Lord Romney's Exquisite Widow Page 7

  "A fiend, am I?" He chuckled, that delicious dimple causing all sorts of havoc. "If I am a fiend, what does that make you? A heart-stealing villainess? A cruel temptress?"

  She pretended to think about it for a moment. "Perhaps. I am a merry widow, after all. Do you expect me to be anything else?"

  "My widow. I expect you to be my widow."

  "Ha! So I may plan your demise now. What should it be? A blow over the head with a garden rake? Some poison in your tea?"

  "Great thunderation, my lady!" He laughed. "If I do not watch my back, you will have me dead before the altar."

  "I will have you dead before this week is through!" she parried. "Never underestimate a merry widow. You know what they all say about such soiled women—"

  "No, I do not, though you have just proven that we must be wed within a sennight so I may die happy."

  "Of all the outlandish things to say!" She could not help but laugh loudly. "You, sir, did not let me finish my most witty banter, barging in with your own comeback before I had a chance to finish mine. Truly, it is unkind to do so."

  "Very well." He grinned and bowed his head as he leaned over to pet the frisky feline. "I concede to the lady. Just what were you about to say before I released my boorish manners once again and so rudely interrupted you?"

  She raised her hands. "Oh, I have forgotten exactly what now, but I assure you, it was a very good piece of frippery about no one being certain how my last husband died, and how the gossips should be wondering who my next victim will be."

  Lord Hamson roared, and then picked up the little kitten and kissed him right on the top of his furry head. "I knew you were in there somewhere," he said. "I knew my witty minx had not gone too far, and I am glad for it. I had been apprehensive these years that I would never have my friend back."

  Oh, how they had laughed those short times together! How he had made her chortle and dream as they bantered their hours away. Never had she been happier than with him then. "’Tis true. We certainly enjoyed ourselves."

  "Aye, we did. And with such enthusiasm too." He cleared his throat and handed the furry rascal over to her. "So are we in agreement, then? Before the week is through?"

  It was that blasted twinkle in his eye and the preposterous dimple. She should say yes just to toss his courage back a peg or two. Wed before the week was through, indeed! And what would his mother say? "You, my handsome Lord Hamson, may take yourself and your daring, nonsensical dreams away. I am positive Sophia will be home soon, and the earl. Heaven knows I have enough explaining to do, what with the kitten you have brought over. So away with you! Shoo! And leave your silly imaginings home the next time you come." She stood up and cuddled the beast into her shoulder.

  He rose to his feet, that dashing smile in place. "So am I to come again?"

  "Of course." She glanced up at him. "How else am I to put poison in your tea?"

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

  Joshua came bounding into Catherine's room about an hour or so later. He had only just then returned from an outing with his nurse and was still in his overcoat. "Is it true? Is it true?" he asked as he jumped upon her bed, his dark curls bouncing as he headed toward her. "Cook says you broughted home a kitty! Did you broughted home a kitty?"

  After Cook had fed the kitten some milk and bits of fish, Catherine had carried the little guy up to her room. She had been reading her Gothic novel on her bed and snuggled the tiny creature until he had fallen asleep. "Hush—you will wake him." She attempted to be stern, yet could not help but smile at Joshua’s excited features. She pointed to her side. "He is tucked away in these blankets, but you must be quiet if you would like to see him."'

  "Oh, I would so much!" he exclaimed, and then whispered with his finger to his mouth. "Shh ... I bested be very quiet now so I can sees the kitty."

  "That is a good idea."

  Nurse knocked upon the open door of the room and curtsied. "Sorry, my lady. He ran the whole way from the kitchens and up to you before I had a chance to catch my breath from the park. Master Joshua is becoming so quick."

  "Not to worry, Miss Annie. He is fine. I will call for you when we are done. You are welcome to enjoy yourself for a little bit."

  "Thank you, my lady." She curtsied and then smiled dotingly on Joshua before departing.

  "Can I sees him now?" he asked as he adorably swayed back and forth on the bed in excitement.

