Page 1 of The Duke's Wicked Widow
Prologue
A good motherlikely would not bring a child along to a sexual liaison.
Swallowing her guilt, Lady Danielle Aycock stroked the flaxen hair of the wee head which rested upon her lap, glad the sway of the carriage had lulled Merida to sleep. She didn’t want the lass to know—to understand—what was about to happen.
Why—oh why—did things have to be so complicated? The Earl had made it clear Merida wasn’t welcome in the house, even if shewashis son’s natural child, and Danielle—or Ellie to a very select few—didn’t dare leave the poor girl home unprotected.
Not tonight, when she was only weeks away from being tossed from the house herself.
Closing her eyes, she rested her head against the squabs, wondering if any of the servants had noticed her leaving and would report her to her father-in-law. Some of them—like Matthews, the coachman currently aiding her in this errand—were sympathetic to her.
Others reported to the Earl.
Rufus, why must it have happened this way?
She might have loved him, once. Well, Ellie liked to think that, had fate allowed them a normal marriage, she would have grown to love him. Instead Rufus had fallen ill soon after their marriage, and she’d spent the last year tending him while he slowly wasted away.
Death had come as a blessed relief.
Less than a fortnight as a widow, and now you are hunting for your next lover?
Lover? No.
No, tonight wasn’t like that.
Tonight was about protecting Merida.
The coach hit a hole, jostling the occupants, and the lass sat up suddenly. “Ellie?”
“Shhh.” Ellie wrapped an arm around the girl, steering her back down. “I am here. Close your eyes.”
“Ellie, it’sdark.”
“Yes it is. I had an errand, and I thought you might enjoy the adventure of sleeping in the coach.”
Her stepdaughter yawned. “I like my bed.”
Yes, she would. To hear Rufus tell it, the lass’s early years had been spent in squalor, but she’d fitted into his household quite well more recently. At six years old, Merida was precocious, intelligent, and bold as brass.
“I know, honeybear. Shush now.”
Obligingly, the lass tucked her legs under the blanket Ellie had thrown over her and rested her head on Ellie’s lap. “Where are we going?”
“I have to—to see one of your Papa’s cousins.”
Merida was silent for a long moment. Then, “Papa is dead.”
“Yes, darling.” Ellie’s voice caught in her throat. “He is.”
Ellie mourned Rufus. Ofcourseshe mourned him…didn’t she? Their match had been the talk of the Season, the carefully orchestrated merger of two powerful families. But after almost a year of hell, she and Merida now faced true danger.
“Ellie, can I meet him too? Papa’s cousin?”
Ellie wondered if it was possible to feel one’s heart breaking. “No, love. This is something I must do alone.” She felt the girl trying to rise, and slowly pushed her back down. “Hush. Go to sleep. I—I will tell you about him in the morning during our walk. Is that acceptable?”
Merida hummed sleepily. “Promise.”
If tonight was successful, there was no way Ellie could tell the girl even a modicum of what happened. But the last year had taught her how to smile, how to pretend as if nothing was wrong. So…
