The Widowed Countess Read online

  At one time, Daniel railed against his fate as the second son. Born only minutes after David Alexander George Fitzwilliam, Daniel Jonathan Andrew Fitzwilliam was identical to his older brother in every respect. They had both grown to just a bit over six feet in height, had broad shoulders and torsos that featured muscular chests, flat stomachs and thin hips. The dental gods had bestowed them with straight teeth and saw to it none were missing. Their facial features were so much the same, they were frequently mistaken for one another, making it possible for them to play practical jokes on their governess, tutors, teachers, friends and even some family members. The Fitzwilliam men were both expert horsemen, good marksmen, adequate fencers and abysmal boxers. Their taste in clothing was even similar – they employed tailors who used the best cloth and could fashion coats and breeches that suited their larger than normal bodies. And their taste in women ... well, it was this trait of their sameness that led to their falling out four years ago.

  They had both fallen in love with the same woman.

  Because David was due to inherit, their father encouraged a betrothal to the daughter of another earl. David would marry Lady Clarinda Anne Brotherton no later than her twenty-second birthday. Despite the fact that betrothals were no longer the binding contracts they had been at one time, David had every intention of honoring his father’s arrangement. He’d had a fondness for Lady Clarinda from the time he’d danced with her at her come-out ball, a lavish affair given in her honor by her parents on the eve of her eighteenth birthday. Trouble was, Daniel already felt affection for the girl, having met her in Hyde Park while she and her chaperone rode horses in the afternoons. By the time Clarinda married his brother, nearly five years after Daniel and Clarinda had been introduced to one another, Daniel was hopelessly in love with the chit. As he stood with his brother during the wedding, he only had eyes for the brunette-haired beauty, her aquamarine eyes occasionally glancing in his direction as she blushed and repeated her vows. Vows to his brother.

  For the next two years, Daniel lived in town, attending Society events and occasionally visiting Boodles for drinks and a hand of cards. At some point, he was sure a debutante might catch his eye and help him forget his lovely sister-in-law. But none did. And after the horrible row he’d had with Clarinda, he escaped to Norwick Park, the earldom’s country estate in southern Sussex. He took up residence there, his somber moods finally driving his mother to the dowager house in Bognor. Left to run the estate in a manner he thought best, and given free rein to do so by his older brother, Daniel settled into life as the spare heir.

  Life in Sussex was pleasant. The estate proved profitable for the earldom, and, until he received word from the courier that David had died of a broken neck, Daniel thought to remain at Norwick Park for rest of his days. The news had nudged him from a kind of waking dream, though, his days so much the same he hardly noticed the passage of time.

  Suddenly, he had a mission in life beyond seeing to the day-to-day operations of the earldom. The spare was now the heir. He was now the earl.

  His valet packed his trunks, his secretary took over the books, and he made the trip, part by horseback and part in a coach, to London. He’d spent the night at his apartment in Bruton Street, but given the lack of servants there, he decided to move into Norwick House this morning. At least breakfast would be served there.

  Two years, he thought, staring up at the house, wondering if Lady Norwick had her rooms looking over this side of the house. It’s too early for a lady of the ton to be out of bed, though, he thought as he regarded his new home.

  Two years. What had he done to make Clarinda so angry she would react as she did that day two years ago? At the moment, he couldn’t even remember. And he didn’t much care. He had only seen her once since that day two years ago – at a dinner party – but he’d made his excuses and left before it would have been necessary for him to exchange at least a bit of small talk with his sister-in-law. Now he might have the opportunity to see her everyday for the rest of his life.

  I can only hope.

  And then he wondered if she would even look the same as she had back then. Perhaps she’d grown old being married to his older brother. Perhaps her hair was thin and white, her cheeks hollow and sunken, her skin wrinkled and sallow, her hands covered with liver spots, her teeth crooked with some missing, the skin on her neck sagging.

  He shook his head. No, that’s what Great Aunt Mildred looks like, he realized. Clarinda would never look like that, not even when she was a hundred-and-ten.

