The Wanton Widow - A Regency Novella

by Caylen McQueen

  * * *

  The following morning, she happened upon Edward Harcourt, the very man whose visage pervaded her thoughts. She was wearing her breeches and shirtsleeves, her usual attire for a morning ride.

  “Willow!” Edward exclaimed. “You're just the woman I wanted to see!”

  “How fortuitous for you,” she answered apathetically. “Although... considering the fact that I am the only woman here, I think I win by default.”

  Edward took her arm and started leading her down the hall. “I was wondering about Eddie.”

  “Eddie?!”

  “Yes!” Edward chuckled. “I had assumed he would be here, but I have not seen hide nor mangy hair of him. Did you leave him in London?”

  “Indeed. As rambunctious as he is, I did not think he could survive the ride, so I left him with Cook. She complains about him, but I believe she secretly loves him.”

  “And what about Philip?” Edward asked. “Has he warmed up to our canine friend?”

  “No. And I don't think he ever shall!” As Willow headed toward the stables, she pulled Edward along with her. “I was going to go for a ride, Edward. Would you care to join me?”

  “A-absolutely,” Edward said, his minor stutter evading her notice. “I would assume that is why you are dressed like a m-m-man?”

  Willow caught him that time, and she pinched his arm.

  “You must be getting accustomed to seeing me in breeches.”

  “I am. But you are still very much a lady in my eyes.”

  Willow flashed a smile at him as they headed into the stables, where she instructed the groom to prepare two horses. When they rode out, they stayed close to one another, fearing they might lose each other in the lattice of trees. As early as it was, Willow swore she could hear the hoot of an owl overhead. The orange sunrise seemed to set the branches ablaze.

  When they were out of the forest, Edward followed Willow to a hillside, where she dismounted her horse and sat in the grass. But the dew was heavy, so she hopped up almost immediately. But it was too late. Her breeches were dampened by the dew, making them quite uncomfortable to wear.

  “It's beautiful out here,” Edward said, admiring the halo of light that surrounded the early morning sun.

  Willow's horse prodded her in the back, so she gave his snout a scratch. “It is beautiful,” she agreed. His gaze was fixed on the sunrise, but her gaze was fixed on his profile. The longer she was in his presence, the more handsome he was. “Edward...?”

  He turned in her direction. “Yes?”

  “There is something I have to say,” Willow said. “I might regret it, but I know I would regret it more if these words were left unsaid.”

  “What is it?”

  “For the past week or so, I have thoroughly enjoyed your company.”

  “As I have enjoyed yours.”

  “You're not like other men,” Willow said. As soon as she saw him frown, she added, “And I mean that in a good way. Other men might claim to be gentlemen, but you are a true gentleman. All along, you have treated me with kindness and respect. I enjoy our conversations so much...”

  “As do I,” he echoed. “And I believe I might have a new affinity for pinches.”

  “An affinity for pinches?!” she repeated with a giggle. “Am I going to have to come up with a new punishment for stammering, Mr. Harcourt?!”

  “You might... for when I catch myself stuttering, it's almost as if I anticipate it,” Edward said, smiling cheekily. “I wait for it. It gives me pleasure.”

  “Next time, I'll have to box your ears!” Willow wagged a finger at him as she issued her threat. “Anyway, you have taken me off course. What I mean to say is... I care for you a great deal.”

  “And I care for you,” Edward parroted. “Your friendship means so much to me, Willow.”

  “Friendship...” Willow was crestfallen as she repeated the word. “You see... that's the thing, Edward. I don't want your friendship.”

  “P-pardon?”

  As intense as the moment was, she didn't feel like pinching him or boxing his ears. “The fact of the matter is... I think I might be falling for you.”

  There was silence for several seconds, apart from the chirping of the birds in the nearby trees. Edward blinked several times, thoroughly taken aback by the widow's admission.

  “I think about you every second of the day, but I don't know why,” Willow went on. “When I hear you talk about Jane Abrahms, it makes my heart ache, because I want so badly for you to say those things about me!”

