Lord Romney's Exquisite Widow (6 page)

In all his life, George Verl Hamson had never felt so completely chastised as he did right then. And when a strange feeling of dread came over him, he soon acknowledged he had no one to find fault with but himself.

CHAPTER NINE:

It was a few days later at Lady Allington’s card party that Hamson saw Lady Romney again. Indeed, when the two women and the new Lord Romney appeared in the doorway, the whole place tittered to a stop. Hamson had been searching his cards when he noticed the direction everyone else was staring and quickly stood with the rest of the gentlemen. Once the newcomers were greeted and shown to a table, everyone returned to their playing, though Hamson was a bit slower than the rest to return to the game at hand. He had no notion she had been invited as well. 

Without her cap the dowager countess looked absolutely stunning in a light-blue frothy dress, with flounces and the like. It was the first bit of soft color he had seen on her since her return, and no one who did not know her would believe she was a widow. Her sweet smile and sparkling eyes belied her genuine years—she looked like a fresh debutante.

Several young men murmured encouragingly to each other as they looked her way, but it was his own mother who tugged upon his coat sleeve and asked, “Now, just who is this beguiling creature you cannot stop staring at?”

Hamson blinked and went back to his cards, his heart not willing to pardon himself or his mother at this point. “I cannot imagine whom you could be speaking of.” He glanced around the table of four. “Is it my turn, then?”

“George, do not be a silly sop! Who is that girl?”

“Why do you not go over and inquire about her? Find out for yourself who she is.”

“Are you saying you do not know her?”

He selected a card and set it down. “I am merely saying that I cannot possibly hope to know her. She is forbidden to me.”

“Oh, bosh! What drivel is this? Why, no one can forbid you from anyone, unless she is already taken.”

“The lady is indeed very single.”

“Her manners are flawless. Do you see even now that easy smile she keeps while listening to Mr. Jenkins’ tales of war heroics? For you know that is what he is speaking of at this time.”

“He rarely speaks of anything else.” He glanced up. “Yes, I can see how well she has maintained a polite façade for his prattling.”

“She is remarkably pretty, George, and I cannot help but notice the way you are wont to glance over at her.” She giggled and placed her trick upon the table. After a few more beats, she said, “Upon my honor, George, I insist you bring her to pay a call on me within the sennight. You are a handsome devil, and she would be eager to be acquainted with you better, I am sure.”

That particular lady had not made eye contact with him once the whole quarter of an hour she had been sitting at a game table not four meters from him. Indeed, she had done all in her power not to look upon him. So much so, he was convinced she was still wounded. And as well she should be.

Truth be told, he had been so put out by Atten’s chastisement, he had not even been gentlemanly enough to apologize to the gel yet. He was a wretched beetle-brain, entirely too afraid even to cry crow over the encounter. One deserved to be torn to shreds for his unmannerly behavior, but he could not bring himself to endure such ridicule from her.

“George! Play your hand.” The other man at the table chuckled as Hamson started and quickly placed his card.

“Forgive me. I find I was woolgathering again.”

“Yes, we can see.” The gentleman nodded toward Lady Romney.

Just then, Atten clasped him on the shoulder as he maneuvered himself between the tables and then over to Lady Romney.

“Devil it!” George grumbled under his breath as he watched the sop bow over the lady’s hand. He had forgotten Atten was present. By the way she smiled up at him, it would seem the two had previously been introduced.

“George, if you are going to sit about with a scowl upon your face, you do not deserve the girl anyway,” Lady Hamson graciously pointed out. “Now attend to the game so the rest of us may play.”

He picked up three and set his card down. “Thank you, Mama.” How did he manage to be sitting at the same card table as his mother? Was this the devil’s way of making a mockery of him?

Now Lady Romney was laughing at something Atten had said, and Hamson felt as though his innards were twisting in knots. He endeavored not to watch them, but could not help himself. The moment he recollected that he was presently in a game of cards, he immediately felt the unconscious pull to glance over there again, and before he knew what he was about, he was fully engaged in the other conversation—though he could only see it, not hear a word.

