The Willful Widow
by Evelyn Richardson
suddenly intent, almost questioning, and she was uncomfortably aware of the strength in the hands encircling her waist. She hastily dismissed the momentary weakness in her knees and the flutter in her stomach as having been caused by her sudden and rapid descent. She had never felt that way before and found it most disconcerting. For his part, Justin, too, had been taken aback at the effect that proximity to Lady Diana had on him. It was the oddest thing, but as he had looked deep into the sapphire eyes that were regarding him with such seriousness, he had wanted to wrap his arms around the slender waist he was holding and cover her with kisses—tracing the delicate lips with his and then sliding down into the enticing hollow at the base of her long white neck hidden by a froth of lace. It was the vision of an instant, but it was enough to make his heart pound and his breath come in gasps. Such an intense reaction was not like him. Why he had been far more intimate with far more enticing women without ever having experienced these symptoms, and he was infinitely relieved by the immediate appearance of a lad from the stables who came to take their horses.
"I must apologize further," his hostess began as she led him to the house, "but in addition to keeping country hours, I have my dinner served in the morning room because it is quite the pleasantest place in the house."
"A freethinker to the last," Justin teased.
"Freethinker?" Diana was taken aback.
"Not so much a freethinker as an independent thinker," he amended. "I like that in a person." He sank into the chair she 203
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indicated and gratefully accepted the glass of port she offered. "You do not take the world's opinion or convention for guidance, but tackle problems on your own, seeking solutions that are right for you in the most creative way."
"I shouldn't call myself creative in the least," she replied, ringing the bell before disposing herself in an opposite chair.
"I merely respond to the circumstances."
"Yes, madam?" Mrs. Tottington materialized in the doorway.
Justin smiled to himself. Only someone who had been standing within earshot could have appeared with such dispatch, Though ancient, Buckland was not particularly large as houses went, but it would have taken her considerably more time to reach them had she been in the kitchen or the housekeeper's room.
"Our visitor will stay to dinner. I trust that does not discommode anyone," her mistress replied.
"Oh, excellent, I mean, not in the least, my lady. Very good, my lady." The housekeeper did not even try to hide the excitement in her voice or the eagerness with which she fled from the room to prepare a dinner worthy of the gentleman from London.
Diana glanced up ruefully to find her guest regarding her with sympathetic amusement. "I should call your
mere
response to circumstances
highly original," he continued smoothly picking up the thread of their conversation. "The expected thing for a woman in your position to do would be to cast about for a wealthy husband. After all, witness my reaction to your friendship to my nephew, and I am not one 204
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given to the common way of thinking." He held up an admonitory hand. "Don't fly up in the boughs. Lowering as it is to admit my lack of perspicacity, I was guilty of nothing more than a conventional interpretation of the situation. You, on the other hand, had no such schemes in your mind, but set about to take care of yourself by investing what little you had—a solution so unusual that the preponderance of the
ton
has no conception of it. Consider their unreserved scorn for trade, which is a far more dependable means of repairing lost fortunes than the more traditional resort of the gaming table. No, I find you most creative, and courageous, too."
"Why, why, thank you," Diana stammered, suddenly shy before the warmth of his tone and the admiration in his eyes. Then recovering quickly she continued, "But you have followed an unconventional path yourself. Aunt Seraphina has several times spoken of your great-uncle Theobald as a man of affairs."
"Yes he was. He saw early on that if England is to remain a powerful nation, it must develop its industry as well as its army and navy. Industry needs capital. He was a brilliant man, and the idea of living out his days in the accustomed fashion of a titled gentleman of independent means was infinitely boring to him. Much to the horror of the rest of the family, he began to interest himself in banking and finance. He always told me that the play and the company in Brooks's, White's, and Boodle's was far less deep or risky and far less congenial than that which was experienced every day in the city, and far less productive. He was a fascinating man, was Theobald. Alfred loathed him. He offended every single one of 205
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my brother's conventional sensibilities." Justin smiled bitterly and Diana suddenly pictured him as a questioning, eager, restless lad, always at odds with the stolid Alfred and, undoubtedly with most of the rest of society.
"He must have been exceedingly grateful to have a greatnephew with your interests and aptitude."
"Oh, he was, as much because it annoyed Alfred as anything. 'Progress was never made by the maintenance of things as they are,' he used to remind me. My family makes a religion out of keeping things as they are."
"How very odd then that you should rush to your brother's side and your nephew's defense when you were informed that he had fallen into the clutches of a harpy," Diana remarked with a challenging gleam in her eye.
Justin shrugged. "I was bored," he responded simply.
"Of all the..." Diana began furiously. He grinned. "And you were the most worthy adversary I'd had in years, and far more interesting and intelligent than anyone else in London."
"More than Mademoiselle de Charenton?" Diana could not refrain from inquiring skeptically.
He burst out laughing. "I said
interesting,
and you are far more interesting, I assure you. Talented though she is. Mademoiselle de Charenton offers a feast for the eyes only. You offer a good deal more."
Diana could not help wondering precisely what it was she did offer, but somehow, glancing up into the eyes dancing with amusement, she did not have the temerity to ask. 206
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Justin took pity on her. "You have an elegance of mind that I find far more intriguing, though that is not to say that I find your person any less elegant. And one can see," he surveyed the books crowding the shelves, "from whence it came. Tell me, did your father teach you himself?" Thus by fits and starts, they found themselves sharing reminiscences of childhoods that were strangely similar in that neither one had met with any real understanding on the part of the adults around them or companionship from their peers.
