An Earl for the Shy Widow

by Ann Lethbridge

  Her laugh was full of delight. ‘No, indeed. Marguerite was very careful on that score despite that there were a few models she might have liked to use. She used one of the drawings of the original Mr Guy Fawkes as her inspiration.’

  ‘It is splendid. What can I do to help?’

  ‘The funds were all the help we needed. The ladies from the church have the food well in hand, Mr Jenks will deliver the beer barrels in a short while and Mr O’Cleary will set out the benches and the hay bales for people to sit on before everyone arrives.’

  ‘Benches?’

  ‘O’Cleary and Jeb made them up out of odd bits of your furniture. They will go on the fire after everyone has left.’

  ‘Let us hope they do not collapse beneath anyone in the meantime.’

  ‘Even if they do, I doubt anyone will mind, provided they have quaffed a sufficient amount of the beer you have so generously provided.’

  He laughed. ‘It is my very great pleasure to assist the village in its celebration of the foiling of the plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, given that I am now one of those sitting above the barrels of gunpowder. Several tuns of beer is a small price to pay for my safety.’

  A thought occurred to him. ‘When I was a lad we would light squibs and set them off among the folks gathered around the bonfire. I assume that is not the order of the day?’

  ‘No. It is expressly forbidden. Everyone understands that and those with unruly lads are checking their pockets before they leave home.’

  ‘I think I will check O’Cleary’s pockets, as well. He is as unruly as any boy I have ever encountered.’ He grinned at the thought of the surprise he had brought with him from London. The villagers should enjoy it. He hoped.

  She laughed. ‘Mr O’Cleary has been a great help. It was he who climbed up and set the chair and Mr Fawkes on top.’

  ‘As I said, a most unruly lad. I wager he enjoyed himself thoroughly.’

  ‘He did. He made sure to do it when I was here showing some of the women from the church what was required. He basked in their admiration.’

  ‘I presume they included one or more of the lasses from the Green Man.’ O’Cleary had been spending a good deal of his free time at the inn recently and came home looking very pleased with himself to boot.

  ‘Naturally.’

  He wagged a finger at her. ‘A man can be convinced to undertake the most dangerous of tasks when watched by one or more pretty ladies.’

  They chuckled together, like old friends. Perhaps they could indeed be friends, but he found the idea didn’t help with the ever-present chill in his chest.

  ‘I am glad you made it back in such good time,’ she said. ‘It will help greatly if you are here when the villagers start arriving. I also asked the constable to come and keep an eye on things, and sent a note to Lord Compton inviting him to attend. Unfortunately, he declined. It seems he doesn’t like to leave his children.’

  ‘He has several, I believe. All female. I never met them on any of my visits there, but from the noise I heard, they are an unruly lot.’

  ‘Poor man. He lost his wife not long after the birth of his third girl. I am surprised he hasn’t married again. He must need an heir.’

  Ethan’s heart jolted. Was that why she had turned him down? She was thinking of setting her cap at Compton? His earlier regret that Compton would not attend the fire was replaced by a feeling of relief.

  ‘Is there anything you need me to do?’ he asked.

  ‘Just play the part of the lord of the manor and make sure no one gets out of order and all will be well.’

  ‘I can do that.’ He couldn’t wait to see her face when she saw his surprise. And those of the villagers, too, of course.

  ‘I am on my way home,’ she said. ‘Marguerite and I will come together later. The ladies of the village will arrive shortly to help Mrs Stone in the kitchen. I hope that is all right.’

  ‘Of course. As I said, do whatever you think is best.’

  ‘Thank you. I will be back in plenty of time.’

  ‘Good. I don’t want to face the hordes alone.’

  She patted his arm and he basked in that little sign of affection. He gritted his teeth against the foolish emotion.

  ‘You know,’ she said musingly, ‘it is a good thing the Beckridges left when they did or we would be facing a sermon on the evils of popery instead of a cheerful gathering around the bonfire.’