“George.” his mother whispered. “Go ahead and escape the table. Perhaps it is best for all of us if you do.”

He looked over at her. “You wish me to remove myself?”

“Yes.” She glanced pointedly at the cards in his hand. “Set those down and make your way over to your friends, where it is obvious you desire to be. Lord Seldon has already won, and we need the cards to shuffle up once more.”

“Oh, I beg your pardon.” He flushed bright red and dropped the cards. Collecting them quickly into a bundle, he passed them over and then stood up and bowed. “If you will excuse me.”

The older gentleman nodded, and his mother’s puzzled look curved into a beam. “Do not forget to share all the details with me. Her name, her parents’ names, her house—find out everything.”

He leaned over and kissed his mama’s cheek before whispering, “I do not need to find out anything, for I already know who the girl is. ’Tis Lady Romney, the late Earl of Huntingdon’s widow, the dowager countess.”

“Oh, George!” His mother’s gasp and appalled look were everything he had hoped they would be as he stepped away from the table and headed toward that exact lovely lady.

CHAPTER TEN:

Catherine braced herself as she saw Lord Hamson making his way over to her. Her focus turned even more completely toward the dashing Lord Atten. It was best if one seemed to be happily engaged, instead of the truth. For indeed, it had taken a full two hours to convince herself to pluck up the courage to come, and now that Lord Atten had sought her out again, it would seem those nerves had nearly trebled. It was one thing to come to a house party and play a few games and to intermingle with others, but it was quite another to be worried over what they must all be whispering about her and her apparently unvirtuous nature.

Good heavens! She was becoming warm just thinking about the horridness of the prattling of society. And as much as she had spent the last few days preparing herself to take the
Ton
by storm, it was rather inconvenient, and not as easy as she had convinced herself it would be.

“Would you like to go driving with me around Hyde Park tomorrow?” Lord Atten asked just as Lord Hamson appeared at her side.

“Why, thank you, yes!” she replied, perhaps a little too brightly.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord Hamson take a few steps backward. Good. Perhaps Lord Atten’s attention would show Lord Hamson not to be so impolite. Though to be fair, it was most likely not his fault that people were speaking about her the way they were. He needed to truly see what it was like to have her being pursued by another, and then perhaps he would not take such heed toward those who repeat such hurtful things.

For a man she could not abide, she had no excuse for why he filled so many of her thoughts. Mayhap it was the way one of his short-cropped curls seemed to go awry no matter how much pomade he put in his hair. Or perhaps it was his easy manners with his mother and willingness to play at the older table that tugged at her heartstrings, for what young man would go out of his way to claim a game table with the older set? It was endearing. Even if he was preposterous and horridly rude, he could still be somewhat—nay, a very little bit—charming, could he not?

“Lady Romney?” Lord Atten burst through her musings.

“Er, yes? Forgive me. I find I was woolgathering.”

He chuckled slightly and then nodded his head. “No matter. I was merely attempting to confirm a time for driving tomorrow. Is four o’clock convenient?”

“Tis perfect, my lord.”

He glanced over, and she saw that he caught Lord Hamson’s eye and then asked graciously, “Will you permit me to fetch you some refreshment? I see that a nice spread is being laid out by the staff as we speak. Would you like a sandwich, some fruit, or cheese, perhaps? Truly, I would be happy to return with anything you desire.”

“Well!” She grinned. “I hardly know how to answer such generosity.” She could feel small twinges of hunger and remembered that she had been so anxious, she had forgone supper. “I find I am quite famished. Please return with whatever you consider agreeable. I will leave that discretion up to you. And thank you for kindly thinking of me.”

He bowed and then glanced at Lord Hamson again before taking his leave.

After a few moments of silence, when that lord continued to stand near her, she finally spoke up. “Come now, Lord Hamson. Are you not even going to say hello? Or offer me refreshment as well?”

