truth, she was a very wealthy, woman. A very wealthy independent woman.
A very wealthy widow , with all the freedoms widowhood and wealth offered. Still, she’d trade it in a moment for the opportunity to have her husband back and make right whatever had gone horribly wrong.
Oh, certainly he was not the love of her life, and she had no doubt he did not love her either, but she had quite liked him. And thought he had liked her as well. Until after they were wed. Charles had procured a special license and they were quietly married early on the morning two days after she’d shared his bed. Then he’d insisted on going to her family. There was a great deal of hell to pay through the rest of that interminably long day. Her father and brothers grim-faced and threatening, and her mother weeping and throwing herself about in fits of despair over the impending scandal of a spur-of-the-moment marriage between an Effington and that…that. ..man. How said marriage was in total opposition to the order of things, and how it could not end in anything but disaster. Then there was Cassie’s obvious hurt at having been excluded from any knowledge of her sister’s ruinous adventure. Charles had been cool and collected and Delia was rather proud of the way he presented himself to her family. It was not until Delia and Charles were once again alone that his character seemed to change and she’d realized just what a mistake she had made. Oh, not in sacrificing her virtue. The significance of that was probably of far more concern to others than to herself. She’d long accepted that most of the men who wished to marry her did so primarily because of her family and position and dowry and would not be entirely offset by her ruined status.
No, the magnitude of her mistake lay in not truly knowing the nature of the man she’d tied herself to for the rest of her life.
Charles grew more and more preoccupied and withdrawn, in the manner of a man with pressing matters on his mind. Matters he refused to share. He was gone much of the time, and when he was near her, his manner was brusque, even cold. He’d been reticent to speak with her, reluctant to so much as be in her presence. It was as if, having married her, he no longer wished to have anything to do with her. As if he regretted ever meeting her in the first place. And she slept alone. His demeanor was confusing and painful and more than a bit frightening. Any hope she’d harbored that affection, even love, between them might grow vanished. A heavy weight hung in her chest and she’d considered means of escaping the dreadful mess she found herself in. She dismissed the idea of returning to her family; that was an admission not merely of her mistake but of failure. Effingtons, even female Effingtons, did not fail. No, she would stay with Charles, and if that meant a marriage that consisted of nothing more than two strangers living in the same house, so be it. Still, she had hoped, with time, the friendly affection and passion they’d shared could be found again.
She’d never dreamed there would be no time.
She would not have wished him dead, ever, but his untimely death released her from vows they never should have taken. In marrying her, he had changed her life completely. In widowing her, his gift was her freedom and an entirely new life that could hold anything she wished. And if the price for that gift was guilt and a heart heavy with regret for what might have been, she could live with that. She had no choice.
“Lady Wilmont.” Gordon’s voice sounded from the doorway and her gaze jerked to his. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, ma’am, and I do realize you were only trying to be helpful, but you must allow me to perform my duties, and…” His brow furrowed over his spectacles and he stepped closer. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but is something amiss?”
Abruptly she realized her cheeks were wet from tears that had fallen unnoticed. She dashed them away with the back
A very wealthy widow , with all the freedoms widowhood and wealth offered. Still, she’d trade it in a moment for the opportunity to have her husband back and make right whatever had gone horribly wrong.
Oh, certainly he was not the love of her life, and she had no doubt he did not love her either, but she had quite liked him. And thought he had liked her as well. Until after they were wed. Charles had procured a special license and they were quietly married early on the morning two days after she’d shared his bed. Then he’d insisted on going to her family. There was a great deal of hell to pay through the rest of that interminably long day. Her father and brothers grim-faced and threatening, and her mother weeping and throwing herself about in fits of despair over the impending scandal of a spur-of-the-moment marriage between an Effington and that…that. ..man. How said marriage was in total opposition to the order of things, and how it could not end in anything but disaster. Then there was Cassie’s obvious hurt at having been excluded from any knowledge of her sister’s ruinous adventure. Charles had been cool and collected and Delia was rather proud of the way he presented himself to her family. It was not until Delia and Charles were once again alone that his character seemed to change and she’d realized just what a mistake she had made. Oh, not in sacrificing her virtue. The significance of that was probably of far more concern to others than to herself. She’d long accepted that most of the men who wished to marry her did so primarily because of her family and position and dowry and would not be entirely offset by her ruined status.
No, the magnitude of her mistake lay in not truly knowing the nature of the man she’d tied herself to for the rest of her life.
Charles grew more and more preoccupied and withdrawn, in the manner of a man with pressing matters on his mind. Matters he refused to share. He was gone much of the time, and when he was near her, his manner was brusque, even cold. He’d been reticent to speak with her, reluctant to so much as be in her presence. It was as if, having married her, he no longer wished to have anything to do with her. As if he regretted ever meeting her in the first place. And she slept alone. His demeanor was confusing and painful and more than a bit frightening. Any hope she’d harbored that affection, even love, between them might grow vanished. A heavy weight hung in her chest and she’d considered means of escaping the dreadful mess she found herself in. She dismissed the idea of returning to her family; that was an admission not merely of her mistake but of failure. Effingtons, even female Effingtons, did not fail. No, she would stay with Charles, and if that meant a marriage that consisted of nothing more than two strangers living in the same house, so be it. Still, she had hoped, with time, the friendly affection and passion they’d shared could be found again.
She’d never dreamed there would be no time.
She would not have wished him dead, ever, but his untimely death released her from vows they never should have taken. In marrying her, he had changed her life completely. In widowing her, his gift was her freedom and an entirely new life that could hold anything she wished. And if the price for that gift was guilt and a heart heavy with regret for what might have been, she could live with that. She had no choice.
“Lady Wilmont.” Gordon’s voice sounded from the doorway and her gaze jerked to his. “I do not mean to be presumptuous, ma’am, and I do realize you were only trying to be helpful, but you must allow me to perform my duties, and…” His brow furrowed over his spectacles and he stepped closer. “I beg your pardon, ma’am, but is something amiss?”
Abruptly she realized her cheeks were wet from tears that had fallen unnoticed. She dashed them away with the back
Similar Books