  “Willow, I...”

  “Wait!” She held up a finger, so he allowed her to continue. “You've never held a woman in your arms... I want you to hold me in your arms. You say you have never been kissed, but I want so desperately to kiss you!” Willow coiled her arms around her body, hugging herself. “The worst of it is... I don't feel like I deserve you! And I know you could never be with me, nor would you want to be with me. Nevertheless, I felt it was necessary to tell you exactly how I feel.”

  Edward opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He was more tongue-tied than he had ever been in his life.

  “You have no reason to lack confidence, Edward,” Willow continued. “You are handsome and kind and thoughtful and charming. What woman could possibly ask for anything more?!”

  “I... had no idea you felt this way.” When Edward blinked, he swore he could see stars in his eyes.

  “Last night, Philip tried to lay with me. But when he touched me, I was dangerously close to retching, because I wanted his hands to be your hands!” Willow admitted. “I can't possibly be with him when I feel this way about you...”

  “You're falling for me?” Edward had to repeat, because the words didn't sound natural to his ears. “A beautiful woman like you!? I'm awkward and p-p-plain and gangly. Why on earth would you w-waste your time?!”

  “I'm falling for you. You!” she cried. “The person you are!” Willow ran toward him and seized the lapels of his greatcoat. “I want you to bed me!”

  Edward's jaw dropped. “B-b-b?” He couldn't even bring himself to say it, not for the longest time. “Bed you?!”

  “Yes! I want to lay with you! I want it more than I've ever wanted anything! I want to feel every inch of your body pressed against every inch of mine!”

  “B-but you know how I feel...” Edward whispered. “You know I am saving myself for marriage.”

  “I know!” Willow groaned. “And I know you could never marry me...which is why my heart is aching every single minute of every single day.” Still clutching his lapel, Willow gave him a shake. “But at the very least, will you kiss me?”

  “I...”

  “Please!” she begged him. “Please... please! I cannot begin to tell you how much I want your lips on mine!”

  Edward reached toward her. First, his thumb brushed across her cheek. Then he used an index finger to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “You have given me much to consider.”

  “What does that mean?!” Willow shrieked. “Do you not want to kiss me?! Do you not have any feelings for me whatsoever? If that is the case, Edward, then let me down quickly... and gently, if you please.”

  “I have much to consider,” he repeated. “For now, I suggest we go back to the lodge.” Edward grabbed his horse's bridle and started to mount. As Willow watched him, her heart was twinging, searing. She didn't know what she expected to come of her confession, but his cold reaction had her feeling let down.

  She needed to be alone, and she needed to have a good cry.

  Chapter Ten

  After evading another night of intimacy with Philip, Willow couldn't rest. It was as if her entire world was coming undone, and she had Edward Harcourt to thank for it. Until he came along, she knew what she wanted. Until he came along, she had control of her emotions. She did not want to be in love with him, as it was terribly inconvenient.

  “In love with him?!” Willow said aloud, putting a voice to her thought. “That's preposterous! You don't fa
ll in love, Wilomena Worthington! You would know better than to lose your heart to some... some...”

  And how would she describe him? When she first met him, Willow thought he was unremarkable in every way. But the more she got to know him, the more she realized how special he was. If only she would have him, Jane Abrahms would surely the be luckiest girl in the world.

  “If only he would have me,” Willow said with a sigh, turning toward the library. As she pushed open the door, she silently chided herself for letting Edward Harcourt invade her thoughts.

  Unfortunately, she would not have solace from those thoughts, because the man in question was sitting in the library, hunched over a book. He was wearing spectacles, which only made him more adorable—as if he could be more adorable! Willow tiptoed into the library and quietly browsed one of the shelves. She had been avoiding him all day, so she had no reason to address him now. Maybe he wouldn't even see her? Perhaps she could come and go and never--

  “Willow.”

