Widow of Winslow and Peak

Chapter 1

Lady Wortham calls me the Widow of Winslow and Peak.

Never to my face, only in hushed tones, and always with conspiring eyes peering over the rim of a pretty lace fan.

"I heard she killed Mr. Winslow on their wedding night."

To her credit, this is partially true.

Mr. Thomas Winslow was, indeed, my first husband, and the poor man did, indeed, die on our wedding night.

"You know what they say about orphans. There is always something not quite right about girls who grow up without a proper family."

At present, I am attending a garden party at Lord and Lady Hawthorne's estate, Crestley Hall. The sun is shining. Flowers are in bloom. A gentle breeze is blowing. A game of polo is in play. Guests are smiling, laughing, frolicking. It is all very lovely and picturesque.

But I am not at ease.

A mere three feet away from where I stand, Lady Wortham is leading her circle of companions in another rousing round of chatter and mischief.

These females are not the kind of souls who shy away from sharing their innermost sentiments on matters that have little or nothing to do with them. They and I exist within the same social stratosphere. We often attend the same social gatherings, but—

They are not my friends.

I know this, I know this—

This is why I keep my face impassive as Lady Wortham prattles on. This is why my retorts catch in my throat before they fly from my tongue. Like a she-tortoise retracting to her shell before mightier predators, I, too, must become deaf, dumb, and mute as a rock if I am to persevere in the presence of vipers.

"I heard the wicked creature went on to pursue Colonel Peak before she finished mourning poor Mr. Winslow."

Colonel Michael Peak was my second husband.

"How shameless!"

I grit my teeth and cling to my mantra—I am a rock, I am a rock, I am a rock...

"Scandalous, too!"

I suppose I am rather scandalous.

My first marriage was never consummated.

Mr. Winslow had been nearly thirty years my senior. I was seventeen when we married. I had been forced to marry him because of—

Nevermind. It does not matter. Not anymore.

At any rate, poor Mr. Winslow was about to slip the tip of his manhood inside me when he passed.

I entered my second marriage—a virgin.

"Why would the Colonel want someone like her?"

Why does she care?

As long as I know why Michael married me, no one else needs to know his secret.

Our marriage was not a love match, but we ended up becoming a good match. Michael and I grew to be friends. He cared for me, and I cared for him.

"Your guess is as good as mine. We all know why she wanted him, though."

In truth, I enjoyed being Michael's wife. We spent most of our time apart. He was on tour with his regiment in South Africa for most of our marriage while I remained in England. This arrangement had suited us well.

"I gather it is because soldiers tend to die young. She was eyeing his fortune."

This is also partially true—a soldier's occupation tends to be more hazardous than others.