  Dismounting, Daniel handed the reins to a stableboy who appeared from the mews behind the house. At the same time, the carriage with his trunks pulled into the drive. He took a deep breath and mounted the steps, nodding to the butler as the doors opened to admit him.

  After a fitful night of weird dreams featuring her late husband and his mother trying to make her wed Daniel at the very moment she was going into labor, Clarinda awoke at dawn feeling exhausted. Her night rail was so twisted, the neckline nearly choked her. While she tried to smooth out the fine lawn fabric, the scent of David reached her again. She inhaled the calming scent and let out a long sigh.

  She remembered her last conversation with him. It had been about what he was going to wear when meeting with his solicitor. Wear the dark blue or you’ll look like you’re in the army. Which was ridiculous, because David would never look like he was in the militia, no matter what he wore, she thought, remembering how dashing he appeared when he stood on the threshold of the parlor before striding in and dipping her into that delicious kiss. And then he had bid her farewell. She sighed happily as she recalled that last bit, her hand moving to slide over her abdomen.

  Wait. That hadn’t been their last conversation, she reasoned. They’d last spoken of his cologne and something about Daniel being stubborn. What had he said? she wondered as she tried to remember. The tendril of a memory disappeared before she could capture it fully.

  Deciding she wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, Clarinda rang for her maid and ordered a bath. Her nightdress clung to her damp skin as she slowly emerged from the bed. She sighed as the scent of David was left behind. With that realization came another.

  Daniel was due to arrive today.

  Damnation! She still hadn’t decided how to broach the subject of her pregnancy. Daniel’s mother had agreed to say nothing of it until Clarinda had had a chance to break the news to him. The funeral service was scheduled for the following day at St. George’s, and shortly after, the solicitor would arrive with David’s last will and his final instructions.

  “Mourning must be making you hungry, milady,” Missy commented as she held out a linen. Clarinda was half out of the copper tub, rivulets of water streaming down her body as she caught her reflection in the cheval mirror near the doorway. She didn’t think she appeared any heavier, and she certainly didn’t feel different. Except for when the odor of fish assaulted her nostrils, she’d managed to avoid morning sickness. Other than making sure the dinner menus rarely included fish, she hadn’t changed anything in how the household was run since the day she was sure she was with child.

  “Why do you say that?” she wondered, giving Missy a quizzical look.

  “You look like you’ve been eating a few too many cakes at tea, my lady,” Missy replied, a smile on her face. “If I may say, it’s a relief to know your appetite hasn’t suffered with his lordship’s passing,” she said in a lowered voice, her face taking on a suitable expression of sadness.

  Clarinda caught her bottom lip with a tooth. At some point, she would have to tell Missy about the baby. In the meantime, she would let the maid continue to think she was a glutton at tea time. “Food is good for the soul,” Clarinda commented as she dried herself off and stepped into her bedchamber. As Missy helped her into a chemise and corset, she thought of the look on David’s face when he’d run his hand over the front of her body,
gently rubbing her belly and leaning over to kiss her just there. She had to fight back the smile she felt coming on as she remembered how he had placed an ear against her belly then, as if he thought he could already hear his future offspring.

  She fought back the sudden catch in her throat at the thought of David. A mortician was seeing to his remains and would deliver his coffin to St. George’s for the funeral and then see to its transportation to Norwick Park for burial. A small graveside service would take place – only a few family members would attend, Clarinda thought – and then life would go on. In six months, she would have a baby to keep her company, to love and cherish and spoil rotten until it was time to send it off to school or marriage.

  And that would be that.

  She frowned. Perhaps she could become a merry widow (after the requisite year of mourning, of course). Lady Winslow had done that, although she’d only made merry with the Marquess of Devonville for a month before agreeing to marry him. Going from a position as a baroness to the Marchioness of Devonville had to offer benefits beyond longer trips to New Bond Street and a larger jewelry box. Clarinda often wondered what Adele Slater Worthington Grandby thought of her new sister-in-law.

