Page 10 of A Countess of Convenience

Their longstanding friendship—which he’d seen as a prelude to passion—had not, in the end, been compelling enough for her to see him as anything other than friend. When she’d met rake and general ne’er-do-well, Simon Harper, the allure of his wicked ways had won her over almost immediately. He’d had to stand by and watched her throw herself away on a man who might very well have betrayed her.

Duels were fought for a variety of reasons, but usually they revolved around the dishonor of a woman. Had Harper been defending Judith’s honor or had he been caught dishonoring another woman? It mattered little, he supposed, as the man was dead now. And once Judith had sufficiently recovered from his loss, he intended to put forth his suit again. He might be a fool, but he could not help himself. He’d been able to think of nothing else since he’d heard the news of Harper’s demise. Now all he had to do was wait, visit her as frequently as was allowed, and hope he could make her see, as he had not been able to do before, that he would be the perfect husband for her.

Chapter 3

Afternoon sunshine streamed into the little marble folly that sat at the end of the garden behind Ruecroft Manor, where Judith had persuaded her mother to have afternoon tea served. A brisk wind buffeted her, Mamma, and Dora from time to time, but the folly’s walls were cleverly set with drapes that could be pulled on the sides, leaving the front open. Thus one could enjoy the vista afforded by the garden even when the weather was inclement.

“Was there a folly where you could have your tea or a picnic at Harper’s Grange, my dear?” Mamma removed the warming cloths from the tea pot and poured the fragrant tea.

“If there was one, I never heard of it.” Judith added sugar and a little milk. “I am still fuzzy-headed about some things at the Grange.” She and Simon had spent little time together outside the confines of the main house other than a few infrequent rides on horseback. She and Dora had done much more—visited tenant families and the villagers and taken walks in the small garden and larger woods encircling the estate. But there’d been no visiting neighboring estates. She’d never wondered why when she lived there, but her enforced idleness the past days had given her time to ponder her confinement at the Grange.

“No, Mrs. Welbourne,” Dora spoke up as she dropped a lump of sugar into her cup. “At one time, my father thought he might build one at the fishpond.” Plop. Another lump landed in Dora’s tea. “But in the end, he thought better of the expense.” A third lump of sugar sank into the dark, amber-colored tea. “I do like your folly here, Mrs. Welbourne. It’s so peaceful. My home was never that. Well, not until recently.”

“You have not heard from your father yet, have you, Dora?” Judith wanted to avoid any mention of why Harper’s Grange was quieter now.

“No, but he’s hardly had time to sit down and read my letter, I fear.” Dora sipped her tea and smiled. “This is so lovely.” She gazed around the marble walls and columns. “I do wish I could remain here with you.”

“Would it help if I wrote to your father, Dora?” Mamma looked at the girl eagerly. “It will be no trouble.”

But Dora shook her head before Mamma stopped speaking. “No, Mrs. Welbourne. I fear it wouldn’t. My father is stubborn, as Judith will tell you. He’s most unlikely to change his mind. And now he has other things on his mind as well.” She shot a look at Judith then looked away. “But perhaps I will not have to leave so soon.” Another look at Judith, but a sly crinkle about her eyes said she was thinking of something else entirely now. “I would like to see how long it takes Lord Farringdon to pronounce you completely cured.”

Judith sputtered her tea back into the cup. Mostly into the cup.

Mamma smothered a smile. “He has been very attentive to you, Judith.”

“He is a doctor, Mamma. As I recall, they take some type of oath requiring them to help their patients.” Mopping the tea from her bodice with her napkin, Judith kept her gaze cast downward. Of course, both Dora and Mamma would notice the doctor’s frequent visits and infer some interest on Lord Farringdon’s part. She’d wondered about it as well.

“He has called here every day since you awakened, my dear.” Dora’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a cream cake. “If you were not in mourning, I believe he’d be asking Mr. Welbourne for permission to court you.” She paused, cake in hand. “Does a widow need permission for someone to court her?”

“I have no idea, and I don’t want to know.” Scowling at her sister-in-law until her face hurt, Judith picked up her cup and sipped. Cold and unpalatable. She set it down in its saucer with a definite click. “I need another cup, Mamma. While you and Dora have been making a May game of me, it has grown quite undrinkable.”

Dora leaned closer to her. “Do you not think he is interested in more than your condition, Judith?”

“I…” Judith paused, not wanting to admit anything, not even to Dora. “I think Lord Farringdon is interested in my case because it is unusual. He said so himself just the other day. Most people with injuries like mine died swiftly. And many of those who had the procedure he performed died as well. As I am still alive, I would say he sees me as an anomaly.” She picked up the fresh cup of tea. “That is why he has come to see me so frequently.” That should keep Dora satisfied, for a while at least. Judith took a sip.

“I suppose so.” Dora nibbled her cake. “Although that does not explain in the least why you allow him to call you by your first name.”

The battle to keep the tea in her mouth raged in Judith for several seconds before she was able to swallow it without drowning herself in the process.

“You have only known the gentleman little more than a week.” Mamma patted her back as Judith fought for air and finally coughed into her sodden napkin.

“And he lingers after his official visit, often taking tea with us.” Dora raised her eyebrows. “Or you.”

Her breathing settled at last, Judith wiped her streaming eyes and gave a watery sigh. She might as well confess. “Very well. Yes, I do believe Lord Farringdon may be interested in me as more than a patient.” She’d never truly admitted that, even to herself. Not entirely.

“What about your feelings, my dear?” Mamma’s eyes, focused on Judith’s face like a hawk on a mouse, were wide and excited. “Do you have any regard for him beyond the professional?”

That was the tricky part. For Judith had experienced a flutter of interest in the good doctor. Not only had he jerked her back from certain death, but he was intelligent and witty, with a determined nature that matched her own, in her estimation. They seemed well-matched in that regard, as she and Simon had not been.

She’d not wanted to think of her late husband overmuch. Some wounds simply needed to be let alone to heal. However, if she were to compare the two men, she would find Simon sorely lacking in many ways. She’d been young, barely eighteen, when she’d made her come out and met Mr. Harper, who’d seemed so dashing, so exciting after life in the dull country. It wasn’t until after their whirlwind courtship and marriage—scarcely three weeks from their meeting until their marriage—that he’d revealed his true character, bit by bit.

The dashing Simon who’d urged her to be reckless alongside him gave way to a bully who tolerated her high spirits as long as they did not counter his wants and desires. Her husband’s insatiable appetite for bedroom pleasures had been exciting and fun, even scandalous, early in their marriage. However, as the years passed, he’d grown bored with her and made certain she knew it. Though he’d not boasted to her of his infidelities, the servants’ whispers had dispelled any illusions she’d had of him being faithful to her. Even his courteous attentions before their marriage had given way quickly to physical violence. His blow to her face in November had not been the first, but fortunately the last.

After Anna was born, she’d tried to accept his waning affections, and made her own life at Harper’s Grange—with Dora’s help, once she was old enough to be a companion to her. Luckily, her husband’s early encouragement of bold behavior had fostered a sense of independence in her that she’d needed in the oppressive air of her father-in-law’s house.

Now, her sensibilities warred within her, grief for the loss of the Simon she’d once loved and relief at her escape from the distant, cruel man he’d become.

Surprisingly, then, she was contemplating marriage to Lord Farringdon—there was no use denying it to herself anymore; she had thought about it ever since she’d asked him to use her first name. But was she once again moving too fast into a connection she might come to regret? Was this warm feeling simply gratitude because he’d saved her life? At least she might gain advice from Mamma and Dora. “Yes, I believe I do.”