Page 23 of Wedding the Widow

So he wished to “renew their acquaintance” did he? How civil of him. Why would he wish to do such a thing when he seemed to have not a care in the world for her in the past three weeks? Such neglect could not be mended with a simple “how do you do.” Her hands trembled with her effort to restrain herself from tearing the letter into a thousand pieces and feeding it to a goat.

“Is anything the matter, ma’am?” She spun around to find Weller eyeing her warily.

“No, Weller, thank you.” Elizabeth breathed deeply, trying hard to calm herself as best she could. Much as she’d like to slap the wretch’s face, she could not see him, and Weller could not act in her place and lay hands on the son of a peer. Her reply must, however, voice her displeasure at his cavalier manner toward her.

I understand Lady Braeton’s Harvest Ball is this evening, and I hoped I might ask for the first dance with you. We have much to speak of, if you will be so kind as to grant me this boon.

Your devoted servant,

Jemmy

Elizabeth dropped the letter onto the desk and sat down heavily, leaning her head on her hands. What must she do?

She had indeed planned to go to Lady Braeton’s ball this evening. She and Dickon had always attended together. Tonight, she wanted to attend in order to lay the ghost of Dickon for good, then move on to another part of her life with her late husband’s blessing. What a muddle Lord Brack had made of her plans. She most emphatically did not want to see him, but neither did she want the rogue to prevent her from attending. What to do?

“Weller, tell Tawes to tell the gentleman there is no answer. Just that. No answer. If he asks to see me, tell him I am indisposed.”

“Very good, ma’am.” A fiendish glint of approval in the maid’s eyes said Weller relished the answer she was about to deliver—and the havoc it would likely cause. The maid nodded and left the chamber.

Seized with a fit of pique, Elizabeth grabbed the letter and tore it into tiny pieces. With a cry of contempt, she strode to the fireplace and flung the bits into the flames. They flashed briefly, as they burned. So, she hoped, she had erased Lord Brack from her life.

* * *

Jemmy paced to and fro in the receiving room, each minute that ticked by seeming to spell doom for his effort to see Elizabeth once more. An eternity would have been shorter than the time it had taken for the butler to take his note and ramble up the stairs. Jemmy strode out into the foyer but found no one. Perhaps Elizabeth was taking time to write a note agreeing to his suggestion. Somehow, he doubted that, but he had to hope for something in the way of a miracle. At the sound of a step on the stair, he turned, hoping beyond hope that Elizabeth had decided to see him.

A rather plain woman, severely dressed in black, descended the staircase, looking up and down the foyer.

He gazed at her expectantly.

“I was looking for Tawes, the butler, to deliver Mrs. Easton’s answer, my lord, but as I do not see him at present, I’ll give it to you directly.” Her impersonal eyes flicked over him.

“Thank you, Miss . . . ?”

“Weller, my lord.”

“And what is the answer, Miss Weller?” Jemmy held his breath.

“There is no answer, my lord.” The maid’s stony face as she made this pronouncement sent a chill through Jemmy that settled like a block of ice in his stomach.

“No answer?” Had Elizabeth broken with him completely? Cursing his own cowardice for not writing her sooner, he cast about for some other means of contact. “Then can you tell me if Mrs. Easton plans to attend Lady Braeton’s ball tonight?”

“Mrs. Easton is indisposed, my lord.” Not one jot of sympathy showed in the maid’s frowning countenance.

“I see.” How else might he find out her plans? He’d wager his horse Elizabeth was angry rather than indisposed. The question remained, was she going out for the evening? “In that case, I wish to speak to Lady Wentworth.”

The maid narrowed her eyes, and her cheek twitched, but she said only, “Of course, my lord,” before turning sharply on her heel and quitting the room.

Did she dislike everyone, or just him? He’d almost wager his was not a special case. Jemmy returned to pacing around the small, dim reception room to which the butler had shown him a quarter of an hour before. Though the fire roared in the grate, the room remained chilled, just like his heart. He had bent over to study a series of miniatures of children on a long, polished table when the maid returned, triumph in her smile.

“Her ladyship is indisposed at the moment as well, my lord.” The servant stuck out her chin, as though she dared him to dispute her claim.

Jemmy sighed and clenched his fist behind his back. He’d be damned if he’d let the maid know his anguish at this news. Another avenue closed against discovering Elizabeth’s plans for tonight. “And you are certain Mrs. Easton is indisposed? She doesn’t intend to venture out this evening?”

“I’m sure I am not privy to all my mistress’s doings, my lord. Only what she’s told me.” A gleam appeared in the tall woman’s eyes. “Although, if I was the wagering sort, I’d lay my money on Lady Shoreham’s masquerade ball. You find a lady dressed as Aphrodite, and you will have your answer.”

So the minx had had plans to go out this evening. “I thank you very much, Miss Weller. I am in your debt for that advice.” His mother had been related to Lady Shoreham, he believed. It would be the work of a few moments to beg an invitation to the gathering. “I wish you good day.”

As she turned to go, Jemmy caught a self-satisfied smirk pass over the woman’s face. That look of triumph again. As if he’d been bested.