The Vexatious Widow (Regency House Party: Havencrest Book 2)

by Michelle Pennington

  The Vexatious Widow

  By Michelle Pennington

  Copyright © 2019 by Michelle Pennington

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Michelle Pennington

  P.O. Box 54

  Hartford, AR 72764

  www.michelle-pennington.com

  Publisher’s note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locals is completely coincidental.

  If you want more sweet romances, join my newsletter at www.michelle-pennington.com and get the latest on all upcoming releases.

  Chapter One

  The sun was high overhead as Mrs. Joanna Thorne rode out of Hyde Park after her usual morning ride. Usually, the exercise refreshed her spirits and cleared her head. Today she merely felt exhausted and ready to be done with the whole London scene. The city was practically steaming as summer fell on the metropolis. She had stayed a few weeks longer than the rest of the ton, as usual, awaiting the day she could finally leave for the Garvey’s house party at their Brighton home, Havencrest, but now she wished she had gone on elsewhere in the interim. Somewhere cool with fresh breezes. And no visitors.

  The latter thought was brought on by the site of Mr. Rupert Ensley on her doorstep on Grosvenor Street. The thought occurred to her that she should pass on until her butler had sent him away, but there was no point in putting off unpleasant things. Much better to get them over with.

  Drawing up in front of her house, she waited to be assisted from her horse by her groom who needed first to give the reigns of both their horses into the keeping of one the footmen coming out of the house.

  Mr. Ensley turned and smiled as if the fates had smiled kindly on him. How little did he know what waited in store for him. “Mrs. Thorne, you are here! I cannot say enough how delighted I am.”

  “No? I have no doubt you will try, however.”

  “Er, what? Yes. Yes, of course. I couldn’t be more so. The heavens have surely done me a great kindness. I do not deserve such felicity.”

  Joanna met the eyes of her groom, and bit her lip at the nauseated look on the man’s face. She bent forward and braced her hands on his shoulders, then slid down to the street. Once down, she looped the skirt of her riding dress around her wrist and patted her mare's neck. Her groom took the horses away, leading them toward the backstreet mews where they were stabled while in London, and there was nothing more for her to do then go inside.

  Mr. Ensley stepped aside and bowed very low as she passed through the door being held open by the butler. As expected, the gentlemen followed her inside.

  Stopping at a table in the entry, Joanna removed her hat and gloves, taking a moment to ensure that her hair was in order. Seeing the sweat-dampened curls clinging to her forehead, she sighed. Ah well, it was all of a piece. Her hair was one of the few beauties she could lay claim to, but today even that would be denied her. Well, after she got rid of Ensley, she would not have to see another soul if she didn’t wish to. She’d spend the rest of the day overseeing the packing, and since she would be visiting Havencrest, the task would take a great deal of attention.

  “The mirror is blessed to be graced with such a lovely face to reflect.”

  Joanna dropped her hand and turned away, trying to hide a shudder. “Will you join me in the drawing room, Mr. Ensley? I assume you wished to speak with me about something?”

  His expression was a great deal too sly for her tastes as he nodded. “I do indeed, Mrs. Thorne.”

  “Very well. Ah, Brixton, will you call for Mrs. Pike to join us?”

  “Certainly, madam.” The butler turned away to do her bidding, his expression perfectly impassive.

  Mr. Ensley, however, looked like a bunny that had been squeezed too hard, his eyes almost popping from their sockets. “Mrs. Pike? I…um… had hoped to speak with her privately as this is a matter of some…er…delicacy.”

  Joanna smiled and walked to the drawing room. “You can depend on my dear dragon to be unobtrusive. But I must protect my reputation you know. The things people think about widows,” she shook her head and tried not to laugh at the frustration on Mr. Ensley’s face. “It probably has something to do with my age. Don’t you think so? People will think that because I am only two and twenty that I am too young to live alone. Well, fortunately, Mrs. Pike has been kind enough to say she’ll make her home with me until the grave.”

  “The grave? But surely not if you were to get married.”

  “Married? Oh, but Mr. Ensley, I have no wish to get married.” There, perhaps that would spur him on so she could be rid of him all the sooner.

  “Not get married?” His shock was as genuine as it was blatant.

  It was at that point that Joanna made a tactical error by sitting down on the settee. She was too exhausted from the heat to continue standing, but as soon as she was seated, Mr. Ensley fell to his knees in front of her and grabbed her hand in a possessive grip. “Mr. Ensley! What are you about?”

  “The thought of you alone, unmarried, wasting away the bloom of your youth and beauty alone does not bear thinking of,” he said. “Indeed, that is why I am here. I am in love with you, Mrs. Thorne. I am enraptured by your loveliness and sweetness of spirit. And your elegance and your gentility. And—”

  “And my fortune,” she added calmly.

  Mr. Ensley gasped. “I haven’t even considered the matter.”

