Page 6 of Never Tempt a Widow

Chapter Three

“So, where is this paragon, this non-gin-sodden woman who came when you snapped your fingers?”

Rowland, sitting as he had for the past half hour staring at a game pie and not eating it, dragged out the chair next to him.

“Sit down, Felix. And please curb your enthusiasm. I’m in no mood to be cheerful. I’ve just had to turn away a woman I trusted, which shows my initial lack of judgement, and literally beg her replacement to accompany me—which shows a lack of persuasive skills. Nothing could be further from your happy vision of me snapping my fingers. She is only here for a day. She could be gone by tonight.”

“Really?” Felix seated himself and attacked the pie with a knife. “She may be here longer than anticipated, as it’s just started snowing outside.”

Rowland’s heart lifted. If the Widow Castles were forced to stay a night or two, she might find it harder to abandon Edgar in favour of her carrots and cabbages.

“Has he taken to her?”

“What? Oh, I assume so. I haven’t looked.”

Felix paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “You haven’t looked? You’ve left your only son and heir in the hands of a complete stranger?”

The hairs prickled on the back of Rowland’s neck. “She’ll do him no harm. She’s just lost her own child.” He’d seen the empty cradle in one corner of the widow’s cottage and had felt a stab of compassion.

He poked at the slice of pie Felix had served him. It hadn’t seemed right to intrude, to stand watching as the young woman bared her breast in front of him and brought Edgar up to suckle.

“She might be a child stealer. Like you sometimes hear of tinkers doing.”

“No. She’s nobly born and bred.”

Felix’s eyebrows shot up. “Fascinating.” He signalled Jacob over and requested a jug of lambswool. “A tankard for your master too,” he instructed the servant. “He needs warming up.”

Rowland took a bite, then reached over and spread some wild crab apple conserve on the meat before taking another. It tasted good. When had he last felt able to enjoy food? He couldn’t recall.

“So, what makes you say she’s highborn?”

“The way she speaks, moves. Looks.” He hadn’t failed to notice her beauty before he’d startled her from sleep. Not even the unkempt dark-blond hair, the reddened eyes, or tearstained cheeks could obscure the charming lines of her features or the delicacy of her mouth. Though her hands were begrimed, and the fingernails soiled with dirt, her fingers were long and slender.

Her house was spotless, despite her recent trauma, and the garden he’d passed through was ordered to perfection, with straight rows of bean poles, uniform ranks of winter greens, and soil tilled to an evenness his tenant farmers would envy—not a weed or a rock to be seen.

“Then you must introduce me to her. As soon as we’ve finished our meal. Ah, the lambswool.” Felix took the steaming jug from Jacob and poured the warmed ale for himself and Rowland. He fished out one of the floating sugared crab apples and sucked on it thoughtfully, then spat the pips onto his platter. “If we are to be snowed in together, a meeting may be unavoidable.”

Rowland gazed through the diamond-paned window at the leaden sky and asked himself why he was so unwilling to say more about the young woman upstairs or present her for his brother-in-law’s inspection.

“Holding out on me, sirrah? She must be something worthy of note. Handsome enough to be some fellow’s discarded mistress, fallen on hard times? If you were to take a filly for your pleasures, I wouldn’t blame you, Rowland. Nor would Lavinia. She’d have understood.”

“I’m not in the market for a mistress. She’s supposed to be a widow anyway.” He jabbed his knife into the pie, then steepled his fingers. “One thing I can tell you—she’s afraid of something.”

“What kind of something?”

“I don’t know. A person, perhaps? I had her up behind me on Saxon, with her arms around my waist, and as we went up High Street towards the gatehouse, she suddenly clutched at me with all her might. Fair squeezed the breath out of me. She was shaking like a leaf, but it all passed very quickly. She’d seen someone, or something, that put the fear of God into her.”

“A mysterious noblewoman with a shadowy past. Couldn’t you just have sent to the next village for a wetnurse from the peasantry? This one sounds like trouble. Any idea what spooked her?”

“None. All I saw was my steward, heading off into town. He didn’t notice us, but she seemed to recognise him.”

“Or she thought she recognised him. Now, I am so intrigued I wouldn’t go home tonight even if the snow comes to nothing. I simply must meet this woman. Have her dine with us later.”

Rowland sat forward. “And make the rest of the servants jealous? That is far from wise.”

“Your magnanimous attitude towards your minions does you credit. It will also see you taken advantage of.”

“I’m too clever to be taken advantage of.” Lavinia had always assured him of that fact. Ah, Lavinia! What a rock she had been to him—the beginning of a new family when he had lost his own. Still—he had Felix now.