Page 1 of What a Widow Wants

CHAPTER 1

Glittering candles, the flames wafting to and fro with the gentle June breeze, illuminated Lady Beaumont’s ballroom just enough for Frances, Lady Stephen Tarkington, to see the other revelers near her without being so bright as to take the fun out of the masquerade. As far as Fanny was concerned, masquerades should be conducted in semi-darkness at all times, even the unmasking. So much better to hide one’s identity when one wished to be a little naughty. And oh, but she wanted to be the epitome of a naughty widow.

Her husband, Major Lord Stephen Tarkington, had died at the battle of Waterloo. Tonight, after a long year of mourning his passing, she had emerged from her widow’s weeds in the most scandalous costume money could buy. Aphrodite in a filmy white muslin gown, the fabric so sheer she could scarcely feel it against her body. Arching her neck, Fanny pushed her breasts forward until they threatened to spill over her tight bodice, so low cut it skimmed the tops of the dark circles of her nipples. After a year of almost no social interactions, she wanted to burst back onto the stage of ton life in the boldest way possible. She smiled behind her glittery silver mask. From the looks of the costumed gentlemen, she had hit her mark.

“Good evening, my beautiful Aphrodite.” A tall gentleman in a black mask and the red and white tabard of a Knight Templar bowed low before her. His deep voice seemed forced, obviously disguised.

“Good evening, Sir Knight.” She curtsied, giving him a closer look at her décolletage. “Are you just returned from the Crusades? You seem to have the dust of the road still upon you.”

“Gads, I do seem to.” The knight brushed at his shoulders and a burst of motes flew upward. “M’valet took it out of the attics yesterday and the man obviously didn’t attend to it properly.”

“You must smite him forthwith, Sir Knight. Such insolence from a lowly squire cannot be tolerated.” Ah, Sir Arthur Fremont. His annoyance at his valet had made him abandon his deep voice. She’d recognized the man’s high-pitched tone. A dead bore really, although a wonderful partner at whist.

Sir Arthur laughed. “Off with his head, what?”

Holding up her slender golden snake, one of Aphrodite’s symbols, she shook it at the wayward knight. “Be sure you do, Sir Knight! Accept no insubordination.”

The man danced backward, bumping into a rather plump woman in the guise of some medieval lady in waiting, knocking off her precariously balanced cone-shaped headdress.

“My steeple! You’ve ruined my steeple!” Clutching the hat, now dented in the middle, the woman stormed off, Sir Arthur following and spouting abject apologies.

Laughing and looking for someone interesting to talk to, Fanny took advantage of the change of sets to make her way across the ballroom toward a rather brightly costumed man wearing the traditional green and brown garb of Robin Hood. He carried a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back; however, what drew her attention was his legs. Encased in fine brown stockings, Robin Hood’s shapely legs set her heart to thudding. Of course, she saw men all the time in ballrooms in pantaloons and stockings, but something about those finely muscled calves fed a long dormant hunger and drew her toward him.

“Well met, Prince of Thieves.” Fanny smiled up into the masked face, trying to determine who he was. A flirtation with this handsome gentleman might start the evening off well indeed.

“Any meeting with your loveliness, goddess, is sheer fortune.” He sketched a bow and moved closer to her. “Are you not afraid I will steal something of value from you?”

Yes, a gentleman willing to play and one she did not recognize. That added spice to the wager. “What thing of value might I possess that you would desire?”

“I believe you possess many delights I could fancy, goddess.”

“Indeed?” Again she lifted the snake. “I have only this bauble.” She twirled it around, making it catch the candlelight. Oh, but she was enjoying this.

His eyes twinkled and he smiled. “Quite a bauble indeed.”

She laughed and tucked the snake into her magical girdle, a leather belt of sorts, and reputedly Aphrodite’s sole weapon. “And these.”

From her pockets Fanny produced two golden apples, another symbol of the Goddess of Love. She held them before her bodice, right in front of her breasts. “Might you like these, my lord?”

The gentleman’s eyes widened behind his mask, then went deepest black. “Ah, yes. You do have treasures I desire.”

A shiver raced down her spine.

“I believe I will steal those jewels, goddess.” Swaying closer to her, he took the gold-painted apples, his warm fingers brushing hers. He clutched the fruit and her body flushed.

Lord, it had been such a long time since she had flirted so shamelessly with a man. Years before Stephen had died. She’d need to keep her emotions under control while she was learning to navigate this world once more. Almost like being out for her first Season, yet fully aware of all the pleasures that could be the result of such a wild flirtation.

“Take pity on me, kind sir. Those are all I have, save my little snake.” Fanny sent a soulful glance toward the thief’s face and pulled it forth. “Would you let me exchange something for my apples?”

Robin Hood glanced around and grasped her arm. “Perhaps we should discuss this in a more private setting. I’m certain something can be arranged.” A gleam of white teeth behind the mask and he was tugging her toward a darkened corner.

Too fast, even for her. Fanny slowed her steps. Yes, she’d come here tonight hoping for an assignation to a dalliance. A dalliance that might grow into something more than she had bargained for. “I think we should remain here, in the light of this sconce, lest you steal something more than I can afford.” She plucked the apples out of his hands and stuffed them back into her pockets. “Even a goddess must be wary of a thief, no matter how handsome.”

“Perhaps you shall change your mind before the night is out. May I help persuade you during the next set?”

“Not the next, but the one after it. By then I will have my guard in place.”

“Do you think yourself impervious to me?”