Page 28 of Wedding the Widow

“Then why are you upset that he abided by your wishes?” Fanny peered into her face, then grabbed her arm. “Let us go to the ladies’ retiring room. I believe there is more to this tale than you have told me, and therefore not something that should be spoken where it might be overheard.”

They strolled into the room set aside for the ladies, fortunate to find only two young girls there, just out and whispering together in a corner. They giggled, dipped a curtsy, and scampered out to the ballroom.

Fanny led Elizabeth to a bronze silk chaise and dropped gracefully down onto it. “Now, what exactly has been going on between you and Lord Brack?”

“Well . . .” Elizabeth gnawed at her lip. Could she admit to Fanny something so embarrassing? Truly, she needed guidance from someone, and if any of her friends could give her advice about something so intimate, it was Fanny. “Lord Brack . . .”

“Yes?” Fanny leaned toward her, eyes intent.

“Lord Brack and I . . .” She couldn’t say it, not even to Fanny.

“Lord Brack did what, for heaven’s sake? Kiss you and slip in his tongue? Is that what has given you an attack of the vapors?” Fanny laughed.

Elizabeth pursed her lips. “Something more than that, although that certainly happened as well.” It had been a part of their encounter she had actually liked. The trouble was she had liked all of it—up until the very end.

“Something more?” Fanny’s eyes bulged. “You don’t mean you . . .” She fanned herself briskly as though it were a hot summer’s night, her mouth hanging open. “Are you telling me you ended up in bed with him?”

“Hush, for God’s sake!” Elizabeth grabbed her peacock fan and plied it faster than Fanny. Her cheeks burned like they’d been seared by the sun. “Yes, if you must know. The night of the Harvest Festival. It was a very strange evening.”

“Strange does not begin to describe it, Elizabeth, if you ended up in bed with a man.” Fanny looked at her wild-eyed, as though she had grown two heads. “I’d have wagered a hefty sum you would be the last of our group to wed again. The thought you’d go to bed with a man without marriage never even crossed my mind.”

What would she say to the next part of the confession?

“That’s not the worst part of it.” Elizabeth hung her head. “There’s more.”

“I am afraid to ask.” Fanny gazed out into the empty room and clenched her fist. “Was he rough with you? Did he hurt you?”

“No, it was my fault.” How on earth could she confess this to Fanny?

“Don’t let him make you think it is your fault, my dear, no matter what it was.” Grasping Elizabeth’s shoulders, she shook her until Elizabeth finally met her eyes. “It was not your fault.”

“But it was! I called him Dickon. How is that not my fault?” Elizabeth hid her face in her hands, too mortified to hold her head up any longer. How could she face Lord Brack for this dance? Perhaps she should try to slip out the servants’ entrance and go home.

“You called him Dickon?”

Face still concealed, Elizabeth nodded, not daring to look up. “At the end,” she whispered.

The silence lengthened until Elizabeth could no longer repress her sobs.

Fanny’s hand touched her shoulder. “He’s forgiven you.”

She jerked her head up, tears still falling. “I’m sure he cannot.”

“Then why is he still pursuing you?”

That question brought Elizabeth up short. She hadn’t thought of that. He should have been angry at her for that slip, but that didn’t explain why he pursued her to London last month, nor his behavior this afternoon or his insistence that they dance tonight. He could easily avoid her if he chose. Apparently, he did not.

“I forgave Stephen a similar transgression the first time.” Hands clenched in her lap, Fanny gazed at a small, damasked sofa across the room. “And the second time. Not the third.”

Cold chills raced down Elizabeth’s back. “My dear, I am so sorry for you.”

“It doesn’t matter now.” Arching her neck, her friend smiled, a chilling sight. “I’ve gotten my revenge.” She shrugged and rose. “We must get you back to the ballroom so Lord Brack can claim his dance.”

“Are men so truly forgiving?” Elizabeth stood, shook out her gown, and gripped her fan for courage.

“Usually more so than women in these matters. Follow me.”

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