Free In the Widow’s Bed by Heather Boyd

Lizzy, holding Selwood’s hand tight when her lover would have risen to search for the blackguard. She also mentioned Lizzy’s discovery of the lovers’ mark on her neck. When she finished, Selwood appeared contrite.
    “I lose all sense when we make love. My apologies.”
    “None of that matters right now. We have to find Lizzy.”
    Selwood stood, held out his hand to draw her to her feet. His calm gaze settled her nerves. “That will be easy. Lizzy will have returned home to Dalemain Court.” When he looped his arm about her shoulders and squeezed, Phoebe leaned into his chest. “Care to take a short drive to check on her? I shall deal with Warminster later.”
    Phoebe nodded, burrowing deeper into his warmth and dragged his musky scent into her lungs. As much as she’d jump at the chance to drag him upstairs again, she had to sort out the mess she’d made of the morning. Poor Lizzy. In Phoebe’s efforts to avoid scandal she’d inadvertently hurt a dear friend.
    Selwood’s arm slipped from her shoulder, but he captured her fingers and tugged. Together they strolled through the house, out the front door, and waited for a carriage to be brought round. Never once did Phoebe seriously consider dropping Selwood’s hand. She needed the reassurance of his touch to prove that he wasn’t angry about how she’d handled his sister’s questions. But most importantly, she hung onto him to prevent him from tracking down her stepson.
    However, the sense of contentment that trickled through her as he handed her up into the carriage and settled against her side puzzled. Her lover was easy to be with, despite his much younger age. Lord Selwood, Jonathan, didn’t rattle about like other young men. His calm, even temperament soothed where his older friend—Warminster—prickled and pinched. Jonathan projected an air of quiet reserve that hid his amorous inclinations very well indeed.  
    She shouldn’t become used to being with him.
    The short carriage ride was conducted in silence, but Jonathan constantly reminded her of his presence with the swipe of his thumb over the back of her hand. The gentle reassurance settled her heart and when the carriage ride ended, she calmly stepped out in his wake. Jonathan captured her hand again in a firm grip and led her into his rambling house, up the long flights of stairs and twisting corridors to Lizzy’s bedchamber.  
    At the door, he knocked and when they heard no reply, Jonathan opened the door.  
    Lizzy huddled in a tight ball on the window seat.  
    Relief coursed through Phoebe in a rush and although she tried to loosen Jonathan’s grip on her fingers, he pulled her all the way across the room with him. He dragged over two chairs and they sat to wait for Lizzy’s acknowledgement.  
    When she didn’t raise her head, Jonathan sat forward. “Shall I challenge him to a duel at dawn?”
    “No.”
    “Did he frighten you?”
    “No.”
    Jonathan dragged a hand through his hair. “Ma petit, I want so much to make things right.”
    “You cannot.” Lizzy burst into another series of sobs that made Phoebe’s heart ache. “Nothing is right anymore.”
    Cautiously, she got to her feet and sat beside the crying woman. When she didn’t object, Phoebe scooted closer. Lizzy pushed her away.
    “Do not be angry with Phoebe, little one. She is your friend and you know it.”
    Lizzy lifted her head and stared at her brother. “I used to believe so.”
    Jonathan winked at his sister. “Of course she is. Phoebe practically ran me down to tell me she couldn’t find you anywhere at Moreton Hall.”
    Lizzy’s gaze turned to Phoebe, but landed on her cosmetic covered neck. Her fingers swiped the beige paste away and she held up her fingers for her brother to see. He stared at them then his grim gaze landed on Phoebe. By the tense set of his jaw, she guessed he wanted to set the matter straight with Lizzy, but because of Phoebe’s own rules, she’d constrained him from doing so.