Free The Wagered Widow by Patricia Veryan

her glance aside discovered The Monahan flirting outrageously with their host. Sir Peter displayed no more than his usual courtesy, but Rebecca was dismayed. She turned away and found that Miss Boudreaux was watching her smilingly. Rebecca was briefly flustered; her cheeks blazed. Miss Boudreaux stepped closer and asked softly, “Have you known Sir Peter for very long, ma’am?”
    â€œI only just met him, to say truth. Do—you know him well?”
    â€œOh, yes. I have known Peter ever since Miss Edwards was killed. It was an accident and happened only a week after I first met your aunt. My cousin de Villars was escorting me back to my Seminary. We saw a tree struck by lightning, and it fell just as Sir Peter’s coach came around the corner. There was no slightest chance for him to stop.” Her eyes became blank for a moment. She murmured in a hushed tone, “It was—frightful. Treve ran to help, of course. Peter’s arm was broken. He was quite helpless, and utterly distraught. Miss Edwards was thrown from the vehicle, and her head struck a boulder. She was killed instantly.”
    â€œHow ghastly!” Her warm heart touched, Rebecca put a hand on Miss Boudreaux’s arm and said with sympathy, “Do not think about so dreadful a thing.”
    â€œI seldom do. But, do you know, I saw Helen Edwards lying there in the rain, and I have never forgotten it. She was so lovely and looked quite untouched—like someone asleep. It is small wonder poor Peter has never been able to look at another lady.”
    â€œShe must have been very beautiful. How fortunate that you were close by.”
    â€œYes, for there was no one else about. It was a terrible storm, and Treve—my cousin—would not have ventured abroad, save that I was to be in a play at the Seminary that evening, and bedevilled him to get me there. He took care of everything. Peter was past caring, but later he was rather pathetically grateful. They have been bosom bows ever since.”
    â€œI see. What a tragedy to lose her before they were even wed.”
    â€œWard is rather a dear, do not you think? I have always hoped he might find someone else.”
    â€œIt would appear,” murmured Rebecca, glancing to the side, “that he has done so.”
    â€œWho? Mrs. Monahan? Oh, no. Rosemary actually has—ah, interests elsewhere.”
    Striving to appear surprised, Rebecca said, “Indeed? Is a most indulgent gentleman.”
    â€œIs an absent gentleman,” Miss Boudreaux corrected, her eyes twinkling.
    The two girls exchanged understanding smiles. It would appear, thought Rebecca, that although she had undeniably made an enemy of one lady, she had found a friend in another.
    Soon they were back in the carriages and resuming their journey. The weather was fair, if not bright, and the countryside lush and green and ablaze with the flowers of early summer. They took luncheon at a charming old hostelry in St. Albans, and when they set forth again it was agreed to split up the guests so that they might better get to know one another. Much as she had liked the tall girl, Rebecca hove a sigh of relief to see Miss Boudreaux and The Monahan go to the second coach. Their places were taken by a sister and brother. An amiable pair, they appeared to be in their early thirties, and were distinguished only by their odd habit of finishing one another’s sentences. When it developed that the gentleman was as interested in birds as was their host, Rebecca lost no time in requesting that he identify some species for her as they went along. He gladly agreed, and she was instructed that there were many different species and that the British Isles was blessed with a great number of these, although the wholesale slaughter for “sport” bade fair to soon render many species extinct. She was shocked, and her interest spurred Mr. Street’s enthusiasm. The resultant flood of instruction became so