Page 7 of Never Tempt a Widow

“Thank you, brother-in-law. I’m glad to have you to curb my indulgence and my appetite for good.” His mouth curved.

“I consider it my purpose in life to deflect you from too much goodness and insult you out of your melancholy. You will either love or hate me—if the latter, I promise not to call you out. Now, are you going to let me see this blasted wetnurse or not? I have a right, you know, as Edgar is my nephew.”

Rowland rolled his eyes. “Very well. I trust we may finish our meal first?”

When Rowland opened the door to Edgar’s nursery half an hour later, the Widow Castles was dozing in a deep wing chair by the fire, with Edgar asleep in his cradle close by. Both were suffused in the glow from the candles on the mantelpiece, washing everything in a warm gold that looked as if it had come straight from a mediaeval illuminator’s hand.

The cosy domesticity drilled into his heart with a pain so intense, Rowland felt ill. Almost, he hated the young woman for not being Lavinia. It should be her resting there, a smile of sleepy contentment on her face, while her well-fed child slumbered, with not a care in the world.

Fortunately, Felix was at hand to break the spell. “I say, she’s a right out-and-outer. No wonder you were so insistent on having her.”

The inclination to shut the door in his brother-in-law’s face was strong. “That is not the reason. I needed someone at short notice.”

Suddenly aware of their presence, the Widow Castles leapt from her chair. She paused, staring at them, then made them a curtsy. Then she knelt by the cradle to gaze at the sleeping baby.

Rowland moved closer. He cleared his throat. “Has the boy taken to you?”

The fall of her hair all but hid her flush. He should make her wear her locks up, so he could see her face. But then, what would young Edgar have to dig his fingers into?

“He has, sir.” She flicked him a look, and he nodded his understanding.

“So, what are we to call you, Madam? The ‘Widow Castles’ sounds a bit grim for the nursery.”

If he could have done it covertly, Rowland would have kicked Felix. “Mrs Castles—forgive my brother-in-law. This is Mr Felix Ainsworth Esq, Edgar’s uncle by blood, and my relation on sufferance.”

The child made a slight sound, and her attention immediately returned to the cradle. She rocked it gently, and the noises subsided.

“You may call me Fina if you wish, sir.”

“Less of a mouthful, wouldn’t you say, Rowland? I’ll certainly call you Fina, Madam, if you’ll permit me. Short for Seraphina, I imagine?”

She looked down, brushing her hands over the pristine apron she’d been given. “Just Fina. That’s what I’ve always been.”

A loud croak from the cradle distracted them all. Rowland’s son drew in a breath then let out an ear-splitting wail.

Both he and Fina reached for the boy at the same time. She stood her ground, and, purely through inbred good manners, he stood back and let her pick up Edgar.

A short walk around the room, crooning, offered the required comfort, as did Fina’s calm acceptance of the boy’s clenched fists tugging at her golden tresses.

That pain again, like a navvy hammering an iron spike into his heart. He caught Felix’s elbow. “We must go. We’re disturbing the child.”

Felix followed him out the door with a groan. “As you wish,” he said as they paused in the passageway. “But I want to see her by light of day. And play with my nephew too, of course. Now, I’m going to find Jacob and order up more of that lambswool. It’s freezing up here.”

Rowland watched him go, then turned his attention to the oak panels of the door, listening to Fina’s lullaby and trying to understand the pain that clawed at his gut. Seeing the pair of them, the woman and child, had lifted the lid on his grief again, stirring it mercilessly in his stomach. He had not felt it at all when Mrs Radford had held his son—she was there to do a job, no more. She had children of her own—God help them—and had no need to expend affection on Edgar.

But what he’d seen in Fina’s face had been maternal love, that powerful force which binds a woman to a child unto death. It frightened him, grieved him, ignited a flame of jealousy. He neither needed nor wanted these warring emotions.

The Widow Castles must be replaced at the earliest opportunity before she became too attached to his child and caused trouble.

If it wasn’t already too late.