Page 13 of Wedding the Widow

Without too much reluctance, and no real grumbling, they settled down beneath the yellow and green covers, and Elizabeth bent to tuck them in. She had missed this routine, in truth.

“Did you have fun at the party, Mama?” Kate managed to speak despite the huge yawn that split her mouth.

“I did indeed, lovey.” Elizabeth settled her daughter’s cap more firmly on the pale blond curls. “We played cards and had dancing and a great festival called the Harvest Festival.”

“What’s a Harvest Festival?” Colin wormed his way into an almost sitting position. “Is it like the fair you and Papa took us to a long time ago?”

“Yes, my dear, very like that one. You were so small I didn’t think you would remember it.” Elizabeth busied herself smoothing his covers. She and Dickon had taken the children to a local fair the year before he’d been sent to Belgium. Suddenly, her whole body ached with wanting him again.

“What’s wrong, Mama?” Both children were sitting up now, looking quizzically at her. Kate threw her arms around her mother.

“Nothing, my loves. I was remembering the fair with your Papa, is all. I still miss him very much.” She tried to brush at her eyes to stem the flood of tears that threatened.

“Then who took you to the festival, Mama? You didn’t go by yourself, did you?” Colin wagged his head at her, a perfect imitation of his grandfather that pulled her back from the brink and made her want to laugh. “That is not at all proper.”

“You are correct, Colin. That would not be proper at all.” She straightened her skirts to give her time to get her thoughts together. “An acquaintance escorted me, a gentleman I met at Lady Cavendish’s party this summer past.” She stopped and cleared her throat. “His name is Lord Brack, a very nice, jovial gentleman, to be sure.” Admitting even that much seemed to open a floodgate within her. “One day another man may wish to marry me and become your new Papa. Someone like Lord Brack.” She held her breath and waited.

“No.” Colin sat straight up and crossed his arms. “I don’t need another Papa. I have Grandpapa. And I will escort you to fairs and festivals whenever you wish, Mama. So you see, you don’t need anyone else at all.”

“But, Colin—”

“No, Mama, Colin is right.” Kate climbed from under the covers and into her lap. “I don’t want a stranger here with us, Mama. We just want you.”

Elizabeth sighed and rubbed Kate’s small back until she managed to coax her back beneath the coverlet. “It won’t happen anytime soon, loveys, I promise you that.”

“Good.” Colin punched his pillow and settled down without further fuss.

Tucking the covers under Kate’s chin once more, Elizabeth leaned down to brush a kiss on her sweet forehead. Once their regular breathing told her both children were asleep, she kissed Colin as well. He’d gotten to the “don’t touch me” stage earlier this year. She whispered, “Good night, my love” in each one’s ear, and rose.

At least, she knew now the children were not inclined to favor a new husband in her life, a new papa in theirs. She hadn’t been unduly surprised at Colin’s very vocal denunciation. Perhaps it was best to put all thoughts of Lord Brack out of her mind for the time being. The children shouldn’t be upset so soon after their father’s death.

She crept out of the nursery in search of Nurse.

It might be well and good to make such grand pronouncements, but unless she kept her thoughts from last night and Lord Brack’s sleek, strong arms and supple, powerful body, all the good intentions in the world would be for nothing. Whether it upset the children or not.

* * *

Sipping her wine at dinner, Elizabeth wished with all her heart for the evening to be at an end. She’d hardly had time to change before dinner and now longed to crawl between her crisp sheets and close her eyes. Unfortunately, every time she thought of this, she also immediately remembered the tryst with Lord Brack and the gross impropriety of her reaction to him. Heat lit up her cheeks each time, causing her mother to ask her earlier if she had a fever. She’d shaken her head no and vowed to put that encounter behind her. It was done, and she would simply never see the man again. Of course, she’d likely have to eschew her friendship with Georgie and make an excuse not to come to Charlotte’s wedding, although that idea pained her deeply. But she could not face Lord Brack, and that was all there was to it.

Dinner wound on, and she managed to keep her mind mostly on Lord Haxton’s comments about his racing stable. As her dinner partner on the left, she’d gotten to take his measure somewhat. A pleasant gentleman, to be sure, and when he glanced at Bella—which happened frequently during the meal—his brown eyes took on a decided gleam. Perhaps her sister’s betrothed had been smitten with her despite his obvious attachment elsewhere this summer. For Bella’s sake, she prayed it was so.

When her mother rose to leave the table, Elizabeth sighed with relief. Her father, brother, and Lord Haxton would likely remain for some time enjoying their brandy or port and talking about the settlements—the family property that formed a good portion of Bella’s dowry in particular. Dickon had told her he’d been regaled with facts, figures, and a history of her dower estate for so long he’d prayed for a summons from the War Office to interrupt them. Papa could drone on and on about his various properties. She might be able to make the excuse of fatigue from her journey or headache to retire early before the men rejoined them.

Not for the first time, she longed for her quiet evenings alone with Dickon in their house in Russell Square. She’d had to give it up when he’d been killed, but the memory of their brief but happy time there was always warm and near to her heart.

After entering the drawing room, Elizabeth sank gratefully onto the lush green brocade chair beside the fireplace, sighing as the warmth seeped into her. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall asleep right here.

“Darling, you must tell us all about the house party,” her mother said, lowering herself into the companion chair across from her. She handed Elizabeth a cup of tea. “You look completely fagged.”

“I am, Mama.” Elizabeth accepted the cup and eagerly sipped the hot, sweet tea. “I’d much rather hear about Bella’s betrothal. How extraordinary that Lord Haxton would propose after so many months without a word.”

“He was much taken with Bella this summer, I just knew it.” Dorothea, her youngest sister, at eighteen, plumped down on the settee. “After Bella told me he’d danced twice with her at three different events in May, I knew he must be in love with her.”

“Was he, Dotty?” Her mother’s eyebrows rose like birds taking flight. “Why didn’t you tell me this at the time? I daresay with that information I could have had Isabella married and in an interesting condition by now.”

“Mama!” Bella blushed rosy red.

“Well, I didn’t want to spoil it if by some chance he actually offered for that Lady Anne Tarkington.” Dotty’s lips curved upward. “Not the friendliest young lady of our acquaintance. Do you know her, Elizabeth? Always snobbish and stuck up because her father’s a marquess.”