  The sudden thought of not being bedded for an entire year had Clarinda raising her face to stare at herself in the oval dressing table mirror. Missy stood behind her, pinning a series of curls across the front of a rather ornate hairstyle. “Am I going somewhere?” Clarinda asked in wonderment. Her maid had never done her hair with quite as many pins before. Of course, David would have had them all out in a few flicks of his wrist when he escorted her to her bedchamber at bedtime. They would scatter about the Aubusson carpet, acting as little land mines when he sneaked back into her room later that night, his bare feet managing to step on enough so he exhaled exclamations of pain and curses as they impaled him. Clarinda smiled at the thought, her eyes suddenly filling with tears as she realized he would never be doing that again.

  “The new earl is due to arrive today,” Missy replied, her face falling at the sight of her mistress on the verge of tears. “Oh, my lady, don’t cry!” the abigail ordered, reaching over Clarinda’s shoulder to fetch a hanky from the tabletop. “I hear he is a very pleasant man, and a handsome one, at that.”

  Clarinda took a deep breath and willed away the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. “Well, he ought to be. He’s Norwick’s identical twin brother,” she replied with just a hint of derision, realizing talk of David’s brother had her tears dried up faster than the hanky would.

  Missy caught the annoyance in Clarinda’s comment and regarded her mistress’ reflection in the looking glass. “You two do not get along?” she wondered, placing another curl in the coiffure she was creating.

  Realizing her maid might speak of the rift between her and Daniel with the other servants, Clarinda quickly waved a hand as if it was nothing. “Oh, we get along fine,” she lied, surprised her voice didn’t give her away. “I only mean that he’s so good looking because he is the epitome of his late brother.”

  Truth be told, she didn’t know if Daniel still looked anything like David. She couldn’t imagine him having changed much in two years, though. Although, if she gave it some more thought, she could imagine his hair thin on top and turning gray, the crinkles around his eyes becoming deep wrinkles, age spots covering his face and hands, his eyebrows turning into a bushy white unibrow looking something like an albino caterpillar, all his teeth but one or two missing, his cheeks sunken, dark circles beneath his eyes ... trouble was, David would have looked like that, too, if he had lived to be a hundred-and-ten.

  Clarinda shivered, pushing the image out of her mind as Missy announced she was almost done with her hair. “Finally. I’m starving,” Clarinda said as she got up from the dressing table and made her way to the door. “I’m off to indulge my appetite, Missy,” she claimed happily. “After all, I can let my figure go for an entire year!”

  Daniel Fitzwilliam followed Porter as the majordomo preceded him to the earl’s bedchamber, his boot heels clicking on the glossy marble floor of the vestibule and hall. Before his arrival at Norwick House just moments before, Daniel had thought to insist on a guest suite, unsure as to the length of his stay and not wanting to disrupt a household already reeling from an untimely death. But Porter seemed to expect his arrival and commented that the earl’s suite was in readiness.

  “Already?” he’d asked, masking his surprise by keeping his face impassive. Daniel had managed to become quite good at the expression of blandness – it was the only one he allowed to show these days.

  “Yes, my lord,” Porter responded with a nod.

  “And what of my brother’s ... effects?” Daniel asked this last with a bit of trepidation. Although he had on occasion employed an adequate tailor in the village near Norwick Park, he did not have the quantity of clothing he would require for formal dinners and ton events in London. The last thing he wanted to have to deal with at this point was an appointment with a London-based tailor and the wait for suitable clothes to be made.

  “The countess was quite insistent they be kept for you or your valet’s review,” Porter offered in reply. “Her thought was that everything would fit you, but she wasn’t sure if the styles would be to your liking.”

