The Wanton Widow - A Regency Novella Page 5

  “But do you like being around her?” Willow asked. “Are you happy when she's near?”

  I'm happy when you are near. Willow wished, from the bottom of her heart, that he would say something similar to that. As time went on, she found herself envying Jane Abrahms—and she hadn't even met the girl!

  “Willow.” Edward squeezed her wrist.

  “What?”

  “That's her... over there.” He bowed his head in the direction of a willowy blonde girl, as precious as a basket of bunnies. As soon as Willow laid eyes on her, she understood why Jane might be the source of his infatuation.

  “And the woman at her side?” Willow focused her attention on the tight-lipped crone standing next to Edward's lady love. She looked about seventy, with severe eyes and a stern expression. “I would assume that is her grandmother. Are you sure you want to tackle that dragon?”

  “I'm p-p-positive.” Already he was stuttering, and Willow didn't have the heart to pinch him. “Come. Let us walk by her... and try to look casual.”

  Arm-in-arm, they made their way toward the effervescent Jane Abrahms, whose blonde hair was glowing in the sunlight. Her adorable bonnet was covered in posies and nosegays, which seemed to add to her allure of innocence. The closer they got, the more Willow could feel her envy mounting.

  “Mr. Harcourt!” Jane called to him. “Mr. Harcourt, it is so wonderful to see you.”

  “I--” He could feel his tongue tying up. “I... I...”

  Willow gave him a pinch and a prod. As much as she envied the lady in front of her, she couldn't let poor Edward make a cake of himself.

  “It is a pleasure to see you too, Miss Abrahms,” Edward said. “You look as beautiful as ever.” His compliment earned him a sneer from the disapproving grandmother.

  “Thank you, Mr. Harcourt. You look quite well yourself!” Jane exclaimed. Her voice was tiny and sweet, which put Willow in mind of a baby bird. “And who is your lovely companion?”

  “This is Wilomena Worthington,” Edward introduced her. “Though she prefers to be called Willow.”

  “Oh...” Jane pouted. She was a bit concerned by his familiarity with the woman at his side. “How long have you known... Miss Worthington?”

  “I am not a miss... I am a widow,” Willow cut in. “And we have not been acquainted for very long, have we?”

  “Not too long,” Edward agreed, flashing a smile at the brunette on his arm. “Although... it feels like I've known her forever. It is amazing, really, how easily we converse.”

  “Oh...” Jane said again, apparently rendered speechless. Was it his imagination, or did her lips quiver slightly?

  “Edward is so handsome, is he not?” As she spoke, Willow reached up and gave his hair a ruffle. “And he is so very pleasant! After being in the company of Edward, I believe it is impossible to fully appreciate the company of any other man.”

  Willow's compliments were making him blush. He didn't know if she meant them, or if she was saying them for the sake of inspiring jealousy in Miss Abrahms.

  “He is very... kind,” Jane agreed.

  “But my dancing leaves something to be desired, does it not?” Edward asked with a chuckle. “I believe I owe an apology to your poor feet, Miss Abrahms.”

  “Oh? Well... it is quite alright,” Jane said. “Will you be attending Lady Georgina's ball? If it isn't too much for me to say... I would like to dance with you again, Mr. Harcourt.”

  Beside her, the old lady cleared her throat.

  “Of course, Miss Abrahms. Nothing would give me more pleasure than that,” Edward said. “It was truly wonderful to see you again.”

  “And you, Mr. Harcourt,” Jane reciprocated. “And it was a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Worthington.”

  Willow wanted to return her kind words, but all she could do was smile. Now that she had seen the chaste beauty in person, she knew she had no chance at--

  No chance at what? At stealing Edward's heart? At capturing Edward's interest? Willow was more confused by her thoughts than she had ever been confused by anything. Whatever feelings she had for Edward Harcourt were completely and utterly ludicrous!

  “Come, dear,” the crone finally spoke up. She laid a hand on her charge's arm and proceeded to steer her away. “We mustn't waste any more time!”

  “Farewell, Mr. Harcourt!” Jane called to him.