  She winced at the sound of his voice. She plucked a random book from the shelf and slowly turned around, facing his direction. She should have known her avoidance could only last so long.

  “Good evening, Mr. Harcourt,” Willow addressed him as rigidly as her voice would allow. “It's late. Why are you still awake?”

  “I could ask you the same question.” Edward removed his spectacles and slipped them in the pocket of his greatcoat, which was laying on the table. He was in his shirtsleeves, and his cravat was untied.

  Suddenly, Willow was aware of her own state of undress. She was wearing her nightrail.

  “What are you reading?” Willow asked, clutching her own book to her chest, whatever it was. She hadn't even bothered to read the title.

  “Rob Roy. Have you read it?”

  “No, I don't believe I have. Are you enjoying it?”

  “Very much. You should read it when I'm finished.”

  “Perhaps I shall.” Willow eyed the door. After making a fool of herself that morning, she desperately needed to flee, to escape with her hammering heart. She wished she could see into his mind, to read his thoughts. Why did he not address his feelings? Did he really have such an aversion to her?

  “Join me,” Edward said, motioning toward the chair across from him.

  “I... should get back to my room.”

  “Nonsense.” He kept pointing at the chair. “You've only just arrived, and I would like some company.”

  Willow crossed the room and sank into the suggested chair. When she was seated, she studied her book. It was old and tatty, possibly from the seventeenth century, and it appeared to be a children's book. By all accounts, it was certainly not something she would have selected to read. “About this morning...” she started.

  “What about this morning?”

  “I apologize for my nonsense,” Willow said. “I was not thinking. I was too candid, and I might have said a few things I did not mean.”

  “Oh?” Edward closed his book and leaned across the table, closer to Willow. “And what words are you rescinding, exactly?”

  “The part about me falling for you. What complete taradiddle!” Willow exclaimed. If she had any hope of looking him in the eye again, she had to make him believe it was a falsehood. “I care about you, of course, but I went a bit too far.”

  “I see.”

  “And... how do you feel about me, Edward?” Willow asked, fidgeting with the pages of her book. If he said she was like some sort of dear sister, she thought she would perish right then and there!

  “I think you're a very b-b-beautiful woman,” he stammered, so Willow reached across the table and gave him a pinch. After all, she did not want him to regress. “You're kind and caring. I love to be in your presence, and I owe you a great deal of gratitude.”

  The absence of passion in his voice made her sigh. “But... could you not care for me? The way you care about Miss Abrahms?”

  “I-I...” Edward raked a hand over his mouth, willing himself not to stutter. “I already care for you, Willow.”

  In an instant, Willow's reservations melted away. She leapt from her chair, circled the table, and sat in Edward's lap. When she saw his eyes swell, she had to giggle.

  “Edward...” As she whispered his name, she raked a hand through his chestnut hair. “I need you.”

  “You...”

  When he hesitated, she continued, “You are always in my thoughts. I want to kiss you... I want to feel your lips on my skin.”

  “Willow...”

  Even in the dim room, which was lit by a single candle, she could see the color rushing to his cheeks. “Don't you want me?”

  He whispered his answer. “I... do.”

  “Then kiss me,” she entreated him. “Kiss me, please. I need you to kiss me, or my heart might die from wanting it so badly!”

  Edward stroked her hair a few times, which felt more wonderful than anything she had ever experienced. “Well, I certainly would not want your heart to die.”

  “No?” Willow tilted her head in his direction, allowing him easy access to her lips. “Then kiss me.”

  At long last, Edward closed the gap and brushed his lips against hers. The soft, sensuous contact made Willow feel as if her body was soaring. She clutched the back of his head, deepening their kiss. When her tongue emerged, Edward threw back his head and gasped.

  Willow wasn't going to let it end there. She coiled her fingers through his hair and pulled him back to her, kissing him again and again. She brought his head to her shoulder, where she cradled it in her arms. She softly kissed his head, burying her lips in his hair as she showered him with affection. When he moaned against her neck, she knew he must have been enjoying himself.

