Always the Widow by Emily E.K. Murdoch

Chapter Eight

Jacob’s heart leapt, and a smile was not too far behind. There she was. The woman who had not left his mind for a single moment since he had last spoken with her.

Elizabeth.

Something painful lurched in his stomach, and Jacob wondered what he was supposed to do with his hands. What had he done with his hands before? Just held them here, by his sides like a fool?

She saw him and smiled, and Jacob almost melted into his boots.

You are not permitted to fall in love with Elizabeth Howard,he had to remind himself silently as she wove between the numerous people in Sydney Gardens that afternoon. Not only was she a widow carrying her late husband’s child in the eyes of the world, but he was otherwise engaged.

Engaged to be married to Miss Worsley—Sophia.

Plans for the wedding had started, and while Sophia and her mother hoped for a spring wedding next year, in his heart of hearts, Jacob wished the wedding could be earlier. The sooner it happened, the sooner he would stop fantasizing about the possibility that it would all fall apart. The sooner he could stop thinking about pursuing Elizabeth.

But no.Lady Romeril had attended each meeting with Sophia and her parents, eager for the upcoming nuptials, and the codicil dictated his godmother had to approve his choice.

She approved of Sophia, and that was that.

Besides, he was only here to enjoy a sedate and respectable walk in the gardens with the widow Howard. Nothing more. There was nothing scandalous about it, surely? He could be a friend to her.

Jacob’s jaw tightened as Elizabeth grew closer to him, and he saw the swell of her belly.

She was not old. She was looking more beautiful, glowing with the joy of her pregnancy with each passing day. Being with child suited her, and Jacob would more likely describe her as radiant than a widow.

“See,” he said quietly as she reached him with a nervous smile. “I told you, ’tis simple. A perfectly reputable walk in Sydney Gardens, along with half of Bath. No one could possibly criticize, not if they had any sense. And you…you look…well.”

Elizabeth’s nerves were palpable as she looked around, evidently expecting someone to scold her. “And I told you, nothing is reputable when one is a widow, and I am with child.”

Jacob could not respond. If he opened his mouth, he was going to say something foolish that would land him in trouble—certainly with Elizabeth, and potentially with Sophia, if he was so unfortunate as to be overheard.

Damn, but she was beautiful.Elmore was an idiot to think her beauty would make her unfaithful if that was why he had kept her a prisoner in her own home, but she was the most startlingly attractive woman in Bath.

Was it her beauty? Her wit? Her determination to find the best in the life that had been thrown at her? Or the idea that his child was growing inside her? A child that was part of him, and part of her?

Whatever it was, Jacob knew what was happening, even if he did not like it.

He was utterly falling in love with her.

Every passing thought and passion should be for Sophia. If he was any sort of gentleman, he should be able to control his thoughts, force them to obey him.

But Sophia, kind and witty as she was, simply did not compare to Elizabeth.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Startled, Jacob realized he had been staring moronically at Elizabeth for the last few minutes.

He laughed awkwardly. “Goodness, I do not believe my thoughts to be worth a penny.”

Elizabeth frowned. “If you are going to look at me, like…like that, then perhaps I should go. I do not wish the gossips of Bath to concoct any stories about us, and—”

“You are perfectly safe with me,” Jacob interrupted. “The gossips have done their work in that regard, at least. Everyone knows I am an engaged man, remember. No one will look at us and consider me a threat to you or your reputation.”

They were close, so close he could murmur those last words. What was that intake of breath? Was it his imagination, or did Elizabeth now look sad at the mention of his engagement?

They had barely spoken of it. He hated to talk of it with anyone. Something Lady Romeril had laughed at and called ‘a gentleman’s prerogative.’

But to speak of Sophia with Elizabeth…with the last woman he had bedded, the woman carrying his child?

“Yes, you are engaged to be married,” Elizabeth said lightly, starting to walk along the path. Jacob matched her pace. “And how are the plans for the day going?”

Jacob sighed. “Suffice to say they are going.”

She laughed, a group of gentlemen debating politics passing them. “I remember the plans for my wedding. I had hoped for something small, just close friends, family, a few acquaintances, but I was overruled. It ended up being a complicated affair. It took weeks to organize.”

“The date is next spring,” Jacob said heavily. “Months and months for Sophia—Miss Worsley—and Lady Romeril to plan extravagance. I’m glad I am not paying for the damn thing.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. “Lady Romeril? I was not aware she was a relation of Miss Worsley. I believed her parents to be still living.”

There was a careful nonchalance in her words.

“She is not a relation of Miss Worsley,” he said shortly. “In a way, she is one of mine. My godmother, my guardian when my parents died. If she gets her way, she’ll bankrupt the poor Worsleys!”

