Lord Romney's Exquisite Widow Read online

  "And what of the waltz? You cannot tell me you were not attempting to create a scandal with that."

  "The waltz? No, Mother, I only wished to make her smile again, just as Lord Compton did for Lady Lamb."

  "I do not know what to do with the lot of you. This generation becomes bolder by the second," she huffed, then said seriously, "Of course your father and I support this match. However, I would watch yourself, my son."

  "Mother, she is a widow. The same rules do not apply to her."

  "Yes, but they still do to you. Do not forget that."

  "What would you have me do? Take her around Hyde Park, sit in a room with chaperones, ask her simple questions?"

  She stood up, and George scrambled to his feet as she came to him. Holding out one hand, she clasped his and then said, "My dear, you are still young—so is she in many ways. Therefore, I am going to state something I believe to be fairly obvious. Listen, please. Despite what is or is not allowed, I ask that you heed my words. A woman becomes how she is treated. If you always treat her with the utmost respect, so will others around you. And if you treat her as a widowed woman, so will others around you. She will never grow and become the gentle flower that she is if she is never handled like one. Your movements today ensure that she will be seen as soiled."

  George took a step back. "No."

  "No matter how unfair, or unwise, it is a simple fact that a woman's worth is defined by the dictates of society. Since you are the closest to her, you will be the one to bend the elite's favor. Tonight did not help but spark rumors for you both. It is prudent not to heed their babbling and to do what you know is best, but be very careful, George. This situation is more delicate than you realize."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR:

  Catherine danced three sets with other gentlemen before she saw George enter the ballroom with his mother again. Though he stood next to her and attended to several guests, it was not until his father, the Earl of Kettering, came forward and also mingled with the attendees that she began to feel a smidgeon of apprehension once more.

  It was all folly on her part, she was sure, yet there was this niggling self-doubt that continued to surface. She certainly preferred George to any other young man out there, however his family—their love, their consequence was much too much above her. Yes, she was a dowager countess, but she had no actual preparation or training to be. In fact, she felt less a countess than she had four years ago. And here she was again, back in the dismals and forgetting why it was she came.

  When Lord and Lady Hamson made their way to their little trio, Catherine thought her trembling would give her away. She curtsied again before his mother and managed to speak a sentence or two.

  "How are you, Lady Romney? Are you enjoying yourself?"

  "Immensely." Catherine smiled as bravely as she could. "It is a beautiful ball."

  "My mother had a hand in all of it," George said as he bowed. "My mother and father have come to speak to the new earl and Lady Sophia Romney. However, I have found a distinct need to join the others in the set about to start. Would you be so kind as to accompany me out upon the floor?"

  She glanced at his parents and then back over at him. "I would be delighted. Forgive me, Lord and Lady Hamson." For a brief moment, she felt as though she were being saved from a tremendous feat of bravery.

  "Thank you!" she whispered fervently as they joined a set on the floor.

  "You are more than welcome." He grinned. "My parents are the type one is introduced to after we have agreed to wed."

  "George!" She attempted to hide her giggle as she curtsied for the dance. "Hush, or others will hear you."

  "And so what if they do? Shall I shout my desires from the rooftops?" he asked as they moved forward with the music and clutched each other's hands.

  Her eyes grew wide. He was just the fop to do something so absurd. "If you did, I would be certain to denounce you for the storyteller you are."

  "What?" He looked shocked. "I am no fabricator. Everything I have proclaimed has been with great gravity. I will do what I have intended."

  "Well, you will look mighty fine doing so when you do not have a partner to profess your love for. I will simply walk away."

  "No doubt you will. And you should." He kissed the top of her gloved hand as they joined hands once more and headed down the tunnel the other dancers were making. "But I shall take every opportunity to remind you of my suit," he whispered as they came close together again.

  "Let us speak of other things."

  "Perfect. I am to inform you that after this set, I will be leading you into my mother's grand dining room, where you are to be my partner for dinner."

  Her chest burst with warmth and relief. "I am so grateful your mama is that thoughtful."

  He glanced around. "Are you saying you would prefer to be with a foolish man like me than with the other most willing men around us?"

  "Oh, most certainly. I know how to deal with the helpless suitors. It is the overly eager ones I am a bit wary of."

  "And have I not proven to be overly eager yet? There are more eager men than I? Botheration! I must increase my attentions."

  She chuckled as she stepped around him. "Pray, leave off for a moment and tell me seriously. Is all well between you and your mother? Have I spoiled something?"

  "You?” They came together again and twirled. “Good heavens, of course not. No, my mother is merely being a mother, and warning me of those things she ought."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as seeing that you are treated with the utmost respect."

  "You mean, she is not against our—I mean, your feelings?"

  "No. I do not believe she is at all, actually."

  It felt as though a small part of her was stitched back up with that declaration. Not nearly the whole of anything, but definitely a tiny part felt a little bit more complete than it had moments before.

