Page 41 of What a Widow Wants

If only she could hide under the bed as well. “Yes, my lady.”

“Do you have some aversion to my son, Lady Stephen?”

“Oh, no.” Fanny leaned over and grasped the woman’s hand as it lay rigid on her lap. “I love your son very much. Truly, I do.”

“I must inform you, my dear, refusing his suit so often does not incline me to believe you.”

Shaking her head, Fanny summoned all her strength to try to make her understand. “I will admit, when I first turned Lord Lathbury down, I was very young and inexperienced in the ways of Society. I had no one to guide or advise me and so made a horrible mistake. Had I not, I would have been your son’s wife these ten years.”

“Inexperience can be forgiven. Most women have made at least one grave mistake as a result of ill advice.” Lady Lathbury’s tone had softened. “That does not, however, excuse your continual refusal of him during the past two months. I will warn you, Lady Stephen, when Rowley told me of your refusal when he returned from Brighton, I strongly urged him to abandon his efforts to secure you and turn his eye elsewhere for a wife.”

Fanny hung her head, consumed with guilt. She’d been in the wrong to keep Matthew on her hook for so long. Admitting that now would do little good as far as his mother was concerned. If she could tell the countess of their betrothal it would perhaps put her in a better light, but she’d promised Matthew not to breathe a word of it to his mother. So what defense could she summon? “I do not blame you for that, Lady Lathbury. A mother must continue to look out for her child even after they reach adulthood. I have already told Matthew the reasons for my hesitation, now mainly having to do with my daughter.”

“You have a child, Lady Stephen?” The countess leaned forward, an appraising light in her eyes. “Rowley did not mention that.”

“I do not think he knew about her until quite recently. We had fallen out of touch before her birth.”

“A daughter, then?”

“Yes. Ella.”

“Pretty name.” She nodded in approval. “She is how old?”

“Six this past May.” The pleasantries were nice, and the countess’s interest in Ella was a credit to her, but Matthew must be freezing on the cold floor under the bed.

“But you have reservations about Rowley’s care of the child should you marry?” The harsh tone had returned.

At least Fanny could refute this area of consternation. “Not reservations, my lady. I am certain Matthew will be a wonderful father to Ella, but I have asked him to meet her before I can agree to marry him. I know you are aware that if a woman marries she relinquishes guardianship of her children to a man who is no blood relative to them.”

“That is the law of England, my dear. No one would challenge it.”

“Nor will I. However, I will feel much easier in my mind if Ella can meet the man who will be her new papa before it is irrevocable. I believe you might insist on the same condition were you to consider remarriage.”

“Rowley retains guardianship of his sisters until they reach their majority or until they marry, of course. So my circumstances are somewhat different than yours, although I do take your point.” The lady’s brows that had furrowed, now smoothed themselves out. “And has he agreed to meet your daughter?”

“Yes, he has. Next week or as soon as possible after this house party.”

Lady Lathbury shook her head and rose, a rueful smile on her lips. “My son goes to Scotland for a shooting party with Lord Kinellan next week. I am afraid he will not put that off.”

“But he already has.”

“I beg your pardon?” The countess stopped in the midst of reaching for the door handle.

“He informed Lord Kinellan this evening that he would not be attending the shooting party.” Although Fanny had known Matthew enjoyed his sport, she’d had no idea asking him to cancel his plans to attend Lord Kinellan’s shooting party would be considered such a privation. Did he truly wish to attend? His meeting with Ella could be put off another week or two. There was no hurry, save now she wished to marry him with all haste.

Turning back to face Fanny, Lady Lathbury grasped her arm. “I believe I had not correctly gauged the depth of his regard for you, then, Lady Stephen. Rowley has almost never postponed or cancelled a sporting trip, particularly not when it was shooting in Scotland.” She gave Fanny’s arm a friendly shake. “I would ask if my daughter and I could accompany Rowley to London and meet your daughter? If their approval of one another is all that stands between you and a betrothal, then by all means, let us make haste to Town.”

“You will certainly be welcomed at the Marquess of Theale’s town house, my lady. That is where I currently make my home with Ella.” Fanny laid her hand over the countess’s. “I would be delighted to see you and Lady Beatrice in London when Matthew comes to call.”

“Just so. But I have trespassed on your time long enough. You must get some rest. Tomorrow is another full day.” Lady Lathbury nodded and headed to the door. “You may come out from underneath the bed now, Rowley. You must get your rest as well.”

Fanny’s jaw dropped and she clutched her dressing gown to her as though it were a shield. “Wha . . . what do you mean, my lady?”

A fiendish grin flickered on and off the countess’s face so fast Fanny could scarcely be sure she saw it. “So difficult for a large man to hide completely under that bed.”

Pivoting, Fanny stared at the floor, confounded at how their subterfuge had failed. At last she spied Matthew’s pale foot, wedged against the dark leg of the bed in plain sight. She’d thought it a discarded fichu the maid had missed. The countess had known the whole time. His mother had known about . . . Her cheeks burned with a fire she wished would consume her on the spot.

“Good evening, my dear.”