  Catherine slowly removed the covers, and both of them grinned when they saw the little kitten stretch within his warm cocoon and then blink his eyes and mew in greeting.

  "He is the mostest perfected kitten in the whole big world!" Joshua lunged forward, but Catherine held out her arm.

  "Just a moment, dearest. Let your grandmama pick him up like so. Now sit back on your bottom and hold out your hands. Yes, that is correct. Now I shall place him very gently in your arms. Do not shake him, or he will startle. You must be very, very gentle. Yes, just as you are doing now. Very good, Joshua."

  "Where did you getted him?" the boy asked in awe as the little tyke began purring against his chest.

  "An old friend of mine brought him to cheer me up."

  Joshua's worried eyes met hers. "Did you needed cheering up, Gran'mama?"

  How did she answer such sweet innocence? Catherine reached over and ruffled his dark-brown hair. "No, not anymore. That is the magic of kittens. They take away all sadness and replace it with happy, joyful feelings."

  "’Tis true! I am already so much happier now that I am holding him. What’s his name? Does he have a name yet? Oh, Gran'mama! He looks just like the picture you sewed me. How did you know how to make the picture? He is bestest. Just the most bestest kitty in the whole world! I love him so much!"

  Her heart nearly burst at the sight of her dearest sweetheart loving her new cat so eagerly. "I do not have a name for him yet. Should we think of one together?"

  "He is gray, and I bet he is faster than me."

  She chuckled. "Quite possibly, though I hope for both of our sakes, he is not." Her brows furrowed. "Would you like to name him Gray, then?"

  "Oh, no. Gray is not a good word for a cat, Gran'mama. Gray is a color,” he said with the most exasperated look. She could not but help hide her grin.

  "Very well then, what if we called him something that is gray, like Thundercloud, or Thunder for short? Or perhaps a mouse or a pigeon? They are both gray."

  He shook his head and sighed. "You are not very good at naming things. You can’t call a cat Mouse or Pigeon. That is what cats eat. We have ta think of something better than that."

  "All right. What would you prefer to call him?"

  He scrunched up his nose and used one little finger to scratch under the kitten's ears while he thought. Then after a bit, he said, "You know, he doesn't not look very gray to me. Doesn't he not look very gray to you?"

  The kitten looked exceptionally gray to her. "And what color do you think he is, if he is not gray?" she asked.

  Joshua stuck out his chin. "He looked more silver to me than gray."

  "Oh!" Catherine's eyebrows shot up. "Indeed, he does not look a measly old gray at all. I do believe you are correct, Joshua. He looks decidedly silver in this light."

  "And that’s a way better name for him."

  "Silver?" she asked to be clear.

  When he nodded, she replied, "Yes, I believe you are right. Silver is much more dashing and dignified. Or would you prefer Spoon, or Tea Kettle instead? As both of those are most certainly silver as well," she teased.

  Joshua gave her the most adorably frustrated look. "Gran'mama! You are ’ceedingly bad at names. We will sticked with Silver. It’s much better anyway."

  "Oh, yes, perhaps you are right." She chuckled. "I am very grateful to have such a clever grandson."

  He nodded. "You are clever too." Then he whispered, "But I willn't tell my papa about naming the kitty Spoon."

  She leaned over and kissed the top of his curly head. "That is very good of you, dear."

  He th
en sighed. "But I think we haves a problem."

  "Yes? And what is that?"

  "I like the kitty too much, Gran'mama. What if'n I never want him to go? What if'n I needed him to sleep with me?"

  Those eyes! When he turned his big blue eyes on her, how could she deny him a thing? However, there was a very small part of her that wanted the gift as well, even more so than handing it over to the sweet babe. "Joshua," she said kindly, "how would you feel if your father or mother or even Chaffney decided they wished to have one of your gifts for their very own? Would you gladly hand it over?"

