Page 1 of A Wager With A Rake (Wicked Widows #32)

Theodosia

D owager Lady Theodosia Dundas had a mind to burn every one of her mourning dresses.

Each one she had worn begrudgingly, knowing she didn’t miss or mourn the death of her husband, the late Viscount Dundas, for a single second.

She hadn’t wished the man dead, even if she might have thought about it a few times.

She rejoiced, however, because his death gave her the independence she desperately wanted for herself.

The garments before her had been the uniform that symbolized her last debt of servitude to the man.

Theodosia’s maid, Jean, placed the dreadful dresses on Theodosia’s bed as she packed the clothing and belongings into a wooden trunk for their move.

They stuck out like a sore thumb against the more appealing colors of the dresses she was now free to wear again.

A wide grin formed on Theodosia’s face. Why on earth would she bring them with her into her new life?

She was finally on the other side of a year-long sentence to play the part of the distraught wife as was expected of her.

But that was wholly and completely finished.

She didn’t need the miserable black color bringing down the vibrant colors of her wardrobe.

“You can donate all of those,” Theodosia said, pointing to the pile of dresses that awaited Jean to pack them into a large trunk. “Or repurpose the fabric for something else of need.” Or burn them. That would suit her just fine if she didn’t know that others could benefit.

“All of them?” Jean asked, eyes wide.

Theodosia nodded. “You may keep any or all that you wish to have for yourself, and whatever is left, please give them away, as I shall never wear a single one of them again.”

“Thank you, my lady,” Jean said, already eyeing the fine fabric.

If nothing else, the gowns she had fashioned from her husband’s funds would bring someone else joy.

Perhaps after years of being a miserable bitch, she’d learned to care about the feelings of others.

But it was also another dig at the man, given that a servant’s joy was certainly a matter he would never have given even a second’s thought.

A knock sounded at the door. “Enter.”

Her butler, Pruett, entered. “Lady Mulgrave is here to see you, my lady.”

“I shall be down directly. Please have tea brought in for us while we await luncheon.” She had arranged for her closest friend, Rebecca, to join her before Theodosia departed for her new life at her very own estate, Rosewood, free to live as she pleased, including whatever company she might wish to keep.

Theodosia’s cheeks heated at the thought. The freedom to live as a wanton widow of society, taking any man she wished to her bed. It had consumed so many of her thoughts while she was in mourning.

She shook off the woolgathering. “Do you need me to send someone up to help you, Jean?”

Her maid waved her off. “I have things well in hand. Enjoy your visit, my lady.”

Nodding, Theodosia turned on her heel and departed her chamber.

She had been quite fortunate that the distant cousin who’d inherited the viscountcy after Dundas passed had been far kinder than most men would have been.

Kinder than her husband and father combined.

He’d generously allowed her to make use of one of his townhomes during her mourning period while renovations were being completed at Rosewood.

Her father might have allowed Dundas to pay for a young, virgin bride, but at least she came out of the deal with a short marriage, an estate, and money to live on.

The new viscount even supplied her with a full staff of servants, many of whom would go with her once she departed.

It was likely because he wasn’t a man brought up as part of the ton and wasn’t as hardened by the pettiness of society. If Dundas had secured an heir, or if rather Theodosia had given him one, the man would have never inherited.

When she reached the drawing room, she found Rebecca already seated on the settee.

“I’m so glad you could come.”

“Of course,” Rebecca said, rising so they could buss each other’s cheeks. “Harrison had business to tend to in Town and then we shall return to our country home until after the babe is born.”

Rebecca had wed the Earl of Mulgrave a couple of years prior in a surprising, unexpected meeting and instant love match.

The pair had encountered each other at an inn as if fate herself had intervened.

Mulgrave had been one of the most elusive rakes of their society, and since he’d fallen in love with Rebecca, indeed he’d been reformed.

And in around five or six more months, they would welcome their second child into the world.

“How are you feeling? Are you as ill as you were last time?” Theodosia asked.