  Daniel considered this comment, wondering why it would bother him. He wasn’t that different from his brother – in anything. If a suit of clothing suited David, it would no doubt suit him. “Very generous of her ladyship,” Daniel offered, pausing as Porter opened the door to the earl’s bedchamber. He stepped over the threshold as the majordomo stepped aside, pausing for only a moment as his gaze swept the room. The deep navy blue fabrics that draped the windows and formed the bed curtains and counterpane were an elegant contrast with the rich golds that made up the fringe trims, pillows and chair coverings. The two large dressers, matching nightstands, and four-poster bed were all made from rosewood, their lines rather more masculine than Daniel would expect for such furnishings. A couple of paintings graced the walls, although, with his quick perusal, he didn’t take the time to determine their artists or their subjects. An Aubusson patterned carpet covered the entire floor.

  “This will do fine,” Daniel said as he strode toward the nearest paneled door. Pangs of hunger reminded him he hadn’t yet eaten that morning. “I could do with some breakfast, Porter.”

  The majordomo nodded from where he stood. “I’ll see to it the breakfast parlor is set up immediately. Do you have a preference as to your morning meal, my lord?”

  Daniel almost allowed a smile. He was definitely in civilization again if he could actually request a specific food and expect it to be served. “Eggs, toast, kippers, chocolate and coffee,” he listed without having to think about it.

  “Very good, my lord. I’ll see to it.” Porter bowed from his place at the door and disappeared down the hall.

  Daniel considered the dressing room door, curious as to what lay beyond. Did her ladyship’s clothing hang in the same room? Or did she have a separate dressing room? The doors would no doubt connect even if there were two rooms, he considered. The thought had his heart racing even before he opened the door.

  The scent of apple blossoms drifted past his nose. He closed his eyes as he inhaled. Clarinda! Just the thought of her, probably still asleep on the other side of the wall of the dressing room, made him aroused. Suddenly aware of the bulge behind the placket of his buckskin breeches, Daniel forced himself to think of something else. Clothes. He should be thinking about clothes.

  Although the dressing room wasn’t lit by its own window, he could see from the light that filtered in from the open door that his brother had been a clothes horse. A series of shelves held stacks of breeches, pantaloons, waistcoats, and perfectly folded cravats in both black and white. Coats of every conceivable color were hung on carved forms lining the long wall. If his valet was fifty years you
nger, he would be ecstatic. Several pairs of boots and buckled shoes stood at attention, their gleaming surfaces a testament to the excellent job David’s own valet had been doing. Daniel wondered if the man was still employed at Norwick House or if he’d been let go due to the death of his master. He made a mental note to ask about him as he moved back into the bedchamber. His own valet hadn’t seemed too keen on the move to London. Perhaps the older man would be willing to accept a stipend and retire in the country.

  Daniel scanned the room and noted another paneled door. Striding toward it, he suddenly felt overwhelmed by the sense that he wasn’t alone. Pausing, he glanced around. When he was sure there was no one else in the room, he continued to the door and peeked in. The huge bath featured its own fireplace and a device in which water could be heated for bathing. The tap at the bottom hung over the edge of the largest copper tub Daniel had ever seen.

  “Two can bathe in there,” a familiar voice said as Daniel stared at the bathing tub. “Never tried it myself, but I recommend you do.”

  Startled, Daniel glanced around, sure no one was physically in the room and yet ... “Who’s there?” he asked, thinking a footman must have arrived with the first of his trunks.

  “Who do you think?” David’s voice replied, a bit indignant.

  Damnation! Daniel spun around to find his brother leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his body in the stance he used when he was in casual conversation. “David?” Daniel whispered, blinking a few times to be sure he was indeed seeing and hearing his brother.

  “Aye,” his twin replied. “Thought I would welcome you to my old world before I left for my new one.”

  Daniel wondered if perhaps his gnawing hunger was playing tricks on his mind. He could swear his brother stood against the wall and was regarding him with that mischievous look he used when he was playing a trick on him. Deciding David couldn’t be standing in front of him, Daniel gave the room another quick glance and strode into the bedchamber. He nearly tripped over David’s outstretched boot.