What a Lady Craves by Ashlyn Macnamara

looking to remarry?”
    Heat prickled at the back of Henrietta’s neck. If he was concerned about proper mourning periods, he must have held his wife in high esteem, indeed. Yes, and that was a strip of black cloth tied about his upper arm.
    That carpet was looking more and more tempting. Oh, tomorrow, she would definitely call for a tray in her room. Tomorrow and every successive day until Alexander was well enough to leave. To hell with running away. Judging by his coloring, he might not even remain an entire fortnight. She crossed her fingers, screwed her eyes closed, and prayed for his rapid recovery.
    “Nonsense. From what Albemarle told me, the lady in question had no connections to speak of. No one in society would expect you to hide yourself away for a year.”
    Worse and worse. No matter what connections his wife might have possessed, Henrietta could hardly boast about her own. Any titles in her family were generations removed—along with any great wealth. So why was Lady Epperley championing her as a potential match for Alexander, if, indeed, that was what the old harridan was about? Or was it the cat? Not that either was above amusing herself by intentionally embarrassing others.
    Alexander pushed his plate aside and stood. “I could not care less for society’s opinion. It is a question of respect for one recently departed, her connections be damned.”
    Henrietta gasped. The Alexander she had known would never use such language in mixed company, and most certainly not in front of his aunt.
    But Lady Epperley only cackled. “Do you think those words offend me? I’ve heard far worse in my day. Just keep in mind the circumstances we discussed, no matter what you think of society’s opinion. Although I thought you valued your honor more.”
    Alexander firmed his jaw. “I do, but honor also demands I pay proper respect.” With a nod, he turned and stalked toward the door. But on the threshold, he stopped and regarded Henrietta. “Do you think I might have a word?”
    She held herself rigid in her seat. What more could he possibly have to say? “I beg your pardon?”
    “A word, immediately.”
    Lady Epperley eased herself out of her chair. “Go on with you.” She flicked her hands in a shooing motion that somehow made her appear girlish. “The young man wants a word. Why not use the library?”
    Right. The last place she’d discuss anything with him was a spot where Lady Epperley was certain to listen at the door.
    Henrietta stood. “Very well.” But when she crossed to him, she added, low, “Not the library.”
    He offered his arm, as if he was escorting her to supper. Ever the gentleman. Ever a stickler for the rules, despite his damning of society’s opinion. She stared just above the elbow where a swath of black cloth encircled his upper arm, but he did not withdraw. Fine, then. She tucked her hand into the crook.
    “Do you know a place where we’re not likely to be overheard?”
    “Anywhere your aunt does not expect us to hold a conversation.” She could take him toher room under the eaves, but that was hardly a fitting spot. With his aunt seemingly out to pair him off, she’d likely insist on him making an offer. The corridor outside her bedchamber would have to do. “This way.”
    Moving quickly, she led him up three flights, from the sweeping staircase at the center of the house to the ever-narrowing corridors on the top floor. The servants’ wing was quiet this time of morning, with all its denizens hard at work, or nearly so.
    The heavy solitude left nothing but his presence to fill the space.
    She curled her fingers over her palm where the texture of his borrowed morning coat remained imprinted on her skin. “What can you possibly have to say to me that’s so urgent?”
    She made an attempt to soften her demeanor. Although he naturally set her on guard, she had no reason to antagonize him. He would leave soon enough and be gone from her life, and she would pick up where she’d