Leave a Widow Wanting More by Charlie Lane

Chapter 13

Sarah stared at the ring on her finger. The bluest stone she’d ever seen glimmered up at her from a golden band, illuminating the dull light of the traveling carriage. Lapis lazuli, he’d called it after pulling it out of his pocket minutes before they’d wed this morning.

How did he move so quickly? The special marriage license he’d had on hand wasn’t surprising. He’d come back to England intent on taking a wife after all, and with his fame, he knew any number of people willing to help him obtain whatever he desired.

But the ring, the impressive suit of clothes he’d procured for James, the carriage she now rode in alone and the two horses Henry and James rode alongside the carriage all seemed to have appeared by magic.

Had he learned some sort of sorcery overseas? Or did he simply wield the advantages of money and power? She really didn’t know how wealthy the man was or what circles he ran in. Scholarly circles of course, but did he mix with the ton? He was a baron, of course, but many wouldn’t consider it the most impressive of titles. She was impressed, not having known anyone else with a title of any kind, let alone someone she’d married. She was more impressed with his adventures, his discoveries, than a name he’d been born to, but the title couldn’t be scoffed at.

Great Gutenberg, she had a title now! Lady Eaden! Preposterous, considering the threadbare hem brushing her scuffed boots and the hole in her right glove she could almost wiggle her finger out of. She’d need new clothes.

But today she would have to meet her new stepdaughters looking like a pauper. Except for the ring. Mercy, that ring!

The carriage rolled to a halt and Sarah poked her head out the window. “Is everything all right?”

Lord Eaden vaulted off his horse and strode toward James, who sat atop his new horse like he’d been born to the saddle. Lord Eaden showed James something with the reins, corrected his posture, then turned toward the carriage.

Sarah scooted into the corner as he climbed in, sat next to her, and the carriage rolled forward. What was he doing? “You’ve left James to ride alone!”

“He’s an excellent rider. A natural.”

“I’m not sure he’s been on a horse before today.”

Lord Eaden crossed his arms over his chest. “As I said, a natural.”

“He’ll get hurt.”

He shrugged. “I wanted to ride with you the rest of the way. The boy needs some time alone to think over all the changes.”

James needed no time. In twenty-four hours, he’d gained a famous adventurer for a stepfather, the means to buy as many new suits as he wished, a horse, and who knew how many tales to tell the fellows back at Harrow.

Harrow. That reminded her. “I’m still not sure it’s wise to keep him out of school any longer.”

“He needs to settle into his new home. Meet his new family.”

Sarah grumbled. “You always have logical and persuasive arguments, don’t you?”

Lord Eaden nudged her knee with his own. “I have to. Don’t worry, Sarah. He won’t get behind at school. And he won’t get hurt on the horse.” He shrugged. “And if he does, he’ll learn from it.”

“Horrid man!”

Lord Eaden shrugged again. “It’s how things are. Besides, I wish to speak with you.” A mischievous glint in his eye suggested he had no desire to speak.

But they needed to speak, to set rules, to make things clear. She needed to set boundaries so her heart didn’t get caught up in the man’s toothy grin.

But her body liked the mischief glinting in his eye. Her body remembered what it felt like to sink into his kiss, to wind her fingers in his hair.

She wound her fingers in her lap instead. “What should we speak about, Lord Eaden?”

“Henry,” he gently chided. “We’re married now. There’s no reason to be so formal.”

She relaxed her jaw and tried it out. “Henry. Hm. It’s odd to address someone so informally on such short acquaintance.”

He shifted in his seat. “May I be honest with you?”

“Please do.”

“I feel as if I know you well already. Is that not odd?”

“Yes.” But, somehow, she felt the same. “It should not be possible.”

“Shall I tell you what I know about you to convince you?”

“Please, do. It will be fun. Informative even.”

His eyes settled on her with dark intensity. “You have a son. You were married to a soldier. You love books. You are protective of your child. You’re a determined woman, a hard worker. You’re intelligent. You don’t make decisions quickly.”

“My. That’s a lot. It’s all external, though. You can’t know me, the real me, on such short acquaintance.”

“I’ve seen hints of the inner you. When you showed up soaking wet at Hellwater’s house. When you kissed me in the street. Not every woman would do those things. Those are uniquely you. I’d like to know you even more intimately.”

Her cheeks burned. “I know things about you, too, Henry.” Evasion wasn’t brave, but it was wise.

“Really? I should hope so, a woman of your observational powers. Tell me what you know.”

“You love faraway places. You’re smarter than most people around you. You like to get your way. You go about getting your way logically, systematically. You’re a natural father and protector. You’re terrified of something.”

He flinched.

She’d hit a nerve. She’d hit on the truth. Dare she hammer at it a bit more? Yes. “At first, I thought your terror a disrespect for women. I thought you believed men the stronger sex and women inferior. But I don’t think it’s that anymore. You hired a woman as an assistant. You speak highly of your daughters and me, despite the fact you do not know me at all.”

