Page 43 of What a Widow Wants

For what seemed like the hundredth time, Fanny peeped out of the window of the small, front receiving room in Theale House. Matthew, Lady Lathbury, and Lady Beatrice were supposed to have already arrived, although she’d been expecting Matthew for so long, and been constantly disappointed, she almost despaired of ever seeing him again. Letting the curtain fall back into place, she sighed and resumed pacing about the room.

When she’d left Hunter’s Cross in late August she’d imagined they would be married in a matter of weeks. Those weeks had turned into a month, and although the explanations for the delays had been understandable, she wanted the waiting to be over. Each successive day without the hope of seeing him had brought growing pain to her heart. Today, after he met Ella, she would insist they make their final plans for a quick ceremony and a long wedding trip. She didn’t care where they went, as long as they were together and alone.

The sharp clip-clop of horses’ hooves rang out on the pavement below and she darted back to the window in time to see the door to a large black landau open. Matthew emerged and her mouth dried instantly. Her stomach fluttered and her heart pounded. Lord, this was no time to swoon. But looking at his handsome face, after all this time, sent an aching need through her that wiped away all other discomforts. She drew back before he could notice her and moved to stand near the doorway, trying hard not to fidget.

He was here!

Noyes entered and bowed. “Lady Lathbury, Lady Beatrice Hunter, Lord Lathbury, my lady.”

The room seemed to explode with chatter as Beatrice darted forward to embrace her. “Fanny, I am so happy to see you again at last. I have told my brother repeatedly for the past few weeks that we needed to make this visit, but he has constantly dragged his heels about it.”

“Beatrice,” Lady Lathbury stopped her daughter with a word, “you may sit in silence until I give you leave to join the conversation.”

With a mischievous glance at Fanny, Beatrice retired to the chaise, her mouth puckering but effectively mute.

“Lady Stephen, so nice to meet you again.” The countess curtsied and sat on the sofa. “Please, come sit beside me. We have so much to catch up.”

“I believe I will say good afternoon to Fanny before she does so, Mother.” Matthew drew her to his side, his eyes blazing with a desire that made her weak. He raised her hand for a kiss. “Good afternoon, my love.”

At the touch of his lips on her skin the walls around them wavered. She needed him to take her away and fill her body with his powerful essence, to make her whole and them one again.

“Soon, love, I promise,” he whispered in her ear.

She nodded and stepped back from him, cheeks heating. If her need had been that apparent to him, had it also been to the others? What must his mother think? Well, after their early morning encounter at Hunter’s Cross, she knew very well what his mother thought of her. Resisting the urge to fan her face, she smiled serenely and went to sit beside Lady Lathbury.

“I am sorry our visit was so delayed, my dear,” the countess began. “First, of course, Rowley attended Lord Kinellan’s party in Scotland.”

“And returned earlier than originally planned in order to leave for London.” Matthew broke in, taking a seat opposite them.

His mother glared at him. “I am speaking, Rowley.”

“My pardon, Mother.” He threw up his hands and sat back in the chair.

Beatrice giggled, but a glower from her brother silenced her again.

“Yes, he did return to Hunter’s Cross around the eighth of September only to find—”

“To find my best friend, Sarah—” Beatrice interrupted her mother this time. “You made her acquaintance, Fanny, I believe at Matthew’s party—”

“Beatrice!” Lady Lathbury actually snapped the word, hard enough that her daughter drew back in her chair. “Lady Stephen will believe that I raised children with no sense of how to behave in polite company. I beg your pardon, Lady Stephen, for this disgraceful behavior.” She looked askance at both her offspring, pausing as if expecting yet another disruption.

Both remained mute, and the lady continued. “Sarah Broadman, who you may indeed remember, had an offer of marriage from Lord Malin on the Sunday of the house party. She insisted on having the banns read, rather than securing a special license, so the wedding did not occur until September fifteenth.”

“I am so happy for her.” Fanny attempted enthusiasm, however it was hollow. She had hoped her own wedding would have taken place by now.

“And Beatrice must attend the wedding as the bridesmaid, of course. They have been friends from the cradle.” Lady Lathbury waited, apparently for her daughter to make some new rapture, but Beatrice sat still, thank goodness. “Then we found the carriage in need of repair, which took almost a week. And so we have come, at last, to meet your daughter.”

“And I am so glad to have you here.” Fanny smiled broadly, ringing the bell for tea before Lady Lathbury could begin again. “I have told Ella of your visit today. She will be brought in presently. She is a little shy with strangers, but I have talked with her about you and especially about Matthew”—she sent a special smile to him—“and the role he is to play in our lives shortly.”

“Then you have settled it between you?” Beatrice bounded up in her chair, unable to sit still any longer. “You will marry?”

“After today’s visit with Ella, we will know better,” Fanny replied cautiously. Smiling at Matthew, who nodded, she grasped his hand. “But yes, we are to be married.”

“Oh, splendid!” Beatrice jumped up to hug Fanny about the shoulders. “Allow me to be the first to wish you happy! Well done, Matthew. Now I will have a sister with whom I can talk as a friend. You cannot know, Fanny, how dreary it is to have sisters who are so very much younger. They cannot understand anything I tell them about, well, anything.” She shrugged. “But now I can confide in you and you can give me advice next spring when I have my come-out.”

“Fanny can help with your come-out in fact, Bea.” Matthew had on a very self-satisfied expression.

“We shall see about that, Rowley. I would not like to impose on Lady Stephen so soon after her marriage. Being the wife of an earl will be much different from being the wife of the third son of a marquess.”