Elizabeth laughed. “Well, ideally, a lady will only have one wedding, and the Worsleys have only one daughter. I can understand their desire to make it splendid. I certainly would wish the same if this is a daughter.”

Jacob could not help it. He glanced at Elizabeth’s belly, and his stomach lurched again. His daughter.

“Or a son,” he said with a grin. “You said yourself, you could not tell.”

“Well, with the date of your wedding to Miss Worsley so far away,” Elizabeth said lightly, “this little one can attend, and you’ll know for sure.”

A strange tightness crept around his heart. His son or daughter would be born by the time he got married.

It was so backward. Children were supposed to come after the wedding, everyone knew that—even if sometimes it looked like it was going to be a close-run thing.

But this situation…it felt wrong. It was wrong. If things had been different, if he had met Elizabeth when she had not been married…

Jacob cleared his throat to chase away the scary thoughts. He had made a promise to Sophia, to her family. It would not do to break that promise because it was inconvenient.

Besides, even if he did, there was no certainty that Elizabeth would accept his advances. They were only here in Sydney Gardens because she had not permitted him to come to Lenskeyn House.

No, he was engaged to Miss Sophia Worsley, and he was interested in Elizabeth Howard for the sake of their child. And that was it.

“Long engagements are becoming the norm, though,” Elizabeth was saying. “Few marriages take place quickly. My brother-in-law was married in weeks, although now Theodosia is with child, I wonder…but that is speculation. Where will you and Lady Westray live?”

Jacob frowned. Did she not know his mother was—only then did he remember Sophia would take his mother’s title. “I do not know.”

“And where will you be getting married?”

Jacob shrugged as they turned a corner. Lady Romeril had been scandalized to hear he had not been carefully reviewing churches and dates. What did it matter?

“It matters, Jacob Beauvale, because it is your wedding!” That was what Lady Romeril had snapped yesterday in his drawing room as Sophia had chuckled and her parents looked affronted.

Elizabeth was laughing. “You truly have no comprehension of what they are planning, do you? What are you expecting, a date, time, and location to be provided to you, and then you simply turn up?”

“Well, what do I care?” Jacob said in a moment of unguarded madness. By God, she was beautiful. “I will get married on a date which was not decided by me at a wedding utterly chosen by the bride, paid for by her family, and then I am wed. My opinion is not needed nor desired, is it?”

The bitterness growing in his heart had overspilled, and he regretted it the moment the words were out of his mouth.

But it was all wrong.

Wrong, wrong, wrong—and was he doing anything about it? No. He was too much of a fool. Too much a coward to risk losing it all when the codicil was in reach, and Elizabeth showed no signs of affection. Too much a gentleman. Sophia Worsley had been left at the altar once before. He was not about to break her second engagement.

Perhaps if he had more nerve, was more a gentleman with spirit, like Mercia or Marnmouth, he would have done something. As it was, he was with the woman he was falling in love with, the woman carrying his child, talking to her about his marriage to another. Madness!

What was he supposed to do, tell Elizabeth about the codicil, as if that explained why he was striding headlong into a marriage both of them knew he did not want?

It would be admitting he had no control over his fate, over his own life.

No, the codicil would not simply disappear with the talking of it, and at the root of this was a real person with real hopes and desires. Sophia Worsley deserved better.

“You have not known Miss Worsley long, have you?”

Elizabeth’s voice brought him back from his thoughts, grounding him as nothing else could. She had stopped. “You do not mind if we sit, do you? I find being on my feet for too long makes me overly tired.”

“No, no, of course not!” Jacob babbled. Christ alive, why had he not thought of that? The one opportunity to see her and their growing child, and he had suggested a walk? “Here, sit on this bench.”

She took his hand as naturally as if they had been spouses as she lowered herself onto the bench, and Jacob forced down the temptation to keep hold of it as he sat beside her.

“Miss Worsley,” she prompted after a moment of silence. “You have become better acquainted with her recently.”

Jacob nodded as he watched the world go by. “Yes, it has all…I have known of her for years, of course. The engagement was quick, I suppose.”

“I did overhear something about the two of you being introduced at my brother-in-law’s wedding,” Elizabeth said. She spoke slowly, as though choosing her words carefully. “Albemarle Howard, the Earl of Lenskeyn, you know. Lady Romeril seemed to believe you would suit.”

He almost smiled. Well, he had always considered Lady Romeril a wily woman.

“I had not realized her machinations went back that far,” he said aloud. “I have to praise Lady Romeril for her matchmaking skills. She could give Miss Ashbrooke a few lessons.”

“I must admit, I am a tad afraid of her,” Elizabeth confessed. She smiled, and his heart contracted.

