Tempting Mr. Townsend (Dashing Widows 2)

Fenella's dismissive snort would have shocked her swains in London, all of whom were convinced of her fastidious nature. "It must be her illness."

He raised that speaking eyebrow. "So you're brave enough to see through the house?"

Fenella responded with a speaking look. "I dare you to show me. I'll struggle to resist the temptation to drag you before the nearest vicar."

He gave a theatrical sigh. "You know the risks. On your own head be it."

Only as they descended the stairs did she realize that Mr. Townsend hadn't scoffed at Mrs. Penn's matchmaking. She hadn't realized he was so tactful.

Chapter Seven

* * *

After dinner, Anthony sipped his brandy and studied the lovely woman drinking tea on the other side of his drawing room. The lads had eaten with them, then retired with surprising docility which meant they were probably upstairs hatching mischief. Anthony couldn't get too exercised about the possibility when he had a bonny lass to look at, a blazing fire to sit beside, and a belly full of an excellent dinner.

Like everything else at the Beeches, the room was shabby, but with the potential for magnificence. A room in need of a woman's touch, in fact.

He wanted that woman to be Fenella Deerham.

He'd built an extravagant fortune on following his instincts. In this case, his instincts verged on madness. Her family pedigree stretched back to Adam. All his money couldn't match her aristocratic refinement.

And the highest barrier of all between them: she was still in love with her late husband.

For years, Anthony had kept a mistress, a widow of mature years, cheerful temper, and intelligent conversation, in a small house in Kensington. Eighteen months ago, she'd sent him on his way kindly but firmly, and had since married a ship's captain. He thought of Flora fondly, but without regret.

After Flora's departure, his bed had stayed empty. Too much else occupied his attention. His crushing burden of grief. His duty to Carey. A government clamoring for advice. Not to mention the demands of running a worldwide enterprise.

Then he'd found himself in a gallant lady's company, racing through the night in search of two runaway rapscallions. And his life had turned in a dazzling new direction.

Last night Fenella had cuddled up to him in the carriage's close confines. All day, tormenting little contacts had kept his blood at a constant simmer. If she was the sort of woman he was used to—earthy, practical, familiar with desire—he'd think she indicated interest.

But she was a blasted lady. He had no experience with that exotic species.

He couldn't im

agine her fancying a hulking brute like him. And after they'd established such harmony, he balked at destroying their rapport with an improper proposition.

Dear Lord above, how he burned to make that proposition. There she sat, drinking tea and dreaming of sugarplums and daisies, or whatever the hell gentlewomen thought about. And all Anthony wanted was to drag her down onto the worn carpet and thrust inside her until she sobbed with release.

He'd had one victory at least. She'd suggested returning to London this afternoon, although she'd been white with exhaustion. Shamelessly he'd used Brand's need to rest after all the excitement to convince her to remain. Now she was here, he didn't want her to leave.

"Please, stop scowling at me, Mr. Townsend," she said lightly, freshening her tea. "Is the brandy not to your taste?"

He smiled. He'd smiled more in her company than he had since William died. She had magic, this ethereal creature. "What the devil are we to do with these two rascals?"

He kicked himself when his question brought a troubled light to her blue eyes. "I had no idea Brand didn't like school."

"He didn't want to worry you."

"But if I knew, I could do something about it."

"Will you send him back?"

"Not this term, at least. And that's assuming the school will overlook him running away. I'll have to bring him to London. But that's only a temporary solution."

"You could leave him here. At least until the holidays."

"You're not sending Carey back?"