Page 5 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

“Members of the ton have been gossiping about me?” Such a thing was baffling to even contemplate. “No one in London ever gave a fig about Maria Wickley.”

“But they all give a fig about Lady Kersey and her husband’s scandalous infidelity while she was carrying his child. And they care even more about his death in a duel by a man defending his wife’s honor. Even though the woman had none, to be sure.”

Maria hitched in a breath. Alan had been discovered in Lady Remington’s bed by Lord Remington, in such a way, she had gathered—certainly no one had breathed a word of what had actually happened to her directly—that there had been no doubt whatsoever what they had been doing there. “So Society is reviling my dead husband. I can understand why they would. I have done so, ever since I discovered what he had done.” She had rung a peal over his head while he lived and, after his death, had done the same to his empty bedchamber. “But that should have nothing to do with me. I am the woman wronged in this whole horrible mess.”

Jane shook her head. “Unfortunately, my dear, the ton is made up of some of the ficklest people on earth. They have concluded that you were no better than you should be—believe me when I tell you they have been counting the months since your wedding and the numbers do not add up to a child conceived in wedlock. They are saying you trapped him into a marriage he did not want, as evidenced by his infidelity so soon after the marriage.” Jane ducked her head. “There is even one hideous on-dit that claims the child is not Lord Kersey’s.”

Maria gasped, her stomach clenching on the food that now threatened to come back up. “How dare they! Jane most certainly is Alan’s child.”

“Shhh. You mustn’t upset yourself. This is exactly why I did not wish to tell you what has been said in Town before now. But they have torn your reputation to shreds along with Lord Kersey’s.” With nervous fingers Jane picked at the edge of her sleeve. “Compound that with your husband’s scandalous death, and you are now considered persona non grata in London. How long that will last I do not know. It may be that your disgrace will be displaced by the next outrageous on-dit that comes along. But until then, you must stay well away from London, lest you receive the cut direct whenever you show your face.”

Maria sagged against her pillows and closed her eyes, not wanting to think about the devastating news Jane had just delivered. Even though she had not truly thought of going to London, unless to stay with Jane, to be told that she could not go unless she wanted to endure the worst Society could do to her made her want to give up completely. What use was it to try to go on?

“My lady?”

The strange voice brought Maria up instantly to a sitting position, her gaze on the tall older woman in the nurse’s uniform standing in the doorway, a swathed bundle in her arms.

Jane. Her daughter.

“Lady John gave instructions for me to bring Lady Jane to you at exactly three o’clock.” Nurse hesitated, but Maria opened her arms and the woman laid her sleeping child in them. Her baby.

“Thank you, Nurse. That will be all.” Jane dismissed the woman, who left the room, then rose. “I will leave you with my namesake for a while. Try not to worry. It will likely take the solicitors time to find the new earl. We will think of something before then.”

“Yes, we will.” Maria gazed down on the angelic face in her arms. The petite nose, the delicate dark brows, the soft rounded cheeks. No one would take her daughter’s birthright from her. Lady Jane Garrett would have her come-out in Society one day and nothing her parents had done was going to stop that from happening. Whatever it took, she would make certain that her daughter, hers and Alan’s, had every advantage socially possible. So help her God.

Chapter Two

Mid-October 1817

Golden-yellow leaves swirled against the windowpanes of the cozy drawing room, making Maria smile as she poured tea for her and Jane. Autumn had always been her favorite season—the crisp air, the colorful leaves, the sweet taste of roasted chestnuts. Few things had made her smile in the past months. Her future was still as uncertain as it had been when Jane was born.

“So you have still had no recent word from Mr. Clarke?” Jane tasted her tea and sighed with pleasure. “Is this the new tea from Jackson’s?”