“I . . . Hello, Lady Romney. How are you this fine evening?”

She smiled and tilted her head. “A little better. And how do you get on? Are you done playing cards?”

He shrugged and glanced down at his boots before grinning ruefully. “I am afraid I have been cast away from the tables. I was not attending as I should be, and was told to retire my hand so the others could continue.”

She bit her lip from the sudden giggle that produced itself. “And why is that, my lord?”

His earnest gaze met hers. All at once, she was reminded again why she had preferred him over any other gentleman four years ago. A slight dimple played peek-a-boo as he hesitated before answering, “You. I could not tear my attentions away from you.”

“Me?” She was surprised and decided to bring him down a peg. No sense tumbling over his charms when he felt other women were more to his taste. “Are you certain it was me, Lord Hamson? Am I not too damaged for the likes of you?” A clear reminder that she had no business finding him charming at all.

He blanched, as she hoped he would, and then attempted a grin. “A direct hit, my dear. Straight to the heart.”

“The heart! You do not say.” Her own core raced wildly. Indeed, the man was a cursed fiend, the way he could make her feel! It was dreadful to be so fluttery around him. With an arch of her brow, she continued. “I would not know what that felt like,” she brazenly lied. “For your part, I hope it is not too painful, and will last but a short duration.”

He took a deep breath as he reacted to her fresh verbal arrow and then said simply, “Lady Romney, I fear neither of us are prepared for this encounter this evening. If you will allow me to do so, I must bid you adieu.” He bowed low as her chest grew heavy.

“Of course you may leave. I see that Lord Atten is making his way back anyhow.”

And there was the final strike. His eyes belied the pain he attempted to conceal as he nodded once and then left. Her upper body ached painfully for him, but it could not be helped. Neither of them would benefit from the other anymore. It was time they both put their past infatuation aside and progressed forward.

CHAPTER ELEVEN:

George made his way into his quarters, walked over to his large canopied four-poster bed, and then landed himself upon it. This would not do. Lord Atten could not be serious in his devotions to Lady Romney, could he? What would his family say to the match?

George stared up at the ancient embroidered covering above him and wished himself a millions miles away from this appalling town. There was nothing he could do about anything, anyway. It was best to allow their new romance to run its course and then step away.

Except, was he willing to be present to the whole of their flirtations the rest of his life? Atten was a particular companion of his, and if he were to wed Lady Romney, George saw nothing for it but to lose his friendship overall, for he would not be able to endure to see them together.

George sighed and spent a good deal of time acting the sop and bemoaning his fate until finally, thankfully, some small part of something triggered past the absurd dismal feelings he was having and clicked into his brain. Was he truly foolish enough to allow the woman he had pined for be swept away by another man yet again?

He sat up in bed as this odd feeling of determination began to spread through him. Why in the world would he lay here in agonies when it was up to him to put this all to rights?

Atten was right! Botheration! Why was his mother, or anyone else, allowed to decide for him what to ponder and feel? He had the tenderest of feelings for the lady, and nothing would change that.

She needed him. She might not discern such feelings at the moment—clearly, she felt she desired him to be as distant as possible. Yet that did not matter one jot because he recognized the truth. Yes, he had unspeakably stuck his foot in it this time, but he could and should rally. There was no reason why he did not make it up to the lady.

She deserved a grand gesture. Something prominently and distinctly so thoughtful and unique that she would straightaway remember their time together before and allow those warm, happy memories to return.

Lady Romney preferred him—or at least, she had at one time. There was no reason why he could not repent from his blunder and press forward with his suit. None at all.

A grin spread its way across his face. Now, what could possibly be such a gift of contrition for the lady?

***

Earlier that week, Lady Romney had received a letter from Mrs. Darell, a particular friend of her late husband and his departed wife, an older woman who had been connected to the family for years. She had heard that Catherine was in town and desired her to come over for a chat, as she had been laid up and could not get about as she was once wont to do.