  “I need you, Edward...” As she spoke, she slipped her nightrail off her shoulder. “I want you.”

  When he saw her exposed skin, Edward lifted his head. “I can't,” he whispered.

  “But why?!” Willow burrowed her lips against his neck and stamped a feverish trail of kisses across his skin.

  “I can't. You know I can't...” Edward tilted his head away, ending her onslaught of kisses. “I'm saving myself.”

  “Saving yourself for marriage, or saving yourself for Miss Abrahms?!” Willow shrieked. She sprang from his lap and started pacing around the room, hands on her hips.

  “That isn't fair.”

  “What isn't fair?!” Willow asked. “I'll tell you what isn't fair, Edward! It isn't fair that I've fallen for you, but you show no sign of returning my feelings. It isn't fair that I want you, but you keep pushing me away. It isn't fair that my heart aches for you, and yet there's nothing to end my pain!”

  “I care for you,” he repeated softly.

  “It isn't enough.” There were tears in her eyes, which had her blinking rapidly. “No matter how perfect I think we would be together... it will never be enough. I'll never be enough. You're saving yourself, and yet... I would never be a suitable wife for you.” When the first tear slipped down her cheek, she brushed it away with the back of her hand.

  “Willow...” Edward held out his arms, silently willing her back to him.

  “I wish I was Miss Abrahms,” she said. “I wish I was some chaste young miss, but I'm not. I wish I was someone you could be proud to be with... but I'm not.”

  “What did I say to make you feel that way!?”

  “It's not something you said, Edward. It's the simple truth.”

  “Then by all means, please explain to me how any sensible man wouldn't be proud to call you his!”

  The door to the library opened, which saved her from an explanation. Olly, who was humming to himself, strutted into the library with a candle in his hands. As soon as he saw them, Olly halted.

  “My, my, my...” Olly clicked his tongue a few times. “What do we have here? A midnight tryst?!”

  “Hardly!” Willow rushed past Olly, toward the door. “In fact, I should excuse myself. It was a pleasure to see you, Mr. Harcourt.”

  “O
i!” Olly exclaimed. “And it's not a pleasure to see me?!”

  “A pleasure to see you too,” she added half-heartedly. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  She was out of the library before Edward could ask her to wait.

  * * *

  The next morning, Willow's senses returned. She had no business pining for a man who would never have her, so she focused her attention on Philip. She was, after all, Lord Mowbray's mistress, and it was high time she started acting like it!

  They broke their fast with their guests, Edward and Olly. The latter had questionable table manners, and he slathered his bread with jam until it was practically dripping. Willow tried to appear aloof, as if the encounter in the library had little effect on her. Every time she looked at Edward, however, his eyes were fastened on her. Was she correct to think he looked somewhat pitiful?

  His doleful gaze might have had something to do with the fact that she was raining affection on Philip. Willow fed him food from her plate, tousled his hair, and nuzzled her cheek against his neck. She hoped, in her sinister heart, that her actions would inspire jealousy. If she had to endure his comments about Miss Abrahms, it seemed only fair that he be subjected to her closeness with Philip.

  At one point, Philip declared, “I am a lucky, lucky man.”

  “And why is that?” Willow cooed, tapping his nose with her finger.

  “Because I am with you, Wilomena Worthington, and you happen to be the most incredible woman in the world!” Philip said. “Fortune smiled on me the day I met you.”

  “She's quite beautiful, alright,” Olly agreed as he chewed on a mouthful of sausage. “She's too beautiful for you, at any rate!”

  “She's too beautiful for any of us,” Philip went on. “She is practically too beautiful for this world!”

  “Oh, please...” Willow rejected the notion. “Surely I am nothing special.” For the first time in several minutes, she stole a glimpse of Edward. She wished he would say something, but he had been silent the entire morning.

  “You are special,” Philip insisted. “When I see you with your rifle, it puts me in mind of the Greek goddess Artemis, beautiful and deadly.”