Page 4 of Loving an Earl (Widows of Mayfair #1)

Nine Months Later

London 1816

“H ow does it feel, cousin, to be out of mourning?” Emmeline asked Lilly as they entered Madam Serena’s, the most sought-after modiste in all of London. Today, both of them had final fittings for several new ballgowns, day dresses, and cloaks to add to their wardrobe.

How did she feel ? Lilly felt nervous, excited, and terrified to begin this next chapter of her life. Now, nothing kept her from attending balls, soirees, Almack’s, the theater, and the opera; indeed, her head spun. There was nothing at all to keep her from accepting the many invitations that came to Emmeline’s house daily.

“I’m nervous. I suddenly find myself out of mourning as the Widow Countess of Langford. It appears as if everyone who is anyone in London’s elite Society wants to meet me. I’m afraid they all have ulterior motives in making my acquaintance. As if they want something from me.” She paused, trying to ignore all the sweeping emotions coursing through her veins. “You know Henry and I kept to ourselves when we came to London. He was afraid Society would overwhelm me and kept me sheltered. Thinking back on it now, I’m not convinced he did me any favor. Nothing is stopping anyone from treating me cruelly now.”

Emmeline placed a comforting, gloved hand on her arm. “I am your family, as is my mother, and we will protect you. You have a cousin and aunt looking out for you.”

Before Lilly could respond, Madam Serena swept out of the back room, closed off by a dark-blue velvet curtain. “Lady Langford, Mrs. Fitzpatrick, you are right on time for your final fitting.” She curtsied. “Please come with me.”

It was quite some time later when Lilly and Emmeline left the dressmaker’s shop. Lilly had added a day dress at the last minute—an emerald green which matched her pendant perfectly—and couldn’t wait for it to be delivered. “I’ve never owned such fine pieces of clothing, and Henry was quite generous with my allowance. But I never needed more than two ballgowns before. Now I have six.” Lilly said, linking arms with Emmeline. “I spoiled myself. Mr. Beauregard’s jaw will drop when he receives the extravagant bill.”

Quiet laughter came from Emmeline, who was beautiful at twenty-eight. “As my solicitor will be when he receives mine,” Emmeline said with a smile.

Emmeline had thick raven hair, light-blue eyes, and a lush figure dressed today in a royal-blue day dress and matching spencer with seed pearls as accents. She looked closer to Lilly’s age, which made Lilly wonder if two widows of such young age should be traveling Bond Street and the rest of London on their own.

“Is it proper for us to be about without a chaperone?”

Emmeline laughed. “We are both widows and are allowed certain freedoms because of it. Nonetheless, I have already decided to have my mother accompany us to nightly social gatherings. She is not so old that she doesn’t appreciate socializing.” Emmeline looked around to confirm no one could overhear. “During our special outings set up by the Duchess of Greenville, we always have a driver looking after our safety. Please remember we have a meeting tomorrow.”

“I haven’t forgotten.” How could Lilly ever forget the Ladies’ Society of Mayfair to which they belonged? It had kept her sane during her time of mourning. She had never been one to embroider, sew, or play an instrument, which had given her very little to do the past year. Instead, she immersed herself in the workings of the Society, guided by the Duchess of Greenville, a very kind woman in her early forties who had no children and dedicated her time to helping those less fortunate.

Lilly had visited St. Giles with some regularity in the name of the Society to deliver necessary food, clothing, and medicine to the less fortunate which gave her purpose. The few times she’d ventured out beneath the darkness of night had her heart pumping so she knew she was still alive. Fortunately, those dangerous trips at night were due only to emergencies. They were few and far between, but Lilly always volunteered, as did Emmeline. It could be dangerous for the ladies in the Society to do the deliveries, but many of the women living in the slums were leery of men for good reason and would only take donations from other women.