  During dinner, George continued to divert her and those sitting closest. He told wildly amusing stories of his childhood and kept other topics light and joyful. She was impressed by how well versed he was in many subjects. Whether the war, the opera, horseflesh, or Parliament, he answered all questions and kept the conversation moving humorously along. These guests were here to be entertained by the Hamsons, and he did his best to see that they were.

  It was fascinating to see him so easily within the roles of host and companion, especially as George mentioned that his siblings were away in the country at the moment and left him, the last of them all, to play cohost during the season. A part of her felt extremely honored to be his seating companion.

  They danced again later that evening, and when she went to her room in the wee hours of the morning, she relived every step. Curling up on her bed in her night rail and cuddling the kitten, Catherine grinned as she lost herself, imagining that she was a young girl and he was the handsome prince she had always wished she could marry. The silly musings, mingled with the dancing, dining, and entertainment, caused her to fall asleep happier than she had been for years.

  Yet once she was beckoned awake by the lazy sunbeams peeping through her curtains, she again recollected that dreams were only meant to be imaginings, and not something to focus upon earnestly. With a deep breath, she stood up, cast off the ridiculous notions, and began to plan her day. The first order would be to ensure that she occupied herself enough to see that George did not come into her wayward thoughts again.

  Which would have worked perfectly if at precisely four in the afternoon George did not appear to take her riding around Hyde Park, attempting to make her forget all the necessary reminders that falling in love was not in her future.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE:

  George smiled at Catherine as he pulled away from her house and into the street. "You look very handsome today," he observed. She was more than handsome—she looked absolutely stunning in her pale-green gown with pink ribbons, every single bit the fetching young lady she was attempting not to be. Yet it would do no good to share his feelings
. He knew that the moment he did so, Catherine would become agitated and embarrassed. Instead, he marveled privately at how he was so blessed to have her in his carriage with him.

  There was something so ethereal about her, almost like magic. In her unguarded moments, she became an enchanting fairy, seeing the beauty in all around her. How he missed having such a companion. It was the exact same thing that had him tumbling head over heels for her the first time.

  Each row of flowers, or pretty hedges, or stately homes were commented on with happy enthusiasm. Even those who wished to speak with them received the same cheerful respect, but she was happy to move about the park. It was easy to perceive it was the drive she enjoyed most, getting out and being amongst such a fun, glittering set.

  He could not help himself. He parked the curricle under a particularly lovely shaded arch made of lilacs and turned to her.

  "I sincerely love this park. May we come again soon?" she asked, her eyes sparkling under the pink bonnet with her silly lace cap framing her face beautifully.

  "I will bring you as many times as you would like to come."

  "Careful." She grinned. "I am fairly certain I will never get tired of such a place. You may regret that statement."

  He shook his head, and then while glancing out toward the large expanse of green lawn before them, he asked nonchalantly, "And when are we to wed, Catherine? Tell me you will not make me wait long."

  She gasped, and still, he kept his eyes focused in front of him.

  "I beg your pardon. Did you once again bring up the subject of matrimony, George?"

  He glanced her way and grinned. "Obviously." Then he looked back at the glorious scenery around them.

  "You will forever tease me, will you not?"

  "What is life without a little playfulness here and there?" His gaze connected with hers, and he thought for a moment that his soul might take flight. Never had he felt this way about anyone before. If only she could see what he did. "Though I am not jesting when I say I wish to have your hand forever."

  She blushed and looked away, just as he thought she would. However, there were more days, and he was a patient man. Even if he had to follow her to Bath, offering his proposals the whole way, he would.

  ***

  Four days later, his coach pulled them both up to the opera house in Covent Garden. If he thought their daily rides were exhilarating, he had no notion of the excessively overwhelming love he would feel for the lady watching her weep through Angelica Catalani's songs. She related well to the character's heartbreak and disbelief of herself.

  My word, George felt he might actually snap in two for the emotion he experienced through Catherine. Though life had been cruel, he would have gladly slipped an arm about her and shielded her from the rest of the world. If she would but only let him.

  As the rest of the opera crowd was leaving, he turned toward her in the box and held those hands and whispered, "Please, dearest, allow me to love you. Allow me to be the man who protects you and shows you how wonderful this existence truly is."

  Her eyes searched his for a moment—and this time, this exact moment, he saw hope lingering there before she shuttered him out again. "You and your gibberish are sent to ruin me."

  "Ruin you?"

  She swatted at his arm. "You know what I mean."

  George took a deep breath and nodded. "I believe so. Forgive me. I will make every effort not to demonstrate how sincere I am."

  "You can a thousand times, and it will not alter a thing."

  He grinned. The lady should not challenge him so. "We shall see, my dear."

  She chuckled and shook her head in disagreement as usual. "There is nothing about me that is any more significant than the other ladies around."

  "Yes,” he answered a bit sardonically, “which is precisely why I spend my time on you instead of them."

  Catherine bit her lip, those eyes searching his for a brief moment. "I fear I am doing more harm than good."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You. Here. I love going out and seeing life the way you appreciate it. I love being with you. However, it is my dearest wish that I will not cause you more pain by doing so, for you are the last person in the world I could harm."