  ‘A blessing indeed.’

  Her pretty laugh rang out. He wanted to capture it and put it in a jar. Oh, hell, what had happened to him that he had become so maudlin?

  ‘Make sure you dress warmly when you come back,’ he said. ‘It will be chilly tonight.’

  She gave him an odd look, a measuring glance that he did not understand, but she nodded. ‘I’ll make sure and remind Marguerite, too.’

  He didn’t care about her sister. Only her. ‘Good idea.’

  He watched her hurry towards her waiting trap, her skirts swaying with every step.

  What had that expression on her face meant?

  * * *

  Dress warmly. Did he think she was a child? Or was it something else which had prompted his concern? The look on his face when he had said those words had made her really look at him. He looked lonely. When she first met him, he had seemed perfectly happy. Now there was an expression of longing in the depths of his blue eyes.

  She shook her head at her wandering thoughts. She had been seeking some sign that he missed her as much as she missed him and that was nonsense. She glanced over at her sister driving the trap. She, too, was bundled up against the evening chill.

  ‘Hopefully, it will be warm by the fire,’ Marguerite said as if guessing at her thoughts. Or at least part of them.

  They came up on a group of villagers walking down the lane towards Longhurst. They waved cheerfully as the trap passed. ‘See you soon, my ladies,’ Mr Barker called out.

  ‘Yes, indeed,’ Petra replied turning in her seat to wave back. ‘All will be ready for your arrival,’ she called out.

  ‘Arr,’ said another member of the group. ‘We seed the beer cart go by. ’Tis all we need.’

  The ladies among them giggled.

  Petra felt a sense of pride that she had been instrumental in bringing this evening about, though she could not have done it without everyone’s help. Especially Ethan’s.

  Dress warmly.

  Did it mean that despite everything he had said, he really did care about her? And if he did, why did it matter? She had ended their affair. They had both agreed it was for the best. The man needed to marry and set about getting an heir.

  Her chest squeezed uncomfortably.

  No. She did not want to marry again and risk all that heartache.

  Only Ethan was not like Harry.

  He was honourable and kind.

  But he did not love her any more than Harry had.

  They turned into Longhurst’s drive. A glow in the distance made her frown. ‘Have they started the fire already?’ Disappointment filled her.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Marguerite said. ‘No. Look. There are torches set up around the bonfire and partway down the drive. So we can see our way.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I see now.’ Ethan must have done that. How clever of him. And it would help keep an eye on the younger revellers, too.

  Ethan was waiting to help them down when the trap drew up at the front door. One of the young men from the village leaped forward to take care of Patch and lead him to the stables at the back of the house.

  ‘My,’ Petra commented with approval, ‘you have been busy in my absence.’

  He grinned down at her with his lovely boyish smile. Her heart gave a little jolt. ‘And I have found myself a new groom, provided his family agrees.’ He gestured to the lad leading their horse away.

  She
chuckled. ‘You are not one to let the grass grow under your feet.’

  He glanced down. ‘It can’t grow under these enormous boots, so I have to keep moving.’

  She shook her head at him. ‘I’ll go and check on things in the kitchen.’

  He grasped her arm before she could move. And Marguerite’s, too. ‘You ladies have done quite enough. Mrs Stone has everything in hand. Leave her to it. Come and take your place by the fire. It will soon be time to light it.’

  He led them to a bench. ‘Mind how you sit. I cannot promise it won’t give way beneath you.’

  ‘I am not that heavy,’ Marguerite said with a teasing note in her voice.

  ‘Oh, no, my lady. You are not heavy at all, but those timbers are as weak as water.’

  Marguerite sat down with Petra beside her and within a very short space of time all the benches were filled and the men had their mugs of beer and the ladies were quaffing lemonade or the mulled wine set out on a trestle table.

  ‘Light the fire,’ someone shouted.

