The Wary Widow by Jerrica Knight-Catania Page A

Michael accompanied the princess, though he did not look thrilled to do so. Lizzie couldn’t blame him. It was hot, and she was certain Miss Smythe had not been his first choice of search partners.
    “Move over, Elizabeth, before the others see us.” The princess sat on the ground next to her and shimmied her hips to move into position. “Come, Lord Michael. You must get as close to me as you possibly can.”
    Lizzie suppressed a grin. Michael looked positively miserable, but he did as she asked, always the perfect gentleman.
    Soon, others piled into the small space with them. One after another the party guests arrived, cramming themselves against one another.
    “Miss Smythe , I say, could we not have played inside?” Charles Oster inquired. “It’s hot as blazes out here.”
    Lizzie couldn’t have agreed more. At the back of the party, smashed between a bush and the princess, with her overpowering Chinese perfume, trickles of sweat had already started making their way down her back. But she barely noticed them, because she was far too distraught that Andrew had not shown his face yet. She had hoped for him to arrive first, as the game presented the perfect opportunity for a stolen kiss. A kiss they’d yet to share, regardless of their betrothal.
    She shrugged off the idea. Nothing said he would have kissed her anyhow. He’d had plenty of opportunities in the past, and he hadn't even bothered to ask. Lord Edgmond on the other hand had indulged her quite willingly when she’d asked.
    “Michael, wherever is that brother of yours?” Lizzie finally asked.
    It had been at least a quarter of an hour since the party had broken up for the search, and now they’d all been crammed together for more than five minutes. Surely Andrew wasn’t so dense that he couldn’t find sixteen people in a hedgerow.
    Michael twisted slightly to look at her, his face glistening with sweat. “I haven’t the foggiest, Lady Elizabeth. Perhaps your cousin is feeling unwell and he chose to stay behind with her.”
    Cousin? Oh, dear, what if Chloe was ill? Now she was truly starting to worry.
    “All right, everyone out, please!” she called to the front of the pack.
    Miss Smythe began to argue that not everyone had arrived yet, but Lizzie silenced her. “We’ll all die of heat exhaustion, Miss Smythe , if we wait. Now, please, let me out of here!”
    ***
    Andrew’s mouth practically watered as he waited for Chloe to answer him. God, what a fool he was making of himself. He’d never thrown himself at a woman. Inevitably, they came to him with batting eyelashes or indecorous proposals. Many a debutante had begged—just as he did now—for a kiss.
    Now he understood the ulterior motive. Because as he stood there in front of Chloe, he couldn’t help but hope that that one kiss might turn into something more.
    But before he could even consider what that more might be, she shoved at his chest and started back down the path, toward the house.
    Imbecile! How could he have even thought of asking such a thing of her? Then the panic set in. Would she feel compelled to tell Elizabeth? Oh, God, he should have thought this through with his head and not his prick. But seeing her in that gauzy white gown had sprung feelings he’d never felt with his betrothed.
    Damn it, he had to stop her from telling Elizabeth. He stalked after her, grabbing her by the wrist and pulling her back to him.
    “Andrew, please, stop,” she begged, and he saw the hurt in her eyes.
    The confliction of wanting him and knowing she couldn’t have him. But she could, if she would only listen.
    “Please, just indulge me, Chloe.” He held her about the waist and squeezed her tighter to him. “No one need ever know.”
    And then her hand struck his face, leaving a hot sting in its wake. Clearly, he’d gone too far. Feeling like a complete cad, he released her and took a step backwards. Chloe’s face was red, despite the fact he was the one whohad been hit. Her