Page 20 of A Wicked Earl's Widow
Eliza wished this time could go on forever. She’d never been so happy, felt so carefree. Althea thrived under the attentions of so many caring adults, and any shyness the toddler felt had disappeared by the second day. She had taken a particular liking to Nathaniel, perhaps due to his silly antics. He would get on his hands and knees and let her climb onto his back. Putting a hand behind his back to brace her, little hands clutching his collar and legs gripping his waist, he’d take her for a ride on a runaway horse. The game would end with a tickling match. Yesterday, they had engaged everyone in an ugly face contest, screwing up their features and demanding a vote on who looked the most hideous or terrifying. Ridiculous should have been a category.
Today Grace and Eliza sipped tea under the pavilion, breathing in the
scent of lilac and chatting about the previous day’s picnic.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Grace, pushing a gold-red curl behind her ear. “Lord Pendleton?”
She blushed. “About the entire week. I wish you didn’t have to leave.”
“If the architect wasn’t arriving from London, I would stay. But certain renovations need finished before winter. Though I must admit, there are days when I think getting that ancient fort into livable condition will be a life’s achievement.”
“I was looking forward to seeing it.” Eliza bit her lip, hesitating to ask. “Are you trying yet for another baby?”
Sadness passed over Grace’s face but disappeared with a smile. “We aren’tnottrying. The work on Sunderland keeps me busy and my mind off of whether I’m with child.”
Eliza reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “You will have a beautiful baby, I know it. I feel it here,” she said, her hand over her heart.
“Speaking of hearts,” Grace began with an impish smile, “what do you think of Nate? He’s quite taken with you.”
“He’s everything you’ve described over the years. And handsome. But don’t start matchmaking. None of your plans for the two of us.”
“Me?” Grace’s eyes widened. “Except the two of you are a striking couple. It’s obvious you’re attracted to one another.”
“It would never work.”
“Why?” Grace picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it. “He has a title, money, looks. He’s kind and intelligent with a sense of humor. Pendleton is quite a catch.”
“He could do so much better than a widow already with a child. Especially a widow such as myself.” She hated the self-pity in her voice, but it was true. “He should have someone…better.”
Grace gave an indelicate snort. “That’s absurd. I wish I could go to one of London’s fine shops and buy you some confidence. Or a magical mirror so you could yourself as others do.”
“And that’s why I love you, Gracie.”
“We have the same strength, cousin. Only mine shows on the outside, and yours hides on the inside. You see yourself as weak because of your past. Yet, I see as resilient and a survivor. I don’t know if I could have survived your childhood.”
“I would need that magic mirror to myself in that light,” Eliza murmured.
“You’re quite a catch yourself. Young, beautiful, a nice widow’s jointure and some property to bring along to the next marriage. And Althea is proof you canbreed,as the men put it when they think we aren’t listening.” She popped the last bite into her mouth and took a sip of tea to wash it down. “Seriously, are you happy here? Will these arrangements be suitable for a few weeks?”
“I am quite satisfied. More so than I imagined. The Pendletons are an excellent family and I’m growing quite fond of Hannah. I’m more concerned Thea won’t want to leave.”
Eliza sighed, wondering about this newfound contentment, so unfamiliar yet welcome. She watched Althea play with her doll under a tree, while Mrs. Watkins lay sprawled out on a blanket spread over the tender spring grass.
“What on-dits are we discussing, ladies?” asked Hannah as she took a chair and poured a cup. Adding a lump of sugar, she sipped it, grinned, and added another. “Mother says I will be broad as a sow if I don’t mind my sugar.”
Grace giggled. “You do snort rather well, but I hardly think you’ll grow fat.”
“Anyone for a game of spillikins?” She set the box on the table.
“What will we play for?” asked Eliza. She knew Grace’s competitive nature always liked a prize. “A shilling?”
“You’ve only been here a week, and already we have you gambling!” laughed Hannah. “How about a ribbon? We each choose one of our best, and the winner gets her pick.”
“Perfect. A ribbon it is.” Grace opened the box and dumped out the thin ivory sticks.
They took turns removing a stick from the jumble until one of the other pieces shifted. Eliza used one of the blunted sticks in her own growing pile to remove an especially tricky one on top.
“That lacy lavender ribbon will go well with my eyes, don’t you think?” She laughed at the Grace’s frown. “My how you hate to lose!”
