The Widow and the Rogue Read Online Free Page A

away and become a nun before she would permit Henry or any other man to ever again rule her life. But she set aside those glum thoughts, deciding to patiently await the reading of the will. It was her only hope.
    *    *    *
    As the mantle clock bonged the hour, the family met in the red salon. To her surprise, Beau Powers stood by the marble fireplace waiting for them to enter.
    “Lady Langtry,” he said approaching her, his brilliant, sapphire eyes never leaving hers. “May I tell you how truly sorry I am for your loss. Such a regrettable accident . . . how terrible it must have been for you.”
    “Thank you, sir,” she replied, barely able to speak as he took her hand.
    He bowed over it.
    “It is most gracious of you to be concerned, Master Powers. But why are you—”
    “Why am I here?” he said, finishing the sentence for her. “Indeed, you must be astonished to see me. Especially considering the unique circumstances under which we last had the pleasure to meet.”
    He smiled down at her. A faint dimple appeared at the corner of his lips.
    She couldn’t help but return it, despite the somber event taking place. She remembered the moment when one year ago her broad, brim hat had flown off.
    Her golden hair had tumbled down to reveal that she was not a serving boy, but a young woman in disguise. She’d laughed at his stunned expression and merrily rode off on her pony, having accomplished her mission of informing the rescuers as to the kidnapped Lady Beatrice’s whereabouts, which she’d overheard being discussed when her husband invited Viscount Linley and a priest to dine with them.
    Aye, she smiled. He remembered that moment, too. It had been one of the few happy ones she’d had during the last few years. The restraints of where she was allowed to go, and with whom she was allowed to associate, had been very limiting.
    She’d never been permitted to go anywhere, unless she was accompanied by her husband or the housekeeper. With the exception of the bilious toadies her husband invited to dinner, she saw no one and had not a single friend she could count upon.
    “I am to act in the place of your husband’s solicitor,” he explained. “The one he had originally hired preceded him in death. It occurred two days in advance of this dreadful accident. I suppose your husband had not yet been notified before he died?”
    She shook her head. And if Bangford had been informed of the death, she knew he would not have confided in her. He’d kept her ignorant concerning all his legal affairs. All of this was a revelation.
    He continued, “And so it is that I am here. My reputation, it would appear, has spread further than Tipperary County. Until a senior solicitor can be found to replace me, I have been asked to take over the practice and help the partnership in Dublin.”
    “Indeed . . . how interesting,” she replied, surprised by the unusual circumstances that had brought them together once more.
    “Yes,” he smiled down at her, “it appears to be our destiny to meet again . . . but now I must perform the duty that has been placed in my hands.”
    Purposefully, he picked up a document from the mantle. He looked about the room at the assembled family, the glum housekeeper, and the elderly members of the staff who had served Dovehill Hall for years.
    “Ah, I see everyone is present. You may close the doors,” he informed an elderly footman standing nearby.
    “Now, dear lady, if you will but seat yourself,” he said leading her solicitously to a chair. “I shall begin to read your late husband’s will.”
    She sat quietly and listened as he read the document aloud. Her husband had left the usual legacies to the elderly servants of long service, including pensions and promised tenant cottages. The legacies were within the norm, with the exception of Mrs. O’Grady’s, who was deeded an entire house and land.
    The remainder of the legacies for the servants of long service occasioned no comments.