Page 68 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“Do not be afraid, Charlotte. I will hire men when I go to London next week—some strong workmen, some Bow Street Runners—to stand guard during the Harvest Home. They will be discreetly placed and will be instructed to take the gang should they appear.”

Charlotte sighed, a smidgeon of relief countering the fear that had seized her. “I do hope that works, Nash.” She worried her lips as another thought occurred. “Drat! The house party will be here. Will they be quite safe, do you think?”

Nash dropped his hand and nodded, his face blank. “I don’t believe the gang would be so foolish as to attack a house with four or five grown men inside, plus your servants. They only chose you because you were isolated, with just one man.” He shrugged. “And your party will also be at the festival, so there should be little danger to them.”

He picked up his cup, found it empty, and set it down again. “The company is fixed, then? Your guests have responded?”

“Yes, I believe I received the final response just yesterday.” Charlotte grasped her cup and sipped, though she grimaced to find the tea grown cold.

Nash assumed a relaxed stance that did not fool Charlotte. Her own stomach had clenched, knowing what he would ask and dreading it.

“And everyone you invited has accepted? You were unsure when last we met whether Lord Kersey would be in attendance.”

Charlotte let out a breath, glad to get the question over with. “Yes. I received the earl’s note yesterday, informing me that he is indeed looking forward to attending once again. Especially as his time was cut so short at the last party.” Her voice wavered. “He still regrets having to leave when he did.”

Nash’s face resembled the carved stone statues of warriors she’d seen at the museum in London. He pursed his lips, as though he longed to say something. Charlotte cringed, expecting some scathing comment.

But he paused, seeming to gather himself, and simply said, “Indeed. Then I am pleased everything is as you wish, Charlotte.”

“Humpf. I would not say it is exactly as I wished.” She hesitated, in two minds about confessing to him, then plunged on. “Lord Kersey rather trapped me into inviting him, much as he did with that first dance at the ball in June.”

Nash gave her a piercing look and said, “Then let us hope it is the last time he is able to do so.” He opened the desk drawer and removed a small oval, the exact size and shape of the one that now hung on the wall to the side of the fireplace in the drawing room at Lyttlefield Park. This one depicted The Bull Inn in pen and ink. He handed it to her.

“I thought you might like this one as a companion to the drawing of St. George’s.”

“Oh, Nash.” Tears sprang to her eyes. Drat the man. Just when she’d settled her mind against him, he had to go and do something like this. “I can’t accept it.”

He smiled, warming her as the tea could not. “Of course you can. A friendly gift is always appropriate. Besides, they should be together.” He put the miniature into her hand and closed her fingers around it. “Let me insist upon this if I cannot insist upon anything else.”

Knowing she had been beaten, Charlotte nodded and clutched the ivory disc. She settled it in the left pocket of her riding habit and patted it securely. “Thank you, Nash.” She tried to avoid looking into his eyes, afraid of what she might find there. Instead, she moved from behind the desk.

“I must go. Georgie will be wondering what has become of me, although with an armed escort, I daresay I’m as protected as she is at home.” Charlotte found her gloves in her other pocket and struggled to pull them on.

“Allow me.” Nash took the black leather glove and held it open for her hand. Swallowing the sudden lump in her throat, Charlotte slid her fingers smoothly into the glove. This was torture. She stole a glance at him. He seemed absorbed in the task.

“Thank you, N—”

“The other one, please.” He held his hand out, and she hesitated before dropping the other glove into it. “You say your escort is armed? Two men or one?”

“Two.” Charlotte stared defiantly into his eyes, only to find them shining with approval.

“An excellent move.” Nash pulled the other glove down over her hand, smoothing the fingers one by one. When he’d finished, Charlotte could barely breathe. She longed for escape from him and the fire he’d started in her belly.

He grasped her hand, raised it for a kiss that seared her through the leather, and said, “I hope all your decisions are as wise.” Then he ushered her into the corridor, calling for Acres.

Charlotte couldn’t take her gaze from him as he gave orders for her men to be fetched and the horses brought round. It had finally happened. She had declared her independence and won the grudging acceptance of this wonderful, stubborn man. She should be elated. Why, then, did she suspect she’d made the wrong choice?

Chapter 24

Almost as if the clock had turned back to August, Charlotte stood in the drawing room once more welcoming her guests to Lyttlefield Park. The only difference seemed to be the chill of the room. Mid-October had settled its cold grip on the countryside. She shivered and drew her shawl closer around her shoulders.

Fanny had been the first to arrive, this time with Lord Lathbury dancing attendance. They had been quite an item in town this whole time, according to Jane. Charlotte wondered about that. Fanny looked tired, her face pinched. When Lathbury sidled up next to her, she stepped away, chatting with someone else. Ignoring him. A lover’s spat, perhaps? Charlotte hoped it would not escalate into a quarrel this weekend.

Jane, as she might have expected, seemed determined to be true to her word. She’d been closely attended by several different men in London since leaving Lord Sinclair’s estate in September. During Charlotte’s short stay with her, she’d seen Jane entertain two different gentlemen. And now she’d invited the young man Charlotte had met at Almack’s in June, George Abernathy, for the weekend. Charlotte had no misgivings about the man himself, although she wondered at Jane’s seemingly frivolous acquisition and discarding of these men. Did she change her suitors frequently to keep from forming an attachment or simply because she could?

Charlotte gave a perfunctory smile and made small talk with her guests, all the while awaiting Lord Kersey’s arrival with real apprehension.

The last time she’d met the man had been in mid-September—what seemed an eon ago. So much had happened since then—the revelation of her father’s and Nash’s perfidy, the escalation of the robber gang’s attacks, the assault on her and Courtland, and Nash’s unexpectedly loverlike attendance on her. The latter circumstance gave her the most pause.