Page 32 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

“Rose, bring the Pear’s Bloom of Roses.” A little on her cheeks would hide the pallor brought on by the strains of the night. She usually disdained the use of cosmetics, but better a touch of the rouge than be thought pale from pining for someone.

Charlotte arrived in the cheery breakfast room, around haft past eleven o’clock, to find her cousin alone, sipping tea and spreading marmalade on toast. Not the best companion this morning. Jane could always wheedle information out of Charlotte no matter how hard she tried to withhold it. She braced herself for a battery of questions.

“Good morning, Jane.” Charlotte kissed the cheek that looked younger than her own and slid into the chair at the head of the table. “I see I have missed breakfast.”

“Good morning, my dear.” Jane eyed her face, then raised an eyebrow. “Yes, they’ve just put the things away, although I’m sure there’s still plenty in the kitchen.” She peered closer at Charlotte. “You’re certainly out of looks today. Did you not sleep well?”

Charlotte signaled a footman to bring her a plate. “I may have tossed and turned a bit,” she admitted. That much at least was true. “Worrying about the guests and today’s activities. Are you aware Alan Garrett left in the middle of the night?” Best get that piece of information out in the open. Her cousin either already knew or would find out shortly. “He was called to his uncle’s death bed.”

“Yes, I heard that while dressing this morning. Nichols had it from Fisk. Shame about his uncle, but I daresay it’s for the best in the long run.” Jane sipped her tea with an air of nonchalance.

“How so?” Charlotte took a piece of toast and began to butter it, listening carefully for her cousin’s point.

“I suspect his elevation to the title and the attendant responsibilities will steady the man. Make him less of a rakehell.” Jane cut her eyes at Charlotte, then back to her teacup.

“Lord, I will pray for that from this day forward. Perhaps then he will stop his unwanted attentions to me.” Charlotte finished with the butter and began to slather marmalade on the bread. She didn’t like to coat the jam so thickly, but she needed something to do with her hands. “Unfortunately, I’ve noticed that such behavior is a rare occurrence. They inherit their titles, more funds become available to them than they have ever seen before, and they go off on a spree of drinking, gambling, and whoring—”

“Charlotte!”

“Well, that’s what happens, isn’t it?” Charlotte turned a sour eye on her companion. “I have been married, Jane. I’ve seen Edgar at close range for years. Men gamble away all their inheritance before they know what’s what or take up with mistresses or some other type of bird of paradise.”

Of course, some men might take up with a discreet widow instead. Much better for a man’s purse in the long run, if she had her own money and would be content to simply share his bed. The Earl of Wrotham’s face came to mind, as darkly handsome as ever. No, she would not think of the wretched man this morning.

The footman laid her plate before her and she studied the eggs and kidneys with loathing. She’d be violently ill if she took a mouthful of that. Determinedly, she crunched into the sticky toast.

“Lord Wrotham seems to have weathered that storm successfully. He is very pointedly looking for a wife.”

The toast stuck halfway down Charlotte’s throat. Grasping her teacup, she sipped a mouthful, trying to make the gluey mass go down. She coughed, praying she would not finish the morning by casting up her accounts. A bit more struggle and the food continued on its way. Charlotte gulped her tea, then set the cup down with a vigorous clink. She wiped her tearing eyes with her napkin. “Why bring up Lord Wrotham? And how do you know he’s looking for a wife?” Her cousin certainly knew how to get a reaction from her.

“Most titled gentlemen his age are.” Jane sipped tea tranquilly, a slight smile on her lips. “He’s only been in ton circles for a year or two. Inherited his title from an uncle when he and his son were killed in a carriage accident. I’m sure you heard about that? The son was Lord Berkley.”

Charlotte vaguely recalled a tall, blond young man of that name from her come-out Season, so she nodded. She carefully turned the teacup around and around its saucer.

“And I know for a fact Wrotham was very taken with you at Almack’s. If only Mr. Garrett had not been so insistent.”

“May I remind you, I am not in the market for a husband, my dear?” Charlotte would swear her cousin rolled her eyes.

“Nonsense, Charlotte.”

“Nonsense? You yourself told me you would not marry again. Why should I?”

“Because you need to experience a real marriage.” Jane squeezed Charlotte’s hands. “You were married to an old brute who used you badly. You should marry a young man who will thoroughly woo you, bed you, and give you children. That’s what a woman needs.” She released Charlotte. “And if Lord Wrotham is not the perfect man to do it, I will eat my best bonnet.” Jane pursed her lips. “Perhaps my second-best bonnet. I do adore the cream straw with the blue trim. I would hate to have to eat that one.”

Charlotte burst out in giggles. “Jane, you are a wonder. Only you could annoy me to the point of distraction and then make me love you for it.” She had often marveled at the captivating way her cousin had always gotten her way with everyone, from the servants to her late husband.

“Now tell me,” Jane gave her an arch look, “just between us. If Lord Wrotham proposed, would you really say no?”

Charlotte went still, seeing the image of Wrotham’s dark eyes boring into her when he demanded that she marry him. Memory of the incredible heat their bodies had created pressed against each other sent a rush of warmth through her again.

“Charlotte?” Jane’s voice sounded a long way away. “Charlotte.”

With a gasp, she came to herself to find Jane peering at her, her brows puckered.

“Are you all right?” Jane grasped her hand and rubbed it. “You went quite pale and then your cheeks flushed. Have you taken a chill?”

“I did.”

“You’ve got a chill? My dear, you must go back to bed.” Jane had risen and was urging her to stand.