Wanton Woman

“I’d say Lady Hargrove’s picnic was an unmitigated success! All of the most influential peers have made time to journey from London for this event. It’s quite a sign with Lord Hargrove’s disgraceful behavior. Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Ash?”

Abigail Moorend, Countess of Ash, nodded politely. Her mind was not on the idle gossip of the day, no matter how scandalous it had been for Hargrove’s mistress to appear with him at the theater a month earlier. She sipped her tea, enjoying Lady Hargrove’s hospitality, and smiled at her companions as they prattled on about this tidbit of scandal and that whiff of impropriety. No, she wasn’t focused on the mundane goings-on, and if anyone had truly paid attention to the young widow, they would have noticed her eyes.

She focused on Jonathon, Earl of Braden. He stood almost a full head taller than the rest of the men in the field as they shot off their arrows in a friendly game of archery. The day was warm, and the men had taken off their coats to better aim. Abby let her eyes linger on his frame.

The younger women gathered round the field cheering. Younger—they weren’t much younger than she. No one ever noticed. She was Lady Ash, widow of the great Albert Moorend, Earl of Ash, one of Parliament’s most esteemed and influential members. She was mother to the heir, who was 3, and matriarch of the family at 25. The expectation was for her to relish her motherhood and retire to a life of garden parties and teas.

Everyone spoke to her like a dowager empress. The untainted Lady Ash. If she could smash the cup she held onto the slate stones under her feet and scream her frustration, she would have. She adored her child, but she needed more. Abby couldn’t stand the thought of never again feeling a man’s touch.