They stopped at Gunter’s for lemon ices, and Lilly tried to ignore the stares directed at her. Everyone appeared interested. Several ladies approached their table and Emmeline made introductions: The Duchess of Fairway, Lady Brennan, and Mrs. Smythe. Lilly was surprised at what appeared to be genuine kindness and sympathy for her loss of Henry. It gave her high hopes that everyone she met would treat her in such a way.

It wasn’t long before she realized that was not to be true.

“Oh my,” Emmeline whispered, “don’t look now, but Lady Wilmington is coming this way with her two daughters. She has been unfriendly to me since my first ball as a debutante when I met my late husband. Apparently, her eldest daughter, who has since died, had set her sights on Aiden.”

“Mrs. Fitzpatrick, how nice to see you,” Lady Wilmington said with a nasally voice and an insincere smile. “And who is this lovely creature with you?”

Lilly cringed at the lady’s false words.

“Lady Wilmington, this is my cousin, Lilliana Weston, Countess of Langford.”

Lady Wilmington made a big show. She grabbed both of Lilly’s hands with her own and squeezed. “How terribly dreadful to be widowed at such a young age. How old are you, my dear?”

Emeline and Lilly eyed one another, knowing she only wanted to know her age to surmise if she was a threat to her two daughters and their chances of snagging husbands this season. “I’m nineteen.”

“Oh, my. So young, but looking...” She frowned, then whispered, “Perhaps you should use cucumber slices on your eyes to ease the puffiness.”

Before Lilly could gasp in outrage, Lady Wilmington bid them farewell and left with her daughters in tow.

Her fingers flew to her eyes. “Do I have puffy eyes?”

“No,” Emmeline said reassuring her. “It was Lady Wilmington’s way to hurt you. She sees you as competition for her daughters, whom she didn’t bother introducing. Lady Grace is the taller one, although I’m afraid there’s nothing graceful about her. She’s twenty-two. Her sister is your age and not very bright I fear. Her name is Lady Faith. Both of them are pretty, sweet, and kind, nothing like their mother. I feel bad for them; they can never get a word in with the way their mother prattles on. No eligible bachelor wants Lady Wilmington as a mother-in-law, so the girls have become wallflowers.”

“How unfortunate. What happened to the older sister?”

“Sad, really. She died in a carriage accident shortly after I married Aiden.”

“How tragic,” Lilly said as they gathered up their things and left Gunter’s to find Simon, their coachman, outside waiting for them.

Fortunately for Emmeline, because her husband didn’t possess a title, nothing he owned belonged to the crown. He named her the beneficiary of his will and everything was put in a trust for her, so it would all stay hers when and if she married again, including her townhome in London. Not unlike her trust, Lilly thought. When she married again, she would retain the funds.

*

That evening, with the help of Daisy, Lilly prepared for her first ball of the Season, held at the Duke and Duchess of Westport’s London residence. As promised, Madam Serena delivered Lilly’s and Emmeline’s gowns late that afternoon. Lilly sighed with relief as she surveyed herself in front of the mirror. The lovely silk gown in sage green emphasized the green of her eyes, and the high waist and scooped neckline did wonders for her figure. The white satin ribbon woven through her hair matched the ribbon trimming beneath her breasts and at the hemline. All she needed was her matching cloak, reticule, and fan, as she already had the slippers on her feet, and she’d be ready to go. Her pulse soared with excitement and nerves.

Just then, Emmeline swept into the room dressed in a sapphire-blue gown, looking gorgeous. Lilly was envious of her cousin’s dark hair and light-blue eyes.

“You will have every gentleman vying for your attention tonight,” Emmeline said with a twinkle in her eye.

“As will you,” Lilly said, touching her stomach. “I’m so nervous. My very first ball. I’m afraid I’ll embarrass myself and cast up my accounts.”

*

“Nonsense.” Emmeline wrapped Lilly’s arm around hers and led them out to the hallway and down the stairs where her mother, Vivian, the Dowager Baroness Connolly, awaited.

