Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

After a moment's i

ndecision, he hugged her back. But she understood masculine pride enough to know that he wouldn't appreciate his mother weeping all over him in front of his friend. After a kiss on his cheek, she reluctantly released him.

Brand stepped back and gave her an uncertain smile. "You're not pleased with me."

He was so infinitely dear and vulnerable, and she could so easily have lost him last night. But some instinct told her to play this particular scene lightly, not as the tragic, widowed mother. She knew he expected a well-deserved reprimand, but she was still at the stage where relief outweighed her urge to chide. "I'm happy you're all right."

She tried not to fret at the dark circles under his blue eyes. He was safe. That was all that mattered right now. His ill-fitting clothing, borrowed from Carey she assumed, sparked another rush of poignant tenderness. With bony ankles and wrists on show, he looked more like a street urchin than a young baronet.

"There was no harm done in the end," Mrs. Penn said.

"That's something my son and I are going to discuss at length later," she said in a steely voice, even as her hands itched to clutch Brand to her and never let him go. "I just want to make sure these two rascals aren't disturbing you."

"Three." Mrs. Penn tilted her head toward Mr. Townsend, standing solid as a huge tree near the window.

"Yes." Fenella glanced at Mr. Townsend—who disturbed her even if he didn't disturb his old nanny. He leaned one shoulder against the flowered wallpaper and surveyed the boys with wry amusement. He must wonder how all the mad fury of their chase through the night ended in this cozy scene. She wondered herself.

When they'd arrived at the Beeches, whiskers had darkened his already swarthy features, lending credence to her fantasies of him sailing the world as a swashbuckling sea captain. He'd since found time to shave, and change into a smart blue coat and buff trousers. Now he looked like a dashing, fashionable gentleman instead of a wild pirate.

Fenella was almost sorry.

She'd changed, too, into a rose pink morning gown—she blessed Greaves's forethought in packing that small bag. The idea of spending all day in the travel-worn blue carriage dress made her shudder.

"Nowt better than energetic young lads around the place," Mrs. Penn regarded the boys with exasperated fondness. "Even if these imps of Satan shouldn't have run away from school."

Carey's worried glance at his guardian encountered a sardonic lift of one black eyebrow. With perfect composure, the boy returned to perusing his cards. Whatever else this escapade brought, Fenella was glad to see that uncle and nephew were well on the road to an understanding.

Carey had the look of his uncle. The same air of contained energy. The intense features, incongruous on a young face, although he'd grow into them. A body, like Brand's, that promised future height, but was all gangling awkwardness now. Compared to his friend's saturnine darkness, Brandon seemed brilliantly fair.

Mrs. Penn turned to her former charge. "And how grand to see you, too, Master Tony. This old house is too quiet and empty without the family. Young Carey caged in that den of iniquity, and you gallivanting on the high seas every hour the good Lord sends." She paused. "Especially with Mr. William and his dear wife lost to us."

Familiar sorrow flashed in his eyes. "You know I'd give anything to have them back, Penny."

The old woman brushed a skeletal hand over Carey's unruly thatch of hair so like his uncle's. "You two shouldn't grieve alone when you're all the family left to each other."

"Lads are sent away to school."

"Not in my family they're not—and you never had to go away either. The local grammar school was good enough for you. And for your brother. Most of the time, your brain works well enough to keep the wolf from the door."

He straightened and muffled a sigh, running his hand through his hair. Fenella found this interaction fascinating. This old lady had powerful Anthony Townsend at a complete disadvantage, despite his wealth, arrogance, and as Mrs. Penn pointed out, brain.

"Penny, Carey is growing up in a different world from the one I knew. As my heir—"

Mrs. Penn made a dismissive sound. "He won't be your heir for long. You'll marry and have bairns of your own."

"Carey will always have a place in my home," he said stiffly.

That tone cut no ice with this irrepressible old woman. Fenella wanted to cheer—and she liked Mr. Townsend even better for giving his old nurse a hearing when she didn't say what he wanted to hear. It was terrifying how much and how quickly she'd grown to admire this large, irascible man who concealed such unexpected sweetness in his heart.

"Of course he will. But right now, you two need each other and you should be here together, not half a world apart." She sent Fenella a meaningful glance. "A man reaches the age when he needs the comforts of home. A fine house, a wife, children."

Fenella cursed that Mr. Townsend looked in her direction just then and caught her blush. It was her turn to undergo the eyebrow's inquisition. She glanced away to find Brand following the discussion with an intent expression.

Mr. Townsend turned back to Mrs. Penn. "Carey will grow up to take a place in the world—and boys who do that go away to school."

"Not always," Fenella found herself saying, despite reminding herself that this was none of her business. "Many children from good families are tutored at home."

Three pairs of masculine eyes settled on her in surprise and curiosity. "You never gave me any choice about school," Brand said slowly. "It was just accepted that I'd go."