Free The Virtuous Widow by Anne Gracíe

this hour of the morning? Her eye fell on the hare skins hung up to dry on a hook near the door. Of course. Ned with the milk. She flung open the door, a smile of welcome on her face.
    It froze there. “Sq…Squire Hammet.”
    A large burly man dressed more to suit a London afternoon promenade than a rural Northumberland morning pushed past her. His gaze raked her intimately.
    Ellie shrivelled inside and braced herself. “To what do I owe this unexpected visit?”
    “You’ve had a man here, missy!” The squire’s angry gaze probed the small room.
    “Why do you say that?” Ellie prayed that the floorboards overhead would not squeak.
    “A man was seen on your roof yesterday.” The squire thrust his red face at her. The scent of expensive pomade emanated from him, as did the faint scent of soiled linen. Like his friend, her late husband, the squire favoured expensive clothing, but disdained bathing.
    Ellie turned away, trying to hide her fear and disgust. “There was a man here yesterday. He fixed the leaking roof for me.”
    “It’s my blasted cottage! I say who fixes the roof or not! So, you have a secret fancy man do you, Miss-Prim-and-Proper?” His face was mottled with anger. “Too high and mighty to give the time of day to me, who lent you this house out of the kindness of my heart, and now I find you’ve let some filthy peasant come sniffing around your skirts.”
    “You are disgusting!”
    “Who was it, dammit—I want to know the fellow’s name!”
    Ellie turned angrily. “I have no idea of his name or anything about him. He merely fixed my roof for me and I gave him some food in return! I’ve been asking you to fix those broken slates for months now and you have done nothing!”
    “Only because you have refused your part of the bargain.” Small, hot eyes ran over her body lasciviously.
    Ellie shuddered and forced herself to ignore it. “There was no bargain. There never will be. I pay rent on this cottage and that is the end of it.”
    “Pah, a peppercorn rent!”
    “The rent you offered me on the day of Hart’s funeral! If it was lower than usual, I did not know it at the time. I thought you were being kind because you were my husband’s friend. I should have known better,” she finished bitterly and turned to stir the porridge.
    “You should have indeed. There’s no such thing as something for nothing.” The squire’s voice thickened and Ellie jumped as thick, meaty hands slid around her, groping for her breasts.

    “Take your hands off me!” She jerked her elbow into his stomach, hard and he gasped and released her. She whirled and pushed him hard. Off balance, he staggered back and banged his head on the shelf behind him.

    She flung open the door and stood there, holding it. “You are not welcome in this cottage, sir. If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, I am—and shall be—no man’s mistress. And even if I was so inclined, I would never be yours, Squire Hammet!”
    The squire stood there, breathing heavily and rubbed his head. “You little vixen! I’ll punish you for that, see if I don’t. His eyes ran over her again. “I don’t mean to leave here unsatisfied again. I had a good eyeful of you this morning and I liked what I saw.”
    Ellie felt ill. She never got dressed downstairs, usually. Of all the days to do it, when Squire Hammet was outside the window, watching. She glanced at the fire, to where her cast-iron poker was propped. If only she could get hold of it…
    “No, you don’t, vixen.” The squire put his big burly body between her and the poker.
    Ellie was beside the open door. She could run away into the forest and hide, but she couldn’t leave Amy in the house.
    The squire seemed to read her mind. “Where’s that brat of yours?” He glanced around the room and his eyes came to rest on the cheese-box dolls’ house. “You would not want her to…have an accident, would you?” With no warning his shiny boots stamped down on the