The Wary Widow Read Online Free PDF

the street. “I don't usually plan, I just go and hope that Daisy will lead me back home when she's ready.”
    “May I accompany you, then? I do adore walking with Daisy.”
    ***
    “Oh, of course!” Mrs. Hawthorne practically yelled. Andrew smiled, seeing he'd unnerved her. He wondered why, at the same time knowing that most women found it impossible not to succumb to his charm and good looks.
    “Excellent!” he replied, hiding his knowing smile. “Let me see to Daisy then so you may enjoy the sights without being dragged behind. I know what a beast she can be and it seems she's already put you through your paces this morning.”
    “Indeed, she has.” Mrs. Hawthorne held up her hands, revealing dirty gloves, one with a large hole in it that revealed a bit of broken skin.
    “Good Lord, how did that happen?” he asked as he took her hand to examine it more closely.
    “I fell,” she said, suddenly appearing very young and very bashful. “That's when Daisy ran away from me.”
    “Does it still hurt?” He took off the ruined glove and examined the scrapes, noting how slender and feminine her fingers were as he did. And duly noting the gold band she wore.
    “It stings a little,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “But it's nothing, really.”
    “We don't want it to get infected, Mrs. Hawthorne.” Andrew turned on his heal, tethered Daisy to the wrought iron gate in front of his town house and marched up the stairs.
    Deane immediately flung the door open and waited while Andrew turned back to Mrs. Hawthorne, who stood like a statue on the pavement.
    “Come along, Mrs. Hawthorne,” he beckoned. “My housekeeper will see to your hand.”
    “It's really not necessary, my lord. Honestly, I will see to it myself once I'm home.”
    “Nonsense. An infection could settle in by the time you reach Mount Street and I won't stand for it. Now — ” he gestured for her to walk through the door, “ — inside with you.”
    Left with no other choice, Mrs. Hawthorne went inside. Andrew followed her, deposited her in the masculine drawing room and sought out his housekeeper, Mrs. Finch.
    Mrs. Finch — or Gloria, as they referred to her when not in polite company — wasn't your usual housekeeper, nor was she a missus, and Andrew was grateful Lady Elizabeth didn't know about the woman. He wasn't sure how she'd take it if she knew their domestic was a former whore. Certainly, she wasn't one now, and she'd never wanted to be one in the first place, but she had been, nonetheless.
    She flirted endlessly with Andrew and his brother, but everyone knew and agreed that anything more would be untoward and unacceptable. He had a feeling she and Deane, their butler cum valet, had spent many a winter night together, however.
    He found the woman in the kitchen, sneaking a lick of whatever batter she was mixing up. Hopefully she was making his favorite sugared biscuits. The smell alone made him salivate.
    “Why, Lord Andrew,” she exclaimed as she wiped her hands clean. “I thought you'd gone out already.”
    “I had, but I ran into someone who needs a bit of mending, if you don't mind.”
    “Mending?” Her eyebrows shot up in speculation.
    “Don't get any ideas, Gloria. She is my fiancée’s cousin, for God's sake.”
    “I didn't say a word,” she replied haughtily, and then slipped past him through the kitchen door.
    Gloria Finch had had one encounter with Lady Elizabeth and it would have been a vast understatement to say the woman didn't like his betrothed. Andrew didn't know the details, nor did he really care, but he was forced to endure Gloria's snide remarks about Elizabeth on a near daily basis.
    “Mrs. Finch, this is Mrs. Hawthorne,” he introduced as they came into the room. “She fell and scraped her hands this morning and could use some fixing up.”
    Mrs. Hawthorne's eyes widened at the sight of Mrs. Finch, but she quickly concealed her surprise and said, “Goodness, Lord Andrew, you make me sound like a