  George could easily admit to the times his pride had been wounded, but his heart could not give up. He simply could not see past the pain in her features from her beliefs. He refused to walk away from the bright being he knew would be there once her heart was whole again. "I love you. Do you comprehend what that means?"

  "That you care for me?"

  He shook his head. "No, it goes much deeper than that. When you can fathom it, we will chat of this again. Until then, enjoy. I am at your disposal. Let us chase the stars each night and find elation and delight in the simple things again. I for one have never been more contented than I am in your company."

  She grinned then and said merely, "Thank you."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

  Nearly a sennight later, Sophia came into the bedroom while Catherine and Joshua were giggling and playing with Silver on the floor. "Well, here you two are. I have been all over the house looking for you. Perhaps I should have listened for chortling. I am certain I would have found you much sooner." She walked over and sat upon the chaise lounge with a grin on her face.

  "I believe our little Joshua is as enamored of the kitten as I am." Catherine laughed and then looked over. "You look very fine today. Are you going out earlier than usual?"

  Sophia glanced down and then shrugged. "No. Perhaps I needed to feel a little lovelier than usual."

  Catherine tilted her head. Why would she feel the necessity to look better? "Are you well?"

  Joshua came bounding up to his mother. "You have to comed here on the floor with us and see Silver chased this ribbon. He loves Gran’mama's ribbons ’ceedingly so."

  "Does he?" Sophia's eyebrows raised. "I certainly hope he does not dash my ribbons to pieces as he is Catherine's. She is much kinder than I would be."

  "Well." Joshua puffed out his cheeks in his attempt to think of something clever to say. "That’s Gran’mama's kitten. She's supposed to let him dashed her ribbons because she’s teachin’ him to play, and that’s very ’portant."

  "I see." Sophia grinned and shared a look with Catherine as the boy landed back on the floor to find the kitten.

  Catherine watched as Sophia took a deep breath and then said quietly, "I believe I am expecting again."

  Instantly, Catherine's whole existence brightened. "You do? Oh, Sophia! I am so happy for you!"

  Sophia held out a hand. "Yes, but I have not told Charles yet. I want to make sure first. Yet already my mind is whirling, so I had to tell someone."

  Catherine got up and hugged her sweet daughter-in-law. “You are a wonderful mother, and this new little one will soon see how fortunate they are to come to your home."

  Sophia nodded toward Joshua and then said quite soberly, "You would make a superb mother as well."

  Was that not her dearest wish? Catherine shook her head as her heart grew heavy. "Goodness, no. I cannot think of such things. I am not sure I was ever meant to be a mother. I will be pleased merely to love each of my grandchildren as they come along."

  "Pshaw!" Sophia sat back in the chair. "I do not know if that particular bluff was supposed to convince me of the falsehoods you tell yourself, or if it was supposed to persuade you."

  All at once, Catherine wished she were several hundred miles away in the country. Or in Bath, or anywhere to get away from these constraining feelings.

  However, Sophia continued. "Are you and Lord Hamson not getting along? You certainly do a lot of activities together. Do I perchance see a bit of love blossoming in that direction?"

  Catherine attempted to play coy, though every part of her felt as if were racing at the Downs. "I am sure it appears more than it essentially is."

  "He certainly seems to be very attentive to you. Are you implying that you have not noticed how his affections have turned?"<
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  "George Hamson is a kind gentleman who is merely attempting to help me enjoy myself whilst I am here in London."

  "George now, is it?" Sophia grinned and sat down upon the floor with Joshua. That boy was still playing with Silver and giving them no heed at all.

  Catherine explained, "I used to call him George before."

  "I see." Sophia gave Catherine a look that implied her stepdaughter-in-law was bounding through a copious amount of assumptions.

  "We are purely friends. Good friends." Catherine sighed. "I am not going to wed again. I have made that point extremely clear to George and anyone else who will listen. He knows where I stand, and that is that."

  "I think he is persistent enough to tolerate anything at the moment, even your preposterous stances."

  "Ha." Catherine's jaw dropped. She could not believe Sophia would have the gall to say such a thing.

  "’Tis true." Sophia played with the hem of her dress for a moment before asking, "And what will you do in Bath when he has vanished?"

  "Enjoy myself as usual. Go and see the many sights and . . ." Catherine's voice trailed off as for the first time, she grasped that she would be dreadfully alone in Bath. "And go to the pump room and have tea and . . ." Forever wander the halls of the beautiful city, never truly living in it, just there visiting as a foreigner. Suddenly, her limbs became numb and her heart plunged. For no reason at all, she felt like crying. "And then I will buy a home out in the country after that. I adore the country," she said, attempting to boost her spirits. "And it will be a lovely home with a flower garden and a large library and all the things needed for a quiet existence."

  "And you will be contented there?"

  No. Not one day. For it would remind her of how much she was missing him. Botheration! In just less than a month, the man had wormed his way into her heart so much that she could not imagine life alone now. Where would his teasing be? His cheerful laughter? His spontaneous dancing? His inane compliments and chatter and . . . Her hands began to tremble, and her breathing became quite erratic.