Read Online WidowsWickedWish by Lynne Barron - Free Book Online

to
her?
    Why?
    And what had she been thinking screaming at him that way?
Ridiculous. What did it matter if Jack, like everyone else of her acquaintance,
thought her plans for Fanny were naïve and foolish. None of them controlled
her. They could neither help nor hinder her desire to give her daughter the
best possible education, every advantage available to her. She simply wanted
her daughter to have a different life than the one she had lived for
twenty-eight years.
    Pretty words.
    Olivia thought of the first year of her marriage and the
innumerable times she had attempted to share her ideas and opinions with her
husband only to have him smile, pat her hand and tell her not to worry her
pretty little head. She had never lost her temper with Palmerton, never raised
her voice, not once in ten long, miserable years. She’d been serene, poised and
composed. And what had it gotten her? An empty marriage to a philandering
husband whose financial shenanigans had nearly landed her in the poorhouse.
    No more.
    You are a lady, not a fishwife on the docks.
    “A lady,” she whispered to her sleeping son. “Is that all I
am?”
    Olivia dreaded the inevitable return to London, to the town
house she had shared with her faithless husband, to an endless round of
entertainments that were anything but entertaining. Her mother, the Countess of
Hastings, was fast at work drawing up lists of eligible gentlemen for her to
marry. Even her brother, Henry, her ally in all things, did not understand her
desire to remain unmarried. Only Beatrice seemed to understand, to appreciate
the nightmare her marriage had been. Beatrice, her free-spirited half-sister,
her best friend, her confidant. Beatrice agreed with her, believed her when she
said she would happily remain a widow for the remainder of her life.
    “Olivia.”
    She turned to find Jack standing in the open doorway, one
hand resting on the knob, the other restlessly rubbing his thigh. He looked
wonderful, casual and slightly mussed, in one of Tom’s hand-knitted jerseys, a
bright blue that matched his eyes, and buff trousers. On his feet he wore a
pair of green knit slippers.
    “Come in,” she said and she couldn’t help the smile or the
laugh that accompanied her words. “It’s safe. I won’t bite.” She waited for him
to step forward before continuing, “I make no promises in regards to wet
mittens.”
    Jack chuckled as he came to stand behind her, his hands on
her shoulders. It was the most natural thing in the world for her to lean her
head back against his hard chest, to rub her head against the warm wool until
electricity tingled along her scalp.
    “What was that about, Livy?” he asked, his voice gentle.
    She continued to smooth Charlie’s curls, to twist them
around her fingertips. “I’m sorry I lost my temper.”
    “It’s a formidable temper,” he whispered. His hands were
massaging her shoulders, her neck, the pressure firm but not hard. Olivia
moaned at the exquisite relief.
    “I don’t unleash it often.”
    “I would guess only when it comes to your children.”
    “You are very wise,” she praised.
    “Not so wise,” he countered. “A truly wise man would not
have proposed to a lady in such a manner.”
    “You did not propose,” Olivia said quickly. “And you must
not.”
    “Mustn’t I?” he asked.
    Charlie murmured in his sleep and rolled away from his
mother’s hand. Olivia rose and turned to face Jack. He looked confused and
altogether beautiful. She held out her hand to him and led him across the hall
and into her room. She perched on the window seat, patted the yellow-and-white
striped cushion beside her.
    He sat next to her and Olivia turned to face him, pulling
her feet up on the seat beside her.
    “Olivia, you spoke of Fanny having choices,” he said. “You
have choices, as well. This time you can choose your husband rather than
allowing your mother to choose him for you.”
    “But Mother did not choose my husband,” Olivia replied.