The Widowed Countess (12 page)

“Yes, my lady,” Adele afforded Daniel’s mother the courtesy of a deep nod. “I am very sorry for your loss, Lady Norwick. I do hope you’ll be staying in London for a time,” she murmured quietly.

The bishop suddenly appeared in the large doorway of the church, obviously informed when the Norwick town coach pulled up and disgorged the family of the deceased. Seeing the Norwicks on the pavement in front of the church, the bishop nodded. Several pall bearers moved to lift the coffin and carry it into the sanctuary, the bishop’s tenor voice ringing out, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”

As members of Clarinda’s party made their way up the steps and into the church, several nattily dressed men passed them, turning to frown or show expressions of surprise at the sight of Daniel. Despite his having been gone from London for most of the last four years, it was obvious many people were unaware of Daniel’s uncanny resemblance to David.

Clarinda couldn’t help but notice that several pews in St. George’s were already occupied. Those who followed them down the center aisle peeled off and quietly took seats, the swish of silks and the rustle of taffeta and a few murmurs the only sounds in evidence.

Daring a surreptitious glance, Clarinda could see that most in attendance were David’s fellow members of Parliament and their ladies. Some were acquaintances, like one of the lawyers from Hammond’s office, although Clarinda wasn’t sure which Hammond it was who sat in the third pew from the front. Several servants from their household were clustered together in the back, their black shawls and coats adding to the somber mood in the sanctuary. And, having been settled in place by the pall bearers at the very front in the middle of the aisle, was David’s coffin.

Once they reached the front pew, Grandby leaned over toward Clarinda, lifting the veil of her hat with one hand. He kissed Clarinda on the cheek. “Courage,” he whispered.

Clarinda nodded, realizing she had managed to make it this far without shedding a tear. She doubted she would make it through the entire service dry-eyed, though.

Dorothea, who had kept close to Adele as they made their way to the front of the church, seemed to remember Adele’s query as to how long she would stay in London. “As soon as I see my son settled into his new roles, I expect I’ll be returning to my home in Bognor,” Dorothea replied airily, careful to keep her voice low.

Roles
? Clarinda wondered after a second. She felt Daniel’s arm flinch beneath hers and realized he’d had the same reaction. She dared not say anything. Lady Norwick had made the comment expecting someone would want an explanation, though.

The Earl of Torrington took the bait. “What roles can the new earl expect to fill besides that of earl?“ he wondered as he turned his attention to the dowager countess.

Trapped
!

Dorothea leaned her head to one side, her lips curling up at the edges. “Uncle, husband, father, favorite son,” she spoke wistfully. “Not necessarily in that order, of course.”

A rather stunned silence followed this comment as all eyes seemed to gaze at Daniel.
Of course, not necessarily in that order,
Clarinda thought, nearly rolling her eyes.

And then she found herself wondering what order Dorothea had in mind.

Grandby gave Clarinda a pointed glance, but he seemed to sense the growing unease first and made the motion to the move the group into their seats in the front pew.

Clarinda had been quite aware of the quiet murmurings that followed their trek up the center aisle. Relieved to have the cover of the veil, she was able to allow her eyes to seek out and identify several people in attendance. Lady Pettigrew and her niece were suitably gowned in black bombazine. Lord Attenborough looked bored in his black mourning clothes, his wife gazing about the church as if she was looking for someone she knew. David’s London estate manager was staring into space, perhaps wondering if he would still have a position now that Daniel would be overseeing the earldom.

At the rate people were pouring into the church behind them, it was quite evident the place would be full even before the bishop welcomed them to the service.

Grandby managed to sit next to Clarinda, leaving Daniel to sit on her left and his mother on his other side. Once they were all settled, Clarinda felt Grandby turn in her direction. “’Uncle’ implies a niece or nephew. Unless the dowager countess had other children I am not aware of, that leaves you and David as the likely sources. What say you?” he asked in a whisper so quiet she almost couldn’t make out his words.