  “Farewell, Miss Abrahms!”

  As she was being led away, Edward glanced over at her. Jane was staring at him over her shoulder, as if trying to keep him in view as long as possible.

  “You know, Willow...” Edward said, grinning like a misbehaved schoolboy. “I think that might have worked!”

  “Wonderful!” Willow said, wincing. She didn't want it to work!

  As Edward led her through Hyde Park, Willow had to resist the temptation to stomp away like a petulant child.

  Chapter Eight

  After their trip to Hyde Park, Willow did not see Edward for several days, and that fact had a crippling effect on her happiness. Did he not miss her? Was he not thinking about her? To Willow's horror, she thought of him quite often. She wasn't sure why she was letting him have such an effect on her. He wasn't even that handsome—not when she compared him to the likes of Philip.

  Even more crushing was the fact that she would not see him for at least a week, since she and Philip were currently en route to his hunting lodge in Surrey. She was sitting next to him on the high-perch phaeton, trying to hide the stain of sadness in her soul.

  “A penny for your thoughts.”

  The sound of Philip's voice made her body lurch. She was so deep thought, she nearly forgot where she was. “Pardon?”

  “You appear to be deep in thought,” he observed. “Would you care to share what's on your mind?”

  “N-Nothing,” she said, a stutter that would have surely earned her a pinch. “I was only woolgathering.”

  “Very well. Oh, and by the bye, we have almost arrived.”

  “Thank goodness for that...” she murmured. While Philip's carriage was the definition of extravagant, it was having an adverse effect on her rear end. She desperately needed to stand and stretch her legs.

  “Before I forget, there is something I should tell you,” said Philip.

  “And what is that?”

  “A couple of friends will be joining us for the week. I hope you do not mind.”

  Willow, whose shoulders had been slumping, perked up when she heard the news. Please let it be Edward, please let it be Edward, please let it be Edward. Her mind repeated it like a mantra, as if saying it would somehow make it true.

  “Who will be joining us?” Willow asked softly, feigning indifference. “Is it someone I know?”

  Please let it be Edward. Please let it be Edward.

  “Olly d'Aubingy and Edward Harcourt,” Philip said. “You know Edward, of course. I will have to introduce you to Olly... hopefully he will not be too overbearing.”

  Wave upon glorious wave of relief washed over her body. So she would be seeing Edward after all!

  When they arrived at Philip's hunting lodge, he expected her to be awed by the place, with its timber frames and impressive arches. It was an impressive edifice, flanked on all sides by patches of forest. But Willow was too lost in thought to pay much attention to their surroundings. As Philip helped her down from the phaeton, all she could think about was Edward—when would he arrive, and what would she say when she saw him.

  “So, as for our guests...” Willow spoke up, “will they be arriving shortly?”

  “Indeed. I believe they're not far behind us. Unless I'm mistaken, I think they're traveling together. Come...” Philip held out his elbow. “I would like to take you on a tour of the lodge.”

  Willow took his arm and allowed herself to be led inside, albeit a bit reluctantly. She would have much rather paced around the front of the building, waiting for Edward's arrival. Philip showed her around the interior: the lavish parlor and opulent sitting rooms. One of the bedrooms—which
Philip said would be theirs—was decorated in a colorful Indian style. There was even a small library located in the lodge's east wing, where an eclectic assortment of tomes were unfortunately gathering dust.

  When they finished the tour, Philip led her back outside, and not a moment too soon. Edward and Olly were heading toward them on horseback. As Willow watched them dismount, she could feel her heart rate increasing. Edward Harcourt looked more adorable than ever, likely due to the fact that the wind had butchered his hair.

  Willow released Philip's arm and headed in Edward's direction, careful not to look too eager. However, as he drew closer, she could no longer resist the temptation to smile. When he returned the gesture, she saw a set of dimples in his cheeks.

  “Willow!” he exclaimed. “How good to see you again!”

  “And you as well,” Willow echoed, bobbing a curtsy. Edward took her hand and kissed her knuckles, which had her wishing she hadn't worn gloves. “How was your journey, Edward?”

