Page 6 of What a Widow Wants

At last he rounded a corner into a room filled with long tables loaded with row upon row of delicacies. Sugary pastries, savory lobster patties, puddings and salads enough to make the mouth water. At the end of one he recognized his erstwhile accomplice.

“Abandoned your post a bit early, did you, Kinellan?” Matthew sidled up beside the tall man who could almost have been his twin in earnest.

Gareth, Eighth Marquess of Kinellan, shrugged and forked three patties and a cherry tart onto his already full plate. “Once Aphrodite fled the room, the guard dog ceased to be relevant. So I thought I’d pop along and have a feed.” He glanced up at Matthew, a smirk on his lips. “I assumed you’d be along eventually.”

“Indeed.” Matthew picked up a plate, although still unsettled enough that the food appealed to him not at all.

“I take it things did not go as planned.”

“Hardly. Had they done so Aphrodite would have left on my arm or at my side.”

Kinellan cocked his head. “You proposed?”

“I did.”

“And she refused you?”

“She did.” Matthew speared a patty with enough force to break it in two.

“Is the woman daft?” His friend frowned as he added a slice of cake to his plate and turned to survey the room. “There, that small table in the corner.”

Matthew threw several other savories onto his plate, not paying attention to which fork he grabbed, then followed him to a table scarcely large enough to hold their plates. After juggling the silverware a bit, he forked a lobster patty into his mouth. A heavenly rich sauce burst in his mouth. “Umm. Damned good, this.”

“Wait until you try the capon in pastry.” Kinellan popped one in his mouth and sighed. “Gods, I could live on these, I believe. Do you think I could steal Lady Beaumont’s cook?”

“Huh. You’d have a better chance of stealing Lady Beaumont herself.” Matthew crunched into one of the pastries. His friend was right. “Fanny’s a strong-willed woman, one of the things I most admire about her. Even when she was first out, she spoke her mind, at least more so than most of the young ladies. I found that refreshing and”—he chuckled at the memory of Fanny rapping his hand with her fan—“more than a little stimulating. I love a challenge. She’s never let me down where that’s concerned.”

“And you’ve been besotted with her ever since? When was she out?”

“Ten years ago.”

“Gods. When she turned you down then, why didn’t you offer for another lady? There must have been a few about.”

Glaring at his friend over the table, Matthew gulped his lemonade, cursing that it wasn’t something stronger. “Because I was in love with Fanny. When she married Lord Stephen I thought I’d go mad. But I lingered in London.” Oh yes, he’d dawdled in Town for three long years. “I knew Lord Stephen’s reputation. It was only a matter of time before he strayed.” He carefully put the empty glass on the table. “I wanted to be there if Fanny needed me.”

“And I assume she did.”

“Less quickly than I would have imagined. But then they followed the drum for the first year, his cavalry regiment drilling at Windsor or patrolling the countryside. I saw her whenever he was on leave in London and she seemed happy enough.” He’d known—or God help him, had he hoped?—it wouldn’t last. “Then in ’08 he got a long leave in London. I saw Fanny more at balls and parties, but less and less often with her husband. Each time I saw her she looked sadder and angrier.”

“And you became her friend.”

“I did.” Matthew looked away. “I comforted her as best I could.” She’d cried brokenheartedly in his arms after she’d found out about her husband’s worst infidelity. “Then I tried to persuade her to run away with me.”

Kinellan’s eyebrows jumped an inch. “Gods, you’re a crack shot.”

Shrugging, Matthew crossed his arms over his chest. “I took a chance and lost. She refused me. Again. Much as she despised Stephen by this point, she wouldn’t break her vows. She went back to him and I returned to Hunter’s Cross, in self-imposed exile for the past seven years.”

“You’ve more tenacity than I ever have, I must say.” Kinellan tugged at his mask. “Can we take these infernal things off, at least to eat? Damned nuisance.”

“It’s not midnight yet, but I don’t particularly care if you do. I know you’re the Marquess of Kinellan if no one else does.” Matthew laughed and allowed his boyhood friend to change the subject as he ripped the glittery mask from his face and sent it sailing across the room. “I suppose there’s something to be said for being recognized. You’ll have the ladies flocking to you now.”

“If they wouldn’t have me when they didn’t know me, I’ll not have them when they do.” Kinellan puckered his lips before biting into a cherry tart. He wolfed it down in two bites, then licked the crumbs from his fingers.

“Have you no one to feed you at Castle Kinellan?” Matthew forked up another lobster patty. Lady Beaumont did have a treasure in her current cook.

“Mrs. McGraw is tolerable, but it’s very plain cooking.” Seizing another capon pastry, Kinellan bit into it slowly, a look of ecstasy on his face. “I’m lucky if I get a decent pudding out of her.” He swallowed the second bite and sipped his lemonade. “So now, after all this time, you intend to go after Lady Stephen?”

“Of course I do.” The food must have rattled his friend’s brain. “I’m going to dance with her before the night is through, and marry her before the year is out.”