Page 30 of The Widow’s Christmas Surprise

They stopped at the bottom of the front staircase. Anthony took both her hands in his and squeezed them in an extremely strong grip that came close to being painful. If she ever had to fend this man off, or escape from him, she would be hard-pressed to do so.

“A ride about the property sounds like a lovely outing, Cousin, if the weather will cooperate.” Best lay the groundwork for this refusal as thoroughly as possible. For she did not wish to spend any time alone with Lord Wetherby. Despite Jane’s advice, to do so would be to invite disaster back into her life. The gentleman might have all kinds of sterling qualities, though she’d heard of none since she’d met him, but he reminded her of Alan, from his coloring to his cologne, and that was enough to ward her off of him for good. “I am engaged tomorrow, and on Monday Lady John takes her leave—I am certain I shall need to rest after the ordeal of telling her farewell—so we may be able to schedule a ride on Tuesday. If the weather permits.” And by Tuesday she would have come up with another excuse to put him off. Unless Cousin Anthony was completely bird-witted, he’d realize quickly she did not wish to ride with him any day.

“I shall await Tuesday’s dawning with a keen eye.” He raised her hands, placed a kiss on the back of each, then released her.

Resisting the urge to wipe her hands on her skirts, Maria nodded to him. “My lord.”

“Cousin.” The admonishment was half teasing, half serious.

“Cousin.” Maria turned and mounted the stairs, keeping her pace slow and even, despite the gooseflesh crawling up her back. If she looked back she’d certainly see Anthony watching her ascend the stairs. When she finally reached the first-floor landing, she risked a look back, but Cousin Anthony had gone.

Blowing out the breath she’d been holding, Maria picked up her skirts and fled toward Jane’s room. Never had she wanted anything so badly as to beg her true cousin to stay with her. Anthony’s attentions could mean one of several things, and none of them necessarily good for Maria. Still, she must let her cousin go, and learn to cope with the difficulties life had a tendency to throw at her. One way or the other, Maria would learn to be on her own.

* * *

Pasting a pleasant smile on his face, Anthony followed Maria’s progress up the stairs. Just in case she should glance back, he wanted her to know that he was watching her, to think that he was interested in her. When she reached the top step, with no backward glance, he whirled on his heel and strode quickly down the corridor toward the main study, in urgent need of his father.

He’d been keeping an eye out for the little widow for a couple of days, but the lady had either been spending her days in her room or actively avoiding him. He didn’t think the latter—she had no reason to think ill of him yet—so perhaps she tended to be retiring. She did not put herself forward at all, if her behavior at dinner could be an indication.

When the family gathered before being called in, she’d been talking to either his mother or her cousin. He had tried to engage her in conversation both before and after dinner, but she seemed more elusive than a nightjar. At dinner his chances were worse, as his seat necessarily put him at his father’s side. Maria sat to his mother’s right and her cousin, Lady John, between her and him. He’d speak to Mother about changing the seating—to hell with protocol—if she wanted him to be able to woo Maria.

So today’s encounter had been a spot of good luck. He’d been out riding this morning, as was his custom, and had just returned and was heading to his room to change when he stopped to admire the backside of one of the maids, bent over stoking the fire in the library. He’d been debating approaching her—it had been far too long since his last bit of skirt in London—when he’d heard the patter of running feet and moved away from the library door before Lady Kersey had almost barreled him over.

She had seemed distracted, too distracted to have simply been requesting a meeting with Granger’s sister. What had she actually been up to? An assignation was obviously his first thought. Widows were generally a wanton bunch in his experience. Once given a taste of bed pleasures, they were in dire need of a replacement after their husbands had cocked up their toes. He suspected little Maria was no different. And the only two gentlemen, other than himself, she might have chosen to lie with were James and Granger. James she hardly knew and was therefore the less likely candidate. Granger, however, he could see perfectly as the widow’s paramour.

His long strides had carried him to the small study near the front of the house that his father had taken over as his office. The door stood open and Anthony strode in and went directly to the sideboard. “We may have a problem.”

His father’s head jerked up from the letter he was reading. “What? What the devil are you talking about?”

“The Dowager Lady Kersey may have taken Granger as her lover.”

His father dropped the letter on the desk in front of him. “Good God. Did you catch them together?”

“No.” Anthony poured a hefty libation into a sizeable tumbler. “I said ‘may have.’ I didn’t see them, but I did run into the widow on her way back from Granger’s office. She gave some flimsy excuse about arranging a meeting with his sister, but I suspect it’s more than that.”

“You are suspicious of any woman who doesn’t fall immediately into bed with you.” Father rose and headed toward him.

“But then she put off my suggestion of riding out with me tomorrow. I think she’s avoiding me because she’s being satisfied elsewhere.” Any woman with the prospect of being wooed by the heir to an earldom would be daft to turn it down. “What other explanation could there be?”

“That she really did wish to meet with Miss Granger.” His father poured himself a tot of brandy and moved back to his chair. “You are too used to the ways of light-skirts and the ladies in Society. Unlike them, Maria is young and, despite being widowed twice, still rather naïve, according to your mother, who has spoken with her at length after dinner. You cannot judge her by the behavior of the more experienced women with whom you are familiar.”

Disgruntled by his father’s words, Anthony sauntered over to the leather chair by the fireplace and flopped down. “Are you certain James cannot marry her with the same result? She’s not to my taste at all.”

“Then change your taste or swallow it until you have made her Lady Wetherby or you’ll live to see the estate ruined.” Glaring at him, Father sipped his brandy and sat back in his chair. “Are you telling me you cannot seduce this little wench? And here I’d believed your reputation as a rake. Was I wrong to do so?”

“No, you were not. I can get her in my bed.” That had never been a problem before. “It’s just that she seems not to be attracted to me for some reason.” He gazed evenly at his father. “I may, however, need to use other means than charm in order to do so.”

After a moment’s pause, his father shrugged and nodded. “Whatever it takes, Anthony. She must become your wife by fair means or foul.”

Leaning back in his chair, Anthony relaxed against the cushion. He would need to plan a little more carefully if he were to do this properly. Maria had been elusive and often in the company of her cousin. That would change shortly and she would have no one to keep company with, save his mother and, occasionally perhaps, Miss Granger. Plenty of opportunity then to get her alone and compromise her thoroughly so that marriage to him would be her only option.

He sighed. Not the way he’d have preferred the scheme to go, but then beggars could not be choosers. If he didn’t want to end up on the rocks, he’d have to seduce his little “cousin,” whether she wanted seducing or not.

Chapter Thirteen

The Sunday afternoon sunshine was thin, but the air around Maria and Jane was crisp, not cold. They had elected to walk to Mr. Granger’s because of the temperate day. Jane had been less sanguine about it, but Maria had convinced her by citing Jane’s coming journey, cooped up in a carriage for days on end before she arrived in Scotland. “You should get as much exercise and fresh air as you can before you begin your journey,” she’d announced to Jane as they stood in the entryway donning their pelisses.

“I have always believed fresh air and exercise are good for children, dogs, and horses, but not for me.” Her cousin had pulled on her gloves, then glanced at Maria and sighed. “Very well. I shall suffer the walk for your sake, my dear.”