The Laird and the Wanton Widow by Ann Lethbridge Page A

you both well?”
    Diana fluttered her fan. “Very well, my lord. This is a surprise.”
    “Is it?” There was an edge to his voice. Impatience. “Lord Mcrae could not come himself, so he asked me to ascertain the truth of your letters and take whatever action I deemed needful.”
    Lizzie gasped. “You wrote to my father, Aunt? What on earth did you say?”
    Diana shot Lizzie a warning look. “Nothing to which your father could take exception, I am sure. Lord Godridge, may I introduce you to my companion, Mrs. Anderson?”
    Kate held out a hand. “My lord.”
    Silence greeted her. He was staring at her. With…shock. And what? Horror? “Mrs. Anderson.” His voice sounded strained as he took her hand.
    “Do you two know each other?” Lizzie asked, glancing at them in turn.
    Heat fired Kate’s cheeks. “We met many years ago.” She took a deep breath. “Before I was married. It is good to see you again, Lord Godridge.”
    Harry was still staring at her as if he had seen a ghost. She understood the feeling. Her skin felt as if it had shrunk and her chest had been banded in iron.
    “Did you have a pleasant journey, my lord?” Diana asked in a faint voice.
    He seemed to recollect himself, straightening his shoulders and turning back to Lizzie’s aunt. “It rained.”
    “Did you see Father before you left, Harry?” Lizzie asked. “Is he well?”
    “He is worried,” Harry said. “About you. And his gout is bad.”
    The weight of that statement sent Lizzie’s shoulders up to her ears. She smiled stiffly.
    Good Lord, he was making a complete mess of this. Was he always so brusque with the girl? No wonder she called him an ogre. Though he certainly wasn’t the octogenarian the young woman had led Kate to expect.
    Just at that moment, Lord Denton, a poetically brooding young man with a lock of brown hair flopping on his forehead, wandered up with the glass of lemonade. Kate was surprised he’d remembered the drink. The young poet often went off in a trance. He gave Lizzie a besotted smile along with the glass. “Did I tell you how beautiful you look this evening, Miss Mcrae? Can I compare thee to a summer rose?”
    Lizzie giggled. Lizzie didn’t usually giggle at Denton’s nonsense. Indeed she’d been known to give him a sharp setdown if he put her to the blush. But tonight, in the presence of the man her father had chosen, she giggled.
    “Shakespeare couldn’t have said it better,” Harry muttered drily.
    Didn’t he see that Lizzie was testing him? If he’d just be a little more…well, adoring, he would surely sweep Lizzie off her feet. Denton couldn’t hope to compete with a real man like Harry.
    “Do you have business in Town, Lord Godridge?” Diana asked, plying her fan with enough vigor to stir the air around Kate’s cheeks.
    “Yes,” Harry said, his hard gaze focusing on Diana. “I’m here to drive Lizzie home. I will call upon you in the morning to make the necessary arrangements.”
    “I won’t go,” Lizzie declared.
    Oh Harry, Kate thought miserably. A heavy hand on the bridle would not work with this girl, not when she had been courted, flattered and adored by every eligible male in London. If Godridge wanted Lizzie, he was going about it all wrong.
    “You cannot take our goddess,” Lord Denton proclaimed. “It will be like removing the sun from the sky.”
    Lizzie bestowed him with a dimpling smile of approval.
    The boy flushed bright red.
    Harry’s left eyebrow shot up. The corners of his lips twitched. “Then London is about to experience a chilly summer.” He turned to Lizzie. “Would you care to dance with me, Lizzie?”
    She tossed her head. “All my dances are promised, I’m afraid. And we are engaged all day tomorrow.”
    Kate winced.
    “The following morning will be fine,” Diana said in a strangled accent.
    A muscle worked in his jaw. “Ten o’clock, then, two days hence.” He hesitated, glancing at Kate as if he would like to say more, then he bowed. “I