Page 25 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

Continuing to stare into the fire, Margery nodded.

“I fear I will not be happy anyplace but England.” Maria spoke forcefully, and from her heart. “I have never been one who enjoys traveling overmuch. If I can remain here at Kersey Hall, I am certain I shall be very happy to do so. Another reason why I do not think I shall marry again. If I stay here I am not likely to have many prospects.”

At that, Margery turned back to her. “I think you may be wrong there, my dear. With your Kersey connections and your own charming manner, I believe you may have any number of gentlemen vying for your hand.”

“Then too, I have learned my lesson, my dear. If I marry again, it must be for love alone.” This revelation had come to her not long ago, when she had been speaking to Mr. Granger. If he was indeed the one with whom her affections lay, then she must remain a widow if she was to care properly for her daughter. “Not duty, not expectation, not infatuation. But truly for love of the gentleman.”

“A wise decision, my dear.” Jane gave her hand a squeeze. “I know nothing other than a deep and abiding love could ever induce me to marry again.”

“And you may be surprised, Maria, with whom you do fall in love.” Margery gave her a knowing look as she reached for her tea. “Love can take you unawares, when you least expect it. So do not make too hasty a decision about what you will and won’t do. When love commands, a woman can do nothing but follow it.”

At that cryptic and somewhat alarming statement, Maria and Jane exchanged a glance. They would meet later to confer on Lady Kersey’s words and what they seemed to imply for Maria.

Chapter Ten

“Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven.” Maria kept count as Hatley, her lady’s maid, pulled the silver-backed brush through her long sable hair. The ritual hair brushing every evening before bedtime soothed Maria, though not so much as it had when she herself did the brushing. Before she’d become Lady Kersey. Now, the maid had informed her almost a year ago when she’d first come to Kersey, she should do as little as possible as befit her new station. So now she always had someone assist her to bathe, to dress, to brush her hair. She often thought that if it were humanly possible, the maids would eat for her as well.

A knock sounded on the door and Hatley left off at stroke twenty-eight, put the brush down, and went to answer it.

Maria snatched up the brush and pulled it through her hair. Twenty-nine, thirty.

“My lady!”

Guiltily, Maria held the brush out to the maid.

“Your cousin, Lady John, is here.” With a stern look, Hatley took the implement and retreated to the dressing room.

“Oh, Jane. Explain to me why I cannot brush my hair myself.” Maria rose from the chair and crawled up on the tall bed. She patted the fresh burgundy cover beside her. “If someone was seeing me do it, I would understand why a maid would perform the service. The upper classes are supposed to eschew manual labor of any sort. But no one sees me brush my hair but me.” She poked her lips out in a pout. “I daresay everyone would believe my maid brushes my hair whether she does or not. So why can’t I brush it instead? No one will ever know.”

Jane laughed, wrapped her shawl around her firmly, and climbed the short two steps then flopped onto the bed. “Well, I assume your husbands saw you doing it. At least William would have.”

Fire touched Maria’s cheeks. Her few nights with her first husband, her childhood friend, had been frightening and embarrassing. She remembered lying in bed, upstairs in her father’s house, with the covers pulled up to her chin the first night of her marriage. That image, and the long minutes after William had crawled in beside her, were the only memories she had of her first marriage. He’d left two days later for the army, and had never returned. “Actually, he didn’t. I was . . . It was a confusing time for me. Everything happened so quickly. We were only together for two nights and . . .”

“You were so very young, my dear. Sixteen, isn’t that right? Not even properly out of the schoolroom.”

“Yes. We wanted to wait, wanted to be married when we were older. But William felt his duty to country keenly. So our parents allowed us to marry in case . . . in case he didn’t come home.” Maria bit her lips. There was something about her marriage she’d not told a soul. “When William’s parents saw that he was so set on going into battle, they talked to Mother and Father and pushed them hard to agree to the marriage. They wanted us to marry in the hopes that there would be a child, you see.”

“In case William didn’t come home, yes. I’m so sorry, my dear.”

Brushing at a tear that had trickled down her cheek, Maria sniffed and hugged her knees to her. “It seems so unfair that I should have had Alan’s child so quickly after we . . . were together. Why couldn’t it have happened that way with William? I’d likely have stayed at home with my parents and raised his child there, where everything was familiar. I would not be here, in the huge house with all these strangers. William’s parents would have loved a grandchild so much. Now I have Alan’s daughter, but there’s no one else to share her with.”

“I’m so sorry, Maria.” Jane slid over and wrapped her arms around her. “Are you dreadfully unhappy here?”

“Not dreadfully, no. But I do miss my life at home. I just don’t think about it very often, because it makes me sad. But tonight, Mr. Garrett spoke of his longing for home and it made me think about my home as well.”

“I think Lady Kersey is a fair way toward making a match between you and her son. Her second son, thank God.” Unwinding her arms from Maria, Jane leaned back, her elbows on the bed. “The oldest one, the heir, is trouble in no uncertain terms. I was watching him tonight at dinner.”

“Oh, you were?” Banishing her melancholy, Maria stretched out on the bed, her head propped up on her hand, so she faced Jane. “Do you have hopes of snaring him for a tryst now?”

“Heaven forbid.” Jane’s head thumped back on the bed. “Didn’t I just say the gentleman was trouble? No, I was watching him watch you and his brother.”

“He was watching me?” Maria bounded up, her hair swirling around her. “Why?”

“You are a beautiful woman with a sweet disposition. Why would he not be interested in you?”

“Because I have no fortune. Indeed, no means of keeping myself without the goodwill of his family. Women like that can be had in any village and indeed on every street in London.” She’d noticed Lord Wetherby’s interest, but much preferred his brother’s conversation.

“Oh, I didn’t say he’d be interested in marrying you.” Chuckling, Jane sat up. “Lord Wetherby is destined for a grand marriage to the daughter of a duke—or at the least a marquess. His father will see to that. But in the meantime, he must amuse himself somehow in the country. What better way than a dalliance with a pretty woman, especially one so close to hand?”