The Wary Widow Read online

  The Wary Widow

  Jerrica Knight Catania

  This book is a work of fiction.

  Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the

  author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to any event, locale or person,

  living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  The Wary Widow

  Copyright 2011 by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any format.

  Cover design by Jerrica Knight-Catania

  1820, London

  Lord Andrew Wetherby stalked into Eastleigh House, determined to leave again as soon as was humanly possible. He clenched his fists as the nauseating smell of French perfume and gardenias invaded his nose. God, how he hated these things. His twin brother, Michael, identical in every way except the cut of his hair, stood at his side, looking just as determined to get the hell out of there.

  “Good Lord, do they bathe in the stuff?” Michael asked, clearly trying to hold his breath against the scent of the elderly woman passing by.

  Andrew cleared his throat. “One would think. Now remember our plan. You find Benjamin and the Lionesses while I dance with Lady Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, I know the plan,” Michael assured him. “And then we’ll say goodnight to the family and be on our way. Believe me, the only thing on my mind right now is getting out of here.”

  Andrew smiled at Michael and then took his leave to find his betrothed, Lady Elizabeth Crawley. The eldest daughter of the Earl of Devon, Elizabeth was a paragon of beauty and grace. Andrew admired her for her stunning looks, as did most gentlemen in London, including his brother. Much to Michael’s chagrin, Andrew had beaten him in the race for her hand.

  Right now she was weaving in and out of a Scottish reel, looking as if she had invented the dance herself. Andrew leaned against the nearest column at the edge of the ballroom and waited until the dance was finished.

  The waltz was next, after which he would say hello to his elder brother, Benjamin, and his sister-in-law, Phoebe. Then he and Michael would set off for a night of gaming, and who knew what else.

  “Excuse me.” A small voice took him from his reverie.

  He turned to his right to see a waif of a girl—well, woman, really—sitting on the bench next to him. Her hair was a fiery red, which was quite out of fashion, but her large brown eyes more than made up for that fact.

  “May I help you?” he asked, not meaning to sound so arrogant.

  The girl pursed her lips in annoyance. “You’re standing on my dress, sir.”

  It took a moment for Andrew to process what she’d said. He’d been too focused on her luscious pink lips to comprehend immediately. “Oh!” he exclaimed, jumping off her gown as if it were on fire. “My sincerest apologies, Miss...”

  “Hawthorne.”

  “My sincerest apologies, Miss Hawthorne,” he said with a smile, trying to put the odd girl at ease.

  “And you are?”

  Andrew swept her a bow. “Lord Andrew Wetherby, at your service.”

  ***

  Chloe swallowed hard as all the color drained from her cheeks. Oh, bugger!

  She stood and took a step toward him. “Lord Andrew, did you say?” she repeated, feeling like a ninny for having done so. He had very clearly stated his name, even if he had been a bit overdramatic about it.

  He gave her a wry smile and Chloe felt the heat rush back to her cheeks. “I did,” he finally answered.

  “Oh, well, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lord. I daresay we’ll be seeing a great deal of one another in the future.”

  Lord Andrew looked at her, clearly perplexed, which made him look quite adorable. She much preferred that to the arrogant eyebrow lift he’d already demonstrated seven times in the course of their short conversation.

  “I am Lady Elizabeth’s cousin,” she continued. “I’ve just arrived from Essex to play chaperone to her for the Season.”

  “Chaperone?” Lord Andrew predictably lifted his eyebrow again—the left one—and Chloe couldn’t help but be annoyed by it. She wondered if he might eventually get stuck in that position.

  The thought tickled her, and she twisted her lips to keep from laughing.

  “Something funny?”

  “No, no, I just...it was nothing.” Chloe blushed and looked away, feeling every bit the fool.

  Just then the music ended and Andrew turned away from her, clearly seeking out his bride-to-be. Chloe took the moment to regain her wits, chiding herself for being so flustered. It wasn’t as if she’d never seen a handsome man before. Her own husband had been quite attractive.