Clarinda sighed and turned to her right, her chin almost resting on her shoulder. She waved a finger for Grandby to face front so she had access to his ear. “About six months,” she whispered. She turned and faced front, having a devil of a time keeping a straight face as Grandby’s face turned hard left. A huge grin lit up his face. “Me, too!”

And then he did something Clarinda would not forget for a very long time.

Milton Grandby, Earl of Torrington, stood up and, grabbing one of her hands, hauled her up, as well, embracing her in front of the entire assembly with so much enthusiasm, her feet left the floor.

“Milton!” Clarinda heard Adele hiss from behind her. She caught sight of the bishop staring down at the spectacle, his brows furrowing before his eyes flitted between the coffin and her. A murmur rose up from those who had their heads raised up; the murmur grew as others lifted their heads to see what the commotion was about.

Grandby let go his hold on Clarinda, making sure her feet were firmly under her before turning to the bishop. “Forgive me, Your Grace,” he called up to the bishop,
sotto voce
. “I have just been told my prayers were answered,” he stated in a lowered voice, his bushy eyebrows dancing in delight. He rather hoped the bishop wouldn’t request his immediate departure from the church.

Clarinda quickly took her seat, wanting to disappear into the floor. Daniel was quick to clasp her hand onto his arm; Clarinda wondered why he hadn’t been holding on a moment ago. Perhaps he could have anchored her to the pew and saved her from her unwilling participation in Grandby’s display of joy. Now she would be the
on dit
for at least a week.
Before the start of the funeral service of David Fitzwilliam, the Earl of Norwick’s widow was seen being twirled by her godfather in front of her husband’s mourners at St. George’s  ...
 

“What was
that
all about?” Daniel hissed, obviously angered at the earl’s indiscretion. His eyes were following the earl’s subsequent movements with suspicion.

Something about the tone of his voice put Clarinda on the defensive. Grandby’s reaction had been so heartfelt, so full of joy, she could hardly find fault with the man. “Your mother’s reference to you becoming an
uncle
,” she whispered back, her breathing still labored from the excitement of being swept up and spun in a circle in front of the entire church.
St. George is probably spinning in his grave
, she thought.
Hell, the dragon is probably spinning, too. And belching fire, do doubt
. At least her stomach wasn’t; it seemed to have survived the joy ride just fine.

Clarinda had to admit it was rather fun to be picked up like a child and spun around like that, but the black satin gown was certainly not the proper attire for such an activity. At least her skirts had been suitably shook out from the carriage ride.

From the corner of her eye, she could see that Dorothea was quite amused at Grandby’s behavior, hiding her smile behind a fan she had suddenly flipped open. At some point, Lord Wellingham had appeared on Dorothea’s left, taking the seat next to her before she even realized he had arrived. And when she did, her lashes sprung into action and Clarinda could hear the man apologize for not having arrived at Norwick House in time to bring her to St. George’s in his new sporty phaeton. Dorothea would no doubt go home in the phaeton, although Clarinda wasn’t too sure
whose
home it would go to.

“My goddaughter is with child,” Grandby was saying to the bishop. “Lord Norwick’s wife,” he amended, pointing back at Clarinda.

Aware she’d just been pointed out to the bishop, Clarinda slumped as far down in the pew as she could, which wasn’t very far given the nature of the straight back and shallow bench.  Besides, the bishop could see her quite clearly; she was in the front pew.

The bishop’s brows furrowed, and then they lifted so they nearly touched the rim of his mitre. The frown he’d displayed since noticing the earl’s escapade changed to one of amusement, and he gave Clarinda a nod. The general din in the sanctuary died down to silence as the bishop held up a hand and welcomed the mourners.

There was a prayer followed by a hymn, but Clarinda hardly noticed the proceedings. She felt as if she was somehow disconnected from her body, and at the same time, very aware of so much around her – Grandby’s lime cologne, the swish of silks when Adele suddenly straightened in the pew, Dorothea’s almost silent sniffle as tears pricked her eyes, and her own sense of being at odds with what the bishop was saying only a few feet in front of her.