  “Uneventful, apart from Olly's loud mouth,” Edward said with a chuckle. “Have you met him?”

  “I don't believe I have.”

  As if on cue, Olly swept forward and took her by the hand. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, his mouth lingering a bit longer than necessary. He looked pleasant enough, with warm, dark eyes and a perfectly round face. He was a bit portly, and his face was covered in stubble.

  “At last, I finally get to meet you!” Olly exclaimed. “The elusive Wilomena Worthington, the woman who has stolen our Lord Mowbray's heart.”

  “I don't know about that,” she said with a chuckle. “And you are...?”

  “Oliver d'Aubingy. Seeing as it's a bit of a mouthful, you're welcome to call me Olly.”

  “And you are welcome to call me Willow.” As cruel as it was, she kept wishing he would go away, so that she could be alone with Edward. Worst of all, she could see Philip moving in their direction.

  “Well... I'm going to pay my respects to Phil, if you don't mind,” said Olly. “I would certainly like to chat with you some more, Miss Willow. I have heard a great deal about you, from Philip as well as Edward.”

  Edward too? What had he been saying about her?

  “If you'll excuse me...” Olly bowed before dismissing himself. He headed over to Philip, which meant she would have her moment with Edward.

  As soon as Olly was gone, Edward seized both of her hands. It might have been a passionate gesture, if not for the fact that he said, “I have much to tell you about Miss Abrahms!”

  “Oh...” Willow tried to ignore the sinking sensation in her heart. “What do you have to say?”

  “Since the last time I saw you, I have had two encounters with Jane,” Edward continued. The mounting excitement in his eyes made her feel worse and worse. “First, I had a chance to speak with her at Lady Georgina's ball... and we danced. Twice. You'll be happy to know, I did not step on her feet, nor did I stutter!”

  “Very good, Edward,” Willow said, her words betraying her heart. “I can see you've made significant improvements.”

  “And just yesterday... I finally summoned the courage to call on her,” Edward said. “I had tea with her family at their London apartments. And I brought her a gift, a single flower, because that is what I thought she would prefer.”

  “That's... wonderful.”

  “It is, is it not?!” Edward exclaimed, wide-eyed with elation. “And I have you to thank for it! Without your guidance, I would have still been a stuttering mess, quaking with fear, cowering in the corner.”

  “I am... glad....” Her voice was momentarily caught in her throat, so she tried again. “I am glad I could help.”

  “Even Olly says I might have a chance!” Edward exclaimed. “What do you think, Willow? Do you think I have a chance?”

  “I think... you might.” Willow turned her back to him, hiding the fact that she had tears in her eyes. “Now, I need to speak with Philip. It was nice to see you again, Mr. Harcourt.”

  Willow battled her tears as she hurried away.

  * * *

  Her feelings for Edward Harcourt could only be described as preposterous. She tried to bear that in mind as the day continued. Fortunately, they had decided to go hunting, which was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.

  The gentlemen couldn't stop staring at her, and that fact had Willow smiling from ear-to-ear. It wasn't often they saw a woman in breeches, let alone, a woman with a rifle propped against her shoulder. As they made their way into the forest, she held her chin high.

  “Are you sure about this, Phil?” Olly squawked. “I mean... putting a weapon in the hands of a woman is never a good idea.”

  “And why is that?” Willow spoke up, puffing out her chest. “Are you afraid I will put you to shame?”

  “Not at all! I happen to be a crack shot!” Olly vowed.

  “We'll see about that!”

  They found a clearing and hunkered in the brush, waiting to take a shot. Edward, who was admittedly the least skilled out the bunch, ran into the woods and tried to scare up some quail. Willow heard the warble of a flock as they flew from a tree, so she took aim. She was quicker than her male companions, and her shot hit its mark. Grinning, Willow watched the night's supper fall to the ground.

  “Splendid marksmanship, my dear,” Philip praised her. He coiled an arm around her waist, pulled her toward him, and kissed the side of her head. “You're liable to put me to shame, and I really am a crack shot!”

  “I'm a crack shot!” Olly insisted.