  “Well, Miss Hawthorne, it was a pleasure making your acquaintance.” He gave her what one might consider a half-bow. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I shall seek out your cousin.”

  Chloe nodded, returning his half-bow with a half curtsey. “Of course, my lord.”

  And then she sat back down on her lonely little bench and watched Lord Andrew saunter gracefully across the ballroom.

  “It’s going to be a very long evening,” she muttered to herself. “A very long evening indeed.”

  ***

  “Well, well, my fiancé has finally shown his face at his own brother’s party.”

  Elizabeth glided toward him with a cheeky smile, her blue eyes twinkling in the candlelight. Andrew bowed deeply over her hand and planted a light kiss to her gloved fingers.

  “My apologies,” Andrew said, noting that was the second time in only fifteen minutes he’d apologized to a woman. That certainly didn’t happen often. “I was unavoidably detained.”

  “Aren’t you always?” Elizabeth asked with a toss of her flaxen curls.

  “The good news, my dear, is that I’m here now. Just in time for our waltz.”

  “You’re not going to run off as soon as you’ve danced with me, are you?”

  Andrew feigned shock at the accusation, annoyed that Elizabeth was clearly on to his tactics now.

  “Spare me the dramatics, Andrew.” Elizabeth took his arm and steered him back in the direction he’d just come from. “I have someone I want you to meet.”

  “No need,” he said, tugging her toward the dance floor. “I’ve already met her, and I’m brimming with questions.”

  Elizabeth raised one delicate eyebrow at him. It made her look rather mannish and Andrew made a note to address the subject at a later date, hopefully with a modicum of tact. It never did to insult one’s betrothed by telling her she looked like a man.

  “Might I ask how you came to make her acquaintance?”

  “I didn’t request the introduction, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said flatly. “I stood on her dress. Accidentally, of course,” he clarified. “She asked me to remove my foot, I apologized and in the process, we exchanged names. She seemed to be quite acquainted with me, though I wonder why I've never heard of her.”

  Elizabeth smiled and allowed him to lead her to the middle of the floor just as the waltz began.

  “Chloe comes from Essex,” she explained after they’d settled into the dance. “She is going to play chaperone to me for the Season.”

  “Yes, that much I know. But how can she play chaperone when the two of you are of an age?” he wondered.

  “Because Chloe is a widow, of course.”

  Andrew blinked several times and furrowed his brow. It was obvious the woman was in mourning, but she hadn't corrected him when he'd called her a miss. He just assumed she was mourning for a family member.

  “Well, don’t look so distraught, Andrew,” Elizabeth chided as he pulled her into a turn. “She was only married for two weeks before t
he poor sap came down with a fever.”

  Andrew cast a sidelong glance toward the bench where Mrs. Hawthorne sat. It was hard to believe someone so young was a widow, and he found himself wondering if she’d been in love with her husband.

  He shook his head at the thought. What on earth did that matter?

  “Did you know him?”

  “Who, Sam? Yes, of course. They were childhood friends, so anytime I went to visit, I inevitably came in contact with him.”

  “What happened to your Great Aunt Sally? I thought she was to chaperone again this year.”

  “She claims that her gout is too much to bear and so she is spending the season in Bath to take the waters.”

  “When did her husband die?” Andrew asked without thinking. He wasn’t even sure why he wanted to know.

  Elizabeth wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Great Aunt Sally's?”

  “No, of course not. Your cousin's husband.”

  “Oh. It’s been more than a year. Not that anyone would be able to tell. She insists on wearing those awful black dresses and silly caps everywhere she goes.” Elizabeth tsked in what most would construe to be sympathy, but what Andrew knew to be embarrassment. Elizabeth didn’t want to be seen with anyone who might be considered unfashionable.

  “Well, you mustn’t be uncharitable, darling,” Andrew suggested. “Perhaps she is simply without any suitable gowns.”

