Page 63 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

He returned to one particular sentence. I particularly wish to speak to you in person, about something of a delicate nature so I dare not write it. “I’ll be damned. The little widow is increasing.”

How had he let her slip through his fingers? And why had none of the family known of her and Granger’s tendre? Father would be absolutely furious when he found out, and likely blame it all on Anthony again. As if he hadn’t tried his best to compromise her, at the very risk of his life.

Tapping the end of the letter against the desk, he let his thoughts wander. Was there some way to turn this to his advantage?

Tap, tap, tap. Had the widow told anyone about her “delicate condition”? The start of a scheme began to form. It would work best if she hadn’t told a soul, but even if she had, he had confidence in himself and other considerable skills in deception that could be brought to bear upon dear Cousin Maria.

He folded the letter and shoved it in his inner coat pocket, then rose and quit the room. So much to do. But first, to find his father and inform him that Anthony would be spending Christmas in London.

* * *

The night before Christmas had been the merriest evening Maria had spent in ages. They had moved the furniture in the drawing room, clearing enough space for them to have dancing. Each of her friends had performed on the pianoforte, so while that lady played, Maria had partnered that lady’s husband. She found Jemmy the easiest to follow, and Kinellan too tall to make it comfortable to stand up with him. Rob had twirled her wildly around the room, but Nash, was quite the most accomplished dancer. Of course, after the altercation with Alan last autumn—in which Nash had drubbed him but good—she still felt the need to walk on eggshells around him.

Despite the laughter and fun, however, Maria still couldn’t help wishing for a partner of her own. For Hugh. She’d heard nothing from him, as she’d feared. Tomorrow was Christmas Day. If he’d wished to come to see her, he would have done so by now.

Her heart tried to flutter, but she forced air deep into her lungs, quelling the agitation. She’d have to learn to live without him, as she’d done with William. Strangely, now, her first husband’s face was lost in memory. If she concentrated she could remember the way his unruly hair stuck up, or how he laughed when she tickled him, but no complete image of him remained. Would it be that way with Alan? With Hugh?

“What shall we do now, Maria?” Elizabeth had come to her side, perhaps sensing her melancholy. She would have to be a good hostess and do better.

“I thought either cards or charades?”

“Oh, let it be charades.”

The voice that wafted above the chattering guests froze Maria in her place.

“I am very good at charades.”

“Lord Wetherby, my lady.” Her butler’s perturbed tone spoke volumes about his opinion of Anthony.

As one, Jane and Kinellan rose from the sofa and rushed to Maria’s side, although there was certainly no danger from his lordship in a room filled with her friends. Still, she was glad of their nearby presence. Maria stepped forward and curtsied. Best find out why the scoundrel had come, before asking the gentlemen to throw him out. “Merry Christmas, my lord. To what do we owe the honor of this call?”

He grinned and sauntered toward her. “I had decided to spend Christmas in London after all. Even with Father’s guests, the country had become deadly dull.” When he finally stood before her, he made a grab for her hand, but Kinellan jerked Maria aside.

“A simple bow will do, Wetherby.” With a smug grin Kinellan demonstrated. “It is fairly easy to accomplish if you practice long enough.”

“I see you have got it well in hand, Kinellan. How hard could it be?” Anthony turned once more to Maria. “My lady.” He executed a perfect if somewhat florid bow. “I remembered Father saying you were planning to spend Christmas in the Kersey townhouse, so I thought while I was here I should come wish you a Merry Christmas.”

“And having done so, my lord, I hope you will be on your way. As you see, I have guests.” She motioned to her friends behind her, all staring at the interloper with avid interest.

“Ah, would you be so good as to introduce me, my dear. Friends of yours—”

“As you will not be staying, Wetherby, I see no need for introductions.” Crossing his arms over his chest, Kinellan glared at Anthony, for the world as though he was itching to go several rounds with him at Jackson’s saloon.

A narrowing of his eyes was the sole response to the taunt, but Anthony then addressed himself once again to Maria. “In that case, my dear, that leaves only the other matter I wished to inquire about.”

On her guard around the blackguard, Maria frowned and shot a glance at Jane, who looked blank and shrugged. “I know of no other matter between us, my lord.”

“The child, Maria,” he whispered, though loudly enough everyone surely heard him.

“Lady Jane?” A sudden chill raced through Maria. Had he done something to her daughter before sauntering in here? Her legs threatened to buckle, and she grabbed Jane’s arm. “Jane, go to the nursery. Make certain—”

Before she had even gotten the words out, Kinellan had run from the room. Charlotte, Fanny, Elizabeth, and Georgie all clustered around her and the gentlemen surrounded Anthony, wearing very un-gentlemanlike expressions.

“I don’t know who you are, Wetherby”—Nash had positioned himself in front of the scoundrel—“but none of us will stand by and allow you to threaten or harm Maria or her child.”

On Anthony’s right stood Rob, his mouth grim as death, and on the left, Jemmy, blocking the door. “He’s going nowhere, Nash. Never fear.”

“Gentlemen, you misunderstand.” The softness of Anthony’s voice made Maria’s skin crawl. “Ladies, do not distress yourselves. I was not referring at all to Maria’s daughter.”