Page 40 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
The widows club ladies only knew that they were shifting their future meetings to a new location, though she’d yet to divulge the reasons why.
“The one next door is spectacular,” Fiona told Cecily.
While she did love certain aspects of the conservatory at Prescott House, she’d made the one at Granford House her own too. She and Aurelia had decided on a few improvements to the space, and together they tended to several garden plots outdoors and in the conservatory itself. Aurelia had even dedicated one corner to the construction of a vivarium that housed an ant farm she tended and studied diligently.
Across from them, Jocasta Bancroft and Lady Portia giggled like naughty schoolgirls, and Fiona and Cecily exchanged a questioning glance.
“Come ladies,” Cecily said, “if it’s that humorous, let us all share in the fun.”
Portia’s cheeks had gone as ruddy as her rose-hued gown. “We were just wondering if we’d have an encore of the most memorable aspect of that first gathering.”
Both ladies lifted their gazes toward Granford House’s conservatory.
“Your husband,” Jocasta said matter-of-factly. “Will the earl grace us with his presence today?”
“Oh yes, do say he will,” Abra put in.
Soon after, every lady present chimed their agreement, either verbally or with emphatic nods.
Fiona understood Dash’s appeal. Her insides still fluttered when she woke up and got her first glimpse of him each day. Still, it wasslightlymortifying to hear that his unexpected arrival in her conservatory a year ago was the chief memory each lady had of that inaugural meeting.
“He’s departing for his club soon,” Fiona said. It was the truth, but she also hoped it might dissuade the widows club ladies.
“Then perhaps you could catch him now,” Tabitha Clifton put in with her usual soft sincerity.
“It won’t be nearly as exciting if he doesn’t crash in like he did the last time,” Lady Warfield opined.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” Fiona sat her teacup aside and stood. “I’ll see what I can do.”
She used the door that connected their two conservatories, and then the one that led into Granford House.
“His lordship is upstairs, my lady.” Mrs. Hardy, the wonderful woman, seemed to know exactly what Fiona needed before she asked for it.
“If he has the carriage waiting, please tell them he’ll be delayed.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Fiona knew where she’d find her husband. He’d returned from fencing earlier in the morning and would wash and change before a trip to his club.
She entered his bedchamber and then continued through to the dressing room. As soon as his valet, Morley, noticed her arrival, he bowed and exited the room.
The sight before her made her bite her lower lip.
Her husband was donning a fresh shirt, and she caught the most tantalizing glimpse of his muscled chest and the dark dusting of hair that she loved to drag her fingers through.
He smiled as soon as he noticed her.
“Hello, love. What is it?” The longer he looked at her, the more his smile dipped into a frown of concern.
Without buttoning his shirt, he came to her, reaching out to cup her cheek.
“Tell me what’s the matter,” he urged.
“Your presence is requested.”
He lifted one dark brow at that. “Who, pray tell, is requesting it?”
“The ladies of my widows club.”