  “Quite the contrary.” Elizabeth blinked her blue eyes up at him. “She has a whole trunk full of suitable gowns.”

  “Then we must assume she is not ready to come out of mourning.”

  Elizabeth pouted at this and Andrew thought it best to end the conversation before she truly started whining about the state of her cousin’s chosen wardrobe. Instead, he pulled her from the dance floor and led her to where his brothers and the rest of the family stood, chatting away like magpies with one another.

  “You know, there are people here who you do not see on a daily basis,” he said to his sister, Katherine, the Duchess of Weston.

  “Such as you,” she rejoined with a light smack to his arm. “Why, I don’t believe I’ve set eyes on my baby brothers for at least a fortnight now.”

  “Must you be so melodramatic, Kat?” Michael asked, joining the conversation and leaning in to plant a kiss on Katherine's cheek. “We had dinner with you just last week.”

  Katherine cocked her head in mock-annoyance. “If you think it counts to breeze into my dining room, stuff your faces with nary a word, and then run out again on a mission to further debauch yourselves, you are sadly mistaken, dear brother.”

  Andrew exchanged a knowing glance with Michael, remembering just why they had left in such a hurry. Thankfully, Madam Stone had not disappointed that evening.

  “But you are right, Michael,” Katherine agreed as she peeled Elizabeth from Andrew’s arm. “We must branch out beyond the family tonight. Come, Lady Elizabeth, I wish to be introduced to that lovely young lady you arrived with this evening.”

  Two

  Chloe stood and rubbed her palms down her black gown as she watched her cousin walk towards her with a very elegant woman on her arm. She suddenly realized how inadequate she looked. Both Lizzie and the other woman could have stepped out of a page of Ackerman’s; Chloe could have stepped out of the grave for all the black she wore.

  “Chloe dearest,” Lizzie called with a dazzling smile as she approached. “I would like to introduce you to Her Grace, the Duchess of Weston. Your Grace, this is my dear cousin, Mrs. Chloe Hawthorne.”

  Chloe dipped into a curtsey, but the duchess caught her hand and clasped it between her own. “I will have none of that, Mrs. Hawthorne,” she scolded playfully. “All these people dipping and bowing gets rather tiring. Besides, if you’re Lady Elizabeth’s cousin, you are practically family.”

  Astonished at the woman’s candor, Chloe merely smiled and brought herself erect again. “I’m sorry, Your Grace, I will remember to hold myself upright in the future.”

  The duchess laughed a warm laugh that quickly put Chloe at ease. “See that you do. How delighted I am that you have brought your cousin to Town, Elizabeth.”

  “Not nearly as delighted as I am.” Lizzie beamed at her, but Chloe still felt unsure as to how she should proceed.

  She was not used to being in the presence of aristocracy. Her upbringing in the country had been simple, she’d married a simple farmer, and she knew very little of Town life. The only connection she had to society was through her cousin, though they'd spent little time together in the last few years. As Lizzie approached marriageable age, her life became rather more complicated, so her visits to the country had become fewer and rather far between. Never mind that their mothers didn’t quite see eye-to-eye. Aunt Prudence never fully grasped why her sister had sunk so low to marry a pig farmer. But Chloe knew why, and she was glad her parents were in love.

  But Chloe and Lizzie had always been kindred spirits, and thankfully her cousin had given her a copy of Debrett’s Peerages upon her arrival. She’d stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, studying in preparation for this evening. Which probably accounted for her excessive yawning.

  According to the book, Katherine Hart, Duchess of Weston had gained her title nearly four years ago through her marriage to William Hart, Duke of Weston. But she was high born through and through, having been the only daughter of the Marquess of Eastleigh.

  Needless to say, Chloe hadn’t expected someone of her exalted status to be so friendly.

  “Do say you’ll join the ladies and me for tea tomorrow afternoon. You and Lady Elizabeth would be a welcome addition to our little garden party.”