“Ah, my girls, you both look stunning. I’ll be beating the gentlemen off with my fan tonight.” She smiled as they approached.

Immediately, they went out the door and into the coach. The ride was not a long one, but Emmeline knew the queue for exiting the coach would be. Everyone who was anyone would be in attendance tonight, which had her insides humming with excitement. She’d had her sights on one particular gentleman for a long time. The only problem was she didn’t think he noticed her at all anymore, even though they had been close friends at one time. Why would he look her way at her old age of twenty-eight? Not with the young debutantes and the ladies in their second or third Season available. He would need an heir. Even if they married, could she give him one?

Nonsense, she scolded herself. Many women had children well into their thirties. But would he think her worth the risk?

“You have become quiet suddenly,” Lilly said from her seat opposite her and her mother.

“Forgive me. I was thinking about whether a certain gentleman would be in attendance tonight. He is in partnership with Langford and Caldwell, and since they are both in London, perhaps he is as well.”

Her mother humphed. “You know he will be.”

“He may be in attendance, but he may not want to see me.”

“Do you think I don’t remember two young gentlemen vying for your affections ten years ago? I will never forget you crying in my arms, trying to decide between the two. As I understand, he never wed. And you are a widow, beautiful, and kindhearted. He will be there tonight. Approach him.”

“But he’s a duke now. A duke . He needs a young bride to give him heirs.” She had known him as the Earl of Quincy, but right before he’d returned to London, his father had passed making him the new Duke of Blackstone.

“Heirs,” Vivian flicked her wrist, “which you can give him. Nothing says he cannot marry a young widow.”

“Thank you, Mother, but I think you are biased. He is good friends with the Earl of Langford. I highly doubt the new earl speaks kindly of me anymore.”

“Why ever not?”

Inhaling deeply, Emmeline held her breath for five counts, then exhaled. She did this three times. “Because Lilly has been staying with me. Not to mention the fact that Langford hasn’t been in London for several years, and when he was last, he wasn’t very friendly to me. I’d married one of his closest friends. And I think he blames me for Aiden’s death. As though I caused the horse to throw him off to his death.” Emmeline gasped for breath, removed her delicate handkerchief from her reticule, and dabbed at her teary eyes. “Perhaps the duke thinks the same about me.”

Lilly leaned forward and grasped her hands. “Nonsense. Nobody blames you. How can they? From what you told me, they were with him during the tragic accident, not you. They were the ones who got inebriated during a hunting party and decided to race willy-nilly on horseback without regard to any of their lives. You were back at the estate having tea with the other guests.”

“Dry your eyes, daughter. We are next in the queue. Do not stay away from Langford or Blackstone because you think they blame you. Did you ever stop to think that perhaps they feel guilty because they were with him? That you are reading the signs wrong? That they stay away from you because of their guilt?”

*

“Your mother is a wise woman,” Lilly said. “Although I don’t relish coming face to face with Langford.” She shivered. “What a bear of a man.”

Emmeline’s soft laughter rang out in the carriage. “Did you know it’s the name of his horse?”

Lilly frowned. “Horse?”

“Bear. It’s his horse’s name.”

“It figures.” Lilly fought the urge to fidget as they made their way up the wide marble staircase, awaiting the receiving line. She didn’t have to look around to see people staring at her, wondering who she was, or already knowing and curious to see the young lady who had married the reclusive, elderly Earl of Langford.

Well, let them wonder and stare. Lilly already had it in her mind to join the Wilmington sisters along the wall. A widow and the wallflowers, how exciting. She knew she was an imposter and didn’t belong there. Her only saving grace was that Henry and Emmeline had trained her well on how to act in public. She didn’t resemble an imposter on the outside, but inside, she was still the vicar’s country daughter, through and through.

“Stop touching your hair,” Aunt Vivian whispered. “People are already curious enough about you. Let’s not have them think you have a nervous disposition.”

