Page 3 of Loving a Dowager
He knelt for several breaths. He always, strangely, felt close to both George and Henrietta in these graveside moments. Grief and longing bound them all to one another. Booted heels crunched over fallen leaves. Damn. She'd arrived. Walter jumped to his feet and bolted, hiding behind the closest cemetery structure. It was barely large enough to conceal him. Two graves over, he was closer than he’d ever been before. Left with no choice, Walter hunkered down and waited.
Henrietta’s sigh reached Walter’s ears. “Well. Well. Well. George. The mystery of who has been leaving me trinkets over the years continues. Here I thought, it had been our sweet son, Christopher, the romantic. But the boy is an ocean away with his wife. Unless he devised some intricate plan and left these with another to leave for me, Christopher is not our mystery gift giver.”
Walter closed his eyes and rested his head against the cold stone in front of him. All these years, the blasted woman thought his gifts had been from her youngest son. Of course she did. He’d never confessed his love for her. She had no clue how much she meant to him. He stopped breathing. Skirts rustled behind him. He turned to find Henrietta standing in the same pose she had earlier: hands firmly planted on her gently rounded hips, bent at the waist, affording him the most glorious view of the top of her bosom.
“Walter Weathersbee!”
At least Henrietta hadn’t included his three middle names, like she used to when he was a lad. If she had, the severity of the situation would be tenfold. He stood and brushed off the crushed leaves from his coat.
When he met Henrietta’s gaze, she asked, “What the devil are you doing here?”
The fire blazing in her eyes was a distraction. He hadn’t been the recipient of such a look in years. In fact, no other woman had ever dared to look upon him with such… such passion. Now was not the time to dally about daydreaming of hauling Henrietta into his arms and stoking the flames he’d held banked for years.
Her brows that had initially shot up at the sight of him were drawn into a fierce scowl. Patience was not one of Henrietta’s stronger suits. He’d better decide how to respond quickly. Before she resorted to his full name. He had two choices. Own up the fact he was responsible for the numerous heartfelt gifts he’d thought up over the years or allow Henrietta to believe Christopher had left instructions for him to see to this matter as he had with the law firm. He hadn’t chosen to brazen it out with Henrietta when he was fourteen, but he was no longer that shy, innocent lad. He was older, wiser, and dammit—seven-and-forty. Puffing out his chest, he said, “I was visiting George.”
“Why in the blazes are you visiting my late husband’s grave?” She rolled her shoulders back, causing the material of her décolletage to stretch taut.
Heat rushed through Walter, which was doused by his words. “To pay my respects. It is, after all, the anniversary of George’s death.”
“But you weren’t even acquainted with one another while George was alive.”
It was one of the many secrets George and he had kept from Henrietta. “Ah, but we were.” The fond memories of his bizarre arrangement with George had Walter chuckling. “We corresponded frequently. George had a fine mind and an unparalleled sense of humor. His advice was invaluable during my years at Eton and in my early years at Oxford prior to his death.”
In all the years he’d known Henrietta, he’d never seen her at a loss for words. Yet here they stood staring at one another as dusk fell upon them. Henrietta continued to remain mute with her dark brows slashed downward to the center of her forehead, eyes narrowed, and soft moist lips slightly parted. He waited, letting the silence hang between them as he wrestled with the conflicting reactions of his body and his mind to the blush that had reached her cheeks.
Head cocked to one side, Henrietta asked, “Are you responsible for leaving me all the lovely charms over the years?”
Henrietta wasn’t one to let matters lie. She’d get her answers one way or another.
“Yes.” Time for more truths to be revealed. He took in a deep breath and continued, “As you know, George was an excellent chess player, always four steps ahead, always planning. He made me promise, in the event that he should leave this world, I was to do my best to make the day that marked his death something for you to look forward to and not dread. He was heartless in leaving me no clues how to fulfill my promise, but in his infinite wisdom he told me to remember what you love most. I remembered your love for mysteries, and so I created one just for you.”
“So it wasn’t Christopher who sent you here today. And it wasn’t George who devised this scheme. It was all your doing?”
“Aye.”
Confusion. Betrayal. And then something like delight flickered in Henrietta’s eyes. She opened her clenched hand to reveal the trinket he’d left for her in the middle of her white-gloved palm. “Why did you decide upon a ship this year?”
“It was a salute to Christopher. I have faith he will return.” The departure of Christopher and his new wife had been especially hard to watch from afar. Walter had wanted to be there standing next to her on the docks as she stood apart from the others and held back tears and waved her goodbyes.
“You don’t know that for certain.” She rolled the charm about in her hand. “Christopher will not be in Landon’s shadow across the pond, and I know my dear boy has ambitions and talents that have nothing to do with his papa’s chosen profession.” Tears filled her eyes once more. Tears that would remain unshed because Henrietta Neale was not one to show the deep hurt that Walter knew she felt.
Hands slapped Walter's back, and before he could turn around to see who assaulted him, the stranger shoved him forward. Toward Henrietta. Her eyes widened and her arms shot out, catching him, stabilizing him. To his surprise, she rested her cheek against his chest and let the moisture seep into his coat. Glancing over his shoulder, he spied the worn but clean gray skirts he’d seen on the flower seller earlier. She wove between the cement blocks and then disappeared. No woman of his acquaintance moved with such speed and stealth. Who was she? He would be forever in her debt, for he finally had the woman he loved in his arms.
Chapter Three
With her ear pressed against Walter’s hard chest, the rapid thump of the man’s heart echoed her own. She should release him, but the warmth and comfort of being held once more was too alluring. Neither of them would expire if she held on to Walter for a moment longer. Henrietta’s muscles melted as his palm grazed up and down her spine. She had raised two strapping boys on her own, in no need of a man, but she missed the bond of a confidant. George had been her stoutest supporter and never censured her outspoken ways. Her late husband also had a habit of baiting her to go one step beyond her limits. Never once did she regret the leap of faith George pushed her to take. She couldn’t remember the last time she had challenged her boundaries.
Leaning back, she stared at Walter’s friendly, warm brown eyes. “Thank you.”
“Whatever for?”
“For keeping your promise to George.” She took a step back and fiddled with the silver ship that would be added to her bracelet. “How is it you were even acquainted with George?”
Walter stiffened. “Do you remember the year you were to have your coming out, and we sneaked out to feed the ducks, the ones you believed to be starving in the cold in the middle of Hyde park?”
“Of course.” Henrietta remembered it as if it were yesterday. George had saved her the trouble of being paraded before the ton by whisking her away and marrying her.
“You told me you would do anything to avoid the marriage mart. That the thought of being paraded about as if you were a horse at Tattersalls made you feel ill.”
