Page 50 of What a Widow Wants

“Lord Wrotham should have warned us this might happen,” Fanny said at last. “It seems to have affected at least two couples. I couldn’t believe Elizabeth Easton had her lips glued to Lord Brack’s. I thought she was still mourning her husband.”

“Three couples, my dear. Did you not see Lord Wrotham on the ground as we ran by?”

“With whom?” Fanny sat up as though alarmed.

“Lady Cavendish, I am almost certain. Who else, since they just announced their betrothal. Which reminds me.” He pulled her back against his chest, secure in his arms. “You have yet to name the date for our wedding. We agreed it would be at Hunter’s Cross, but not when.”

She went still in his arms, for such a long time he’d have thought she’d fallen asleep, except her body remained tense. At last she sighed and sat up. “I must consult with Theale about drawing up the settlements, and with Lady Theale about arranging for my personal possessions to be packed and sent to the estate. Allow me to complete those tasks before we proclaim a date.”

“Do not take too much time over it, my love.” He drew her back down to him and nuzzled her neck. “Not only do I want you with me as soon as possible, but after this evening, I would not at all be surprised if you are not with child.” He shook his head. “In truth, I’m surprised Wrotham Village isn’t threefold as large as it is if this rite is performed every year. I wonder if most births in the vicinity occur in June or July.”

“I do not think we need worry on that account. I have been drinking the herbal tea suggested by a midwife my cousin in Copsale uses since just after we met in June, with no ill effects. I’m certain we are safe.”

“I didn’t know you’d been doing that.” Not sure if he was appalled or grateful for Fanny’s forethought, Matthew laid his head on the ground, the dead leaves crackling in his ear. “Is that why you didn’t conceive when we were together in London those four months?”

A long pause before she whispered, “Yes.”

He’d wondered at the time if perhaps she was barren, for he certainly took no precautions to avoid getting her with child. After the first month, in fact, he’d hoped against hope she’d conceive with his child, a strong argument for her to go away with him. But it hadn’t occurred until... “You stopped taking it after you returned to Stephen?”

After a while, when he believed she wouldn’t speak, she said, “Yes,” very low. “I felt so guilty, I thought if I gave him a child it would assuage the remorse I felt.”

Sighing, Matthew sat them up. No need to wish back deeds long past. They must move forward, put their past to rest, and create a family of their own. “We should return to the field. The others will have gathered at the carriages.”

He stood, then helped her to stand before adjusting his clothing.

“Can you brush the back of my pelisse? I hope it’s not ruined.” Fanny had turned away from him, industriously patting the front of the garment.

“I believe it is fine. It will be dark in any case. No one will see a stain or two.” He grabbed her hands, stilling them from their insistent brushing. “We will meet in London next week, after our return. I leave Kent on the morrow. When will you follow?”

“I am promised to Charlotte until Tuesday.” She seemed to shake off her melancholy spirit and smiled. “With all the hullabaloo that took place last night and tonight, I believe she will be in need of assistance from all members of the Widows’ Club.”

Matthew had to agree. If ever there had been a chaotic evening, tonight had been it. The robber gang that had apparently been plaguing Kent, and more particularly the estates of Lyttlefield Park and Wrotham Hall, had finally been apprehended when they tried to break into Wrotham’s manor house. To add an even more bizarre twist to the story, Lady Cavendish’s stepson, Sir Edgar Cavendish, had turned out to be the gang’s ringleader. His capture, just before dinner, had put a thrilling cap on the evening. Or so they had thought. Shortly after he’d been taken away, Lady Cavendish and Lord Wrotham had announced their betrothal. That, along with the wildly sensual pagan rite of the Harvest Festival and Fanny’s earlier acceptance of him, had made this evening one of the wildest Matthew had ever experienced in his life.

“I will give you time to return and settle in, then I will call upon you for tea on Friday next. By then I hope all your tasks will be complete and we can name the day and announce the betrothal.” Offering her his arm, Matthew drew her arm through the crook of his, and moved off toward the bright moonlight showing at the edge of the trees. It could not be too soon before Fanny stood beside him as his wife. Then life could begin for them in earnest.

CHAPTER 21

Fanny sat once more in the small front receiving room of Lord Theale’s London townhome awaiting Matthew’s arrival and dreading it. She’d not accomplished any of the tasks she’d told him she would be taking care of because she still feared Matthew’s reaction to her news about Ella. That he would be angry she knew; how angry he would be was the question.

In any case, she would not have had much chance to speak with Lady Theale this past week. Lavinia had already begun the process of the removal of the family to their primary estate for the coming Christmas season, and so Fanny had scarcely seen her since her return from Kent.

Pouring more tea, and dropping in her customary two lumps of sugar, Fanny kept rehearsing what she would say. No matter how many times she said it, it never sounded very good. Pray God he could get past the initial shock so he could help counsel her on what then to do with Ella. She’d come to believe that a governess for the girl at home at Hunter’s Cross would help keep the scandal at bay for a while at least. Perhaps in the quiet society of Buckinghamshire Ella could find friends and perhaps a husband who would overlook her mother’s sins.

“Frances?”

Fanny jumped at the sound of her sister-in-law’s voice in the doorway. Dressed in her most fashionable brown pelisse and hat, Lavinia had stopped apparently on her way out, and now stood, head cocked. “Are you taking tea alone, Frances? Why ever are you not in the drawing room?”

“I’m waiting on a caller, Lavinia. He should be here at any moment now.” Fanny set her cold cup back on the saucer.

“He?” Her eyebrows rose over dark, disapproving eyes.

“The old friend I told you I had become reacquainted with this past summer. Lord Lathbury.”

“Ah, yes. The earl you met in June. Have you quite made up your mind about him, I hope?” The marchioness would never let that go, apparently. Well, she’d be happy when she found out the truth.

“I believe Lord Lathbury and I are about to come to an accord. That is the reason for his visit today. He met Ella several weeks ago and she seemed very taken with him, so we are proceeding with a conversation regarding the possibility of a marriage.”

“Why was Ella’s acceptance of him a possible impediment?” Lavinia gazed at her as though she belonged in a lunatic asylum.