  He rubbed his lips together and held the kitten a little closer to his chest. "If'n it was my new ball or blocks, I would prolly keep them for me and tell them they needed their own. But if it was a kitty they was wanted, I would give it to them straightaway."

  "Oh, you would, would you?" She laughed and began to tickle the little monster. He was completely too smart for his own good.

  "Did it not worked?" He giggled.

  "No, sir, it most definitely did not work."

  "Well, I hope you likes your present anyway. And I hoped you shares Silver with me lots so we can play together."

  She wrapped an arm around his shoulder, her chest bursting with warmth. "I most certainly will, dear. You can count on that."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN:

  Lord Hamson flew up the steps of Compton's home and rapped with the brass knocker. He was met almost immediately by the butler. "Hello, Johnson. Is Atten about? I have been to his home and then White's only to be told he is here."

  The older man nodded. "Yes, my lord, they are both waiting for you in the billiard room. I was told to send you in directly you came."

  "Were you? Ha! And why did no one bother to tell me where to go, then?” He stripped off his gloves and hat and handed them over to Johnson. "Forgive my grumbles. I know you have no part in them."

  "I am sure you have every right to grumble, my lord."

  He was anxious to speak with Atten and did not have time for small talk. "Thank you. I shall see myself in."

  "Very good, my lord."

  George headed up the stairs and then left into the room Atten preferred most. The distinct smack of the billiard balls could be heard before he tapped on the door and walked in. "And if you are not the most dashed difficult man to find," he said to Atten as he came into the room. "Here you are with Compton, thick as thieves." As he approached the long table, he asked, "Who is winning?"

  Alistair Compton struck the ball with his cue and immediately sent the other into its pocket. "Me." He grinned as he straightened. "Though Atten has promised me he would not leave until he has bested me at least once."

  Atten chuckled. "Never you mind the swindler. You and I both know Compton could not win if his life hinged upon it. So, what took you so long to get here? We have been waiting this half hour at least."

  "Have you?" George shook his head. "Fine chaps you are. Had to find out at White's that both of you had headed over here. You are lucky I came at all."

  Atten leaned over the table and pointed his cue at the white ball. "Did you hear that, Compton? George believes we are lucky he came when we all know it is he who is the fortunate one."

  "Aye, I heard. Must be the bats in his head speaking up now. Must be forgetting why he was so dashed eager to find us.”

  "What are you two on about?"

  "Lady Romney, of course." Atten winked and struck the ball. "’Tis why you are here, is it not?"

  "Well, I do have a notion of finding out why a single man such as yourself would berate me and then take the most beautiful woman in all of London out driving and spend the whole of the conversation on me."

  "See? What did I say?" Compton grinned. "Said he would come running to you the second he heard."

  "Are you implying that you are in on this as well?" George looked at Compton.

  "Certainly! Someone had to save you two. Atten figured it might as well be us."

  "Us? But what have you done?"

  Compton stood up straight and leaned upon the cue stick. "Why, I have given Atten the support he needs to keep his wits about him. Making up for your blunder is not easy."

  "No, it is not." Atten chuckled. "Though I will agree with you on one thing. Lady Romney is exceptionally pretty."

  "She is more than pretty. Admit it." George grinned.

  Atten scrunched up his nose and glanced over at George. "I prefer my ladies to have a particular fondness for me, not for other men. So, no. I do not find she is my variety at all."

  George let out a sigh and sat down upon the nearest high-backed chair. "I am relieved to hear it. A part of me worried I really would have to fight that duel for her."

  Compton came over near George and sat down. "Atten told me how you insulted the lady. Now, tell me you are at least intelligent enough not to wound her further and to repent of your wrongs."

  "Aye." George nodded. "I have begun the attempt, though I fear it will be some time before we see a definite improvement." He glanced over at the tall man beside him. "How did you win over Lady Lamb so easily?"

  "Me?" Compton laughed. "That was mere luck, that was. After placing that bet, and then discovering my feelings for her, I never thought I would have a chance with her. Turns out, she is a lot more caring and kind than I could imagine."