“I’ve not convinced you I know you, then,” he said, retreating from her accusation.

That was fine. He could keep his secrets. Her curiosity burned, but it was wiser not to get too close, not to look too deeply into his soul. She might become entangled. She nodded, fortifying the wall around her heart. The better to keep crocodiles out. “I guess you know me better than Mr. Hopkins, and I’ve known him for almost half a year.”

“He’s a simpleton.”

Most likely he thought everyone a simpleton. Time to change the subject.

“Tell me about your daughters. I’m soon to meet them, after all. I need to be prepared.”

“Ada is the oldest. When she was little, she tromped about in britches with one of my cravats tied about her face, covering an eye. Wanted to be a pirate. But after her mother died, she sobered.” Without looking, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the small trinkets there, threading the bracelet through his fingers, rubbing his fingertips over the book’s edge, and keeping the small scarab safe in the warmth of his palm. “Elenora Marie,” he rumbled. “I’ve heard some younger girls are shadows to their sisters, but Nora is a sun. Does what she likes when she likes it. And Pansy.” His face fell as he spoke the little girl’s name. His hand tightened around the scarab. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff. “Pansy was two when her mother and sister died. I don’t know her as well as I’d like. She’s very bright, in every sense of the word. Imaginative. Curious. You’ll see.” He looked away from her and out the window, and a grin broke across his face. “Look outside.”

Sarah didn’t want to look outside. There was a world of intrigue inside the carriage. A daughter had died with his wife? She couldn’t help herself. She had to know. “How? Your wife and daughter? How did they die?” She ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I should not have. I—”

“A long, difficult labor. The child was born, but too weak. She lasted a little bit. So, too, did my wife. But they both … faded away.”

A shiver ran down her spine. “Did she have a name, your daughter?”

“Calliope,” he whispered.

She’d not expected him to actually answer, and his whispered caress of his lost daughter’s name, his bloodless face, brought tears to her eyes.

She did as he asked then and looked out the window, eager to see anything but the pallor of his face.

They drove along a neatly maintained avenue lined with large oak trees. The park extended on either side of it, green and rolling. Up ahead, barely in view, she saw a house, larger than its name suggested. Manor, indeed. It seemed she was to be a lady of a rather impressive establishment.

Her throat closed in sudden fear.

A large, warm hand wrapped around her own. When she turned to look at Henry, his deep-brown eyes were wells of warmth. “You’ll fit in perfectly. Have no fear. I won’t leave for a few weeks, so you can rely on me for everything.”

If she lacked courage, all she needed do was look his way. She knew instinctually he would take care of her. Until he left. And he’d be leaving so much sooner than she had expected.

She withdrew her hand. “A fortnight? That’s all?”

He nodded once, a curt movement.

She settled back into the seat. “Is there anything you don’t already know about James?”

Henry’s baritone laughter rumbled through the carriage. “No, I think not. I wouldn’t know from experience, but I think boys are easier than girls.”

“I might disagree with you on that.”

“James desires nice things.”

“So do girls.”

“But girls have feelings about it all.”

It was Sarah’s turn to laugh. “And why do you suppose James walked all the way from Harrow during the night to tell me about his ruined suit? Do you think his feelings weren’t involved? Do you think his pride was not at stake?”

“His consideration of his poor, hardworking mother certainly wasn’t involved.” Henry bristled. “The temerity of that boy, running to you for a new suit knowing your situation! Hell, ruining his one good suit to begin with! Inconsiderate. Unfeeling.”

True, but not his place to point out. “Henry, James is my son, and while I am grateful for your intervention yesterday and aware of his shortcomings, it is not your place to point them out.”

Henry opened his mouth to argue, then snapped his teeth together.

Sarah welcomed the ensuing silence. The carriage rumbled closer to the house, and outside it, she saw growing dots in pink, blue, and green. The colored shapes sharpened, revealing two women, a girl, and two running blurs of brown. The twins, she suspected, hurtling about with excitement over the return of the patriarch.

She reached out to Henry, finding his hand closer to her on the seat than she’d expected. “The twins,” she asked, putting her hand on his, “Are they—”

“Energetic? Excitable? Devilish?”

“Identical?”

“Yes. To all of the above.”

“I assumed the first three.”

“Of course, with all your experience of boys.”

“I’m glad you recognize my expertise.”

He nodded a curt concession, a tiny acknowledgment of her superiority. She smiled and turned back to the approaching challenge outside the window.

Henry’s hand turned, his fingers intertwining with her own. “Sarah.”

She let him hold her hand but continued staring at the house, the daughters, the twins, her future. “Mm-hmm?”

“I’m going to kiss you now. Before the hurricane disorients us.”

