In the Widow's Bed

So it was true. Jonathan grinned, but didn’t answer.

“Ah, I see.” Her mouth twisted as if she’d tasted lemons. “The giggling fop sent you to dissuade me, didn’t he?”

Jonathan laughed outright. “What your son sent me to do—and what I intend—is quite another matter.”

He linked her arm through his again and they strolled along the edge of the ballroom.

Lady Warminster’s hand settled on his sleeve. “Do you think me foolish?”

Jonathan found an empty corner and settled them onto a vacant chaise. “I believe you’re brave to risk upsetting Warminster.”

Her eyes rolled. “He might hold the title now, but he’s still my son. I know exactly what he’s about.”

Jonathan absorbed her remark. He’d had a suspicion Lady Warminster had discovered her stepson’s private activities. But he had to tread carefully. The matter wasn’t his to discuss openly. “He’s intent on protecting you.”

Lady Warminster brushed at a pale curl, one newly escaped from her elegant coiffure. Jonathan itched to set the remaining mass free. “Not even his father behaved with such managing control,” she said.

Jonathan settled deeper into the cushions. He really didn’t want to discuss her late husband—a man many years her senior when she’d married him—or whether she missed or did not miss him. He’d rather discuss her intention to take a lover. “What is it you want, Lady Warminster?”

“To make my own choices,” she whispered.

Jonathan patted her hand. “If choosing Plimms was your choice then I fear you might need some guidance.”

Lady Warminster stared out at the sea of swirling revelers. At first, he didn’t think she’d continue their conversation, but then she took a deep breath, forcing her breasts higher in the gown. “What would you suggest?”

Perfect! Jonathan smothered a grin. “I believe you should lay down some guidelines for your lover.”

Lady Warminster turned. “Such as?”

Her pale green gaze fastened on him, kicking his pulse higher. He could sense the reaction sliding over his skin. To hide his unsettled state, he shifted in his chair and offered a lopsided grin. “Well, if it were me, I’d pick clean as a first condition.”

She blinked and looked about them, discreetly checking that they were not being overheard. “And is that easy to discern?”

Her delicate hand landed on the cushion beside his thigh. Just one more inch and she’d have touched him. “Not always. That’s why I’m offering my insights. Gentlemen do gossip.” Jonathan shifted his leg until the material of his dark breeches brushed her fingers.

Lady Warminster withdrew her hand. “Ah, I had surmised as much already. Warminster’s tongue is hinged in the middle.” She focused on the dance floor again. “Tell me about the men here.”

Eager for an excuse to touch her again, he climbed to his feet then held out his hand. “Let’s walk for a bit. We’re drawing attention.”

As Lady Warminster slipped her small gloved hand in his, Jonathan tugged her to her feet. They were mere inches apart when her gaze rose to meet his, but he managed to behave and hold out his arm. The temptation to act improperly grew as she licked her lips before curling her arm about his. He guided her through the ballroom, away from her friends’ curious glances.

When they arrived at a less crowded spot, Jonathan leaned close to her again. “I assume you also want a man of considerable skill to, ah—” he searched for the right word—“dance with you?”

“That is what I hope,” she whispered.

Her timid admission dragged another bubbling laugh from his chest. “That should be the whole point. Hmm, there are few suitable gentlemen to choose from at your son’s house party. But there are men here who would pleasure you in a chamber lit to brilliance and still proclaim you the brightest star.”

At Lady Warminster’s shocked gasp, Jonathan drew her out onto the terrace where darkness hid her embarrassment from any witnesses. “Or would you prefer the comfort of darkness for your daring escapade?”

He drew closer, slid the tips of his fingers along her arm, over the thin strip of skin exposed to the night between her glove and gown to gauge her reaction. Lady Warminster shuddered, her hitched breath loud in the dark night. Unfortunately, his body reacted too. Her velvet skin stirred a hunger in him that he strove to control. “You prefer the darkness, I see.” Lady Warminster didn’t answer, but she didn’t draw away from his fingers. Jonathan smiled and continued to caress her. “Darkness can be delightful too.”

“You’re trying to make me feel better. How very like you.” Her wine-sweet breath brushed his jaw, and Jonathan’s pulse hammered erratically through his body.

“I aim to please.” Reluctantly, Jonathan increased the space between them so anyone stumbling onto the terrace wouldn’t suspect their conversation as anything but polite chatter between friends. He also needed time to master his body before he was fit to be seen. “So, clean, skilled in the bedroom, and not adverse to a clandestine tryst. Is there anything else you want from your lover, madam?”

“Yes, absolute discretion. I don’t want anyone else to hear of it.”

CHAPTER TWO