Page 38 of A Countess of Convenience

Making it difficult for him to think of anything other than kissing her again. “That is why you asked Blanchard about your chances as a married woman, isn’t it?”

“Well, yes.” Her cheeks had grown quite pink, which gave her a lovely natural look. “I had to know if he thought it would truly make a difference.”

“And you would be willing to marry me to regain the guardianship of Anna? I know we discussed this before, but at the time it seemed at best a remote possibility. Now I believe we are several steps closer to implementing it. Would you agree?” He’d come at last to the conclusion that marrying Judith, even if she didn’t love him, was preferable to living without her. A decision that had only grown stronger after the other night.

“I would.” Her voice carried a conviction he found terrifying and exhilarating. “I am all but convinced Mr. Blanchard believes if I were married, I would stand a much better chance of the court ruling in my favor.”

“And you would agree to do that?” He wanted to make certain she understood. “Even though we would be married forever after? No matter how the court ruled.”

Judith stared directly into his eyes and, without blinking, said, “Yes, John. If that was your proposal, I accept.”

“Well, that must’ve been one devilishly good kiss.”

“John!” She batted at his arm then grinned at him. “Fishing for a compliment? Then yes,” her voice became low and sultry, “your kiss was every bit as good as I had imagined.”

“So was yours.” He lifted her hand and placed a kiss on her palm.

She hissed but didn’t pull her hand away.

“So much so that I have been hard put to think about much of anything else. But then I knew my mind before that night. And although you may have more affection or, more likely, lust for me now—”

“John!”

“I do not think we are at the point where this is the only recourse we have.” He chafed her hand, and she shivered. “Your parents still plan to come to London. Having them with you, showing you are a family together that will welcome Anna with open arms, may sway the court faster than our marriage, which will be seen as trumped up simply to make a family where none existed before.” He had no desire to make her feel trapped into this marriage. Nor did he want her to feel desperate if there was no need for desperation.

After a moment’s thought, Judith nodded. “You may be correct that we do not absolutely need to marry at the moment.”

Mentally, John heaved a sigh of relief. He still had time to woo her, to see if he could make her fall in love with him. If the marriage ever actually came to pass, he damn well didn’t want it to be out of convenience. Unless there was no other choice. “I am glad you agree, my dear. After the other night, I feared you may have wished for more,” he sure as hell had, “and would allow our physical intimacy to be the deciding factor. Because of Anna, we must think of all the possibilities before going forward with marriage.”

Sighing, Judith nodded and rose, as did John. “I think I must agree, for now, at least, that our marriage is not necessary.” Then she stared into his eyes, and he thrilled as she cupped his cheek. “However, know this, John. I know my mind as well as you.” She reached up and kissed him, setting his heart hammering despite the brevity of the caress. “And if I wish to marry you, you had best be prepared.”

Chapter 15

Rain pattered against the windowpane in the upstairs drawing room, sometimes in gusts, sometimes in sheets as Judith sipped hot tea and savored the toasty fire at the side of the elegant blue jacquard chaise. She was alone today, an unusual occurrence, but Kitty and John had been invited to tea by an elderly aunt and although they had asked her to come with them, she’d cried off. Yesterday had been so extremely emotional she needed some time to herself to wrap her head around Downing’s threats and her and John’s conversation in the alcove.

Unfortunately, the interview with Lord Downing had gone badly because she couldn’t keep her temper. Had Lady Downing been present, it might not have gotten so out of control. The man couldn’t stand to hear a word against Simon, unless it came from his own mouth. She’d known that for years. But to hear him make excuses for the man who’d hit her, caused her accident, and then been unfaithful to her had been more than she could stand. God knew she missed her daughter, but she could not have stayed silent a moment longer. She would see Anna again. John would make certain of it.

Judith poured another cup of the fragrant tea, added two small lumps of sugar, and stirred. Ever since yesterday, if she wasn’t agonizing about Anna, all she seemed to think about was John. In truth, ever since the night at The Sun, he hadn’t been far from her thoughts. Even now, she could call up the sight of him tearing his jacket off and her blood began to race. Had they only remained in that feverish state a few more minutes, they would have ended up sprawled in John’s bed, panting and sated. Feelings Judith hadn’t experienced in a number of years.

Simon had lost interest in her almost two years before, once it seemed she would bear no more children. When they resided in the country, he’d come to her to spend his seed only when he’d not been able to find a willing village wench. After what Dora had told her, she suspected the maid didn’t even have to be willing. All the while, she’d remained faithful to him, becoming more and more frustrated with her husband’s neglect.

Now the opportunity had presented itself to replace her adulterous husband with a man who would devote himself to her and, God willing, her daughter, for the rest of her life. Why had she not had the good sense to marry John before this?

Glancing down, she stared into the teacup she had continued to stir. She removed the spoon and sipped. Cool. Undrinkable. Setting the cup down, she shook herself and reached for a tea sandwich. Cook’s watercress and dill were the best. She bit into the finger sandwich, only to discover herself not very hungry after all. Her appetite had waned recently, especially whenever she thought about John.

When had she not thought about him? He seemed to consume her every waking moment, if not in her mind then in person. And yesterday’s conversation in the garden had only made her situation clearer. She wanted to marry John. The problem was, she feared she didn’t want him for the right reasons.

His ability to provide a home and perhaps help her regain custody of Anna were primary considerations, ones John would likely agree were sensible should the need for marriage arise. The other reason she wished to marry him, loath though she was to admit it, was simple lust. He’d seen that easily yesterday and the night at the inn. But she had truly come to crave any physical contact with him. A touch of his hand sent chills down her back. Taking his arm heated her as though he were a roaring fire. And when they kissed…

She tossed the half-eaten sandwich onto the plate and fanned her face. John’s kisses touched her from her lips to her toes, the latter curling the night they were in the inn’s chamber. Just thinking about that kiss made her breathless. And she wanted more. Every day since, she’d thought of what they might have done together in that bed. Dreamed about it. Lusted after it. She could scarcely look at John without imagining them tangled in the sheets. As a result of her imaginings, her face heated as soon as he entered a room.

As John seemed more than willing to marry her, she could almost persuade herself, then, that it would be perfectly acceptable for them to wed. If only she loved him.

Frustrated with herself, Judith rose and stalked to the window, hoping the lashing rain could wash away her turmoil. She could be a good wife to John, of that she was sure, and there were other considerations that made their marriage an advantageous one for them both. Had their parents seen fit to match make when they were children, they would likely have been happily married these past eight years. The problem was she knew the one thing John wanted wasn’t something she could give him. Regard, esteem, affection, faithfulness, she could offer all of these with a whole heart, but she could not offer him love save in friendship. Not the passionate love he desired more than anything.

It was true that love changed. Her love for Simon surely had. It had died. She’d been madly in love with him when she’d agreed to be his wife, but the years of physical abuse at his hands, the shouting matches, the petty disagreements between them had robbed her of the love she’d felt for him in the beginning. When she’d first heard of his death, the shock and loss had been for the man she’d loved a lifetime ago, not for the dissipated man who’d been her unfaithful husband.

Could love grow as well as die? Might she learn to love John as a wife? As she’d loved Simon? Did she have the right to gamble that her feelings for him would deepen when, if they did not, they would be caught in the very thing he sought to avoid—a marriage of convenience?