Rubbing her stomach, Rebecca grinned. “The sickness wasn’t as dreadful this time, which I am quite thankful for. Harrison worries, and he would have insisted on coming with me today if I hadn’t been feeling well.”

A small tinge of jealousy struck Theodosia.

Not that she would begrudge her friend a life of happiness.

Perhaps others, but not Rebecca. They had been almost inseparable since they were children.

She felt a surge of happiness for her friend, even as she acknowledged the stark contrast to her own life.

There was no handsome prince lying in wait to save her from her cruel, unfeeling father or from the many nights where she lay lifeless beneath an aged man she loathed, hoping that her husband wouldn’t take long to tire from his exertions.

Her life was much more akin to some sort of tragedy performed on the stage.

From her first season on the Marriage Mart, she had allowed jealousy to consume her, constantly comparing the shortcomings of her life to the lives of others in their society.

But if the time spent married to Dundas had taught her anything, it was that envying the joy and mirth of others would do nothing to change the outcome of her situation.

She knew she must make her own happiness, and fate presented her with the path when it made her a widow with the means to live in whatever way she chose.

“Tess, are you certain you wish to live on your own?” Rebecca asked, using the childhood nickname that she and her brother, Court, had given to Theodosia.

Before Theodosia could answer, a maid brought in the tea cart and rolled over to Theodosia’s side. She knew her friend would try to talk her out of moving away. Once the maid departed, Theodosia prepared Rebecca’s tea and then handed it to her before preparing her own.

“Tess?” Rebecca said, her tone sounding far too motherly for Theodosia’s liking.

Her own mother had been a viper in her own right, constantly chastising her for the way she sat, the way she walked, the way she ate.

It never ended. And still Theodosia mourned her when she passed away before Theodosia’s come out because her mother was easy to tolerate compared to her father.

“I’ll just be in Kent,” Theodosia replied.

“Not all that far and close enough to visit when you are in Town. And we’ll write, of course.

Besides, none of these haughty women even like me.

They never have. Why would I wish to stay in London to be ignored with no social invitations?

” She supposed there were more available men in the city if she had a mind to befriend one, but she’d reasoned that there would be men in the country, too.

And far more privacy to come and go as she pleased.

The physical aspects of her marriage had been just as miserable as tolerating her husband’s presence. She could at least be thankful that the man hadn’t filled her womb with his child during the two tortuous years of their marriage. Not that he hadn’t tried, much to her displeasure.

And his, too, she supposed, since he blamed her as the reason that she hadn’t presented him with an heir.

Although from what she’d learned from discussing the matter with the doctor, the fault likely lay at Dundas’ feet, given his lack of performance or stamina.

And that he had three wives before her, and only one had gotten with child, but the babe didn’t survive.

But heaven forbid that a man admit to any wrongdoing, particularly in matters that challenge the effectiveness of their manhood.

She shuddered, pushing aside the memories of the times when she’d been intimate with her husband. If one could call it that. It was done out of obligation, at least on her part. She never told him ‘No’ or requested that he stop, but she wasn’t an eager participant.

Each time had been awkward and not all that pleasing. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have desires. She had learned to tend to her needs by her own hand, often before her husband would venture into her chamber, hoping the act would be a bit more pleasant.

“But you could come and stay with Harrison and me,” Rebecca countered, rubbing her hand along her stomach, which was still mostly flat with only the slightest of bumps.

Theodosia sighed, wishing she had thought about a scandalous visit to an inn to avoid her father marrying her off to Dundas.

A method that had unexpectedly landed her friend a loving husband.

All the while, Theodosia had attempted to trap various gentlemen, but none were met with success and the fate was the same.

She hadn’t even been looking for love. Just men of a more appropriate age she might orchestrate being caught with her in a compromising position that would keep her from marrying Dundas.

The man’s depravity knew no bounds, as evidenced by his eagerness to secure an heir by arranging the marriage to Theodosia before his previous wife had even been dead and buried. It would seem that fate knew best in that regard to end the line with the despicable man.