Lady Dearing's Masquerade by Elena Greene

seats.
    Aunt Louisa raised her eyebrows. “But is it wise for you to be seen on visiting terms with a—a vulgar widow?”
    “I did not think her vulgar. She is . . .” He paused, struggling for words to describe Lady Dearing. Unconventional. Intriguing. “Unusual.”
    “She must have a kind heart, to have taken those foundlings into her own home,” said Charlotte in her gentle way.
    “Yes, as long as she takes her responsibilities seriously, and does not regard the children as puppies to be played with,” said Aunt Louisa sternly. “Bringing up children is no small task, as you both will learn soon enough!”
    Tom and Charlotte tried to look cowed, but both exuded an air of suppressed excitement. Jeremy averted his eyes when he saw Tom stroke his wife’s burgeoning belly.
    “That is another reason I shall continue my visits,” he said. “I must make sure everything is in order at Rosemead.”
    “I only wish you may not allow yourself to be taken in by that woman,” his aunt warned him.
    “Of course not.”
    Conversation passed on to news of various acquaintances and the progress of Tom’s legal practice. Throughout dinner, Jeremy caught his aunt eying him with concern, so he was not surprised when she beckoned him to her side later that evening, when they’d gathered in the drawing room over tea.
    “Dearest,” she began as soon as he’d settled into a chair beside hers. “I did not wish to argue with you in front of Tom and Charlotte, but I really wish you would reconsider this resolution to continue your visits to Rosemead Park.”
    “I need to know those children are well there,” he said reasonably. “You yourself said Lady Dearing might be overindulging them.”
    “Well then, perhaps I am wrong,” she said, vigorously stirring her tea. “Lady Dearing is certainly wealthy enough to provide everything those children could need. Perhaps the child is well enough where she is.”
    “I must be certain of that before I make any decisions.”
    “But dearest, what I really wish to say is how much I should prefer to see you with a child of your own .”
    “That is not why I am interested in Mary.”
    “Hmm . . . it has been over four years since Cecilia’s death. I loved her, too, but it is time enough for you to give up mourning her.”
    “I am not still grieving.”
    He looked down, guilt weighing on his chest. He could tell no one that relief had mingled with his sorrow over Cecilia’s death. But at least now he’d been offered the opportunity to assuage that guilt.
    “Then why not look about you for a bride? I wish you would not set yourself against love. And desire.” Aunt Louisa winked at him.
    “Aunt Louisa!”
    “I am old enough, I hope, to speak my mind. It would do you good to allow your passions just a little rein.”
    He looked down into his empty tea cup, embarrassed and appalled that his aunt might make such a suggestion.
    Had she forgotten about his parents?
    “I know why you made such a careful choice in Cecilia,” she continued, as if guessing his thoughts. “But I am certain you will find another amiable and virtuous lady to suit you, if you would only try.”
    And because he did not try, Aunt Louisa and Lady Bromhurst had thrown enough amiable and virtuous young women his way to satisfy half a dozen inconsolable widowers. He was an ingrate, no doubt, but since that masquerade at the Pantheon no woman had been able to ignite more than a spark of desire.
    Except now, Lady Dearing had done it.
    Memories of the day tormented him. Her breathless voice, pleading with him on behalf of the children. Bluebells. Mud. Soft, bounteous breasts pressed against his arm as he’d held her to keep her from falling. His flaring reaction to her warmth, her scent.
    Had he allowed it all to affect his judgment?
    “Dearest Jeremy.” Aunt Louisa’s softened voice recalled his attention. “You must remember that when passion is allied with true affection, only happiness can