Page 22 of What a Widow Wants

A masculine-looking chair, Fanny had always thought, with its dark walnut wood, animal hide seat cushion, and bare backboard. It looked deuced uncomfortable, still it suited Lavinia somehow.

“I hope your stay was more pleasant than your journey.” Her sister-in-law looked down her long nose at Fanny. “It seems to have left you bereft of your manners in any case.”

Inwardly, Fanny groaned again. A high-stickler, just like her husband, Lavinia insisted on the most correct behavior possible. Fanny and Elizabeth had grown so close they had relaxed into a comfortable companionship by the end of their stay in Brighton. Too relaxed, apparently.

“I do beg your pardon, Lavinia.” Fanny sat up, immediately assuming the correct posture with shoulders straight and her back nowhere near the chair’s. “Good afternoon. How are you, dear?”

“That is better. I am very well, thank you.” A slight nod from the older woman indicated the lesson was over. For now. “Would you like tea?”

“Yes, thank you.” Aching with tiredness, Fanny accepted the cup, hoping Lavinia would keep her catechism short this time. She always insisted on asking about every particular of each journey everyone who resided within the household made. Fanny and Jane had agreed that the woman then took all that information straight to her husband, who wanted to keep his thumb on every pulse. At fifty-five, the marquess showed no signs of loosening his grip on all their lives.

“Did you and Mrs. Easton enjoy your little holiday? Did you use my letters of introduction? There are so few people Theale and I know left in Brighton, but I hope you availed yourself of the company of those we do.” Handing Fanny her tea, Lavinia raised an eyebrow.

“Of course, we were delighted to meet Lord and Lady Marchant, Mrs. Easterbrook, and Lady Hyde-Cawfield. Lady Hermione Rochester, with whom I shared a table in the refreshment room, I was already acquainted with. It was very kind of you to assist us in making so many new acquaintances.” Duller people Fanny had never met.

Even Elizabeth, usually without a harsh word to say about anyone, had admitted the two hours spent at cards with Lady Hyde-Crawford and her sister, Miss Sofia Banks, had tried her soul. A little spirited conversation at the least would have lifted the curse from the evening’s entertainment; however, the one lady spoke of nothing save how clever she and her husband were, while the other only lamented her lack of a husband. Each had monopolized her table, despite a shuffling of partners, until Fanny had pled a genuine headache and she and Elizabeth had returned home before eleven o’clock.

“I am so pleased you met dear Penelope’s grandmamma. Such a sweet girl Craighaven has married.” Lavinia relaxed her face and for the briefest moment smiled. “Lady Marchant had her come-out with my next youngest sister. Also a sweet girl.” Lavinia sipped her tea, her gaze still hard on Fanny. “She wrote to me after you called on her the first time, to express her gratitude for the connection. She happened to mention also that you were often seen in the company of Lord Lathbury while you were in Brighton.”

Resisting the urge to grind her teeth, Fanny instead smiled and nodded. “She is correct. Lord Lathbury had informed me at Lady Beaufort’s masquerade in June that he would be removing to the seaside for some time during the month of July.”

“Did you pursue him there?”

Fanny cocked her head, determined not to lose her temper. She so often said unfortunate things when riled. A fact Lavinia knew all too well. “I do not think I would characterize my actions as pursuit. Lord Lathbury is an old friend and as old friends do, we wished to renew our acquaintance after our encounter at the masquerade.”

“Why did he not simply pay you a call here after that evening? Why take yourself off to Brighton for an assignation?” Her sister-in-law’s pursed lips and keen glare showed Lavinia truly on the hunt for scandal. Fanny’s behavior must have been called into question while she had been absent. By Theale, perhaps?

“Why would you think we had an ‘assignation,’ Lavinia?”

“Why else would you suddenly decide to go to Brighton? You’d never expressed such an interest before.” The woman’s sharp gaze darted all over Fanny’s face.

“I had been in mourning for a year, if you remember.” She tried to put a hint of reproach into her voice. “I’d had no chance to go anywhere or see anyone for a very long time. As you well know.” Fanny paused for a sip, and inspiration struck. “And when Lord Lathbury spoke of his going to take the waters at Brighton, it recalled to me my family’s outings when I was a child. We went to Weymouth each year, not Brighton, still the mention of it made me long to experience it once again.”

“Then why not go to Weymouth, if that was where you were used to going?” Apparently, Lavinia was loath to let the subject go. Why?

Sighing, Fanny brought out the reason she suspected Lavinia was searching for. “As I already said, I wished to become reacquainted with Lord Lathbury. He has been very attentive to me ever since our meeting in June. You’ll remember the flowers he sent the next morning?”

With a slow nod, her sister-in-law acknowledged the huge bouquet that had dominated the entry hall for days.

Swallowing hard, Fanny continued slowly. “He has also made me an offer of marriage.”

The smile that spread across Lavinia’s face shocked Fanny to no end. In ten years she’d never seen her sister-in-law give such a display of satisfaction. It was quite off-putting, really.

“How splendid for you, my dear.” Though her words contained a modicum of warmth—another first where her sister-in-law was concerned—the woman’s eyes were calculating. “You should have told me this immediately. We will, of course, assist with your preparations for the wedding.”

“I have not accepted him yet.”

Reaching for the teapot, the woman stopped, her head snapping up. “Haven’t accepted him? Why ever would you not accept Lord Lathbury?”

“As I said, we had not met for some years. I need to know him better, need to see if he has changed at all since that time.”

A peculiar look came over Lavinia’s face, a flicker of impatience teamed with something akin to malice. “You should think carefully before discarding such a suitor, Frances. You do have your welfare and that of your daughter to think of.”

Warily, Fanny turned the teacup this way and that in its saucer, the faint rasp of the porcelain like the gritting of teeth. What had that disturbing look meant? “I do think of my welfare, Lavinia. That is why I must be certain before leaping into a marriage with a man I hardly know. After Stephen’s—” She stopped herself just in time. Lavinia likely had no idea of Stephen’s infidelities, although unless the marquess had no idea of his brother’s character, he must have known they occurred. Perhaps not the extent of them, however. “After having Stephen as a husband, well, I think I must take care to marry a man who will treat me even better.”

“Beggars cannot be choosers, Frances.”

“I hardly think I am a beggar, Lavinia.” Fanny sipped her cooling tea, feathers ruffled. The terms of her settlement agreements were a sore spot with her.