The Waltzing Widow by Gayle Buck Read Free Book Online

this wonderful old coach. At least we shall until I can arrange to procure a landau. Good heavens, there are actually holes in the seat leather!'’ And so Lady Mary and Abigail set off on the first of their morning calls, which was to a Lady Cecily Wilson-Jones.
    * * * *
    That morning Lady Cecily was in to visitors. Shortly after sending in their letters, Lady Mary and Abigail were shown into the drawing room. Lady Cecily reclined on a settee and she looked up with friendly curiosity at the entrance of her unknown callers. She saw a well-dressed woman endowed with a fine pair of frank gray eyes and attractive features and neat figure. There was something so pleasant and easy about the woman's smile that Lady Cecily took an immediate liking to her. The lady was followed by a younger female who was a striking porcelain-blond beauty.
    Lady Cecily assumed that the stunning young miss was a cousin or niece, and she held out her hand to the older woman, whom she had guessed at once to be Lady Mary Spence, if from nothing more than her carriage. “I am most happy to make your acquaintance, Lady Mary. Pray do forgive me for not rising to greet you. My physician has decreed that I must rest in a reclining position at least twice each day, and you have caught me during my morning habit."
    Lady Mary regarded her hostess with interest. Lady Cecily was a pretty brunette with laughing brown eyes, a rosy complexion, and in a most obvious condition. “I do not regard it in the least, Lady Cecily. I well remember how fatigued one may become, which happened particularly with my daughter, Abigail. She was a lively infant and her character has not changed since, to any great degree,” Lady Mary said with a teasing glance toward her daughter.
    Abigail blushed, slightly embarrassed. “Really, Mama!” she said with a small laugh.
    Lady Cecily regarded her two visitors in the greatest astonishment. “Why, I assumed that Miss Spence was your niece, Lady Mary! I did not credit you to be much older than I am myself."
    "There you are, Mama,” Abigail said in some satisfaction. “Did I not tell you that it is ridiculous for someone as pretty as you to wear that monstrous matron's turban?"
    It was Lady Mary's turn to feel embarrassment. She said gently and reprovingly, “I hardly think that Lady Cecily is at all interested in such a mundane topic as my headgear, Abigail.''
    At once Abigail threw a glance in Lady Cecily's direction. She bit her lip in vexation, aware that she had committed a faux pas. She had so wanted to appear up to the mark and sophisticated upon these first morning calls, and already she had made herself appear childish.
    Lady Cecily noted with interest that Lady Mary's blush was vastly becoming, as was the daughter's subsequent confusion over her mother's mild reminder, and she decided that this pair of unknowns was just what she needed to put at bay the feeling of ennui that had seemed to hover over her so much the past few weeks. There was an intriguing frankness in their relationship that was quite out of the common way. “Pray do not scold, Lady Mary. Miss Spence is quite right. When one looks hardly older than one's own daughter, one should take advantage of such a kind stroke of fate,” Lady Cecily said, smiling.
    Soft color stole into Lady Mary's face yet again. She shook her head. “Thank you, my lady.'’ Unable to think of anything else to add, she threw a laughing glance at her daughter, who could not contain the flash of triumph that crossed her face.
    Lady Cecily saw that her guest was somewhat out of countenance and she gently turned the subject. They talked of England and of the electrifying news, which Lady Mary and Abigail had heard but that morning from their butler, that Napoleon Bonaparte had escaped from Elba and was even then making his way through France. “When I first heard it, I could not quite believe it true, and naturally I wondered whether I had made an error in bringing Abigail to Brussels