occupied the seats further back and while Mrs Beckridge occasionally sat with them, it was her wont to visit herself upon various families over the course of the weeks, as if it was an honour to be bestowed.

  It wasn’t until the sermon began that she realised the reason for the challenge in that unfriendly look. The Vicar read from Corinthians chapter six regarding sexual immorality and preceded to call down hell and damnation upon anyone who ignored the warning contained in the scripture. Petra’s face became hot. She prayed no one could see her blushes. Ethan’s shoulders squared and he kept his gaze fixed firmly on the Vicar’s face, but even from this distance she sensed his anger. Oh, heavens, what if Ethan said something to him? Might people conjecture and put two and two together? They had met other parishioners from time to time when out on their rambles around the estate.

  Petra forced herself not to look around at the congregation to see if anyone was looking at her, but a glance at Marguerite’s grim face made her heart sink. Had Mrs Beckridge said something to her sister?

  * * *

  At the end of the service, Marguerite nodded stiffly to Mr Beckridge and hurried to climb into the pony and trap before anyone else left the church yard. They set off at a spanking pace. Heat and cold flushed through Petra by turns. Had the Vicar spoken to Marguerite? Or had Marguerite guessed the reason for her many absences from home this past month?

  ‘Insufferable man,’ Marguerite snapped. ‘He was looking right at me.’

  Petra gaped at her. ‘I thought he was looking at me.’

  ‘What reason would he have to look at you? No, it was me he was looking at. Once or twice he has cautioned me about the temptations of two women living alone. Horrid man. How could he think such things? I should have known better than to...’

  ‘Than to?’ Petra asked.

  Marguerite gritted her teeth. ‘I gave him a piece of my mind. Blast it, I told him it was none of his business what I did or who I did it with... I should simply have agreed and assured him nothing of that nature would cross our minds.’

  Petra’s jaw dropped. ‘He thinks we are Sapphists?’

  ‘He is an idiot. He didn’t precisely say we are living in sin, he just hinted that we might be tempted to do so.’

  ‘Where would he get such a peculiar idea?’

  ‘From his wife, no doubt. Oh, heavens, if he says one word of that sort to Red I am going to strangle him. You know, I really think it would be better if we went to London tomorrow, instead of waiting until next week. Out of sight is out of mind. We will start packing as soon as we get home.’

  ‘Marguerite, you were not the object of that sermon. He would not dare make such an unfounded accusation.’ Inwardly she winced. ‘However, there is something I must tell you.’

  Marguerite slowed the horse to a walk and turned in her seat. ‘What?’

  ‘Yesterday, Mrs Beckridge caught me sitting on Lord Longhurst’s lap in his library.’ How angry he must have been at the Vicar’s sermon.

  Marguerite let the reins go slack and the pony stopped. ‘She what?’

  Petra swallowed. ‘She barged in on us. He and I have been having an affair.’

  Marguerite closed her eyes and tipped her head back. ‘So that is all it was.’

  ‘All?’

  She pursed her lips. ‘Well, of course, it is a serious matter, but nowhere near as odd as his other accusation. And besides, I assume Longhurst made you an offer? Or if he did not, he certainly will now.’

  She took a deep breath. ‘He did make me an offer and I refused.’

  ‘What? Why?’

  ‘Because I don’t wish to marry again. I certainly don’t wish to marry a man forced to the altar by Mrs Beckridge. Besides, we all agreed we could take lovers if we wished when we came here.’

  ‘As long as we were discreet about it!’

  ‘I was discreet. The woman walked in on us unannounced.’

  ‘Typical.’

  ‘Of me?’

  ‘Of Mrs Beckridge! Blast it. This is sure to get to Red’s ears and he’ll be racing down here—’

  ‘Ethan—’ she winced at the slip ‘—Lord Longhurst said that if she uttered one word to anyone, Beckridge would lose his living. I don’t think either of them would dare say anything outrig
ht.’

  ‘I see.’ She picked up the reins and set the pony in motion. ‘Well, we are still going to London tomorrow. And, Petra, it would be better if you did not visit Lord Longhurst again, in case someone else stumbles in on you. Someone who can’t be forced to remain silent.’

  It was what she had already decided. Particularly since his offer of marriage. Somehow, him making the offer and her turning it down had felt like the world had shifted, leaving them on opposite sides of a crevasse too wide to cross. It was too wide to cross. Over and over, Ethan had talked about returning to the army. She would never marry a man who cared only for war. She’d lost one husband to it, she certainly didn’t want to lose another. And losing Ethan would hurt far more than losing Harry had.

  She stilled. Was that true? Was she really so smitten with Ethan? If she was, it was exceedingly stupid of her. She should know better.

  ‘I’m sorry, Petra,’ Marguerite said softly.

  ‘Do not be.’ Petra smiled brightly. ‘I had already come to the same conclusion.’ After shedding a few tears.

  Marguerite patted her hand. ‘You know, if my errand in London is successful, in time we can buy a cottage of our own and not be dependent upon Red.’

  And everyone would be happy.

  Then why did she still feel so terribly sad?

  Chapter Nine

  Ethan watched the Westram ladies depart from the church in haste. He had his temper in check. Barely. ‘Interesting sermon, Vicar,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’ Beckridge rubbed his hands together. ‘There are a few members of our little congregation who were squirming in their seats.’

  He actually had the gall to look smug.

  ‘And your reason for selecting that particular message today?’ Ethan could not keep the dangerous note from his voice, no matter how hard he tried.

  ‘Actually, it was my dear wife who suggested that it had been a while since we had last addressed the topic. The ladies employed at the Green Man are no better than they should be and have been getting bolder by the week. A little reminder never goes amiss.’ The Vicar beamed.