  ‘I’m freezing,’ a woman grumbled.

  Ethan came forward with a mug of beer in his hand. ‘Before we start the festivities, I want to thank you all for coming this evening. We will raise a glass to our King, if you please.’

  When the chatter died down, Ethan raised his mug. ‘God bless His Majesty, King George. Long may he reign.’

  ‘Even if he is mad,’ Marguerite whispered.

  ‘King George,’ the villagers shouted, holding up their mugs before drinking.

  ‘God bless His Lordship!’ someone else shouted.

  Mr Barker, Petra thought.

  ‘His Lordship,’ they all cried and drank again.

  Ethan looked pleased. ‘And here is to the health of Lady Petra, whose idea it was to have this bonfire.’

  More cheering and laughing. Then Mr O’Cleary grabbed one of the torches and went around the fire, lighting the strategically placed paper spills. Smoke wafted up and the people on the windward side coughed, fanned their faces and wiped their eyes. Then a chair caught light and flames shot up, and the fire was soon burning merrily.

  The women came out of the kitchen and filled the table with trays of food, roasted meat, breads and cheese. ‘Help yourselves, everyone,’ Ethan said, gesturing to the bounty. A queue formed instantly, with some good-natured pushing and shoving.

  ‘Enough of that now,’ O’Cleary said, shouting like a sergeant major. ‘There’s plenty for all. And I’ve put some tatties and chestnuts in the ashes to keep your hands warm later.’

  Everyone murmured appreciatively and the queue became orderly.

  A few minutes later, Ethan arrived at their bench with two plates, one for her and one for Marguerite.

  ‘Don’t tell me you used your title to get to the head of the line,’ she teased.

  ‘All right, I won’t.’

  She and Marguerite laughed.

  ‘There have to be some privileges for all this work, you know,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Besides, the moment I went to the end, they all moved back, to put me at the head, so what else was I to do?’

  She laughed at the puzzlement on his face. ‘They like and respect you. This is good.’

  ‘I like them, too.’ He still sounded puzzled. He handed them cutlery and wandered away. Petra thought he had gone back for food for himself, but then she realised he was moving from group to group around the fire, talking and laughing, and from their beams of delight, clearly charming them.

  She had thought Harry charming. But he was not. His charm was shallow and false, used to get what he wanted. Ethan charmed because he was genuinely kind and listened to what each person had to say to him. He had truly found his feet. He would make a wonderful landlord and an excellent lord.

  He filled his new shoes as easily as he drew breath. From here on in, he would manage perfectly well without her help.

  A lump rose in her throat. A feeling of loss.

  Nonsense. They would remain friends.

  Not once he was married. They would become nodding acquaintances only. It had to be that way, she could not bear the idea of being the cause of a wife enduring what she had gone through with Harry.

  The food on her plate was like cotton wool in her mouth. She ploughed through it determinedly. She did not want Marguerite questioning her appetite or, worse yet, it coming to Ethan’s attention.

  Who had not as yet eaten anything himself.

  She rose and took their dirty plates back to the table, where they were being stacked and from there carried back to the kitchen. She smiled at Mrs Stone, who was presiding over an enormous sponge cake, and was given two napkins and two large slices of the confection. She leaned over the table and murmured, ‘I don’t believe His Lordship has as yet had any of the food.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the cook, nodding in understanding. ‘I’ll see about that.’

  As Petra walked away, Mrs Stone was directing Mr O’Cleary to see to his master’s needs.

  Petra smiled. His staff loved him almost as much as she did.

  She closed her eyes against a sudden burn in their depths. She really had fallen too far and too fast. How could she have done such a foolish thing?

  Fallen for a man who frankly admitted he did not love her. At least he had told her the truth. She had to respect him for his honesty.

  She went back to her seat beside Marguerite.

  ‘Mmm, this is delicious,’ Marguerite said.

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ she said cheerfully.