From there, conversation drifted to politics and Justin's role in the recent events in Vienna, and then on to the future of the Continent and the economic and political implications of the changes occurring so rapidly. They became so immersed in their conversation that the time passed unnoticed until Boney, a rather disgruntled observer who had been moving restlessly on his perch for some time, flapped over to his mistress's shoulder intoning sepulchrally, "Bedtime, Boney. Bedtime, Boney."
"Good heavens," Diana clapped a hand over her mouth and peered at the mantel clock, "so it is." She turned to Justin. "I'm dreadfully sorry it is so late. I have been chattering on like a regular jaw-me-dead." Justin smiled. "Now where did you learn a turn of a phrase like that? Not from your father, I'll warrant. But I have been doing more than my share of the talking." He rose to go, "And I can't remember when I've enjoyed a discussion more. But I shall impose on your seclusion no longer. The moon has risen enough for me to see very well, and I must be on my way." 207
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"I apologize for Boney's inhospitable remark," she continued walking over to the bird's cage and unfolding the cover. "But he is rather particular about his bedtime, especially when he is not the center of attention. I'm afraid I have catered too much to his wishes, and how he had become something of a tyrant. My only excuse is that he has been my constant companion."
There wasn't a trace of regret in her tone, but once again, Justin was struck by the loneliness of her life and his own urgent wish to do something about it in a way that her husband and father had so lamentably neglected to do.
"However, he is a far more clever companion than most of us are blessed with," he remarked sardonically as he headed for the door where Tottington, having been informed by his wife of the advent of a most intriguing visitor, was hovering in the hope of having his own chance to catch sight of and evaluate this paragon. In the main, his wife's opinion could be relied upon, but where the welfare of her mistress was concerned, she was apt to lose her customarily objective perspective.
"I'll just send 'round for your carriage then, sir." He came forth from the gloom of the cavernous hall to get a better look. Bessie was right, the gentleman was a true out-andouter, top-of-the-trees by the look of him, and possessed of a good deal more in the brain box than that useless husband of hers had been.
In no time, the curricle was at the door, and, bidding adieu to his hostess, Justin climbed in. He turned to give a final salute, and then he was off, carrying with him the picture of her standing in the ancient doorway, light from a
torchère
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flooding around her emphasizing the delicate curves of her face, the more voluptuous ones of her slender figure, and catching the gleams of her dusky curls.
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In fact, the image of her remained strongly in his mind the entire journey. The evening was as beautiful as the day had been—mild with only the slightest of breezes stirring, and the moon washing over the landscape to make it as bright as day though softer and almost magical.
How wrong he had been about her, and how very glad he was to have been able to right that wrong. He could not remember spending so congenial an evening with anyone, not with fellow students at Cambridge, not with Stewart and his cronies in Vienna, and certainly nowhere else. The conversation had been both restful and stimulating—restful because he had never felt so accepted, so at ease with anyone, and stimulating because her quick mind easily grasped all that he had said, seized on the most important points, and then expanded upon them with questions or opinions of her own and leading them both on to new perspectives on the subject at hand.
Talking with Diana had made Justin realize just how devoid of meaning most social intercourse was, and he was conscious again of the distaste for the
ton
he had experienced at the Countess of Axbridge's rout. But this time it was not unmixed with hope, for at last he seemed to have discovered a woman who was not bent on snapping him up in holy matrimony. In fact, he had been surprised and amused at the vehemence with which she had denounced the institution 210
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when he had suggested it as the normal way in which women repaired their fortunes.
"Marriage?" The blue eyes had opened wide in astonishment. "Why on earth should I wish to burden myself with another helpless male? It is far more amusing and infinitely more comfortable to pursue my livelihood on my own." A brave woman was Lady Diana Hatherill—unafraid to take on the world and its attendant problems alone. Actually, she appeared to look upon her meager finances and the large expenses facing her less as problems and more as interesting puzzles. She had almost made light of the roof that was in desperate need of repairs or the risks she faced investing at a moment when British trade and agriculture were in a decline. It was not so much that she was unaware of the gravity of it all—he had seen the worry at the back of her eyes—as she was anxious to demonstrate herself perfectly capable of dealing with such things on her own and not the least in need of any assistance.
It was a novel situation for Justin not to be asked for help. Why, even Alfred, wealthy and blindly secure in the supreme rightness of his own opinions, had come running to his younger brother when confronted with the least little ripple in the bland smoothness of his prosaic existence. And there were scores of others, such as Alan, whom he had rescued at one time or another. Somehow he had always been cleverer at extricating himself from difficulties and stronger than anyone around him, and they had naturally turned to him for guidance, Now here was a woman, a girl actually, he reminded himself as he recalled the romp in the garden, who 211
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had let him know in no uncertain terms that she needed no assistance or interference from anyone. And what did he wish to do but help her? It was ironic to say the least. All of a sudden, Justin could think of nothing in the world that he would like to do more than erase the tiny wrinkle of worry from her brow and make the air of worried preoccupation disappear. He wanted to eliminate every possible concern from Diana's life so she would always be as happy and carefree as she had been with the puppies in the garden.
He could hardly believe it himself that he, Justin St. Clair, who had only been able to find adventure and amusement stimulating enough to occupy him in the political intrigue of one of Europe's most historic moments, should now wish for nothing more than the opportunity to make a woman's life easier. What had come over him? I must be in my dotage, he muttered to himself as he feathered a particularly sharp turn in the road.
But Justin could not banish the image of Diana and the puppies from his mind, and he spent a good deal of his journey trying to figure out what he could do to bring that joyous look back into her face. "Aha!" he finally exclaimed to the world at large. "Tis not highly original, but it might be effective all the same, and even she, stiff-rump that she is, could not refuse it. I shall give her a puppy." And with a congratulatory smile, he cracked his whip over the leader's heads feeling more pleased with himself and life than he had since his return from Vienna.