Page 44 of Wedding the Widow

The shadowy dining room held an extremely long, polished cherry table laid with three places, one at both ends, and a third in the middle. The huge polished expanse, a raised gilt design running around its edge, would easily seat twenty. How on earth could they converse normally at such a distance?

“I’d suggest eating in the kitchen, but Mrs. Harmon would probably pull my ear completely off.” A ruddy-faced young man, who looked like a taller, blonder version of Jemmy, melted out of the shadows and into the stronger light afforded by the three candelabras that lined the table.

“Hal!” Jemmy bounded forward to shake the young man’s hand. “What the devil are you doing here? You are never home from Cambridge so early.”

Hal grinned, a charming, lopsided smile that, paired with his unruly curls and sparkling blue eyes, was immediately endearing.

“Bit of a stramash over another chap landing in the duck pond.” Hal bounced on his feet, as if he were a child’s ball come to life.

“You never!” Jemmy chuckled and shook his head.

“Did I not? Bloke had put it about I fancied one of the most unappealing young ladies I’d ever seen in Town. If that had gotten back to her, I’d never have got rid of her or her father.” He eyed Elizabeth, an approving appraisal to judge by the grin on his face. “I see you’ve fetched up a likely prospect.”

“I’m sorry. Mrs. Elizabeth Easton, may I present my brother, Lord Harold Cross? Hal is my younger brother, a year younger than Georgina and a bit of a bounder.” Despite his words, Jemmy looked rather proud of the young man.

“It’s good to see you too, Jem.” Lord Harold sent a glance of mock scorn to his brother. “But I am delighted to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Easton.” He bowed charmingly and raised her hand for a kiss. “You are a friend of our sister, Lady Georgina?”

“I am, my lord.” To her astonishment, the young man then grabbed the silverware and plate and strode to the end of the table.

“I intend to eat down here with the lovely Mrs. Easton.” Lord Harold turned an innocent stare on her. “You don’t mind me monopolizing your time, do you, ma’am? Unless you wish to join us, Jemmy?” Pulling out Elizabeth’s chair, Hal grinned down at his brother, who was standing, hands on hips, glaring at them both.

Elizabeth lowered herself into the proffered seat, glancing from brother to brother, torn between dual desires to laugh and weep. The presence of another person had been expected, but she’d anticipated a stiff, unpleasant dinner with Lord Blackham. A brother was a welcome change of dinner companion; however, the subject she needed to discuss with Jemmy couldn’t be broached, not before this stranger.

“Mrs. Easton is my betrothed, Hal, so mind your manners.” Jemmy had piled cutlery and napkin onto his plate, grabbed a wineglass, and joined them at the end of the table.

“Ah, come to get the old man’s blessing?”

“Quite.” Jemmy unloaded his plate, setting the items next to Elizabeth’s place.

“So I may wish you happy?” The eager face lit up again. Such a jovial young man. Elizabeth quite liked him. It was hard not to.

“Not quite yet, it seems.” Jemmy glanced at her, raising an eyebrow.

If Jemmy wanted to ask his brother’s opinion of their situation, it would likely do no harm. He’d know eventually if the wedding never occurred. She gave a very slight nod and sat down, her appetite suddenly vanished.

Chapter 17

Lord Harold lived up to his promise of being a charming if somewhat roguish dinner companion. He possessed a quick wit that put Elizabeth at her ease immediately. Stories of his escapades at university had her laughing in spite of her circumstances.

“You have been at Cambridge how long, my lord?” Elizabeth set her knife and fork down, astonished to find the plate completely clear. She’d feared she’d have no appetite, but Lord Harold’s engaging stories had managed to take her mind off her own woes.

“Only since this fall. Before that I was at Oxford off and on for two years.” He cut his gaze at Jemmy, who snorted.

“My brother, while a brilliant scholar when he wishes to be, usually spends his time at university getting into and out of scrapes. Hal, you’ve been sent home four times in the past three years?” Jemmy sipped his wine, eyes wide and innocent.

With a large, false sigh, Lord Harold slumped in his seat. “Alas, yes. I had actually hoped it would be five by now. I’m in a race with Lord Barger to see who can get booted out of school the most times before our fathers stop sending us. Currently, Barger is one up on me with five.”

Despite herself, Elizabeth had to laugh at the long, unrepentant face. The situation wasn’t crushing, really. Lord Harold, as a younger son, had to make his way in the world, and education would help that. But his joie de vivre, irrepressible as Jemmy’s, made it hard to censure him. “Certainly, you will settle down to your studies eventually, Lord Harold?”

He drained his wine and signaled for more. “Highly unlikely. I’ve my own inheritance when I reach thirty. And then I can always find a pretty girl with a substantial dowry to marry. If I play my cards right, I may never have to do anything with my life save get myself out of scrapes and marry well.” Wagging his eyebrows in rakish glee, he sent Elizabeth into peals of laughter. “Which brings me to the subject of marriage in general and your marriage in particular, Jemmy. You have obviously betrothed yourself to a lady with a keen discernment for wit. I commend you.” He raised his glass of burgundy to Jemmy. “So why may I not wish you happy?” Do you fear Mrs. Easton means to jilt you?”

“Nothing so dramatic as that.” Jemmy’s laughing face sobered at once.

Reminding her anew of her own plight, his words made Elizabeth’s spirits plummet.

“Father has forbidden us to marry.” Jemmy drank deeply from his wine goblet.

“Does he object to your bride-to-be?” Lord Harold cocked his head toward her, twirling the stem of his wineglass between thumb and forefinger. “You are suddenly much more intriguing, if I may say so, Mrs. Easton. I love a puzzle.” His infectious grin made it impossible for her to take offense.