Widowed by the Battle of Waterloo, the ladies of Lyttlefield Park are reentering London society, where they’ll learn how to live—and love—again…
Of all the widows of Lyttlefield Park, Elizabeth Easton seems least likely to remarry. Though many gentlemen would love to get to know the charming Mrs. Easton better, she is devoted to the memory of her late husband. Which is why she’s so shocked to be overtaken by passion during a harvest festival, succumbing to an unforgettable interlude with the handsome Lord Brack . . .
After enduring years of war, Jemmy, Lord Brack, plans to defer matrimony in favor of carefree pleasure. But who could resist a lifetime with Elizabeth Easton, a woman as marvelously sensual as she is sweet? Yet despite their mutual desire, she refuses to consider his proposal. With scandal looming, and their families bitterly opposed to the match, Jemmy must find a way to convince Elizabeth to risk her wary heart on him—and turn one infamous night into forever . . .
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An excerpt from Wedding the Widow by Jenna Jaxon
Village of Wrotham, Kent, England
October 1816
“Here you go, Mrs. Easton.” James, Lord Brack, handed her a pint glass of Wrotham ale.
“Thank you, my lord.” Shivers of delight coursed through Elizabeth Easton as she accepted the dripping libation and took a long sip, cool and nutty with a pleasant bite. She’d initially encountered the brew this past summer during her friend Charlotte’s first house party, at the insistence of her neighbor, Lord Wrotham. Even though ladies weren’t supposed to drink it, she’d enjoyed it, and Lord Brack had remembered.
This weekend party had held more pleasurable sensation for her than she’d known since she’d lost her husband over a year before. Much of it because of the Harvest Festival, here in the village of Wrotham. Some of it was sparked by her best friend’s announcement an hour ago that she and Lord Wrotham were to marry before the New Year.
The bulk of it, she suspected, however, came from the handsome young man dancing attendance on her, whose arm she now clasped. Lord Brack, or Jemmy, as his sister Georgina called him, had escorted her about the county festival all day, seemingly to their mutual satisfaction. They had enjoyed shopping among stalls—he’d insisted on buying her one of the sweet little dolls made of stalks of wheat—had a delicious tea, and laughed themselves giddy at the antics of the participants during the various games. With their sizable party, he could easily have changed partners several times during the festivities. Lord Brack, however, had remained at Elizabeth’s side all day long. Quite flattering for a widow of six and twenty.
Now they were enjoying a quick pint of ale before the final and, as some had said, most important activity of the day: the crowning of the Corn Maiden.
She wrinkled her nose at the sharp smell of hops. “I wonder why ladies are not supposed to drink ale. Gentlemen should not be allowed to have all the fun.”
“We cannot give up all of our best secret pleasures, Mrs. Easton.” Lord Brack’s sky-blue eyes crinkled as he grinned. He was certainly one of the best-natured gentlemen of her acquaintance.
They strolled away from Mr. Micklefield’s temporary stall toward the center of the field where the games had been played earlier. Even though she’d been sensible and worn her sturdy half boots, the newly mown stubble made her wobble. She clutched Lord Brack’s strong arm tighter, the startling warmth of him seeping through his green superfine coat.
“Careful there, Mrs. Easton. We don’t want you to come to grief.”
Lord, don’t let her spill the ale on either one of them.
Lord Brack led them to the edge of the circle that had formed around the hulking Michael Thorne, the Harvest Lord, and four young women—local girls vying for the honor of being crowned Wrotham’s Corn Maiden.
“They do look pretty,” Elizabeth said, motioning to the figures obviously decked out in their finest, most colorful garb, their hair unbound, flowing around their shoulders and spilling over their breasts.
“Yes, they are a bevy of country beauties, aren’t they? Mr. Thorne’s going to have a difficult time choosing his Corn Maiden.” Lord Brack’s eyes sparkled as he sipped more ale. “The three not chosen will be quite disappointed, I fear. Michael Thorne’s a very handsome lad.”
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About Jenna Jaxon
Jenna Jaxon is the author of The House of Pleasure House series, as well as the historical romance trilogy Time Enough to Love. She lives in Virginia with her family and a small menagerie of pets. When not reading or writing, she indulges her passion for the theatre, working with local theatres as a director. Visit her at jennajaxon.wordpress.com.
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