  "Do not downplay the scenario at all," Atten said as he pushed off the wall and joined them. "Compton only won the lady because he was clever enough to find some puppies."

  "Yes, puppies that have completely overrun her household, I might add. The incorrigible scamps!"

  George let out a small chuckle. "Who would have supposed? Perhaps I am nearer to bringing Lady Romney over to my side of the fence than I first assumed."

  "How so?" Compton asked.

  "I gave her a kitten yesterday. Cats are the one animal she has continuously coveted. Adorable little thing, too. All gray fluff. I believe she was immensely delighted."

  Atten nodded. "Right. If this works out, I am investing in breeding baby animals until I find a lady who will champion my cause."

  George and Compton both laughed.

  "Ho! No dashing my hopes with your mockery."

  "I can see you now, chasing little bits of bunny, kitten, and puppy fluff all over your house," George replied. "What would Eugene say? And Mrs. Potters would faint dead away at all the mess they would leave behind."

  "My butler would no doubt have my guts for garters, and his wife would feed me to the Tower lions." Atten gave a handsome grin. "However, if it meant a chance to win the love of my life, I guess I could spare them."

  "Ha!" Compton knocked the cue out of Atten's hand. "You could no longer spare them than you could go without your horses. Nay, what you need is a lady who is as horse mad as you. Then you may find the real lady of your dreams. Until then, you are simply playing nursemaid to Hamson's sad attempt until he comes around and learns to act the gentleman again."

  They laughed as George jumped up. "What nonsense is this? I made a blunder, yes, and it pains me to admit it, but Atten, you were devilishly right in my conduct. However, I do not need a nursemaid. Things have not been that horridly askew, have they?"

  Compton shook his head. "Sit, man. You still have a lot to learn about women. All us blighters do—but thankfully, ladies tend to take that in stride and give us a few days to sort ourselves out."

  "Aye, ’tis true." Atten sat on the other side of him. "She is still keen on you—at least, she pretends to want to hear more and more about you. Thankfully, you left some very lasting memories, and her heart still holds a candle flame for you. However, we must begin phase two, or she will be living in Bath in a fortnight."

  "Bath! What does that mean to me? I will simply follow her there and began my suit anew." George rubbed his face and leaned over. "Truth is, I love her. I always have. And I will be hanged if I allow society or my mother's perceptions to dictate what my heart feels. I do not need a phase two to capture her heart because from here on out, I pl
an on being precisely what she wants. The man she has so desperately needed all this time.”

  "Bravo!" Compton clapped him on the back. "Spoken like a real gentleman."

  "Besides . . ." Hamson grinned ruefully. "I am merely the fifth son. It is not as if my fortune could be cut off anyhow. What little I own is all mine, fair and square."

  Atten leered and nudged him with his elbow. "And I hear the lady has quite a bit in her pockets too!"

  George pushed him away. "I would have taken her as the penniless sweetheart she was four years ago. Do not be crass enough to believe her fortune means anything to me now."

  Compton let out a guffaw. "You say that now until you realize how much you will be spending on fetching more and more kittens each time you make a blunder!"

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:

  As another round of billiards began, George stepped out of the room and walked toward the large receiving area, where the future Lady Atten would most likely host lavish balls. He then cut across the fine marble floor and out onto the balcony to the fresh air awaiting.

  As he took a deep breath, he contemplated what he was running from, the same situation that continued to plague his mind all night and then day again. With some force, he hit the balustrade with the palm of his hand and attempted to sort through the horrific past of his darling Miss Poleton. His heart lurched in heaviness and agony for her. Out of all the things he may have wished upon the miss when she spurned him, it was not to have her completely untouched and confused as she was.

  When he thought back to their larks and playfulness and the effervescent joy she exuded, he could strangle the fool who wed her. She was a mere shadow of herself, believing every scornful lie she was fed. How was she to know differently? Did George do a thing to rescue her, as he ought to have done? Did he fight valiantly for her?