She turned sharply, finding his hand on her nape, the other about her waist. “Oh,” she gasped as his lips descended, warm, firm, possessive. His fingers twined through her hair, and the hand about her waist—no, that used to be about her waist—snuck upward. He cupped her breast, kneaded it gently. She startled at first.

Henry pulled away, just an inch, and whispered into her ear, “Is this all right?”

“Yes,” she breathed. It was just her first husband had never … he’d not thought it proper to … even in her mind, she found it difficult to admit. No man had touched her breasts before. She should pull away, but great Gutenberg, he set to it again. His soft lips left trails of fire on her jaw and her neck, and his fingers, clever as the rest of him, rubbed her hardening nipples until she arched into his embrace.

Who would stop the pleasure his hand on her chest wrought? Certainly not her.

“Henry.” She’d moaned again. But there truly was no helping it.

She should reciprocate in some way. She wanted to touch him in all the places that most fascinated her—over the jacket straining across his shoulders, under the cravat hiding a probably tanned neck, beneath the waistband of his pants. She wanted to see if his stomach was still taut and flat despite his age. She couldn’t imagine otherwise. Tentatively, she stroked his chest, trailed her fingertips down, down, down. Yes, his abdomen felt flat. Then—there! His waistband. One finger slipped inside.

Then the carriage rattled to a stop.

Great Gutenberg!They had arrived. The children were just a door away from them!

Groaning, Henry set her aside. “That was …”

Dangerous? Horrifying? Tantalizing? No, no, no! She’d have to steel her body as well as her heart.

He straightened her hair, a small smile tugging one corner of his lip up. Then he stood, opened the carriage door, and alighted, extending his hand to help her down.

Her heart beat like a bird in a cage. How could she stand in front of his children knowing what they’d just done? Kissing in the middle of the street in front of untold numbers of strangers was one thing. Having your breast caressed feet away from your new husband’s children, and your own child, was quite another.

They have no idea, she reminded herself.

“Are you coming, Sarah?” His dark eyes issued a challenge.

She couldn’t hide here forever. She took a deep breath, placed her hand in his, then set foot for the first time on her new home and looked for the first time at her new family.

They looked shocked.

Henry entwined his fingers with hers. “Courage,” he whispered. “They don’t bite.” He pulled her toward the waiting line of girls. The two boys stopped chasing one another and clung to the tallest girl’s skirts. Henry’s hand squeezed hers like a vice. She peeked up at him. Was he scared, too? What of? He dropped her hand and strode the last few feet on his own. “Hello, loves,” he said, his voice hoarse with some emotion.

“Papa!” One of the older girls broke into a dazzling smile and threw herself into her father’s arms. Henry wrapped his arms around the dark-haired beauty and buried his nose in her hair. “Elenora,” he whispered. Sarah knew the joy she heard in his voice. She’d felt it just yesterday when James had appeared in Hopkins’s shop.

But though Elenora had flung herself at her father with abandon, the others stayed put. Sarah studied them. The tallest must be Ada, and the little girl could only be Pansy. Why did they hold back?

Henry must have been thinking the same thing. “Well?” he inquired, his arm still around his Elenora. “Who else will welcome me home?”

Ada took Pansy’s hand and stepped forward, towing the two boys along with them. “Hello, Papa. It’s good to see you again.” Her words welcomed, but her blank face did not. She knelt next to the little girl. “Pansy, say hello to Papa.”

Pansy lifted her eyes shyly at her father, and Henry knelt, opening his arms to her.

Ada nudged Pansy. “It’s all right. You remember him. He brings you presents. He’s your father, Pansy.”

The girl clung tighter to Ada. “I remember,” she said.

Ada didn’t hide her exasperation. “Well, then,” she huffed, “welcome him home.”

Pansy let go of her sister’s hand and inched forward. Henry waited, still as a statue, as if courting a wild animal.

Pansy reached out and touched his cheek, then pulled back abruptly. “Hello, Papa. Welcome home.”

“Hello, sweet Pansy. May I have a hug?”

Pansy looked over her shoulder at Ada, who nodded curtly. Pansy turned back to her father and nodded as well. She rushed into his embrace, then rushed out just as quick, finding refuge behind her sister.

Henry stood, his arms looking empty, his face unreadable. He was a stranger to his youngest daughter, and he knew it. He didn’t reach with his arms for his oldest daughter, but his voice reached, begged. “Ada?”

She smiled, a weak thing, but she stood her ground. Defeated, Henry turned to the two boys. “How are you, lads?” His joviality sounded forced.

The boys shared a glance then said together, “We’re behaving, Uncle.”

“That’s not what I asked. Are you well?”

Another glance exchanged. “Yes, Uncle,” one of them said, craning his neck to peer behind Henry. “Is Jack here?”

