In the Widow's Bed

All of a sudden, Lizzy’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened and then her lips curled into a smile so unlike her usual expression. Alarmed, Phoebe returned to her side and clasped Lizzy’s hot fingers.

When Lizzy’s smile fell upon her, Phoebe wondered perhaps if the young woman had grown mad. The calculating expression on her features frightened. Lizzy patted her hand. “Warminster has played his last game.”

“Lizzy?” Phoebe tugged on her fingers, trying to separate herself from her friend. She didn’t like that expression, didn’t like the way her eyes had lit up with glee.

Lizzy laughed, chuckling in her usual fashion. “Oh, Phoebe, I’m going to make that ridiculous popinjay regret ever pulling the wool over my eyes. And I’m going to have a damn fine time doing it. Let’s return to Moreton Hall. We both have a gentleman to torture.”

Lizzy threw whatever she’d been looking at to the shelf and spun on her heel. When Phoebe couldn’t see her anymore, she quickly paid for her items and hurried outside. Her friend had already settled into the carriage, fingers drumming against her knee impatiently.

“Lizzy,” Phoebe whispered. “You are not going to expose Warminster are you? Believe me, despite the foolish charm, he’s not a man to cross.”

Lizzy folded her arms under her breasts. “Oh, I know that. Now. Thanks to you. But the bounder does need to be taken down a peg or two. Trust me; I’ll be content to see him get his comeuppance in privacy.”

Despite Lizzy’s threat against her stepson, Phoebe thoughts turned inward. It would be beyond embarrassing if word of her affair with Jonathan leaked beyond her control. So when Moreton Hall came into view, she steeled herself to betray nothing but calm. Yet guests lingered about the vestibule, buzzing like bees around honey. Were they there because of Lady Jocelyn’s behavior or had they learned that he had seduced a younger man?

Phoebe wasn’t sure, but when Lady Clifford spotted her, the scowl that crossed her face made her quake. As the whispers grew to a dull roar, she tried to ignore the sense of panic. Thankfully, Lizzy captured her arm in a tight grip and guided her up the stairs before she could blurt out something incriminating.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“What on earth were you thinking?” Warminster chided, as they stalked through the long grass after their fallen quarry.

“I had a clear shot at it.” Jonathan bent to pick up their prize. The poor bird was a bit battered and bloodied since both men had shot it at once, but the important thing was that he had fired first. Not bad for a civilian against a spy.

Jonathan handed the bird off to the waiting servant.

“That will be all for today,” Warminster told the man as he handed over his rifle and gestured for Jonathan to do the same. Reluctantly, Jonathan parted with his weapon. A faint stir of disquiet thrummed though him at the conversation to come. He’d been waiting all morning.

Warminster turned and scowled. “Lord and Lady Clifford plan to leave this morning. But I cannot guarantee they won’t blacken your name over this.”

Jonathan grunted. “They can try. He didn’t particularly care about the conniving little chit. He only cared for Warminster’s reaction to him and Phoebe. Could they remain friends?

“She still claims she shared your bed last night.”

Jonathan chuckled. “Couldn’t have, I’ve been too busy seducing your stepmother.”

“About that.” Warminster toed a tuft of grass. “I am surprised at you.”

The midday sun beat down on his head as he considered how to answer. “I love her. I’ve loved her since I first laid eyes on her. Remember, you used to tease me that I’d turn into her lapdog if she snapped her fingers.”

“You were young, and she my new mother.”

Jonathan shrugged. “My admiration hasn’t dimmed as I’ve gotten older. When you warned me of her plans that first night at the ball, I decided to act before she changed her mind.”

Warminster scratched his hand through his hair. “Still can’t believe she’d do it—seduce her son’s best friend.”

“Actually, it was the other way round.” Jonathan grinned. “Perhaps I’ve been around you too long, but the lady didn’t realize I spent the night in her bed. I loved her in darkness, using my best French to do it too.”

Warminster’s mouth fell open. After perhaps a minute, he snapped it closed. “Yes, I remembered you saying that the ladies loved that once. And when she discovered the truth?”

“I got the reaction I expected.”

Warminster winced. But sympathy wasn’t required. After the initial shock had worn off, he’d gotten Phoebe in his arms again and again since then. But he needed to clear the way to keep her there.

“I want to marry her, Warminster. I want your blessing.”

His friend appeared shocked. “An affair is one thing, but marriage? What if she is incapable of providing you with an heir? My father never came close to siring one with her.”

“I was not terribly surprised that she didn’t conceive.” Jonathan tilted his head to one side, considering his friend. Warminster fidgeted. “I figured it out, why all the paintings of your father disappeared into the attic. You don’t take after him at all, do you?”