She smiled wistfully. "I'm sure I've idealized him. Of course he had his faults. A tendency to accept a superficial impression as fact. Impetuosity. And he was nowhere near as clever as you are. But that didn't spoil the man he was. He brought sunshine wherever he went."
"And you feel like you've lived in night ever since."
"Yes."
"I'm sorry you lost him, Fenella."
"So am I." Then she surprised herself by saying, "He'd have liked you. Despite your apparent differences, both of you have…integrity. It's a rare and precious quality."
"Thank you." His lips brushed the top of her head. "I think I'd have liked him, too, although I'd envy him his pretty wife. He sounds like an exceptional man. I can see why you've clung to his memory all these years."
Fenella made herself sit up and meet Anthony's eyes. She didn't underestimate how hard it must be for him to hear her loving recollections of another man. Yet he did this for her—so that she could join him in a new life. "I thought I'd grieve forever."
"And that's no longer the case?" he asked slowly.
"I'll always miss Henry and regret his loss. But I've changed out of all recognition since the night this big brute of a man stormed into my parlor and shook me from my torpor."
Anthony smiled at her as if she was a miracle of creation. "You know I love you, don't you?"
At the quiet declaration, her heart stuttered into stillness. Then it began to beat deliberate and hard, like a military drum marking a slow march. She took Anthony's powerful hand in hers and stared into that roughhewn, fascinating face. She saw intelligence and strength and kindness.
And, yes, love.
"I hoped."
"And can you imagine ever loving me?"
She gave a huff of amusement, although she knew what it had cost him to ask the question. "Don't be a nitwit, Anthony. Of course I love you. It took me completely by surprise because it's not at all like what I felt for Henry. Our love was like a beautiful clear lake, unruffled and calm. When I'm with you, I feel like I'm aboard a great ship on a storm-tossed ocean. It's exciting and daring and reassuring, all at the same time. And I feel like I'm heading for somewhere wonderful and exotic."
"Oh, my darling," he murmured and kissed her softly on the lips. "I don't deserve you."
She pulled away and regarded him sternly. "Of course you do. I was blessed to find love in my first marriage, and I've been doubly blessed to find it in my second." Her voice roughened. "And I feel Henry would approve. He was never a jealous, covetous man."
Anthony kissed her again and rose to his feet, extending his hand to help her up. "I know two people who will definitely approve."
"The boys?" She laughed with almost unbearable gladness. "Oh, yes. They'll vote for anything to save them from going back to Eton. To think, we’ll all live here as a family on your beautiful estate."
He raised her hand to his lips. "We have a lifetime of love ahead, my darling."
She stepped into the shelter of his powerful body. The cold, lonely days were over at last. She was in love with Anthony Townsend, and the world glowed warm and full of light. "I can hardly wait."
Continue reading for an excerpt from
THE DASHING WIDOWS BOOK 1: THE SEDUCTION OF LORD STONE
For this reckless widow, love is the most dangerous game of all.
Caroline, Lady Beaumont, arrives in London seeking excitement after ten dreary years of marriage and an even drearier year of mourning. That means conquering society, dancing like there's no tomorrow, and taking a lover to provide passion without promises. Promises, in this dashing widow's dictionary, equal prison. So what is an adventurous lady to do when she loses her heart to a notorious rake who, for the first time in his life, wants forever?
Devilish Silas Nash, Viscount Stone is in love at last—with a beautiful, headstrong widow bent on playing the field. Worse, she's enlisted his help to set her up with his disreputable best friend. No red-blooded man takes such a challenge lying down, and Silas schemes to seduce his darling into his arms, warm, willing and besotted. But will his passionate plots come undone against a woman determined to act the mistress, but never the wife?
The Seduction of Lord Stone
* * *
Prologue
Grosvenor Square, London, February 1820