“I’m afraid not. He’s working in London.”

The little boy’s face fell, then rose again on a wave of hope. “Do you have presents for us?”

“Presents aren’t as good as Jack,” the other twin said, “But—”

Henry rubbed their heads. “I do indeed have presents. But first …” He waved to Sarah.

Oh, dear. The time had come. Henry’s welcome had hardly been warm. Not even warm-ish, really. What would they say to her?

Henry took Sarah’s hands and smiled just for her. Whatever he must be feeling after such a lukewarm greeting didn’t show. He pulled her forward. “Yesterday morning, this was Mrs. Sarah Pennington, but as of this morning, she is Lady Eaden, my new wife and your new stepmother.”

It was the first time stepmother had been spoken aloud, and Sarah found it quite took her voice away. “Please do call me Sarah.” She couldn’t expect two grown women to call her Mama or Mother. And asking them to refer to her as Lady Eaden was similarly silly. “Or Aunt Sarah.” She smiled at the twins. “If you like.”

Her speech met with blank stares from the girls. One of the little boys followed a bird’s flight across the sky. The other stuck his finger up his nose.

Retreat to the carriage sounded like a lovely idea.

Henry’s hand tugged away from hers. He hauled James forward, situating him in front of Ada, Nora, Pansy, and the twins. “And this is your new brother, Mr. James Pennington. Sarah, James, these are my daughters, Miss Ada Cavendish, Miss Nora Cavendish, Miss Pansy Cavendish, and my wards, Thomas and Nicholas Cavendish.”

Three sets of startlingly wide green eyes and two sets of eyes as brown as Henry’s stared at her, then shifted to James, then back to her. Ada recovered first. She sketched a bow. Then she elbowed Pansy and bopped the twins on their shoulders, movements that resulted in a tiny, off-centered curtsy and two identical bows. Nora was the only one to rush forward. She smiled brightly at James and took Sarah’s hands in her own. “What a shocking surprise! Of course, Papa would remarry and not tell us a thing, the old scoundrel.” She turned to her father. “How could you, Papa?”

Henry puffed his chest out. “It was very sudden. To meet her was to wish to marry her.”

Sarah’s stomach fluttered. He played the romantic for his daughters, but it wasn’t real. Her fluttering stomach didn’t believe her. It believed him.

“Are you a romantic, Papa?” Nora demanded to know. Sarah’s stomach would very much like an answer to that question, but a harsh hmph demanded her attention.

Ada gathered the children and turned back toward the house. “It’s time for the children to return to their lessons.”

“I thought we’d spend the day together,” Henry called after her. “I’ve only just returned. There will be plenty of time for lessons after—”

“After you leave again. Yes. There’s plenty of time after that.”

A footman opened the door for her and the children, and they disappeared inside.

Hands on hips, Nora frowned at the closed front door, then turned a beaming smile back to her father and wrapped him in another hug. “I’m so glad you’re home, Papa.” She turned to Sarah, who stiffened as the young woman’s arms wrapped tightly around her in a hug.

“Welcome to the family,” Nora exclaimed. “I apologize for my sister’s lack of a welcome. She’s in a mood. She’s usually quite lovely.”

“That’s good to know.” Maybe Ada wasn’t a second Miss Smith, determined to make her life a misery.

At least there was Nora. She was all smiles. And energy, too. She released Sarah and turned to James. “And I’m glad to meet you! Come, brother, I’ll show you around.” She disappeared inside the house, towing James behind her.

Alone with Henry, Sarah looked up at the huge house. Four stories. My.

“Sarah, I’m sorry. That didn’t quite go as I’d planned.” His voice, usually buoyant and energized, sounded flat. Broken?

It splintered something inside her. She continued to look up at the house. It was safer that way. If she looked at him, she’d shatter even further. She should ask about the house. Yes. But …

“Is it always this way when you come home?” That was not a good question. Not at all.

“Now it is.”

She couldn’t help it. She looked at him. His brown eyes held back tears. Could crocodiles cry? He looked older, tired, defeated.

But only for a moment. He sucked in a breath, straightened, and pulled her into his arms. “Welcome home, wife. Come along.”

As Henry towed her over the threshold of her new home, she noted how right it felt to hold his hand. That something inside of her—whatever it was that had broken apart with his distress—shattered to pieces, and instead of piercing her, those pieces dissolved. Nothing remained of them. Nothing remained of her resistance.

She needed a good, hearty dose of Miss Gwendolyn Smith, someone to saucily remind her of just how long Henry would stay.

Not long at all.

But … his family was broken, and it broke him. Sarah had spent years taking care of her own family, fixing their problems in any way she could. She hadn’t had the resources she had now as the Right Honorable Lady Eaden. Surely it would be easier to fix this family than it had been to keep her own afloat. Besides, did it really matter what happened to her heart in the process?