Page 5 of To Woo a Wicked Widow

Harold Cavendish, her husband’s second son, had died at Waterloo. When the news had reached Sir Archibald, he’d suffered an attack of apoplexy and died. His elder son, Edgar, now Sir Edgar, held the title to the baronetcy. What a pity the fates of the sons had not been reversed. Charlotte had always gotten along well with Hal. Edgar was another matter entirely.

Near the entrance, the press of women seemed to thin a bit. She strained to see through the throng that still surrounded her. Drat. Had the dancing begun before her cousin arrived? She didn’t want to miss a moment of tonight. Cocking her head, she strained to hear through the soft din of voices. Snatches of discordant notes drifted in from the ballroom as the orchestra tuned up.

Why hadn’t Jane arrived? Charlotte eyed the doorway, willing her cousin to appear. As the first social function Charlotte had attended since her mourning ended, this fete represented her bid for freedom and she did not intend to miss a moment of the ball.

Thanks to her father’s treachery, not since her ill-fated flight to Gretna Green had she experienced one moment of love or tenderness with a man. Her aging husband had made it quite clear on their wedding night that he would not demand his marital rights. He’d never given her a reason for his disinterest, although she had her suspicions. During the next five years, however, he’d been as good as his word, never so much as putting a foot over the threshold of her bedchamber. A circumstance for which she gave thanks to God nightly—Sir Archibald had been short, potbellied, with breath like an old chamber pot. Charlotte had often wondered who she despised more, her husband or her father.

What she wouldn’t give to just once know the long-denied pleasure of a man’s attentions. She imagined herself on the dance floor, held in the arms of a dashing gentleman who would sweep her around the room as if they trod on air. He would smile for her alone and perhaps hold her a bit more tightly than was proper. She would laugh and flirt with him, without a care in the world beyond who her next partner would be. Yes, she had dreamed of this night for years.

Her blood beat a quick rhythm in her veins. The air had grown quite stifling. Alarmed, Charlotte pulled out her fan and plied it vigorously. She simply could not faint here! Not before setting a foot on the dance floor.

Had she known Jane would be this tardy, she would have accompanied her to Lady Darlington’s crush. Instead, Charlotte had preferred to have more time to dress, to perfect her first impression after so long an absence. If Jane didn’t arrive soon, however, she might give in to desperation. Might even be tempted to go into the ballroom alone. A dreadful way to call attention to herself, but she’d been waiting all her life for this moment.

As if summoned by Charlotte’s frantic need, her cousin rounded the corner into the retiring room. Panic receded. Charlotte breathed deeply and waved to her. Ever since they were children, Jane’s presence had had a calming effect on her. Though truly sorry for the loss of her cousin’s husband, she had been grateful when Jane had moved into the London town house with her and provided her with advice on widowhood.

“Oh, Jane!” Charlotte hugged her slight frame. “I thought you would never arrive.”

“I told you to come with me, Charlotte. Then you wouldn’t be in such a state.” Jane straightened the topaz and gold necklace around Charlotte’s neck. “You seem ready to fly to pieces.”

“I am.” Charlotte laughed, so giddy now the flickering candlelight spun. “I’m so tired of waiting.”

“Well, you likely will still have your share of that once we enter.” Jane nodded toward the ballroom. “We will probably have a devilish time attracting any attention at all from the gentlemen.” She frowned and flipped open her fan. “That is a major concern, my dear. The Season is all but over.”

Charlotte nodded. Now that they could accept any invitation they liked, the invitations had ceased to arrive.

“Our mourning ended at such an unfortunate time of year.” Jane started toward the doorway. “What few events remain will not likely be well attended by gentlemen seeking to marry. The most eligible have either been brought up to scratch already or have managed to escape and think themselves safe for another year.” She stopped and nodded to an acquaintance. “Despite the numbers drawn to the fete tonight, I fear we will find dancing partners scarce.” Jane sounded miffed, but Charlotte smothered a smile at her words. She doubted her cousin would sit out a single set unless she chose to. Jane had always had a way with men.

“Then by all means, let us hurry to make our presence known.” Charlotte bit her lip. Prickles of excitement coursed down her glove-encased arms. The moment she had waited for had arrived. Once again she would enter the giddy world of the ton. Shoulders straight, a pleasant smile carefully gracing her lips, Charlotte swept toward the glittering ballroom, ready for life to begin again.

* * *

“Demmed slim pickings this late in the Season, eh, Wrotham?”

Blandly surveying the crowded ballroom, Nash, twelfth Earl of Wrotham, had to agree with his friend, George Abernathy.

“Well, none of them showed great promise, even when out in full force in April. Too young and too silly if you ask me.” A shame too, as Nash had determined he would do his duty and marry this year. He’d come into his title unexpectedly, only eighteen months before, and at thirty had no time to waste putting an heir in his nursery. Life was a chancy thing.

“You may be right at that.” George surveyed the room, his usual look of boredom unchanged.

“I suppose we must wait and hope for a better crop during the Little Season.” Nash sighed as several young ladies, dressed in all manner of frothy pastel gowns, congregated not ten feet from where he stood. He smiled pleasantly to acknowledge them, all of whom he’d stood up with before, but none of whom had drawn his interest for more than a dance or two. “I do hope at least one or two here tonight can dance tolerably. Such a shame Miss Benson is now betrothed.”

Abernathy cocked his head and produced a quizzing glass, through which he seemed to study Nash. “You cherished hopes in that direction?”

“Not a bit.” Nash chuckled. “The chit is as flighty as they come, but she moved like a sprite. I’ve not had a partner such as her in ten years.” He shook his head. Not that he had indulged in dancing much at all in that time. “Fortunately, the ability to dance well is not my highest criteria for a wife.”

“Now there we can agree.” Abernathy settled himself to gazing about the room, likely looking for a suitable candidate for the opening reel. “Fortune is the primary consideration when seeking out a wife. Fortune and good breeding.”

Nash shook his head. “A consideration perhaps, but not the highest one. I’m much more interested in a pleasant woman, a good companion. A lady who will not insist on dabbling about in my business affairs, although she must be an outstanding hostess.” He looked expectantly at two young ladies entering; then he recognized them as Miss Olivia Sanderling and Lady Catherine Dole. Neither one old enough for his taste. “She should also enjoy living in the country and sharing quiet pursuits. I seek a woman I will want to sit across the breakfast table from, which means she can’t be some miss right out of the schoolroom, fortune or not.”

“Humpf.” Abernathy swung around toward the ballroom entrance, where some sort of commotion had erupted.

Had the press of people entering become too great, creating a stoppage? The organizers should have foreseen that with this particular ball and fete. Everyone must want to attend this evening.

Nash peered at the little knot of people now filing through the doorway, his attention immediately drawn to a lady in yellow who chatted animatedly with another woman. The bright hue of her gown riveted his gaze on the elegant figure, an arresting, almost fierce expression on her face, as if determined to enjoy the evening no matter what.

“I say, Abernathy, do you know that lady there in yellow, just come into the room?” Nash had never seen her at any other ton event. Of course, this was his first full year on the Town and he certainly had not met everyone. One of the disadvantages of inheriting his title with no warning had been his lack of preparation for the duties expected of him. Including attending all these blasted functions and remembering names and faces.

I would have remembered her.