Page 15 of A Countess of Convenience

John had been inconsolable. Sarah had been his friend, his best companion, his comforter in times of trouble, as he was hers. The death of their child, after so many months of hoping and praying, had been an insufferable blow, but they could have recovered. They could have tried again after a suitable span of time. But the knowledge that she had failed him once again had been too much for his wife. What little strength she had left she’d spent begging his forgiveness instead of fighting the childbed fever that beset her almost immediately and ended her life.

Giving up on sleep for the moment, he padded to the sideboard, at home in the semi-darkness created by a sliver of moon poking around the drawn curtains. He grabbed a glass and poured slowly, a large splash of his favorite cognac. On nights like these it was his only comfort.

He had allowed himself the luxury of six months of grief, when he ate little, saw no one, did nothing save mourn his wife and son and take flowers to their grave. The knowledge, however, that he was well into his thirties and had yet to put an heir into his nursery had made him lay aside his grief as best he could and return to the marriage mart in hopes of finding another wife. Cruel to do so, yet he had no choice. He tried to think that Sarah would not have minded such perfidy because she understood the necessity of carrying on the Donningham line. She might even have given him her blessing. At least he liked to think so.

But a suitable bride had eluded him all through the autumnal hunts and Christmas parties. The winter in Town produced few daughters of the aristocracy he hadn’t already met and ruled out. He’d decided that he would not, could not take a woman to wife only to get his heir. There must be some connection between them, as there had been between him and Sarah, some regard that might turn into affection later in life. So he had come home to Donningham in February, to wait for the Season that would begin in April and the new crop of hopeful young ladies.

And then he’d heard Judith Harper had returned home.

John finished the brandy at a gulp and set the glass back on the polished wood. He’d told himself he thought nothing of it, save renewing the old acquaintance. Yet his first sight of her had persuaded him otherwise. She’d only grown more beautiful with the passage of time. Her black hair and porcelain skin, the straightforward look from those dark eyes that could cut swifter than any sword. The Judith of old, yet somehow changed for the better.

The shock of her widowhood had stunned him but opened so many wonderful possibilities he could scarcely bear to think about them. Of course, for the time being, she would only want someone she could rely on for solace and companionship. Today’s revelation about Judith’s daughter had been devastating for her, but at least he’d been there for her. She’d needed a strong shoulder to lean on, which he’d been happy to provide. When he’d escorted her into the house, she’d clung to him in the most touching way, as though she trusted him above all others to help her in this time of adversity. That was as it should be. To have borne so much tragedy in such a short span, Judith deserved the devotion he would gladly give her. And if he were very lucky, it might lead them into a deepening of their friendship.

Crawling back into the cold bed, John couldn’t help shivering. He pulled the covers over himself and cast a longing glance at the empty place beside him. He wanted a wife in his bed to warm it and his heart with the love and affection he had long been without. And if he could arrange for that wife to be Judith Harper, he would consider that God had finally looked down on him and smiled.

Chapter 5

Next morning, despite entreaties from her mother and Dora, Judith had resumed her packing. She must leave immediately for Wiltshire to remove Anna from Lord and Lady Downing’s influence as soon as she possibly could. She leaned against the bed as a sudden wave of fatigue washed through her. Her knees wobbled, and she dropped her best black bodice on the bed and made it to the chair just as her legs gave out. Try as she might to deny it, she was not as strong as she let on to everyone else. Which would make the journey to come even more difficult to accomplish, though she was determined to do so. No one would stop her from going to get her daughter.

She’d just caught her breath when Larkin entered the room.

“Lord Farringdon has arrived, Mrs. Harper.”

Well, that was only to be expected. Punctual as clockwork, the man had arrived at the same time each morning for the past ten days. “Thank you, Larkin. Tell him I’ll be down shortly.”

After the maid had gone, Judith rose slowly and crept to her toilette table. She was pale, but then so was every other lady of society. Best then make herself look as fashionable as possible. Taking her pot of rouge, she hastily rubbed pink circles onto her cheeks, giving her the pleasing look of a China doll. She patted her hair into place with a little pomatum and rose to go down.

By the time she reached the parlor where she always met with Miles, her weakness was fading, although it would likely return. She’d experienced the same faintness off and on, but always tried to ignore it when she could and hide it when she couldn’t. She must give no one further excuse to prevent her from leaving.

“Good morning, Miles.” Smiling broadly, Judith strode quickly into the pleasant room.

“Good morning, Judith.” Handsomely attired in a deep burgundy suit, trimmed with gold and embroidered flowers along the front edges, Miles returned her smile and gestured for her to sit on the chaise. He took her hand in both of his. “How are you feeling?”

“I am in fine fettle.” She tried to slow her breathing, but her swift entrance had left her winded.

He peered closer at her. “Your cheeks are flushed beneath your rouge, my dear. And there is perspiration on your brow.”

“Not wanting to keep you waiting, I simply came downstairs rather quickly. I shall be perfectly fine in no time.” At least, she prayed that would be true.

He released her hand and pressed on her head, near where he had operated.

“Ouch.” The area continued to be sore.

“I’m so sorry. It’s still tender there?”

“Yes, a little.” Her sight began to waver, and she shut her eyes. That helped sometimes.

The next thing she knew she was lying on the chaise staring up at Miles, who was dabbing her cheeks and forehead with a dampened handkerchief. “Judith? You swooned.” His brows had dipped down almost to his nose. “We need to get you back to your bed, where you are to stay for a week. You have been up and doing far too much. Your body needs to heal.” He grasped her hand and helped her into a sitting position.

Breathing slowly, Judith prayed she would not faint again. “I must go get Anna, Miles.”

“You would not be able to journey as far as the village before collapsing.” He pulled up a chair so that he sat before her. “I understand that you wish to go to your child, but it will do her no good if she loses her mother in the process. You must take care of yourself now so you will be in a fit state to take care of Anna when you are able to travel to her.”

She gazed into his face, trying to discover how serious he was. The stern set of his mouth, the unflinching stare of his deep blue eyes said she would have no choice.

“Do you fear for your daughter’s life?”

She jerked her head up. “No. From what Dora has said, I have no reason to believe Anna’s grandparents mean her any physical harm.” Indeed, it sounded quite the contrary.