Lord Romney's Exquisite Widow Read Online Free Page A

chair behind Lord Hamson’s desk. “Have a seat and explain again, in layman’s terms, whatever you are trying to convey.”
    George covered his face with his hands and plopped into his chair. He knew he was acting completely contrary to his normal respected behavior, but he could not help himself. “What am I to do?”
    Atten spoke. “Let us perhaps start at the beginning of this strange tale. Are you against offering for the chit now? What has happened?”
    Perceval pulled out the chair next to Compton’s and squeezed his larger form into it. “No, the man is not against it, are you, Hamson?”
    “Then why are you going on in such a juvenile manner?” Compton asked.
    George took a deep breath and looked at all three of them. “Lord Romney’s widow.”
    Atten blinked. “I beg your pardon?”
    “His wits have gone a begging, have they not?” Compton laughed. “I vow, I have never seen you in such a state, Hamson.”
    George closed his eyes and attempted once more to make sense. “No, Miss Poleton.”
    “Whom are we speaking of now?” Perceval looked at him as if he had escaped from Bedlam.
    Atten shook his head. “Pray, do not tell us. I am swiftly becoming afraid of the answer.”
    Compton continued to burst into guffaws. “No, do not halt this now. I have never laughed so hard in my life.”
    Perceval looked genuinely confused. “So is it a widow, Miss Poleton, or Miss Hemming? Who exactly are we speaking of again?”
    Atten patted George’s shoulder and sat down on the other side of him. “No wonder you are confused, lad.”
    They will never understand . He took a deep breath and tried again, “Miss Poleton is Lady Romney, the Earl of Huntingdon’s very young, very beautiful widow. Miss Hemming is the gel I was about to offer for, except Perceval invited Lady Romney to the ball. Four years ago, I nearly lost my heart to the young Miss Poleton before her father accepted Romney’s suit and wed the girl to him within a fortnight. Now do you understand my quandary?”
    One eyebrow of Compton’s rose. “You are still pining for the widow, then?”
    “No. I do not know. There was a time when all I could think of was her. But so much has happened between us now that I do not know if she would ever consider a suit from me.”
    “And what does your mama think of the young widow?” asked Perceval. “Surely she cannot support such an endeavor over Miss Hemming.”
    “You are quite right.” George frowned a little. “Honestly, I have not asked her. But she would be much more willing to accept Miss Hemming than the dowager countess, I am sure.”
    Atten leaned against the wall. “What does this conversation signify? Who do you care for more, Hamson? That is all that any one of us should concern ourselves over—not what his mama thinks, or society, or any of that. Which one do you prefer?”
    “That is just the thing. I do not know—I hardly know the woman Miss Poleton has become. However, I have obviously been courting Miss Hemming these past few weeks. If I do not offer for her hand, it would be very gauche of me, would it not?”
    Atten shrugged. “Why? Sure, there would be gossip, and the right thing to do would be to marry the chit, but why? Why must you be as unhappy as you have seen our parents’ arrangements? Think of your offspring and their security. Would it not be better for everyone if you do not marry the gel?”
    “Do you love her? Are you impartial to her?” Perceval asked.
    “I thought I esteemed her well enough,” George admitted, “Though now, with the dowager come again, I do not know. What if it was fate that brought me together with Lady Romney at this precise time? One more night, and all would have been lost.”
    “And yet you do not feel you know her enough to stop your courtship with Miss Hemming?” Compton queried. “Is this why you are in such high fidgets?”
    “Yes, precisely. Do I stop a sure thing, gambling upon the heart of one I have previously