Page 30 of What a Widow Wants

Matthew could almost see the cogs in the neatly oiled great wheel that was Skelly’s brain as it ground to the perfectly logical conclusion: Lady Sarah making the acquaintance of someone new, who didn’t know the girl, but might be attracted to a large dowry.

“We thank you so much for that generous offer, Lord Lathbury.” Lady Skelton spoke first, with a regal nod of her head. “I hope you will find the house party as advantageous to you.”

If Matthew could manage to invite the precise group of people necessary, this house party could prove not only educational and entertaining, but also devious enough to win him a wife.

CHAPTER 12

As the carriage sped along the well-maintained roads of central Buckinghamshire, Fanny gazed eagerly from one window to the other, drinking in the sights of woodlands, parklands, and grassy meadows. She’d not been out of London since her journey to Kent, and although she’d always thought herself a creature more of Town than country, the bucolic vistas flying by spoke to her of a peacefulness not found in the city.

“Do sit still, Fanny.” Jane, her companion for this weekend at Hunter’s Cross, had withdrawn to the corner of the Marquess of Theale’s huge carriage, eyes closed. “I am worn out with your bouncing about.”

“You mean you are worn out fuming about your quarrel with Lord Sinclair.” Fanny smirked, then sobered. Her sister-in-law had unexpectedly returned to Theale House two days before, withdrawn and upset by something that had happened while she’d been staying with the earl. Fanny had suggested she accompany her to Matthew’s party mainly to cheer her friend. If Jane was going to wear a Friday face the entire time, however, Fanny would quickly rue her kind offer. “Come, you must not show your grumps to company. I’m family. I don’t mind.”

Jane cocked one delicate eyebrow, and glared at her. “I’ll remind you of that generous offer at two o’clock in the morning when I need a friendly bosom to cry upon.”

“I will be happy to oblige you from sinking further into the doldrums as long as I am not otherwise entertained at that moment.” Taking Jane’s hand, Fanny squeezed it and shook it ever so slightly. “Any Widows’ Club member would come to a fellow member’s rescue at the drop of a hat.”

“As long as it wasn’t a particularly fetching hat, I suspect,” Jane murmured, her good humor a little better restored.

They passed through the entry to the driveway, a pair of ancient stone crosses, gray and pitted but somehow still majestic, standing on either side of the crushed gravel drive. The crosses for which the estate had been named, Matthew had said, when inviting her to this party. She’d been surprised, nay shocked, when his invitation had arrived, without a word of reproach for her actions regarding Alan Garrett. In her letter to him, she’d felt she must tell Matthew what she’d almost done and had expected a severe dressing down from him via the return post. Instead, his charming letter had arrived and enclosed an invitation to a house party of his own. His lack of concern had hurt her more than upbraiding her would have. The more she’d thought of that cheerful invitation, the more wary she’d become. Did her almost betrayal mean nothing to him? Had he tired of her refusals and given up his pursuit of her? But then why request her presence here? Did he intend to break with her and wished to do it to her face? She’d not brooded over meeting him again. Until now.

“Now who’s the fount of despair?” Jane poked her shoulder and rose. “Are you going to sit there and moon over God knows what—or whom—or get out of the carriage?”

With a start, Fanny came back to herself. “After you, dear sister-in-law. Precedence must be observed or Lord Lathbury will think us quite barbaric.”

Her friend looked wary of the sentiment, but accepted the handsome groom’s hand without a qualm. Fanny clambered out after her, also availing herself of the strong arm of a footman. With all these attractive men running about, how were women ever supposed to seriously consider the gentlemen attending the party?

Catching Jane’s gaze and dragging it away from the groom, Fanny laughed and tried to indicate with a sharp inclination of her head that the lord and the countess had appeared to welcome them.

“Good afternoon, Lady John, Lady Stephen.” Matthew’s deep voice rumbled and Fanny’s heart leaped in her chest as though it were a stag being chased by a pack of hungry hounds.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” they replied in concert, dipping a curtsy in unison as well.

“You seem well rehearsed, ladies.” Matthew’s gaze took them both in, but it seemed to Fanny he lingered on her a bit longer than her companion. “Perhaps you will entertain us during the weekend with a scene from Drury Lane.”

“I’ve often thought, had my circumstances been different, Lord Lathbury,” Jane favored him with a pert smile, “I might well have made a career on the stage. So exciting to go before people and tell them stories. Quite like being out in Society, if you think of it that way.”

“Lady John, I daresay you would charm any audience, whether from the Lyceum stage or at Lady Jersey’s latest at home. Mama”—he turned to the gracious silver-haired lady beside him—“may I present Lady John Tarkington? Lady John, my mother, the Countess of Lathbury.”

“My lady.” Jane dipped her curtsy.

“I am delighted to meet you, Lady John. I believe I knew your mother, Lady Munro. You favor her about the eyes.” The countess smiled and nodded, then looked expectantly at Fanny.

Unaccountably, her mouth dried as though she’d swallowed a handful of dust.

“And this is Lady Stephen Tarkington.” Matthew grasped her hand and drew her toward his mother. “I have spoken to you of her several times.”

At those ominous words, Fanny stumbled forward, grabbing Matthew’s hand in earnest. “My . . . my lady.” She coughed slightly to clear her throat. “I am so pleased . . .” The words came out in a croak. What must the woman think of her? She swallowed, desperately trying to moisten her parched throat. “I am so pleased to meet you.”

“And I you, Lady Stephen.” The countess’s brilliant blue eyes, an exact copy of the ones that looked out of Matthew’s face, took her in from top to toe. “My son has spoken of you often, in most glowing terms. I am happy to meet you at last.”

Afraid to try to utter another word, Fanny dipped a curtsy. Thankfully, Matthew took her arm and steered them all toward the house. “Mrs. Donnelly will see you to your rooms to freshen up, ladies. Then we are gathering in the drawing room for tea.”

“Are we the first or last to arrive, Lady Lathbury?” Jane had fallen into step with the countess. “I fear we started rather late from London this morning.”

“Somewhere in the middle, I believe.” The older woman smiled and raised her China blue skirts as they mounted the steps of the portico. “Although we have several guests staying at Hunter’s Cross this weekend, many are local families who will attend the festivities, such as dinner and dancing this evening, or the shooting tomorrow, but who will return home at the end of the night.”

“I’ll see you once you are settled,” Matthew said, giving her hand a squeeze. That was encouraging. In ways she couldn’t quite put her finger on, he’d seemed somewhat distant since greeting them. Had his affections turned away from her because of her dealings with Alan Garrett? If so, her moment of folly in Kent might cost her dearly.