Free The Wary Widow by Jerrica Knight-Catania Page A

Hawthorne?” he asked.
    “Essex, my lord. A tiny parish, hardly worth mentioning, but I grew up there, and I love it.”
    “And your family? They are there as well?”
    “Oh, yes. Mother, father, three brothers and two sisters — ”
    “Six children?” Andrew asked, astounded. “I thought the Crawleys had a large brood with five, but six!”
    Chloe laughed and it warmed Andrew's blood. It wasn't the giggle of a green girl, but rather a throaty, mature laugh that made him think of having her in his bed. Of making her laugh while he made-
    Damn it, man, you're engaged to her cousin!
    “Yes, we are a larger brood, however, I believe the Crawley children best us in rowdiness. Now that all three of the boys are home from Harrow it's absolute mayhem around here. It doesn't help that Julia is a spoiled little princess, doted on ridiculously by her mother and father. Good Lord, the tantrums that child throws when she doesn't get her way.”
    “Not unlike her big sister, is she?”
    Mrs. Hawthorne looked up at him. Her hand held the teapot over his cup that he'd held out to be refilled. Their gazes locked and it wasn't until it ran over, burning Andrew's skin and spilling onto the white lace tablecloth, that he came back to his senses.
    “Oh, goodness!” Chloe exclaimed, jumping from her seat.
    Andrew placed the cup and saucer back onto the table with great haste and then took the hot teapot from Chloe's hands. He was so astonished at its temperature that he dropped it at once. It clattered to the table and rolled off the edge, before either of them could react, and landed on the floor with a thud.
    Liquid and tea leaves continued to spill out onto the carpet. Mrs. Hawthorne was about to reach for it, but Andrew held up a hand.
    “Stop!” he shouted, fearing that if either of them moved, they would do even more damage.
    The pair stood silent for a moment, then slowly turned to look at one another. Mrs. Hawthorne remained frozen in her hunched over pose, a terrified look on her face as if she might be punished if she moved. And then together, they burst into riotous laughter.
    Mrs. Hawthorne threw an arm around her middle, while the other went to her bouncing chest. Andrew fell back onto the sofa, wondering what had come over them. Tears leaked from his eyes for the first time since he was a child. No one had ever made him feel so giddy.
    After a few minutes, when they both finally gained their composure, Andrew looked at Mrs. Hawthorne, and asked, “May I be permitted to call you by your given name, Mrs. Hawthorne.”
    She sobered quickly and gave him a nervous smile. “I don't think that would be wise, Lord Andrew.”
    Andrew smiled back, feeling somewhat foolish. Of course he couldn't call her by her given name. But he would certainly think of her as Chloe from now on. She was far too young and vibrant to be Mrs. Hawthorne.
    “You're right,” he said at last. “I'm not sure what came over me. Shall we clean up our mess then?”
    They rang for a maid and then set to gathering up the cup and teapot. The air was charged with unspoken feelings—feelings that if said aloud could have horrific repercussions. So they worked in silence until the maid arrived and Andrew finally felt it was time to take his leave.
    “Thank you, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he said as bowed to her. “Your company was...delightful.”
    With an awkward smile and a curtsey, she replied, “And yours as well, my lord. Good day.”
    ***
    Chloe was still reeling from her afternoon with Lord Andrew by the time Lizzie arrived home. And she was still in the lilac gown. She’d been so nervous to wear it at first, but when she saw Andrew’s reaction, she was almost grateful for her cousin’s bold actions that morning.
    It had been so long since she’d enjoyed male attention, and even then, Sam’s attention had been more akin to a lovesick pup than a lust-hungry man. The look in Andrew’s dark eyes sent chills skittering over her bones every time she saw