Page 21 of What a Widow Wants

“Sea bathing and . . . and other things of no consequence. For God’s sake, don’t you do the same thing.” She stabbed the lobster as though she were Neptune with his trident and popped it into her mouth. If she could just eat in peace and spend this last evening with Matthew in relative harmony, she’d be grateful.

“Well I hope you don’t mind if we do talk some. I suppose I shall not see you again for some time.” A shadow flitted over his handsome face and Fanny felt rather than heard his sigh. She would miss him as well.

“Do not forget, we will soon be in company together again. Lady Cavendish’s house party in early August? You did receive her invitation, didn’t you?”

“I did indeed.” His visage lightened and he bit into a buttered roll. “I am in great anticipation.” He waggled his brows, making her giggle. “Do we dare continue on as we have here?”

“Of course we do. The whole reason for the weekend is for us widows to flirt and dally with the dashing men of our choice.” She arched her neck and smiled seductively at him.

“And I am your choice?” He laid his fork down, suddenly all seriousness.

“You doubt it? After these past weeks?” Did he truly have no faith in her feelings for him? Had she made him believe her regard shallow? Or had he simply not realized how deep that regard ran?

“Then why don’t you simply marry me, Fanny?” The thick, dark blows swept down in a deep V. “We would need not part at all.”

“Matthew.” Lord, would he never cease proposing to her?

“Fanny, you must see the sense of it.” He tossed his napkin onto the table.

Her appetite, so robust moments ago, had fled. “Nothing has changed since my last refusal.”

“I think it has, my dear.” He grasped her hand, his warm clasp filling her with excitement despite her resolve. “There is now every possibility you carry my child.”

She tried to slip her hand from his, but he held on tightly.

“Can you deny it?” He had lowered his voice, and she glanced around, but no one else had come into the refreshment room. They were virtually alone.

“Yes, I can deny it.”

“What?” His startled look sent a pang of remorse through her, for he looked hurt of all things.

Heat rose to her cheeks yet another time tonight. Still, after the intimacies she’d shared with this man, what was one more? “You have not seen me these past several days, I think? Not since Monday?”

“No. When I called I was told you were resting. And your note said you had a megrim.” Concerned lines deepened on his face and his grip on her hand tightened. “Are you truly ill, Fanny?”

Oh, Lord. “No, my dear. I am as well as can be. However,” even though no one else was there to hear, she lowered her voice to a whisper and he leaned close, “I had my courses.”

Matthew jerked back, a faint pink staining his cheeks. “I didn’t think about . . .”

“Men usually don’t.” Fanny had been relieved when they had started. She’d been so carried away with their passion she hadn’t thought about the possible consequences until afterward and then it had simply been a matter of wait and see. This time they had been lucky. She must acquire the seeds she’d used before. They had proven most effective. “Are you terribly sorry?”

Settling back in his chair he paused, as if wanting to choose his words carefully. “I am, and I’m not.”

“You surprise me, my dear.” She’d assumed he would long to use a coming child as the ultimate reason for them to marry.

“I hope I’m not always predictable, Fanny.” A quick smile lit his face. “I want to keep you guessing.” He sobered again. “I would be thrilled if you carried my child, my dear. Never think otherwise. And yet, I would not want that blessed event to be the only reason you chose to wed me.” Taking her hand, he raised it to his lips. “I would have it be because you loved me and no other.”

Of all the arguments to marry Lord Lathbury, his generous nature in this declaration must be one of the greatest. And harder still to refuse.

“Shall we return to the music room or would you like cards instead?” He rose and assisted her as well.

“Cards I think,” Fanny said, grasping his arm with eager fingers. “I am feeling lucky tonight.”

CHAPTER 9

Travel sore and weary, Fanny entered Theale’s family parlor late the next afternoon, dropped into a chair, and groaned. “I thought roads in a modern age would be better maintained. Our carriage bumped along as though we were driving along the ribs of a giant.”

“Good afternoon, Frances.” Lavinia, Lady Theale, set her cup down on the marble-topped tea table beside her high-backed armchair, carved at the top with strange shapes.