“I know her too well for that,” he laughed. “Lady Romeril is certainly a fearsome woman and one to be respected and admired. She is…well, not one who is easy to love, but I have grown to deeply care for her. One cannot have Lady Romeril as your godmother and guardian and not!”

Elizabeth laughed, and there was that tug again—though lower than his stomach, this time.

Damnit, he was lying to himself if he continued to try and tell himself he was not falling in love with her.

Falling?He had already fallen—jumped. And not just for her body, delicious as it was.

No, Elizabeth was far more than that. She had suffered through a marriage that would have conquered many other women and still had retained her humanity, her femininity. She still knew how to laugh. She had seemed dead when married to Elmore, but now he had the honor of seeing her come alive.

Someone stared at them as they passed. It would never do for Elizabeth to feel the rebuke of society.

“Marriage is all a mystery to me, really,” he said more seriously. “You are far more likely to impart wisdom to me on this matter.”

For the second time in their conversation, Jacob wished he had just thought to keep his foolish mouth shut. Elizabeth had hated Elmore! True, she had never admitted as much, but what widow would desecrate the memory of her husband?

Why was he incapable of preventing himself from putting his foot in it?

But as he glanced nervously at Elizabeth, he saw a sarcastic smile on her face. “I do not think so. Marriage is not something one can teach. It is far more interesting than that, more nuanced. ’Tis about the person you are married to, more than anything else. I was an expert at being married to Elmore, not that it took much, but I am not sure I could advise on marriage to anyone else.”

“I would like to be an expert in marriage to you.”

The words had escaped his lips without thought, just desire flowing from his mind to his tongue. And for the first time, he saw the attraction he felt mirrored in her. Elizabeth colored, and her gaze dropped to her hands across her belly before she spoke.

“What did you say?”

She was giving him a chance, he knew, to retract the statement. He swallowed down the impulse to shift closer to her on the bench and tried to pull his harried thoughts into order.

Was he brave enough to continue this line of conversation? Was it right to share his desires with her when there was nothing he could do about it?

“I never wished to stop seeing you,” he said hoarsely. “I would have wanted…more of you. More often. When Elmore…before he died.”

Jacob watched her swallow, saw the telltale signs of hesitation across her features.

“I wanted it, too,” she whispered. “But I was overcome with guilt, and then when he died…I felt I had been punished.”

Elizabeth paused and finally looked at him. Her blue eyes sparkled in the weak autumn sunlight. “And the worst of it was, I didn’t feel guilty. He was a bad man, my husband. Elmore did not deserve the good reputation he had, and to this day, I do not know how he managed it. You treated me better than he ever did, and I could see myself…”

Jacob’s breath caught in this throat. Was this it? Was she about to admit that she loved him?

He was not sure what he would do if she said she cared for him. Sophia’s face rose in his memory, the words she had spoken in that opera box.

“Just do not break my heart, Jacob. It’s already been stretched and pulled to endurance. I cannot…we are engaged, and that is an end to it.”

Elizabeth’s lips opened to speak.

“Good day, Mrs. Howard.” A gentleman passed and inclined his head, and Elizabeth shut her mouth as she returned the courtesy.

Damn and blast it!Jacob could not help feeling outraged fate had not even given him one chance to hear what she truly felt about him.

“Well, I feel quite exhausted,” said Elizabeth quietly, a smile on her face. “I am a widow, Lord Westray, and a pregnant one at that. I believe I should return home, where I can rest.”

Jacob nodded. He had been fortunate to tempt her outside Lenskeyn House in the first place, but perhaps now he had lost that right. Maybe she would not want to risk speaking her feelings again.

“Here, let me help you,” he said hurriedly, seeing her struggle to rise to her feet.

She was certainly heavier as Jacob helped pull her upright, and he placed her hand in his arm as they started toward her carriage.

“Mrs. Howard! I did not know you were back in Bath! And…oh. A gentleman friend.”

The words were spoken callously, and as Jacob looked around, he saw with a sinking heart that the speaker was the notorious gossip, Mrs. Bryant.

“Well,” she sniffed before Elizabeth had a chance to say anything. “Each to their own, I suppose. I would always hope to be a respectable widow.”

She bustled away with a haughty air, and Jacob felt Elizabeth’s grip tighten on his arm.

“Well,” she said quietly. “That will be all over town before the evening.”

Jacob wanted very much to swear but restrained himself. “Two friends, out for a walk?”

Elizabeth glanced at him, and Jacob’s heart twisted.

Two friends. Friends, indeed. No, he wanted to be far more than friends, and if he was not much mistaken, so did she.

The words would never be spoken, of course. As he helped her into the carriage and watched it rattle away, back to the safety of Lenskeyn House, Jacob shook his head.

No, they would never speak the truth. Once it was said, there would be no going back.