Oh dear, she hadn’t realized she was doing it. “Sorry,” she whispered, gripping her reticule with both hands in front of her tightly, hoping she wasn’t crushing the delicate silk fan inside. She would need that to hide behind in the ballroom.

Finally, they were at the top of the stairs with only a few people ahead. Lilly’s knees were knocking together. Then Vivian made the introductions to the Duke and Duchess of Westport. Lilly curtsied deeply. “Your Graces, it is an honor to meet you both and to be welcomed into your home.”

The duchess smiled warmly, putting Lilly somewhat at ease. “My dear, your departed husband was our longtime friend. Meeting you, I see now why he married you.” She winked at Lilly, and her eyes twinkled. Lilly curtsied again, wondering what the look was about. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

Emmeline wrapped her arm around Lilly’s as they entered the crowded ballroom once they were announced. The room glowed from the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and in sconces along the walls. The ballroom, decorated in gold and cream, resembled a fairytale. Never had Lilly seen anything so breathtaking in all her life. What in the world was she doing here? She should be living in a small village in the country with a landed-gentry husband. Not at a massive London estate at a ball attended by all of the aristocracy. There was even a rumor that the Regent might make an appearance.

“Pinch me,” she murmured to Emmeline.

“Why?”

“Because this must be a dream.”

“No dream. Hold tight because once our names were announced, all eyes turned to you.”

“Oh.” She had been so engrossed in the beauty of the elegant ballroom that she hadn’t noticed. “Why?”

“Because people are curious. The Earl of Langford married you after sixty-six years of bachelorhood. Members of the ton are fickle and love to gossip. Tonight, it’s you. Tomorrow, someone else.”

“Where did your mother go?”

“To sit with the older ladies and watch us young folks dance and socialize. Let us take a turn around the room.”

Lilly scanned the ballroom as they promenaded behind a line of people doing the same around the outer circumference of the ballroom.

“I should mention that even though you are a widow and allowed certain transgressions, I advise you not to cause a scandal. Pretend you are a debutante and abide by those rules. I don’t want your reputation destroyed on the Season’s opening night. And trust me, there will be people hoping for it—people such as Lady Wilmington. I wouldn’t put it past her to send some rogues your way.”

“What rules and what rogues?” Lilly asked with a sudden knot in her stomach.

“Oh dear, Henry never told you?”

“Why would he? We were married.”

“Do not dance with the same gentleman more than twice. Do not go off alone with a man, no matter how much you want to. Unless you go out to the veranda in plain sight. Say no if he asks you to stroll in the gardens. Nothing good comes from strolling dimly lit gardens at night.” She sighed wistfully. “Well, mostly nothing.”

“Is that all?” Lilly’s heart thrummed inside her chest. She could count the beats. “What about the rogues?”

“If I see any rogues heading your way, I’ll warn you.” Emmeline patted her hand. “You’ll be fine.” Her steps faltered, forcing Lilly to stop. Emmeline recovered quickly, and they continued.

“What is it?”

“Quincy... Blackstone. Dressed in navy. Staring daggers at me.”

Lilly looked around and saw two handsome gentlemen looking their way. One looked vaguely familiar and very nearly took her breath away. “Who is the man with him with the dark wavy hair and dressed in charcoal and black?”

Emmeline led them off to the side of the room, looking puzzled. “Do you need spectacles?”

Lilly giggled. “No. I see perfectly. Why?”

“That, my dear Lilly, is Langford.”

If she hadn’t been standing still, she would have tripped over her own feet. All the color drained from her face. She didn’t need to see it—she physically felt it slide down her neck. And she swallowed to keep from casting up her accounts. “Henry’s nephew? The new earl? That’s impossible. I met him. Surely I would remember what he looked like.” She refused to believe that was him. That the handsome-as-sin gentleman regarding her intently was her nemesis. Oh, how cruel fate could be sometimes.

“Don’t panic, but here they come.” Emmeline squeezed her hand, causing Lilly to wince.