  When the food table was empty and everyone had settled down around the fire to keep warm on the outside and quaffed their chosen libations to warm them on the inside, Ethan joined her and Marguerite on their bench.

  The warm glow of the fire danced across his face. ‘I have a surprise.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I do.’

  There was a sudden loud bang and the night sky was filled with a million-coloured stars.

  ‘Fireworks,’ Petra squeaked. ‘Oh, my, how did you manage it?’

  ‘My bargain with the Prince.’

  ‘I love fireworks,’ Petra exclaimed and put an arm around his shoulders and gave him a squeeze.

  She gazed up in awe, along with everyone else, until she felt the sensation of someone watching her in the flickering firelight. She glanced at Ethan. His gaze was fixed on her face, not the display.

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘No,’ he said slowly. ‘Nothing at all is wrong.’

  Petra looked confused.

  ‘Or maybe there is one thing.’ He tipped her chin up and kissed her mouth. ‘I have missed this.’

  ‘Ethan! Do not. Someone may notice.’

  He straightened. ‘No one is looking at us. Watch the fireworks, Petra.’ He got up and went to speak with a group of boys who looked like they were about to get up to mischief. He held out his hand and she very nearly laughed when the ringleader dropped what looked like a couple of squibs in his palm.

  The man would make a wonderful father.

  Her heart felt like it was breaking.

  * * *

  His front was warm from the fire, but his back was freezing. He was used to it from his army days. He glanced at across the circle at Petra. It was probably one of the last times they would be in each other’s company. Even if they were sitting far apart.

  He had told her to wrap up warm, but the coat she wore wasn’t nearly thick enough. Ladies always preferred fashion over comfort. Although most of the time Petra seemed a great deal more sensible than most women.

  He gestured to O’Cleary, who sauntered over, tossing a tattie from one hand to the other. ‘Bring out blankets for all the ladies.’

  O’Cleary’s jaw dropped. ‘All the ladies.’

  It wouldn’t do to single Petra out. Ethan nodded. ‘All who want o
ne. There are enough to cover a regiment in the linen cupboard. Take young Jeb with you. He’ll help.’

  ‘At once, my lord.’

  It wasn’t many minutes before he and Jeb returned with armloads of blankets and Petra and her sister were snuggled up warmly. For once he was glad his cousin had hoarded so many items. He didn’t even care if the village women took theirs home as long as Petra was warm.

  She looked up at his approach. ‘Handing out blankets was a wonderful idea,’ she said.

  He grinned and handed her one of the hot potatoes. ‘Eat it or simply use it to keep your hands warm. It’s an old army trick.’ Not that soldiers ever didn’t eat theirs when they could get them. He gave another to her sister, who took it and got to her feet. ‘I will go and see if Mrs Stone needs any help.’ She wandered off, tossing her potato from hand to hand, her blanket trailing behind her.

  ‘Your sister doesn’t look happy,’ he remarked.

  ‘No. She’s been unhappy since her husband died.’ She wrinkled her nose thoughtfully. ‘Even before he died. Sometimes I wonder if she lost a child, she seems so sad. But she always denies anything is wrong.’

  ‘There was no issue from the marriage, then?’

  ‘No, and she was married a great deal longer than I.’

  ‘Perhaps that is why she is not happy.’

  ‘Perhaps.’ She smiled at him. ‘This has been a wonderful celebration, Lord Longhurst.’

  A change of topic. He liked that Petra did not gossip about those closest to her. ‘Thanks to you.’

  She smiled briefly. ‘It was my pleasure. I have enjoyed it enormously, but it’s probably better if we do not appear to be too cosy together. You know how people gossip.’

  The hard, cold lump in his chest expanded until it was once again almost impossible to draw breath. What was the matter with him? He’d faced all kinds of danger in the army and never once felt such a horrible feeling of dread.

  He got to his feet and bowed. ‘As you wish, Lady Petra.’