How to Woo a Widow Read Online Free PDF

But how to convince her of his sincerity after what he’d just asked of her?
    It had been a cover, that misdirection about an affair. Because how the devil could he admit the truth to her when he’d only just discovered it for himself? And, if he were honest, her words had stung. Did she really see him in the same scandalous vein as her late husband? Could she have so misunderstood the man he had become?
    He thought back to those moments before the argument had flared. The moments of passion between them. Her body had told him what her words did not. This was good, this tempest. He felt his body react to her even at the thought of her lips on his. No matter what she said, her actions said something different. She might resist now, but he’d be damned if he’d give her up without a fight.
    He’d loved her for half his life, and if she’d but listen, he’d tell her so.
    As he stepped away from the wall and straightened his coat, he felt something under his dancing shoe.
    Her fan.
    She must have dropped it in her haste to escape.
    As he bent to pick it up, he imagined that he could feel her warmth emanating from the ivory handles. He slipped it into his pocket and made his way around the mews toward the street. His townhouse was but a short walk from here, and he needed the time alone to think.
     
     
    It was really too dreadful of him, Portia thought the next morning as she rode her mare, Buttons, through the streets of Mayfair toward Hyde Park. It had been one thing for Tony to steal kisses from her on the dark walk at Vauxhall. There had been nobody there to see them—well, Noakes of course, but he was so loyal to Tony there was no danger that he’d spread gossip about them. But last night’s debacle at Almack’s had been another thing all together.
    After she’d repaired the hem of her gown in the retiring room, she returned to the ballroom. Only to discover that their absence had been noted. By both her mama and his. And though they were both grown, it did not do to displease one’s parents. Particularly when said parents were attempting to launch ones’ younger siblings into society.
    Tony had not returned, though she had scanned the crowd for him every few minutes or so. And Portia, with whom he had last been seen, had been forced to endure the scowls of any number of ladies who had looked forward to gracing his arm for the supper dance.
    All in all it was an awkward situation and one that she must put a stop to immediately. Yes, there was a certain passion between them, she admitted. But it was entirely inappropriate given the difference in their ages and their shared history. James’ death had been a wrenching ordeal for her family and though her parents rarely spoke of it, she knew that the shadow of her brother’s death lingered over them. And Tony had been there when it happened. Might even have been the cause of it.
    She had always been one to keep her emotions, as well as her environment, tidy. Her life with William had made it even more imperative for her to manage the world around her. When circumstances ran completely out of her control, her first instinct was to take hold of those things in her life that were within her grasp and arrange them into some semblance of order. Thus through the darkest days of her marriage her household was immaculate. The linen closets were sorted, the menus planned ahead for weeks—even all her darning was done, a task she loathed.
    So, as with every other crisis in her life, she would handle this untenable attraction between herself and Tony by molding it into something she could manage.
    Friendship.
    Glad for the clarity of mind that a good gallop always gave her, Portia allowed Buttons to slow into a canter, then a trot, then a leisurely pace more suited for appreciating the scenery around her. The park at this hour was deserted. A far cry from later on in the day when it was bustling with the fashionables who aimed to see and be seen.
    Then, as if her thoughts