“At least.”
“Is she someone’s mistress?”
“Only her own, as far as anyone knows,” Uncle Hector added. “See those girls walking behind her?”
Zane nodded but hadn’t noticed the dutiful children trailing behind her like sheep following their shepherd until Hector mentioned them. There were four of them. All were dressed alike and walking as purposefully as Mrs. Feld.
“She and two other ladies started a boarding school for those girls and others like them. It’s a charitable endeavor and only for the daughters and sisters of men who had worked on theSalty Dove.”
So, she was available and obviously had a very charitable heart. Not only for men who found themselves in a literal bind and in need of help but children too.
He remembered she’d been curious but cautious when she’d come upon him in the chateau. She’d been strong in holding him to account for his predicament before she fearlessly untied him. Once she’d settled in her mind that he was trustworthy and not a footpad wanting to make off with the family silver, she’d acted in good faith and released him. That act of courage and kindness wasn’t the sort of thing a man would forget.
“I’m remembering some of that story,” Zane offered, as more memories of the catastrophe and the aftermath came rushing into his mind.
“The other two ladies have since married. But don’tlet that give you any ideas about Mrs. Feld. She might be only twenty-four, but she’s worn her widow’s weeds every day since she heard the news about her husband. No one believes she’s going to shed them and marry.”
But.
Mrs. Feld had been at that masked ball wearing a provocative gown. Not widow’s weeds. She’d worn a costume made from a tempting shade of bright pink satin. It shimmered and glistened in the firelight whenever she moved. The low neckline emphasized a fair amount of her small but delectable bosom. A large pink sapphire had rested seductively in the hollow of her throat. Smaller stones dangled from her earlobes. Her lips were full, beautifully shaped, and rosy as a late summer bloom. In her gloriously blond hair, she’d worn a coronet of leaves alternately painted gold and pink.
Today, she looked every bit the widow his uncles described. Prim and proper as a lady could get. What was the personification of a perfect widow doing in Paris at a masquerade in the dead of winter, dressed to catch the attention of every man who saw her?
Zane didn’t know. But he wanted to.
Hector harrumphed and disturbed Zane’s musing as Mrs. Feld rounded a corner and walked out of sight.
“She’s shown no interest in any man’s attentions. Probably because it’s hard for any man to compete with a hero.”
Damned hard, Zane thought, but it didn’t keep another surge of interest from slamming all the way through him. “Was it her husband who saved the lives that day?”
“Indeed,” Sylvester answered with conviction. “Not more than a handful of people survived the wreck of theSalty Dove,but they all told of the bravery of Mr. Stewart Feld helping passengers find pieces of wreckage they could cling to, while in the end he couldn’t save himself.Word is she’s never allowed a man past her front door since. It’s doubtful that will change, considering the amount of time that’s passed.”
Zane nodded slowly, as if in agreement, but thought if that claim were true, it sounded like a challenge to him.
“If one has made it,” Uncle Hector continued, “he’s kept it a secret, and that’s not easy to do in this Town.”
It was true, London Society laid claim to few confidences. “No doubt many have tried,” Zane offered.
“And failed,” Sylvester declared as if that should end any hope Zane might harbor of pursuing the widow Feld. “That’s why she’s garnered so much genuine affection in most circles. I suggest you set your sights a little lower if you want to be happy with the outcome of your search for a bride. Mrs. Feld is adored by many in all walks of life. Not only is she beautiful and prim to a fault, she’s the epitome of all a widowed lady should be. Devoted to the memory of her husband and kind to those in need, whether they be Society or not. She’s not likely to look twice at a man who is more apt to have a card game end in a back-alley duel at sunup than to have a Sunday afternoon ride in Hyde Park with a lovely lady.”
His uncle certainly wasn’t trying to spare his feelings. That was fine with Zane. Both were probably right about their assertion of him and Mrs. Feld, but he would just as soon find that out for himself.
But what was the best way to go about that?
Zane looked down the street again and saw the roofline of White’s. He was a member of the famous gentleman’s club but seldom went there. The place was deeply steeped in traditions Zane would rather avoid, so he usually stayed away. And there was the fact that he’d been thrown out more than a few times. They didn’t appreciate or tolerate raucous hellraising from young menout to have a good time with their drink, games, and general fooling around.
The prestigious club was known as much for its wager book as for the exclusivity and civility of its members. Men of otherwise good character would wager on the oddest of things. From whether a man’s wife would bear him a son or daughter, to what time of day a certain man would die. There was no bet too humorous or too grisly to lay down.
And that book is what gave Zane an extraordinary idea.
At first thought, it seemed an impossible, outlandish, and mostly irresponsible idea.
But it immediately sparked his interest, and he couldn’t deny he wanted to accept the challenge of it. There was a thing or two he needed to consider. First and foremost is that he would be competing with the memory of Mrs. Feld’s husband. That alone gave him reason to have second thoughts. There were some things that should be too sacred to disturb.
By all accounts, the man was a true hero.
The only thing Zane had ever done worthwhile was save the life of every man he’d ever dueled. He could have easily shot to kill, but he never had. He’d never actually challenged anyone to a duel. And there were those who thought even that wasn’t noteworthy and a fact that was often lost in the telling because Zane accepted every challenge thrown at him. And he couldn’t agree with them more. There was little heroism in duels, even if he did aim to miss.