  Lizzie’s eyes lit up as if it were Christmas morning. “We would be honored, Your Grace,” she replied, not bothering to ask Chloe if she indeed wanted to attend.

  Chloe stifled a sigh. It didn’t really matter anymore if she wanted to attend or not. This was Lizzie’s Season, and Chloe was her chaperone. That meant wherever Lizzie went, there Chloe would be.

  “I shall look very forward to it, Your Grace.” Chloe started to dip into a curtsey, but stopped herself mid-way with a sheepish grin.

  The duchess laughed again. “You and I are going to get along just fine, Mrs. Hawthorne.”

  ***

  “We’ve been here well over an hour, Michael. Can we please go now?” Andrew approached his brother, who stared intently at the twirling couples in front of him.

  “Just a few more minutes,” Michael replied absently.

  Andrew couldn’t imagine what had captured his brother’s undivided attention, but he decided to make the most of it.

  “If you see Elizabeth, tell her I’ve gone already. I don’t wish to be dragged into another dance. I’ll be in Ben’s study when you’re ready.”

  “Fine, fine,” Michael replied with a wave of his hand.

  Andrew shrugged and ducked out of the ballroom. He certainly cared about his betrothed, but he detested going to balls with her. Hours and hours of dancing and mingling with people he didn’t know, or didn't like, could be exhausting. Elizabeth knew this and typically was content to go along without him.

  Tonight, however, was a different matter altogether. His sister-in-law, Phoebe, would have his head on a platter if he missed her first ball of the Season.

  “Andrew?”

  Speak of the Devil...

  He turned to see the subject of his most recent thoughts trailing after him down the hall. She wore a gown of dark green silk that made the russet streaks in her hair shine like a brand new copper pot.

  “Ah, my favorite sister-in-law!”

  Phoebe approached and they shared a brief hug. “Never mind that I’m your only sister-in-law,” she replied with a smile. “Where are you off to?”

  “I had hoped to find Benjamin in his study and join him for a drink.”

  “Your brother is where he should be—in the ballroom doing his duty as host to this party, and if you even think of pulling him away—”

&
nbsp; “All right, my lady,” Andrew conceded with a laugh. “I’ll drink alone, then.”

  “I’m afraid that just won’t do, Andrew. You should be paying far more attention to your betrothed than you are.”

  Andrew rolled his eyes. He had hoped his engagement to Elizabeth would turn his sisters’ attentions to Michael. Apparently they could find a way to meddle regardless. “I’ve already done my duty by her this evening, in an exquisitely executed waltz, if I do say so myself.”

  Phoebe gave him a sharp look—the one that made even her own husband cower. “Duty or not, you should keep a closer eye on her. The fortune hunters are out in droves this Season.”

  A niggling of doubt began to creep in as Phoebe stood there looking at him, waiting for his response, but he ignored it. Elizabeth was an honorable girl and she would never think to break their engagement. Besides, she couldn't do much better than him. He was a Wetherby, after all, and a rich one at that. Far richer than many titled men, thanks to his careful investments, and far better looking. Why, she'd be a fool to break things off.

  He turned back to his sister-in-law and sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to stay a little while longer, if for no other reason than to appease the marchioness. Though perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if it meant getting to know that bizarre little chaperone of Lady Elizabeth’s.

  “Fine. You win,” he said. “Lead the way.”

  ***

  “May I have this dance, Mrs. Hawthorne?”

  Chloe looked up, startled, to find her cousin’s betrothed standing before her, hand outstretched.

  Dance? Why on earth would Lord Andrew request such a thing of her? Not only was his fiancée in attendance, but there were several dozen other pretty debutantes milling about, waiting for a gentleman to ask them to dance. She grew suddenly nervous at the thought of participating. It had been well over a year since she’d engaged in such an activity, and never in such experienced company. Sam had been rather unremarkable when it came to dancing.

  Besides, she was here as a chaperone. To abandon her post would leave her charge unattended, and Chloe was never one to shirk her duties.