“Please let go of me.” Lilly squeaked out.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“They’re almost to us. Is it too late to hitch up our skirts and run for the exit?” Lilly’s eyes darted around, looking for the quickest escape route.

“Surely you jest?”

“Not at all.” It was too late. They were upon them, and Lilly willed her body to stop trembling.

“Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” the duke’s intense, unwelcome gaze never left Emmeline’s face. She didn’t offer her hand, but he reached out and took it nonetheless and bowed most gallantly. At least Lilly thought so.

When he dropped her hand, Emmeline curtsied, her eyes downcast. “Your Grace.”

“Will you please introduce me to this lovely lady?”

“Your Grace, may I present Lilliana Weston, the Countess of Langford.”

Blackstone grinned, and Langford’s eyes widened. Langford hadn’t recognized her, either. Just then, she realized how odd it was that she was the Countess of Langford and he was the Earl of Langford. She curtsied. “Your Grace. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She rose and Blackstone took Lilly’s offered hand and bowed, staring inquisitively into her eyes. “Countess, the pleasure is all mine.” Blackstone glanced at Langford, his eyes mischievous. “You remember your uncle’s widow?”

“Yes. How could I forget?” Langford bowed, his face grave as he briefly made eye contact. “Countess.”

Somehow, Lilly managed to move and curtsy. “Langford.” She couldn’t get over the shock that this was the beast she’d met a couple months after Henry’s death. Where had the ogre gone? No doubt lurking just below the surface. His hair had been closely cropped then. Now he sported it on the long side and it had curls.

Surely that must be what had thrown her off as to his identity.

*

Edmund was going to kill Blackstone—he was still getting used to calling him that instead of Quincy. His friend had received news of his father’s passing the same day Edmund had learned about his uncle. It had been quite a homecoming for all of them.

Edmund hadn’t heard the ladies’ names being called when they’d entered the ballroom. All he knew was that he looked at the mysterious woman with Emmeline and his heart stopped. She had appeared familiar, yet not. He’d asked Blackstone if he knew the lady’s name, and he’d looked at him like Edmund belonged in Bedlam, shook his head, and grinned. Now he knew why. Edmund had known his uncle’s widow lived with Emmeline now, but not in a thousand years had he thought that was her.

As the four of them stood in their intimate circle, Blackstone entertained the ladies while Edmund studied the countess with new eyes. Young, petite, thin, but not so thin that she didn’t have ample curves where it mattered. Her features were delicate, which complemented her light hair and green eyes. Her white teeth had the tiniest gap between her front teeth. How had he never noticed it before?

When he’d met her at Langford Manor all those months ago, he’d been so shocked at her young age that he’d hardly taken in her looks. No, that was a lie. He had noticed, just not noticed enough. His insides cringed at the memory when he thought back to his accusations. What a bloody arse he’d been. No wonder she’d run off mere weeks later without a word to him. The following months spent at Langford Manor had been tainted. The servants, while treating him with respect due to his station, didn’t befriend him. They kept their distance. Obviously, they favored Lilly and saw him as the enemy—the new nasty earl who’d run off their beloved widow of the previous earl.

A fortnight ago, he arrived in London, taking up residence in Langford House in Mayfair. He had visited his clubs and spent much time at his warehouse office, dealing with the affairs of his business. Thankfully, James Caldwell, his and Blackstone’s other partner in their enterprise, had everything under control.

“Langford.” Blackstone nudged him with his elbow. “The countess asked you a question.”

He snapped his mind back to the present. “Forgive me, Lady Langford.”

“I was inquiring about the household at Langford Manor. I hope everyone is healthy and happy with their new lord?”

Edmund tried to school his features but thought he had given away his frustration. “Everyone is well. They asked me, if I saw you, to extend their good wishes and say that they miss you.”

Were those tears pooling in her eyes?

“Thank you. Please give them my best.” Her voice came out a little stifled. It appeared she loved them as much as they did her.