''Just now and then,'' he lied. ''We can make a toast, to widows everywhere and their freedom.''
When Reverend Smith finally got up to leave, he was quite unsteady on his feet. Adele looked at the sherry bottle; it was more than half empty. When Emily waved goodbye, Adele went to her bedroom and left the servants to clean the mess. Why do funerals always degenerate into drink, she wondered. She ran the bell for her ladies maid and waited. As she sat on the bed, she told herself again, she wanted to be free, no second man.
*****
''Ladies, more champagne, I think.'' Nicholas Geraghty let go of another cork. As it shot off to the ceiling, he put the bottle to his mouth and gulped the mass of white bubbles that exploded from it. The ladies giggled and applauded as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful.
Nicholas, the heir to the Earldom of Borrowby, liked women. There was nothing he or anybody else could do about it. And women liked him, so much in fact, that he was never short of a pretty face to talk to, flirt with, or worse. Twenty-eight, and still not married, he was the talk of society. He thought it was his looks that did it, but he was wrong. Although very handsome, women found he had more qualities than just his looks. He was a nonconformist, something different in a sea of social similarity. He wore different clothes, told people what he thought and never backed down from an argument or a fight.
Nicholas lived in a wing of Lotherton Hall, a stately home which had been in the family for three hundred years. His father was disappointed in him, calling him lazy, and a womanizer. He was rich enough not to have to work, and didn't. But what nobody knew, was that he donated a lot of money to the local orphanage. As a boy, he'd been playing in a wood on the boundaries of their three thousand acre estate and seen a group of four young boys playing on the other side of the wall. He'd talked to them and was horrified to learn that they were orphans. He was, even more, horrified to learn that they received regular beatings, and the only prospects they had, was a life of near slavery in the local tin mine. When he was older, he'd arranged for all of those boys to have jobs on one of the farms his father owned. At least, they'd be outside in the fresh air, he'd thought. One of them was now a farm manager, with a family and two lovely girls. The other three had all married local women and were great father's and husbands.
Lady Emily, Lady Georgina, and Lady Charlotte were all just nineteen and the latest in a wave of women who fancied their chances at being Lady Gerathy. He jumped back onto the sofa, champagne in hand, landing between the three beauties. Each of them looked at him affectionately, as they held out their empty glasses to be charged.
''Why have you never married?'' Emily asked, her eyes fluttering at him.
''I enjoy my life as it is. Look, today I have the pleasure of the company of three beautiful women. I couldn't do that if I was married.'' Nicolas leaned to Emily and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed and giggled. The other two glared at her.
''But you should marry before you become even older,'' Charlotte added.
''I am still young, and I have time. Why marry when I'm having so much fun.''
''But what about an heir,'' Georgina asked, genuinely concerned for him.
''Ah, well, that may be a reason to marry. The only one as far as I can see. I suppose one day I will be forced into it.'' His eyes looked momentarily sad. ''Now, which one of you lovely ladies would like to accompany me to my chamber?'' he asked unashamedly.
All three gasped. A thought too dangerous to contemplate, yet enticing, appealing, and perhaps the only way to achieve their goal.
As Lady Emily and Lady Charlotte descended the sandstone staircase to their carriages, they looked up at the first floor and wondered what was happening behind the curtains. Lady Georgina, the most beautiful of the three, had been the first to nod at Nicholas' proposal. In an instant, she'd found herself upstairs with her gown around her ankles and Nicholas lying between her wide open legs.
*****
''But how can that be true?'' Adele said.
The man sitting opposite her was large and intimidating. A fighter and a small time criminal. When he'd arrived at the house, the butler had wanted to call the police, but Adele had insisted on seeing him. He'd made such a fuss, and she didn't want the man to strike Arthur. When he'd taken off his cap, she'd gasped at his shaven head. Until then, he'd looked half reasonable, but totally bald he looked evil.
''I'm telling you it's true. Your husband had a lucky escape.''
''What do you mean lucky? How is dying, lucky?''
''If you knew the people I do, then you would think him lucky to have died rather than fall into their hands.''