Page 33 of Wedding the Widow

Aghast, Elizabeth drew back further into the soft mattress. Never had she ever seen her friend this frenzied, storming about like an avenging angel. The pose certainly became her—she’d become both terrifying and magnificent. Had Lord Brack actually done those things, he’d soon find himself at the unforgiving mercy of the Countess of Wrotham. But she had to step in and stop Charlotte from mowing a swath of destruction that would cut down anything in its path, including Jemmy.

“Charlotte, I assure you, it is not what you think.” Her words arrested her friend mid-stride.

“What do you mean, ‘not what I think’? Does it concern Lord Brack or not?” Deep green eyes glared at her.

“Yes, it does concern him; however—” She raised a finger to stop her friend’s headlong push for vengeance. “He has made me no promises he is not willing to keep. He has made no unwilling advances.” She sighed. “Quite to contrary.”

“So all is well between you?” A perplexed frown marred Charlotte’s face. “I don’t understand.”

“I have not spoken with him today, but I think I must. We had appointed today to settle things between us.” Elizabeth shuddered to think how that coming interview would unfold.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Charlotte flopped onto the bed, her face now wreathed in smiles.

“I had not seen you, and I didn’t like to write it.” Sticking her resolve, Elizabeth looked her friend in the eyes. “But I will tell you now, and then I will see Lord Brack.”

“And you will tell him . . . what?” Her friend’s happy face smote her, yet she must continue.

“I must tell him I believe I am increasing.”

Chapter 13

“You believe what?” Color drained from Charlotte’s face as her hand flew up to clutch her throat.

Elizabeth blinked back tears. Until recently, she hadn’t given a thought to the possibility she could be with child. She and Dickon had been married a month, trying delightfully hard for her to become pregnant before he had to leave for the Peninsula campaign, but she had not conceived. So why would she have thought it could happen in just one night? “Yes, I believe I am going to have another child.”

“And the father is . . . Lord Brack?” Charlotte whispered, as though she thought someone could hear her through the door.

“Of course, it is Lord Brack’s child.” Indignant, Elizabeth sat up in the bed. “Dickon has been dead for well over a year.”

“No, no, my dear.” A flustered Charlotte twisted the coverlet in her hands. “I only thought perhaps you had been attached to . . . or succumbed to an old friend in London. So of course, Lord Brack.” Her brows knit. “But when did you . . .”

“The night of that wretched Harvest Festival.” She covered her face. “When they crowned the Corn Maiden, something came over me, over us.” Picturing the Harvest Lord kissing the Corn Maiden was all it took to make her blood begin to stir. “You really should ban that pagan ritual, Charlotte.”

“You went into the fields at the festival and . . .” The excitement in Charlotte’s voice jerked Elizabeth’s gaze back to her friend, who was looking guilty herself.

“No, of course not.” Indignation rose in Elizabeth once more. “Why would you think I’d do something that brazen?”

“Well, because . . .” Charlotte’s face turned the exact shade of red of the apples in the still-life painting on the wall. “Nash and I . . .”

“Charlotte, you didn’t!” Lord, she’d never have believed her friend could do such a bold thing. “My dear, how pagan of you.” And Fanny had said she and Lord Lathbury had been in the shadows of the field as well. Perhaps the feeling of power that night hadn’t been a product of her imagination.

“Nash said it was an ancient fertility custom. If the Harvest Lord and the Corn Maiden made a child in the field on that night, the spring crops would be plentiful. We had already agreed to marry, so . . .” Red now to the tips of her ears, Charlotte smiled and shrugged. “We even had a corn dolly presiding over us.”

“A what?”

“A corn dolly. A little figure of a woman made from the last stalks of wheat cut this year. Also to insure fertility.” Charlotte ducked her head. “Apparently it has worked, for I am certain I am increasing as well.”

“Charlotte! Oh, my dear, how wonderful.” Elizabeth hugged her friend, thanking the Lord for this good fortune. “Does Nash know?”

Charlotte nodded. “I told him as soon as I was certain, or fairly certain. I haven’t had my courses since that night. I’ve also been tired lately and queasy in the mornings.”

“Then I’d say you are almost definitely with child. My goodness. That makes three of us widows caught at your house parties, if you still count little Maria.” That news had been the talk of the company even before the festival.

“Well, I suppose I must include the Countess of Kersey, because even though we cannot be certain she began increasing while she was here, she surely met the man here.” A look of fleeting irritation passed over her friend’s face.

“It seems you have already had practice as a matchmaking mama, Charlotte.” Elizabeth laughed.

“Indeed, I have.” Charlotte joined her, then quickly sobered. “So you will marry Lord Brack?”