“No, I haven’t, and yes, it is.” Maria dropped a lump of sugar into her own cup and stirred it briskly. “I finally decided to order the tea just last week. I feel odd spending money that truly isn’t mine, but we have to live until the heir is found.” She gritted her teeth to keep from tearing up each time she thought of her precarious circumstances. “My last letter from Mr. Clarke, which I received a fortnight ago, assured me that he had set every available clerk to searching Alan’s lineage to find the heir. He mentioned that these inquiries sometimes take a very long time to complete. Years, he told me, in some cases.” She truly didn’t think she could live for years with the uncertainty of eviction hanging over her and Jane’s heads. Her inquiry as to whether Alan had made a will benefitting her or her daughter had been met with a dignified but firm “no” from Mr. Clarke in June. “So I try to maintain as frugal an existence as possible.”

“You are a model of frugality, my dear.” Sipping the fragrant tea, Jane nodded, and Maria relaxed back a trifle. “You have been putting that purchase off until I believed we would need to steep the leaves three times ourselves.”

“I simply feel that as I’ve been left in charge of the estates, it is my duty to Alan’s family name to keep the Kersey legacy in the best manner I can.” It was her daughter’s legacy as well, even though once the heir took possession of the title little Jane might not get a farthing of help out of him.

“You are conscientious to a fault, Maria.” Jane set her cup down, her face betraying a tinge of surprise. “You have come far since this time last year.”

“Being widowed twice in almost as many years may have had something to do with that.” She couldn’t help the forlorn tone in her voice. It had only been three years ago that she and William had been running and laughing through the falling leaves on his father’s estate in Oxfordshire, without a care in the world save to make sure they came home in time for supper. If only she could get back to those carefree days, with a man she loved and who loved her by her side. If she and William could have waited, could have grown old together, with children of their own, she never would have made the horrible mistake of marrying Lord Kersey.

“You needed to grow up very quickly, my dear,” Jane said, patting her hand. “I am sorry for that, I truly am. You should have been allowed to stay in the schoolroom longer, should have had your come-out, rather than be consigned to crepe at the age of sixteen.”

“At least that indignity is over now as well. I would never have dreamed I would be wearing these clothes again.” Maria smoothed out her half-mourning gown of gray silk. “I am surprised Mama hadn’t already sent them to the church for an overseas mission. When I realized I was about to need them again, I wrote and asked her for them. They arrived two days ago. Just in time.”

“Well, they still fit marvelously well to judge by this one.” Jane smiled and added more tea to her cup. “Not every woman keeps her figure after having a child.”

“What will that matter?” Leaning back in her chair, Maria poked out her bottom lip. “Even when I can put aside this half mourning, I still won’t be able to go back into Society unless . . .” She looked up hopefully. “Have you heard from your friends in London?” If the gossip had died down there was a chance she might be received by the ton once more. “Has the scandal of Alan’s death been forgotten?”

Slowly, Jane sipped her tea, avoiding Maria’s gaze. “When I last heard from my sister-in-law, she did mention that talk had begun to die down, however—”

“It has?” A thrill of excitement shot through her. Over the past months she’d brooded over what was to become of her if she were asked to leave Kersey Hall. Unless she wanted to move back to her parents’ home—a prospect that filled her with despair—the simplest thing she could do would be to marry again. Not that another marriage was what she wanted at all. If Alan had taught her anything it was that men could be the worst deceivers. But in her straitened circumstances, a husband meant security for her and little Jane. If Maria could be accepted in London once more, she could perhaps meet a man with similar needs—a widower, in search of a wife and mother for his children. Not an ideal match, but one she could perhaps come to accept in exchange for the security it offered. The first step, however, was to be allowed back into the beau monde. “What did Lady Theale say?”

Looking uncomfortable, Jane replaced her teacup in its saucer, then rose and stalked toward the fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily. “I am afraid the length of time it has taken for the solicitor to find the Kersey heir has brought the matter of the duel and its outcome to the attention of the ton once more. On-dits flying around about claim state that there is no heir and that the estates will be forfeited to the Crown.”

“Dear lord!” Maria’s hand flew to her throat.