Page 11 of What a Widow Wants

“I will send you the particulars of our journey as soon as I have them fixed,” Fanny called to her friend as she left the carriage and hurried up the steps of her parents’ town house. Settling back into her seat, she removed a pencil and a scrap of paper from her reticule and began a list of things to be done to prepare for their journey. Every so often, she thought of Matthew and her body tingled pleasantly. July would be a very warm month for her, whatever the weather.

The carriage deposited her before the Marquess of Theale’s town house in short order, just as she had begun to consider what house agent to engage. Their three weeks would be so much more pleasant if they could acquire a house in one of the more fashionable neighborhoods. And the right agent could make all the difference. She would consult with Lady Theale as soon as possible and Lavinia would ask Lord Theale’s advice about the agent.

Lord Theale had always made Fanny uncomfortable, though she’d never understood why. Something strange in his pale blue-eyed gaze always gave her the jimjams. She saw the man only at meals, when he turned up for them. Otherwise, she avoided his company whenever possible.

The butler opened the door for her, and Fanny strode into the entry hall, shedding her spencer as she asked, “Noyes, where is Lady Theale?”

“Her ladyship is in the family drawing room, Lady Stephen.” He took her wrap, but waited expectantly.

“Thank you, Noyes. That is all for the moment.” Fanny started for the staircase.

“Very good, my lady. A bouquet of flowers arrived for you while you were out. I took the liberty of putting it there.” Noyes gestured to a tall vase filled with masses of blue hyacinths and red roses with greenery shaped to look like a small tree. It must have measured a good two feet from side to side and towered over her from its place on a small table.

Fanny stared at it, dumbfounded. Who had sent her such a huge bouquet? She retraced her steps until she stood before the vase, the sweet smell of the hyacinth wafting over her. She loved hyacinth. Burying her nose in the deep blue petals, she breathed in the scent she always associated with home. Her mother’s garden had bloomed with the colorful flowers all summer.

Plucking the card out of the thick stems, she turned it over and froze. The writing, familiar even after seven years, stopped her breath as she read the inscription:

Hyacinth for constancy, roses for love. You shall have both from me always. Matthew.

Matthew had sent them. She might have known. Still, she couldn’t be upset with him. She had given him leave to woo her, and what more traditional way than with flowers? A very sweet and thoughtful gesture, for he’d remembered her fondness for these particular blooms. With a shaking hand, she caressed the soft petals, something inside her trying to break free of its icy lair. If Lord Lathbury continued his courtship thus—and knowing his determined nature as she did he would use every method at his command to make her say yes—her plan never to remarry would require some serious reconsideration.

CHAPTER 5

Dancing on her toes, almost unable to contain her delight, Fanny gazed about Mrs. Townsend’s well-appointed ballroom with growing excitement. Somehow the glittering gold and crystal room seemed more attractive, the Brighton crowd more elegant than those at other such entertainments she’d attended. Perhaps the cause was the new sense of freedom her widowhood had endowed her with. Or simply the sheer anticipation of seeing Matthew again. It had only been a little over two weeks since they’d met, still the time had seemed an eternity. Whatever the reason for her exhilaration tonight, Fanny’s nerves sizzled from her head to her feet, so she simply could not stand still.

Lavinia had given her a letter of introduction to Mrs. Townsend, whom she and Elizabeth had called on yesterday as soon as they had settled themselves into their elegant apartment on the Steyne. According to her sister-in-law, Mrs. Townsend’s parties were all the rage, and not to be missed. Fanny now saw why. Everyone of any importance in Society attended Mrs. Townsend. She’d already recognized the powerful Duke of Sutherland, the Marchioness of Trent who was a renowned beauty, the Earl of Graystone about whom scandalous things had recently been whispered in London, and the notorious rakehell Sir John Scarborough. If she wanted to acquire a reputation, she need only be seen to dally with any of the guests here tonight and the ton’s tongues would do the rest.

Not that she wished to ruin herself, but the prospect of such a sensational dalliance brought her to her toes, giddy with the possibility. She snapped her fan open and waved it seductively at Sir John.

“Fanny!” Elizabeth hissed, pulling her backward to stand behind several other ladies. “You will not make a spectacle of yourself. Do you know who that was you were flirting with?”

“Of course I know,” Fanny said, snapping her fan closed again. “Why else would I flirt with him?”

“Fanny, you did not tell me you planned to behave wantonly when I agreed to accompany you here.” Her companion smoothed out her modest high-necked gown. The pale blue color complimented Elizabeth’s complexion well; it would never do against Fanny’s rather dark skin. But her own gown of deep green with gold trim became her well.

“Because you would not have come with me had I told you so.” Fanny peered about. Where had Sir John gone? Although she didn’t want him to ruin her exactly, she still longed for the adventure of an “almost compromise.” She’d not had even the prospect of anything scandalous for over a year, and oh, how she missed that excitement!

“I most certainly would not have.” Elizabeth frowned sternly. If she could have wagged her finger in Fanny’s face without fear of social censure, she surely would have done so. “I believed you wished to go to Brighton to pursue your courtship with Lord Lathbury.”

“I have.” Fanny glanced around, still unable to find Sir John. “Is it my fault that he has not put in an appearance yet this evening? I am sure if he does not appear soon, I shall have to fill this dance card with the names of other gentlemen.” She fanned the delicate pages of the small paper book in front of Elizabeth showing its empty leaves.

“We cannot have that, Lady Stephen.”

Fanny squealed and danced back as the large looming figure of Lord Lathbury appeared in front of her as though he’d been conjured.

Perhaps he had.

“Lord Lathbury! Wherever did you come from?” Fanny caught her breath and looked askance at the handsome rogue.

“The card room, my lady. I thought it time I claimed a dance from you before you gave them all away.” His eyes twinkled as he tugged the booklet from her hand and perused it page by page. “What is this?”

“A dance card. Mrs. Townsend says they are all the rage in Vienna.” Fanny shrugged, keeping a wary eye on Matthew. “She and her husband returned from there just after the war. I daresay it will catch on soon enough. A lady uses it to keep track of her partners for each dance.”

Matthew continued to thumb through the empty pages. “I see I am just in the nick of time.” He seized the pencil attached to the book with a thin, fine chain and wrote his name on the second page with a flourish.

Drat the man. He would come along before her card had any names at all on it.

“There and there.” Matthew had continued writing his name on the fourth and the last pages, claiming the supper dance and the final one as well.