Less impetuously, Helena stood and crossed the room to join them. “Don’t you want to dance the night away and drink champagne and flirt with handsome gentlemen?”

Fenella still resisted the rising mood. “I don’t want to marry again.”

Caroline laughed, caught up in the idea of breaking free of stifling limitations. “Dashing widows don’t have to marry. They’ve done their duty. Dashing widows have fun.”

A reluctant smile tugged at Fenella’s lips. “I can’t remember the last time I had fun.”

“There you are, then,” Helena said. “We’ll all be dashing widows.”

With a giddy laugh, Caroline stepped across to ring for a servant. “We’ll be the most dashing widows the ton has ever seen.”

“Count me in,” Helena said, and for once her expression held no trace of irony.

“Fen, you can’t turn the terrible trio into a desperate duo,” Caroline urged.

Fenella still looked unconvinced. “It’s so long since I was out in society.”

“I’ve never been out in society. My father wouldn’t pay for a season when the match with Freddie was already arranged,” Caroline said. “Helena will have to be our guide.”

Helena’s lips twitched. “Heaven help us, then.” Earnestness deepened her voice. “Come and join us, Fen. We’re not asking you to run a steeplechase in your petticoat. We’re just inviting you to chance a step out of your safe little cave. You commit to nothing more than wearing colors and attending a party or two.”

Something new sparked in Fenella’s eyes, banishing her customary melancholy. She raised her chin with un-Fenella-like brio. “Very well. I’ll do it.”

“Wonderful,” Helena said, hugging her with un-Helena-like exuberance.

The butler entered the room. Caroline greeted him with a smile and caught his surprise at the festive atmosphere. Another signal, should she need one, that it was time she crawled out of her slough of self-pity and made plans for her independence.

“Hunter, champagne.”

“Caro, at five o’clock in the afternoon?” Fenella asked, shocked.

Hunter bowed, his imperturbability back in place. “Very good, my lady.”

Caroline beamed, the pall of boredom and frustration shifting from her shoulders. She felt light enough to float up into the cloudy winter sky. From what she saw of her friends, they too had found fresh purpose on this February afternoon.

“Why not? Dashing widows drink champagne whenever they feel like it. What better excuse than a toast to our glittering success?”

*

Chapter One

*

May 1820

The Grosvenor Square house stood transformed. Spring had arrived and with it a release from the pall of mourning. Caroline had thrown herself wholeheartedly into the season, and tonight’s ball was the culmination of her campaign to win society’s acclaim.

She halted in the doorway to her crowded, noisy ballroom, at last able to catch a breath. Holding what turned out to be a brilliant success of a party required diligent attention. But finally, everything was in place and she was ready to have fun. The orchestra played a lively quadrille; a lavish supper was ready and under Hunter’s capable supervision; she’d greeted all her guests, delighted at how many people had accepted her invitation. Of course society was curious about rich Lady Beaumont, so recently out of mourning. But she could see already that tonight curiosity veered toward approval.

Helena was dancing with a red-haired fellow whose name escaped her. Fenella danced, too, her pale prettiness flushed to vivacity. She wore a sky blue dress in the first stare of fashion—it was so pleasing to see her in something other than gray. Both friends had worked like Trojans with Caroline to ensure that the launch of the dashing widows was a triumph.

“You’re looking revoltingly pleased with yourself, Caro,” a deep voice murmured in her ear.

Pleasure warmed her and extending her hand, she turned with a smile. “Silas, I wasn’t sure you’d tear yourself away from your greenhouses long enough to come.”

Silas Nash, Viscount Stone, was Helena’s older brother, the cleverest member of a notoriously clever family. Soon after coming to London, Caroline had met the noted botanist at Helena’s house. She’d immediately liked his humor and kindness. And his handsomeness had offered a welcome distraction during the dull days of her seclusion. A handsomeness of which he remained refreshingly unaware.

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world. You’ve arrived with fireworks.” He bowed over her gloved hand, hazel eyes glinting up at her as he bent.

Tags: Anna Campbell Dashing Widows Romance
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