“Miss Rossi. What brings you to my establishment?” The Black Widow asked in an even tone before sitting behind the desk.
Unable to discern emotion without seeing the widow’s expression, Belle fought the urge to bite her lip.
“I understand you offer help to women like me.”
“What help are you looking for, dear? I offer a myriad of services. For instance, you might desire a list of potential next clients, as I understand you are between callers at the moment. I do not think that is why you’re here, but I’d prefer not to guess.”
Pulling her cloak of calm about her, Belle vowed to not let this woman see her nerves or her surprise at the knowledge ofher single status. One side of her mouth curled in a lazy smile. “You are correct, I do not need help in finding clients. Indeed, if that were what I wanted, my reputation is enough to have someone on my doorstep with the scribbling of a single note.”
Bessie nodded once, waiting her out.
“What my reputation does not allow for is a list of suitors from which to choose a husband, as I suspect you guessed.” She had a strong suspicion that flattery would help her cause. A woman who ran an empire such as the widow’s would likely appreciate recognition of her power. “Thus, if I could not control the selection process, I wanted the best. Hence, I requested this audience. Can you find someone willing to marry me?”
The widow’s mouth twitched at her question, but quickly returned to neutrality. “I have no doubt I can. Before we negotiate terms, can you tell me what you’re looking for?”
Belle stared at her, at a loss. She’d been so preoccupied with worry that a man would have to be rewarded for choosing her that she had given no thought to what she’d like beyond her facetious comment to Frank. She wasn’t certain she wanted to put words to preferences for fear of getting her hopes up. Surely her profession—pastprofession—was a big enough hurdle?
Bessie waited, silent and still.
Right, then. Belle waved off her fear of rejection, of never having a family, to be revisited when there were no witnesses. “It likely goes without saying, but someone gentle and kind. Someone trustworthy with my heart as well as my blunt. No one who would harm me or run about with a mistress. And yes,” she smiled again. “That is perhaps ironic, but I want children, a family. Not an absentee husband simply for appearances.”
The widow nodded. Apparently, she did not need to take notes. “What else? Can you be more specific about day-to-day interactions or attributes?”
Belle was at a loss. “Hmm, cleanliness—”
The widow slashed a hand, and Belle clamped her lips shut. “Let’s try this. Who among your past clients was your favorite? What about him did you like?”
“Oh.” North popped into her head. The Earl of Northumberland—she barely recalled his actual name, Giles, because everyone referred to him as North. He was enough of a favorite that she’d spent the past few years choosing benefactors who she thought might have the same traits. Her choice to retire now stemmed from her age and concern that she was almost past her child-bearing years, but also included a thread of frustration at never having found a match as good as North.
Bessie watched her, making her want to squirm and wish again that she could see the woman’s expressions.
The widow’s voice remained as calm as a lake on a windless day when she pushed for more information. “’Tis apparent you have a favorite, at least. Would you care to share your thoughts on his characteristics?”
“We had a true companionship. It wasn’t all about bedroom activities. We discussed our favorite books, the news, many things. He took care of me when I was sick. We both understood loneliness and not fitting comfortably into society.”
“What of family?”
“For me, my wish to have one. He talked about what he’d do differently with his son if he could and what he missed about his wife.”
“Why did the affair end?”
“He hated London, and I was young enough to still crave the balls and late nights and social life. When he went nor—” she coughed to cover her slip “—home, he invited me.”
“Do you regret not going?”
“I cannot say. He never offered me a lifetime. So I’d have had no way of earning the same money or investing it as effectively as I had by staying. I suppose neither of us was quitein love,although we cared for one another a great deal.” But she’d always wondered if she’d done the right thing in refusing.
Bessie nodded. “That information is helpful. I will consider the matter and send word for you to return.”
Belle knew when she was being dismissed. Rising, she thanked her hostess and allowed the woman waiting in the hall to walk her back to the ladies’ entrance where her carriage waited. Her nerves had settled, whether from handing the matter over to an expert or due to fond memories of North. Either way, she had no choice but to wait.
Chapter Two
Luke Lynwood groanedeven before prying his eyelids open. Taking stock, he felt confident that he was in a bed, although he did not recall getting there. There was a pillow under his face, linens rather than upholstery under his hand, and his boots were off.
Squinting one eye open, he verified he was in his own bed. During his father’s unexpected summer visit, his friend William had taken him to the home of the woman William had been wooing. The next morning, hungover, Luke had been rude to his hostess and her guest, who had berated him the entire time she’d ridden him home in her carriage.
Now it was autumn again. Luke had not visited his childhood home in North England in over a year, and William was in love and determined to marry the widow who had once opened her home to Luke.
