In the Widow's Bed

“What’s going on in there, Lizzy?” Lord Selwood’s voice rumbled over Phoebe’s senses, setting her body to humming with anticipation.

When Lizzy glanced at her uncertainly, Phoebe smoothly stepped between them. “Just chatter between women, Selwood.”

Although he raised a brow, he appeared to accept her word and didn’t question his sister further.

“Well, good night, Phoebe.” After pressing a quick kiss to Phoebe’s cheek, Lizzy hurried away, turning up the stairs towards her bedchamber, and leaving her alone with her lover.

“I’d wondered where you’d both gotten too. Shall we rejoin the party?”

Phoebe hesitated. As much as she should rejoin the party, she didn’t want to. With no real role to play, and Lizzy headed for her bed, the stupidity of the house guests already grated on her nerves. “I believe I will retire.”

Selwood nodded. “Well then, goodnight, my lady. Pleasant dreams.”

The earl offered her a lopsided smile then sauntered off towards the drawing room. Her heart gave an odd little hitch as he disappeared from view. The ladies in the drawing room would be extremely happy to see him return. She didn’t want to imagine how Lady Jocelyn would react.

Phoebe shook her head at the jealousy curling through her belly. She didn’t own Selwood. Not at all. He could make love to whomever he liked and probably would. She dragged herself up the long flight of stairs and down the hall to her bedchamber. While her maid undressed her and put away her jewels, she tried not to picture Lady Jocelyn batting her eyelashes or tempting the insatiable Lord Selwood with her young body.

But it was no use. Even as she threw herself into bed, thumping the pillow for good measure, she wondered and worried about where he’d spend the night.

CHAPTER SIX

How long must he remain here in this chattering drawing room before he could escape to Lady Warminster’s arms?

By now his lover should be dressed for bed—or undressed if Jonathan was very lucky—and alone in her bedchamber. He wondered what kind of reception he’d receive. Despite the fact that Phoebe’s nipples were noticeably hard beneath her gown during the interminable meal, Jonathan had remained on his best behavior. Keeping his hands down, and away from the delectable orbs displayed so enticingly to his gaze, had taken considerable concentration on his part. He’d probably made mind numbingly boring conversation during the whole of the meal. But he meant to prove his worth outside the bedchamber too.

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Finding Phoebe alone with his sister, however, had dimmed his lust. Lizzy’s discomfort had turned his thoughts to wonder what Warminster had planned for his sister instead.

Jonathan winced. He probably should have taken advantage of the darkness to cozy up to Phoebe. Would she fear he’d suddenly grown cold? As he’d walked away it occurred to him that he should have at least touched her, made plans to meet between her sheets again that night. But then Warminster had spotted his entrance and waved him over to his discussion. He couldn’t have gone running to his lover without drawing unwanted attention to himself.

Besides, Phoebe was committed to a clandestine affair, and until he changed her mind he would do all in his power to let her have her way. But the truth wouldn’t hide forever. With him sharing her bed, and planning to share it every night of this tedious house party, a servant was bound to gossip about the rumpled state of Phoebe’s bed. Warminster might well hear of their liaison well before Jonathan could break the news.

Lady Jocelyn tugged on his sleeve. “Don’t you think so, my lord?”

The way she said ‘my lord’ set Jonathan’s teeth on edge. Although he’d previously found much to admire in Lady Jocelyn’s flirtatious manner, Jonathan couldn’t dredge up much enthusiasm for the chit anymore. Despite her fluttering lashes and encouraging hands, he had lost his enthusiasm for her completely. She appeared quite silly and indecisive. Two traits that irritated him immensely.

He hoped she could handle rejection because he quite frankly preferred Lady Warminster’s company. Phoebe had an easy way about her, intelligent conversation, and a wicked sense of humor that she tried valiantly to hide from everyone. The fact that she let down her guard with him to reveal her true nature pleased him.

“I say, Selwood, are you at all with us?” Warminster stared at him with an odd expression, one brow raised in query, amusement tugging his lips.

Jonathan dragged himself back to the moment. “Forgive me, I cannot seem to help woolgathering tonight,” he mumbled.

Warminster clapped a stunning blow to his shoulder. “Perhaps you should retire. We have a full day ahead of us tomorrow. Wouldn’t want you to shoot a man and not the pigeons we’re after, eh. I’ll keep an eye on Miss Elizabeth for you.”

Jonathan grinned. “Lizzy and Lady Warminster retired at the same moment.”

“Oh, has she?” Warminster’s jaw clenched.

Lady Jocelyn glanced at Warminster sharply, a frown working over her features. She smiled suddenly, but it didn’t seem sincere. “I’m sure we shall find ample amusements for the evening.”

When Warminster smiled at Lady Jocelyn in return, Jonathan realized he’d cleared the field for his friend to have Lady Jocelyn’s full attention. Well, good luck to him. He had far richer pastures to cultivate. “Goodnight then.”

Jonathan spun on his heel and strode from the drawing room. It took some effort, but he managed not to run up the long flights of stairs leading to his bedchamber. When he had the door shut and locked behind his back, he collapsed against it. He ached to touch Lady Warminster again, so much so that his hands trembled as he stripped by moonlight, but he made sure his activities were loud enough to be heard in the next chamber. He wasn’t quite sure if Phoebe would come to him again, yet he didn’t want to test whether the door connecting their bedchamber’s remained locked against him.

Last night it had been locked and he’d had to use the main door, risking discovery by Warminster or a guest. Tonight?

Jonathan ran a hand through his hair. Damn it all. He would never learn the truth if he didn’t at least try. Slowly, he crossed the room until he stood before the solid oak door. The knob was cool to the touch. He tightened his grip and turned his wrist.