The Wanton Widow - A Regency Novella - Plot & Excerpts
The cooks delivered the first course, a thick stew. Edward tried to ignore his friend's question; he just stared into the broth. “Uh... Miss Abrahms?” “You aren't fooling me with your mock oblivion,” Philip said with a chuckle. “There is only one Miss Abrahms who matters in your world.” “Sh-she...” Edward's voice trailed off for a moment. His eyes were drawn to Wilomena, who was blowing on a spoonful of soup in an attempt to cool it. “I saw her two days ago. At a ball.” “Oh? And did you have any success?” Philip asked. “Have you swept her off her feet? Are you giving her a proper wooing?” Grinning, he glanced at Willow, but she looked lost. “W-we... spoke,” Edward said. “We danced, and I tr-tread all over her feet.” “Ouch. The poor girl.” Philip shoved a heaping spoonful of potato and beef into his mouth. “And, a-as you know, I cannot string together a simple thought. Whatever you m-might think, m-my stutter is hardly en-endearing. I'm sure it does nothing to impress Miss Abrahms.”
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