But what assaulted her senses the most was Daniel. His proximity was suddenly noticeable, as if he had just that very moment sat down next to her, when, in fact, he had been sitting so close the entire time.
David
! she thought, her sense of loss so profound she could barely breathe. And yet, when she did, she smelled David. Smelled the worsted wool of his topcoat, the slight citrus of the laundry soap used to wash his cravat, his amber cologne and the slight scent of musk he gave off early in the day.
He is here!
she thought, tears spilling from the corners of her eyes. She had to resist the urge to glance about in search of him.
Is he somewhere in the back?
It would be just like him to take a seat directly behind her, just so she would not be able to spot him if she turned slightly to the left or right to look. She did turn her head then, so her gaze was mere inches from Daniel’s profile, tears dripping from her cheeks with her sudden movement. The scents of amber cologne and citrus laundry soap and musk surrounded her, blanketing her with comfort. She breathed in deeply, stifling a sob as she did so.

Daniel turned his head ever so slightly to find Clarinda staring at him. He realized, a bit belatedly, that tears were streaming down her cheeks. He fished his handkerchief out of his pocket and held it out to her. When Clarinda didn’t move to take it, probably because she already had one stuffed in her other hand, he noticed, he lifted a corner of his own and slipped it beneath the netting, dabbing the fine linen against her cheek. “Shh,” he whispered, his own resolve to remain steadfast crumbling.
She is so beautiful
, he thought, the back of one finger accidentally brushing against her soft skin.

The touch set off a shock of
something
through his entire body, an awareness that sizzled along every fiber of his being. Struggling to remain in control, Daniel tried to concentrate on the square of fabric he held in his hand. One corner was already damp with her tears. And then, as more fell from her eyes, he watched Clarinda raise her hanky to take over the task of catching the tears before they slid off her face and onto the black silk of her gown.

Daniel thought for a second to reach out with his tongue and catch the tear drops, as if their salty wetness could quench the thirst he suddenly felt for her.

Reluctantly, he tore his gaze away from Clarinda and faced front. He thought of how pale she looked in black, how vulnerable and small and delicate. Daniel wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and comfort her right then and there. He wanted to kiss away her tears, assure her everything would be alright. He wanted to strip her of the ugly widow’s weeds and kiss her breasts and suckle her taut nipples and stroke his fingers along the length of her naked body and make love to her with slow, gentle strokes of his manhood tucked tightly inside her warm, wet ...

Jesus
! Daniel took a deep breath, surreptitiously giving his crotch a glance.
St. George must be spinning in his grave
, he thought. And the dragon ...
ah, to hell with the dragon
, he almost said aloud. The tightness of his black breeches seemed to ease a bit. He dared not look over at Clarinda, afraid if he did, she would notice his erection and wonder how a man could get aroused in the middle of a funeral service.

The minx
. Did she have any idea the effect she had on him? Any idea that he’d spent last night tossing and turning with thoughts of what he could be doing to her if she was in his bed? Of how he imagined removing her night rail so the fabric would barely skim over her silken skin? Of how his hands would follow the fabric to continue the caress, their gentle touch tickling the back of her thighs, sliding around the swells of her bottom until his fingertips could dance around the small of her back? And then barely touch every bump along her spine to the nape of her neck? Then to move ever so lightly across her shoulders and down along her collarbones and up to the hollow of her throat? His lips would take over at the point to suckle and kiss ...
Christ
! Daniel swallowed the growl he’d nearly allowed to escape his throat. His breeches were about to rend from the pressure of his erection.
Think of the dragon! Think of Mother!
The pressure subsided as quickly as it had built.

He’d promised himself he wouldn’t think of her
that way
, the way he’d thought of her for the entire year she was betrothed to his brother and those first two years of their marriage, when he believed she would realize at any moment that it was
he
who had courted her, and
he
who she had kissed in the garden behind Norwick House, and
he
who had asked for her hand in marriage amongst the roses in Kensington Gardens.