  “I would have more respect for you if you would admit it was so. Mr. Ensley, my first husband told me every day what he thought of my looks, and though I have few good things to say for him, he was much more honest than you have proven to be. I am not lovely or sweet. Elegant perhaps, if I make some effort to be. But I beg you will not put yourself out any further. You do not love me, but more to the point, I do not love you. And even more pertinent to the matter at hand, nothing will ever again induce me to put my life, my welfare, or my fortune in the hands of a man. If I have led you to believe you had some hope, I apologize.”

  “But…surely a woman does not want to be alone, and I am not a poor candidate for marriage.”

  Joanna looked at him. He was tall and well-formed with a handsome face and a pleasant voice. His family was good and his position in the ton unquestioned as the second son of an earl. No doubt the only thing he lacked was a larger coffer from which to draw upon. Well, it would not be from hers.

  “Mr. Ensley, I have given you my answer. Now please be kind enough to accept it like a gentleman and say your farewells.”

  Mrs. Pike came in at that moment and took in the situation in one glance. Joanna watched with amusement as Mrs. Pike strode forward and grasped Mr. Ensley by the back of his collar. As it pulled against his neck, he choked and bumbled onto his feet.

  “There you go…you’ll be on your way now,” she said, letting go so that he could straighten. But with her surprising strength and arctic glare, she propelled him forward out the door without even touching him again. Once in the doorway, he bowed and tried to say so
me frippery farewell, but Mrs. Pike was having none of it. “You’ve spouted enough flowery nonsense for one morning and no mistake. Off with you now.”

  When Mr. Ensley was gone, Mrs. Pike swung around and faced Joanna. With her hands clasped in front of her and a scowl that looked like a thundercloud. “Well, and didn’t I tell you?”

  Joanna leaned back on the settee and closed her eyes a moment. “Yes, you did. But I was bored.”

  “That is no excuse for encouraging the gentleman.”

  “That poor gentleman needed no encouragement, need I remind you? And before you get too sympathetic over him, remember he was here spouting flatteries and pretty compliments because he wants my fortune. Gentleman indeed. If I ever meet a man who is honest with me, that’s the day I’ll believe any man is a gentleman.”

  “You’re beloved father—”

  “Married me off to a skimble skamble wastrel when I was no more than seventeen.” Joanna fought back the sickening memory of her younger self facing her future with a man who treated his hunting dogs better than her. Mrs. Pike’s one blindness, however, was to her father because he had rescued her from penury and dumped her on Joanna when her husband had come a cropper jumping over a hedge and broken his neck. And since he’d himself died shortly thereafter of an apoplexy, her father had risen to the level of sainthood in Mrs. Pike’s estimations.

  “For sure he did,” she agreed. “And what would any father do but look after the welfare of his child?”

  “Marrying me to Samuel Thorne was not looking after me. It was chucking me off to the first man who asked because he knew I’d never take in the ton.”

  “Not take. But my dear, you did take. You have callers all hours of the day, you’re invited everywhere, and half the debutantes in London would be glad to have so many suitors as you have.”

  “Then half the debutantes in London should set it about that they have vast fortunes. It’s amazing what a draw that is. No honey is sweeter to the bees, let me tell you.”

  But Mrs. Pike just shook her head. “There, you are being ironic again, when all I was saying was that maybe it’s not so much about your money as you think.”

  Unable to listen to anymore, Joanna stood up and left the room. Mrs. Pike followed along behind her, just as she had expected her to. At least if she had to have this discussion again, she would get something accomplished at the same time.

  Up in her bedchamber, she rang for her maid, Lizzie, and sat down at the writing desk to make out a list of things she needed to have packed for Havencrest. Mrs. Pike, who knew few boundaries, came and looked over her shoulder.

  “Tea? Candles? Hot Press paper and sealing wafers? Quills and ink…Whatever are you doing, Mrs. Thorne? I’ve already done the shopping list for the housekeeper.”

  “No, my dear dragon—this is the list of things I need Lizzie to pack for us. You know Mrs. Garvey cannot be relied on to provide them.”

  “Well, yes, but it seems so rude to bring our own household goods with us.”

  “Perhaps, but I promise she wouldn’t mind in the least as she does not have to pay for them. And I love her dearly, but I won’t spend a fortnight in discomfort, even for her.”

  Mrs. Pike shook her head in disapproval. “I have to wonder why you continue to accept the invitation year after year.”

  “Because no matter how eccentric they may be, they are the closest thing to family that I have…and as for Havencrest…well, it feels like home, and you must know that nowhere else does.”

  “Having children would create a home for you better than anything else,” Mrs. Pike said in a stern voice Joanna was well-accustomed to.

  Joanna stood up to oversee the packing. “But as that would require a husband, a fetter I intend to remain free of, I shall have to console myself with Havencrest and the Garveys.

  Chapter Two

  Lord Tyndale knew, in a detached sort of way, that anyone else looking up at Phoebe Lovell from this angle would find the view entrancing. She certainly looked angelic with her flaxen hair, fairy-like features, and expressive blue eyes the color of a summer sky. But being her uncle and guardian gave him an immunity to her charms that left him with nothing more than a desire to send her to her room without supper. Not for the first time, he cursed the pleurisy that had carried off his older brother in the prime of his life. Oh to go back to his free and uncomplicated life as plain Martin Lovell, a single man with no encumbrances—and no headstrong ward to bedevil him.

