Free The Waltzing Widow/Smith by Joan Smith

persistence in hanging on where you are so patently not wanted will yield you nothing but a very disagreeable summer.”
    “I am wanted by your nephew,” she pointed out. Lucy was so happy to have got Avedon into a pelter that she managed to control her own temper, though it was difficult.
    “I am in control of my nephew,” he said categorically. “I repeat my offer to move you elsewhere.”
    Lucy’s nostrils dilated and she said in a tightly controlled tone, “Where was it you had in mind, milord? Coventry, perhaps?”
    “We have already discussed a suitable destination at our former meeting. Tunbridge Wells is where I usually send Tony’s flirts.”
    “Is it indeed? I take leave to tell you, Lord Avedon, that you will not send me there or anywhere else. I am here, and I shall stay. I have a signed contract for this hovel, for which I might add, I am paying an exorbitant five hundred pounds a year. Don’t think I couldn’t have Tony this month if I wanted him.”
    “I will be more than happy to refund the five hundred and another five hundred with it.”
    Lucy’s eyes flashed dangerously and her color mounted. “Are you trying to buy me off? Yes, you are. I expect you have the check in your pocket, on which you have already stopped payment. I recognize that trick.” She came to a gasping stop.
    Avedon examined her with a sardonic grin. “I am surprised you choose to admit it, ma’am. No, I would not attempt to weasel out of payment on such an experienced shrew as yourself. How much did you screw out of your last victim?”
    “Oh!” It was a squeal of outrage. “How dare you insult me under my own roof?”
    “If you care to step outside, I will undertake to insult you more fully.” Her hands were rigid, clasping and unclasping her skirt. Examining them, he noticed she wore no wedding ring and began to wonder if she was married at all.
    “You could hardly do so!” Lucy charged angrily.
    “Do you consider five hundred an insult? I’ll make it a thousand, then. Mrs. Lacey, the local lightskirt, settled for five hundred last month. Tony would not have actually offered for her. She came hobbled with two children. Do you have any children, ma’am?”
    “How should I have children when I’m not even—” Lucy clenched her jaws. “No, I have no children,” she said grimly.
    “Not even married, eh? Well, well. You find the guise of widow elicits sympathy from susceptible bantlings, I expect. There is much to be said for a maiden, however. There is just a little something about a secondhand woman....”
    Lucy rose majestically to her feet. “Get out,” she said, pointing to the door. “I will not hear any more of your insults.” Her breast rose and fell as she tried to contain her wrath.
    Avedon remained seated, consciously adding an unspoken insult by doing so. Lucy stalked from the room and left him alone. Deserted, Avedon got up and sauntered toward the hallway. Lucy had said a word to the butler, and was just on her way upstairs.
    She stopped and looked down over her shoulder, with fire flashing in her eyes. “Do pray tell your sister I look forward to seeing her at her garden party tomorrow, Lord Avedon. She invited Miss Percy and myself the day she arrived, and Tony is most eager for me to go and meet all his family.”
    Avedon was much impressed with her gall and sought quickly for a leveler. “Lady Sara managed to hire some extra girls from the village,” he replied with a satirical smile. “She won’t require your services to hand around the ices.”
    Lucy felt an overwhelming urge to stamp her foot, but quelled the childish impulse. “I am going, and don’t think you can scare me away,” she said, and continued on her way upstairs.
    “I shall personally escort you off my property if you set one toe on it,” he answered, but he didn’t think she heard him. She neither turned around nor stopped but continued to her room.
    Lucy longed to pour into her aunt’s ears the iniquities