Page 33 of What a Widow Wants

The brake slowed in a grassy field near a small stand of tall oaks under which several tables had been arranged, complete with snowy white tablecloths, china service, and footmen running to and fro setting out various dishes. In the distance, a line of male figures, dark against the bright sun, made their way toward them. On the far end the tallest and broadest of the gentleman strode quicker than the rest, forcing his nearest companion to lengthen his strides to keep up. Matthew seemed in a hurry to greet the women of the party. Fanny grasped a footman’s hand and descended the brake, unsure for perhaps the first time in her life, what to expect from this man. Seizing Jane’s arm as soon as her feet touched the ground, she steered her toward a table on the far edge of the grouping.

“Are you trying to hide, my dear? I seriously doubt it will work.” Jane seated herself on the cushioned chair and looked about expectantly. “I suspect Lord Lathbury will have designated a special place for you to sit with him. I am actually already claimed by Lord Kinellan. He sent me a charming note this morning, asking for my company at lunch.”

“Kinellan? From Scotland?” Matthew’s particular friend was drawing Jane from her side. Another example of loyalty, as when he guarded the door at the masquerade or his part in their tryst on the beach? Perhaps Matthew would spirit her away for another tête-à-tête. One in which she would give him a good piece of her mind. “Did you enjoy his company so much last evening?”

“He is quite amusing, my dear.” Jane gave her an arch look. Her sister-in-law’s idea of amusing differed from most people’s. “And we have discovered a connection. His great-grandmother was a Munro who married a Graham, which is his clan. Quite a handsome man, all in all, don’t you think.” Jane gazed across the field as the man in question broke away from his companion, scanned the tables then strode purposefully toward her.

If one looked with an objective eye, Lord Kinellan could, indeed, be called handsome. Wavy auburn hair, piercing blue eyes, and a chiseled profile Fanny would know immediately by his long straight nose. Tall, though not so tall as Matthew, broad shoulders, though not so deep through the chest. His legs bulged with muscles, likely from so much riding. Just like Matthew’s.

Hoping no one had noticed her staring at Lord Kinellan, Fanny gazed around the picnic area, trying to locate Matthew. She could have sworn he’d been beside Kinellan before that gentleman had headed toward Jane. Then she spied him on the opposite side of the field, speaking with his butler. Likely making sure everything was proceeding smoothly. Somewhat mollified, she took her seat just as Lord Kinellan arrived.

“Good afternoon, Lady John, Lady Stephen.” He nodded briefly to Fanny then turned a genuine smile on Jane. “Did you receive my note, my lady?”

“I did, my lord. How thoughtful of you to ask to partner me at luncheon. We would be delighted to have you join us.” Jane’s smile managed to convey her willingness to be coaxed to a more secluded spot. Fanny had always marveled at the woman’s ability to convey more meaning without words than most people did with them.

“I would like nothing more; however, I believe Lord Lathbury has arranged for us to sit with another of our kinsmen, Lord Selkirk.”

“Cousin James is here?” Jane looked around avidly. “I did not see him last night.”

“He arrived late this morning and joined us directly in the field.”

“And how is he your kindred, Lord Kinellan?” Jane rose, suddenly intent as she took the earl’s arm. “You will excuse us, Fanny?”

“Of course, Jane. My lord, so nice to see you once more.” She nodded pleasantly to the Scotsman, still unsure how much he knew about her escapades with Matthew.

“And I you, my lady.” He nodded again before leading Jane toward a table some little way from her and seating her beside a gentleman with dark hair whose smile split his face when he saw her.

“Good afternoon, Lady Stephen.”

Fanny looked up into the pleasant face of Lady Skelton, a neighbor of Matthew’s to whom he’d introduced her last evening. “Good afternoon, my lady. We are having a wonderful day for a picnic, are we not?” Whenever in doubt, the weather was a comforting if dull topic of conversation.

“Might I join you here?” The lady scarcely waited for Fanny’s nod before seating herself facing the rest of the company. “There is much more shade this far beneath the trees. One must always think of the ravages of sunlight, no matter how comforting the heat may feel.”

Glad that her spencer covered her arms, Fanny gave thanks the tan she’d gotten in Brighton was finally fading, though her face remained the color of cream into which a dollop of coffee had been poured. She must try harder to avoid the sun.

“Indeed, a lady’s complexion is the truest reflection of her refinement, don’t you think, Lady Stephen?” The countess’s attention seemed focused on her daughter, Lady Sarah, sitting two tables away.

“It is certainly a mark of favor with many gentlemen.” Fanny searched the tables hoping to discover where Matthew had again hid himself. “Some I know do not hold it as an irreparable barrier to marriage if a lady is a little tanned.”

“The less discerning gentlemen, perhaps. I have been extremely careful to keep my daughter’s complexion as milky white as the day she was born.” Lady Skelton nodded toward Lady Sarah, who had just smiled a greeting into the face of Lord Lathbury.

Fanny’s heart skipped a beat as he seated himself next to the girl, chatting with her as though he’d known her all his life. She gripped her napkin in her hand, then forced herself to calm. Lady Beatrice had said Lady Sarah was her best friend. Presumably, Matthew had known the lady most of his life as well. Slowly exhaling, Fanny loosened her grip on the square of linen she’d been wringing.

“They will make an excellent couple, do you not think, Lady Stephen?” The countess nodded toward her daughter, who chose that moment to lean toward Matthew, laughing at some private jest.

“Is Lady Sarah not a trifle young for Lord Lathbury?” Fanny prayed her panic didn’t show in her voice.

“Why would you say that?” Lady Skelton turned wide eyes on Fanny. “He’s but one and thirty. A perfect difference in age I would say, for he is old enough to have gotten over the wildness of youth. And while she may be a little behind him in years, I have always believed a woman ripens best when married to a man who will steady her, guide her into a maturity of his own fashioning. I suspect Lord Lathbury has finally arrived at that same conclusion.”

Swallowing hard, Fanny breathed slowly, trying her best to release the rancor building within her in some way other than becoming a spectacle at a picnic. This woman wrongly assumed Matthew would offer for Lady Sarah in order to mold the girl into the wife he wanted. Well, there might be such men in the world, but the Matthew she knew was not one of them. Opening her mouth to suggest that very thing, a voice of caution whispered in her ear and she paused. Was this the Matthew she knew, or thought she knew? Or had he grown too frustrated with her and turned to a more malleable woman?

“Lord Lathbury would be fortunate to have her.” The proud mother smiled and nodded at the couple, just as Matthew rose and raised Lady Sarah’s hand to his lips.

“Yes, I do see your point, Lady Skelton,” Fanny said, sending the woman a cool, appraising look. “However, a woman already mature, especially one who had been widowed, say, could be an immediate asset to a man of Lord Lathbury’s stature. She could step into the role of wife, chatelaine, and mother in an instant. Do you not agree?” Fanny arched her neck and fought not to smile at Lady Skelton’s livid face. “There is the matter of the earl needing an heir. An untried virgin is a chancy thing where getting children are concerned. But a woman who already has a child would be much more apt to produce more of them, wouldn’t you say?”

“My dear countess, Lady Stephen.” Matthew stepped toward them, making his bow, his gaze darting between the two of them as if assessing the situation. “I had hoped to speak to you both before the shooting resumed. I was just saying to your daughter, Lady Skelton, that I hoped she would honor me with the first dance this evening.”

Eyes gleaming in triumph, Lady Skelton leaned toward the earl. “And did she agree to that dance, my lord?”