  “If you would only consent to my going,” Phoebe said in her sweetest tone, “I promise that I would behave and give you no cause to worry for me.”

  Not likely. Oh, perhaps she would for a day or so, but it would not be long before she got bored and mired herself in some kind of trouble. “It’s no use, my dear,” he told her firmly. “My decision is final.” He turned back to his work, though without much hope that she would leave.

  “But Uncle Martin, I cannot be so rude. Everyone in the ton vies for an invitation to their house party, and you would have me refuse one? It is unthinkable. Yes, and ill-mannered. Besides I’ve always wanted to go to Brighton. Indeed, you promised to take me this summer.”

  Tyndale looked up from the ledger he was inspecting and raised an eyebrow at her. “I said I would consider taking you to Brighton. However, I have decided that it would be wiser to spend the next few months at Tyndale Hall.”

  Phoebe gasped. “Spend the whole summer in the north?”

  Pressing his lips together to keep from laughing at the outrage on her face, he nodded. “The country will help you to recover from the ill-effects of your first season.”

  “What ill-effects? I am not worn or tired in the least.”

  Tyndale turned back to his ledger. “That is not what I was referring to. Rather I meant your unfortunate partiality for Mr. Seymour. And I have no doubt, my child, that your diligent suitor intends to follow you to Brighton with the hope of continuing his courtship away from my watchful eye. No, we will go north.”

  Phoebe gave a frustrated and very unladylike growl before storming over to the window where she stood looking out, stiff with indignation. She had long since learned, he hoped, the futility of trying to wheedle him when his mind was made up. But after several minutes of tense silence, which he ignored, she came back to stand over him again.

  “You are right. The north will be lovely. I cannot wait to go.”

  His brows creased as he tried to determine the purpose of this new tactic. “What are you about now?”

  She shrugged and smirked at him. “How far would you say it was from Tyndale Hall to the Scottish border?”

  He stared at her in silence, both appalled and grudgingly respectful of her intellect. Truly, she was a worthy opponent. He was of half-a-mind to let Seymour have the chit. But he could not waver in his duty to Reuben’s child, and she would lead a very unhappy life married to a spendthrift fortune hunter, though she did not at all realize it of course.

  “Communicating would be our biggest obstacle,” she continued. “You would watch the post, of course. Oh, but I have found ways around that before. And of course I would have to do without a trousseau, but no doubt Richard will take me to Paris for our wedding trip and I may have one after all.”

  Tyndale stood and glared down at her. “You will oblige me but not referring to him in such an intimate matter. And let me warn you now that you will be guarded too closely by myself and every servant in my employment to get away with such a scheme.”

  She raised a delicately arching eyebrow at him and looked excessively superior. “Yes, I am sure. Because I have never escaped my guards before.”

  His shoulders tensing with frustration, Tyndale perfectly recalled all the times she had proved as elusive as the wind, both while away at school and when living at home. Her mother had no fortitude where she was concerned, so he expected no help from that quarter. Indeed, it was the fact that she would attend the house party with only her mother’s chaperonage that had decided him agains
t it.

  “But if I were allowed to go to Brighton,” she continued when he did not respond, “I give you my word that I would be circumspect and prudent, especially my association with Mr. Seymour.”

  After clenching his jaw a moment, aggrieved at being forced to reconsider his position, he said, “Very well, baggage, you shall go to Brighton, and I will comfort myself with the knowledge that you will be very nearly as far from the border as you can be. With elopement out of the question, I wonder how you will next attempt to throw yourself into a bad marriage.”

  “It wouldn’t be a bad marriage. Just because he doesn’t

  have a title or a fortune, you think the most horrid things about him. But he is a good man and he loves me. Why shouldn’t we live on my fortune? I don’t mind at all.”

  “I know you do not. But you are too young and naive to understand. You would be putting your whole life and welfare into the hands of a man with nothing but his word that he would care for you. And once he has run through your fortune, how much do you think he would love you then?”

  “You’ve misjudged him. If only you weren’t so heartless, you would judge this differently. But how can you understand love when you have never experienced it?”

  He shook his head and considered if he should tell her how wrong he was. But no, hearing of his maudlin tragedy would only encourage her defense of unequal matches. “Suffice it to say that there is much about me you do not know. I do understand, more than you do, and I am not heartless. You will have to trust that I have your best interests at heart. My greatest wish and duty has been to care for you as your father would have until such time as I may relinquish that responsibility to your husband. When I do so, it will only be to a gentleman who is as mindful of welfare as I am.”

  “That gentleman is Mr. Seymour,” she interjected.

  “Which is why,” he continued as if she had not spoken,” I will accompany you to Brighton.”

  It gave him a great deal of satisfaction to watch her expression change to one of consternation. “But…the invitation was for Mother and me.”