Page 48 of Wedding the Widow

“I swear it will not prevent me in the least from marrying you, my darling.” He grasped her hands and kissed them as the groom opened the carriage door.

She smiled, and his heart melted. “I pray so, my love.”

He jumped to the ground and handed her down, loath to let her go even for a moment when they were to be parted so soon. “Let me order you some tea.”

She shook her head as they entered the foyer. “I must pack immediately if I am to leave within the hour.”

“I will send it to your room with some sandwiches. You haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.” He leaned closer to her, the heady feminine scent of her making him weak. “You must keep your strength up, you know.”

Her cheeks pinked prettily, though that may have just been the cold. “Thank you, my dear. That would be lovely.”

Handing Fisk their coats, he paused to soak up the blessed heat. He rubbed his hands together briskly. He could use something hot as well. “Fisk, please have some tea and sandwiches sent to both my and Mrs. Easton’s rooms. And make haste. The lady leaves in an hour.”

“Very good, my lord.” The butler handed the coats to a footman and hurried toward the kitchen.

“As I will not see you for some time, may I at least see you to your room?”

The liquid blue eyes she turned on him made his heart pound.

“Of course, you may.” She grasped his arm, and they started up the polished front stairs. “Will you come to me in London? After you take Georgina back to Blackham?”

Stunned, he stopped in mid-step. “You wish me to come to London?”

“If we are to wed, I think you should become acquainted with my parents and the children, don’t you?” Her smile held back laughter.

“I didn’t think you’d want me to . . . yes, yes, of course. I will come immediately after I deliver Georgie.” Unfortunately, that had sounded as though his sister was a parcel. He clutched her arm, suddenly a trifle giddy.

“I hope I shall have good news by the time you arrive. Perhaps my parents can shed some light on your father’s dislike of them.” Taking his hand, she led him the rest of the way to her room, where she paused delicately. “I will miss you so much, Jemmy.” She leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips.

His body throbbed, the aching need for her seizing him again. When they married, they must go away somewhere alone and devour one another for at the least a month or two.

Grasping her face, he kissed her deeply, igniting a fire within him that demanded he claim her just once more.

As if sensing that need, she gently withdrew from him, though her eyes glowed with a like desire, her cheeks awash with the red of crisp fall apples. “When you come to me in London, and we are married, then we will continue this moment.”

“Most assuredly.” Breathing deeply, he kissed her hand, and she slipped into her chamber. With a groan for his aching parts, he hurried toward his own bedroom, Fellowes, and a hot, soothing bath.

* * *

Jemmy entered the drawing room that evening determined not to mope over Elizabeth’s absence. He’d managed to see her off in the early afternoon, with another soul-stirring kiss and the admonition to write to him once she arrived and spoke to her parents about their impending marriage. She was not to speak of their imminent parenthood—Jemmy had promised on his life to follow her to London as soon as he had settled Georgie at Blackham, at most in a day or two. Then they would make that announcement together.

He had just greeted Lady Wrotham and assured her of Elizabeth’s good health when Georgie bounded into the room, bringing, as she always did, a breath of vitality and joie de vivre with her. She made for them directly.

“Charlotte, I have such news! Jemmy, did you tell her?” Georgie smiled broadly, hopping from one foot to the other, like she was six years old again. She certainly acted a child much more often than she acted a grown woman and a widow.

“I fear you have interrupted me asking after Lady Wrotham’s health, dear sister. I’ve not had time to tell her more. Besides”—he fixed her with a stare of false sternness—“I haven’t seen you to tell you anything.”

“I talked with Elizabeth before she left.” She raised her chin triumphantly.

“What news is this, Georgina?” Looking from Georgie to him, Lady Wrotham raised her perfectly arched eyebrows.

“Father has sent for me!” Georgie burst out and hugged Jemmy’s arm. “He’s forgiven me and wants me to return to Blackham.”

“That is wonderful news indeed, Georgie. I am so happy for this reconciliation.” Lady Wrotham hugged her, though the puckered frown on her face was less enthusiastic.

Unless he missed his guess, his hostess feared the summons to Blackham had ulterior motives. Those fears would likely prove correct. Georgie had told him of Lady Wrotham’s history with her own father, who seemed even worse than their parent, if such a thing were possible.

“We must leave your kind hospitality tomorrow, my lady. After three years, our father is anxious to see Georgina again.” That final interview this morning had convinced him that their father still harbored resentment over Georgie’s first marriage and her defiance of him. Sadly, she was now out of options. Lyttlefield Park would be closed shortly, leaving her nowhere to go save home or to the Kirkpatricks. Apparently, his sister had decided Father was now the lesser of two evils.