  “I've never even seen you fire a rifle, Oliver,” Philip snickered.

  “You just haven't seen what I'm capable of, Mowbray! I happen to be a first-rate hunter!”

  Edward returned to the clearing. He was staring at his rifle, which made Willow wonder if he had any idea how to use it. She thought about giving him some instruction, but after hearing him go on and on about Miss Abrahms, she didn't have the heart to speak to him at all.

  Philip made his first kill not long after Willow's. Edward made an attempt to fire his rifle, but his shot hit a nearby tree. Olly fired numerous times, but it was becoming apparent that he wasn't a first-rate hunter, or even a hundredth-rate hunter. Every time he missed, a curse would fly from his mouth. It was as if he had forgotten he was in the presence of a lady—but Willow did not mind, for she often had that effect on men.

  “Damn and blast!” Olly snarled. A quail flew over his head, and he missed it by a mile. “Hell and damnation!”

  “Olly!” Edward shouted. “Mind your tongue! You should not subject a lady to that sort of language!”

  “If she's with Phil, I'm sure she's heard worse!” Olly said. “I get the impression she's a very worldly woman.”

  Edward crossed his arms and asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “What I mean...” Philip's back was turned, so Olly took an opportunity to swat her on her rear end. When his hand made contact, Willow's eyes bulged. She had already determined he was a bit uncouth, but his behavior was beyond the pale! “I'm sure she's seen it all.”

  “Olly!” Edward shouted again. “How dare you treat her in such a way!? Your behavior is reprehensible!”

  “Oh, I'm only playing, old boy!” Olly said with a chuckle. “I'm sure Willow didn't mind.”

  “I think you owe her an apology!” Edward shrieked.

  Philip heard none of their conversation, as he was currently in the process of collecting a fallen quail.

  Olly shook his head. “But I--”

  “An apology!” Edward insisted. “Or I swear to God, I'll turn my rifle on you!”

  “Very well...” Olly turned to Willow and sighed. “I am sorry for my... inappropriate conduct. I sincerely regret my actions.”

  “It's quite alright, Olly,” Willow said. As she spoke, her eyes were fastened on Edward. She appreciated him coming to her defense, but her bitter heart still ached at the thought of him; therefore, she could hardly show him the appreciation he deserved. “But as you say
, I am a... worldly woman. It's not as if I'm some chaste young miss.”

  Edward took a step toward her. When she saw him reaching for her arm, she quickly pulled away.

  “I am not even what you would call a lady. Not anymore,” Willow said, her voice a bit cold. “Nothing surprises me.”

  Chapter Nine

  Philip gently rolled her nightrail off her shoulder. His lips started at her neck, then drifted along her collarbone. He turned his attention to the lower half of her body, where his hands circled her soft, milky white calf. Willow closed her eyes and let it happen, but for some reason, his touch had a sickening effect on her.

  When she saw him pull his shirt over his head, she knew she had to stop him. “Philip!”

  “Hmm?” He rolled the nightrail to her hips, parted her legs, and kissed her inner thighs. Willow responded by clamping her knees together.

  “Philip...” she repeated, “I'm not feeling quite the thing. Do you think we could... go to sleep?”

  Philip buried his face against her stomach and grumbled against it. “But I want you. I need you!”

  “Not tonight.” Willow gently pushed his head away from her. “Though I hate to disappoint you, Philip, I think I would be a very poor lover tonight.”

  Grumbling, Philip covered her with her nightrail and pulled the blankets over them. “Did I say something to anger you?”

  “No.”

  “Have you tired of me?”

  “No.” Willow cradled one of the pillows against her chest. She knew the reason behind her coldness, she just didn't want to admit it to herself. And she certainly couldn't admit it to Philip. “I'm feeling under the weather.”

  “Are you ill?” Philip laid his palm against her forehead. “You aren't with child, are you?!”

  “No!” Willow used her pillow to swat him in the head. “I just want to rest, if that's quite alright with you!?”

  “Very well.” With a grunt, Philip rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “I'll just have to ignore the throbbing in my breeches, I suppose!”