Page 22 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“I certainly hope so, my lady, for the threat is real.” He stared sternly at her, waiting for her to break her gaze first.

She raised her chin and continued to glare at him.

Damnation. When the earl had said she was stubborn, he’d meant it. “Because I bear an action to discharge for the earl, does that mean I am not welcome at your house party?”

“That depends on how involved with the earl you are, my lord.” Lady Cavendish stepped backward, her cool stare chilling his innards.

Not a good sign.

“I wish for no contact with my father whatsoever, my lord.” Her eyes bore straight into him, as if searching out his secrets.

“I believe he said he would not be in the county until the hunting season, so you need have no fear that he’ll come knocking on your door in the near future.” Nash forced a pleasant smile and tone. Grafton hadn’t mentioned her animosity toward him, curse the man. One more hurdle to overcome.

“How do you know him, if I may ask?” Her eyes narrowed, a calculating gleam flaring there.

“The Lords, for the most part. Although—” Nash paused. Redemption in her eyes lay close at hand if he dared take it. Well, faint heart never won fair lady. “I believe we met originally six years ago.”

She cocked her head, her brow still puckered in a frown.

“At the tollbooth in Whetstone.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in. Her head straightened and her brows rose to an impossible height on her forehead as her eyes widened alarmingly, the green dots swimming in a sea of white. Blood drained from her face, leaving it as white as uncooked pastry and she staggered toward him. She grasped his arm, fingers digging into him with a death grip.

“You?” The word came out a croaked whisper.

“Yes, my lady.” Damn, he didn’t want her to faint. “Here, you must sit.” He slid his arm around her shoulders and sat her gently on the chaise. “I wondered if you had recognized me before, but I suppose not.” The warmth of her against him felt amazingly familiar and disconcertingly pleasant.

She shook her head, but her gaze searched his face. “It was dark and you had a hat pulled over your eyes.”

“I was a naval officer at the time. A mere lieutenant does not want his commander informed of his more unsavory activities. A discreet shadow over the face works wonders.” Nash removed his arm, suddenly aware of the impropriety. The loss of contact left him unaccountably sad, although she still clutched his arm.

“Your voice.” She sat straighter and leaned toward him. “It sounded familiar at the ball, but I didn’t quite recall. . .” Her hand clamped down on him. “Oh, God. What happened to him? What happened to Edward? Please, for pity’s sake, you must tell me.” Then she burst into tears.

Nash fumbled for his handkerchief and thrust it into her hand, then returned his arm to her shoulders. Dash it all, he hadn’t meant to upset her so. “Hush, my lady. It’s all right. He is fine; at least he was when last I heard from him.”

Her sobs intensified. “Thank . . . you,” she hitched out at last. “I lived in . . . fear this last six years that my father had followed you and managed to kill him anyway.”

Her body shook with weeping and he tightened his hold.

“I promise you, I believe he is well and happy.” He settled her more comfortably against his chest, her warmth seeping through his jacket. Touching his heart. “I would have kept him with me, as servant to my captain, although he was a bit old for it. I thought it best he stay away from London and your father. Unfortunately, Thrush proved an appallingly bad sailor.”

Her crying had ceased and she gazed up at him, drinking in every word.

“To this day, I cannot describe the shades of green he turned when we made a short run into the Channel.”

She smiled at that and charmed him all over again. “Then where did he go?”

“I sent him to Devonport, near Stoke in Devon. My mother’s family is there and he became head groom at her brother’s stable.”

A light shone in her eyes, although she tensed as if expecting a blow. “Did he marry?”

“Yes. With three sons now, I believe.”

She raised her chin and swallowed, then leaned away. “I am glad he found the happiness he deserved.” Her face took on a fierceness found in mother animals defending their young. “He was the best man I ever met. Kind, gentle, loving. What did it matter that he was a groom?”

“Nothing at all, my lady.” Nash could imagine the insults she had endured regarding her affection for a stable servant. Her defense of the man, even now, spoke volumes to him. Had he misjudged her at the ball and fete? “I knew him but briefly, but I saw in him all you claim. I am very happy to have been of service to him. To you both.”

She bit her lip and nodded, her gaze now on the floor. “I cannot thank you enough, Lord Wrotham, for your kindness that night. Many would simply have paid the toll and been on their way.”