Page 11 of A Countess of Convenience

Dora squealed and clapped her hands. “I knew it. I told your mother three days ago that I believed you were coming to hold Lord Farringdon in high regard.” She leaned across the table and clasped Judith’s hand. “I will be so happy for you should it come to pass. You deserve happiness for the rest of your life, after—” Redness suffused Dora’s face as she halted abruptly.

“After the tender attentions of my first husband?” Judith twisted her cup around and around in its saucer. “I heartily agree. However, therein lies the rub.” She raised her chin and stared into Dora’s heated face. “I am Simon’s widow and as such will be expected to comport myself accordingly, with a year of mourning for him.” She puckered her lips. “No matter how much he does not deserve such respect.”

“Judith!”

“It’s true, Mamma.” Judith sat back and raised her chin. “We none of us would be in the position we are in if it weren’t for Simon’s…misdeeds.” Her mother didn’t know about Simon’s infidelities and she hoped to keep it that way. “So he is still controlling me from the grave. Although I suppose I do not wish to rush into another marriage.”

“Well, it’s a blessing to hear you say that, my dear.” Mamma plucked a cake from the dish and bit into it with gusto. “I do worry about your impetuousness. It has never served you well. But if you act as you ought, this time you will be constrained from a hurried wedding.”

“Although that does not mean she cannot enjoy a long and leisurely courtship, even if she is in mourning weeds.” Dora smiled and raised her teacup. “And I believe your suitor is this minute putting in his daily appearance.”

Judith turned her head so fast her neck popped and pain shot down her spine. Yes, there was Lord Farringdon—or rather Miles—striding across the well-tended lawn toward them. She hastily set to checking her appearance, hoping the tea she’d spat out hadn’t left a damp spot on her stomacher.

“Stop fidgeting. You look fine,” Dora whispered, although Lord Farringdon was several yards away and certainly couldn’t hear her.

“Yes, look pleasant, for God’s sake, Judith.” Mamma put on her company smile, showing too many teeth. “Good afternoon, Lord Farringdon.” She extended her hand, which the gentleman took and kissed. “How delightful to see you again. Will you join us for tea, or are you here simply to tend to dear Judith?”

Her mother was nothing if not thorough in her matchmaking.

“Good afternoon, ladies.” He bowed to Dora then to Judith, allowing his gaze to linger on her.

Her heart sped up as she smiled at him and murmured, “Good afternoon, my lord.”

“Technically, I am here in the capacity of a doctor, Mrs. Welbourne. However, nothing would give me greater pleasure than having some refreshment and stimulating conversation with three such lovely ladies.”

“Do have a seat, my lord.” Mamma indicated the chair next to Judith, and Miles sat, looking as jovial as a man just given the moon. “I believe you take no sugar and a bit of milk?”

“You remember correctly, Mrs. Welbourne.” He nodded to his hostess then turned his gaze back to Judith. “I was coming to see how you are faring today, but I find my patient is in fine fettle.” He peered at her head, just above her right temple. “As we are at tea, I won’t do a true examination.” Nevertheless, he stood and grasped her wrist. “Have you had a headache today?”

Judith shook her head, his scrutiny under the eyes of her mother and Dora making her suddenly uncomfortable. When they were alone in order for him to check her surgical wound and test the strength of her left arm, she had experienced no such difficulties.

“Your arm is still improving?” Raising it, he turned it this way and that then made as if to shake hands. “Grip my hand, please.”

Hating the way everyone was staring at her, Judith squeezed Miles’s hand as hard as she could. She’d wondered if she should feign weakness, at least a little, so the doctor would have an excuse to continue his visits. After some soul searching, though, she’d decided that if the gentleman was truly interested in her, he’d invent some excuse to call on her once she was pronounced well, whenever that might be. A creative suitor might draw his examinations out for another month or so.

“Excellent progress just since yesterday, my dear.” Miles sat once more and took up his cup. “I wish all my patients had your remarkable powers of recovery. I am almost persuaded to pronounce you well.”

Mamma’s face drooped almost imperceptibly as she fought to force a smile onto her lips. “Do you truly think she is cured, my lord?”

“I think she is close to it. I will call again tomorrow. If the headaches have truly gone and her hand is as strong as it was today, I believe you will be seeing less of me in the future, Mrs. Welbourne.”

“Except for social occasions, my lord?” Dora spoke up brightly and cut her eyes at Judith. “I hope we would see you at any neighborhood gatherings. Or perhaps a dinner party.”

“To be sure, Miss Harper.” Miles beamed at her. “I would never refuse an invitation to dine here at Ruecroft Manor, should one be extended.”

“Indeed, Lord Farringdon.” Mamma clutched the necklace at her throat. “We would be honored if you would dine with us Thursday evening.”

“It would be my pleasure, Mrs. Welbourne.”

“Who is that?” From the corner of her eye, Judith caught sight of a figure, dressed in a well-cut suit of dark blue, striding down the pathway toward the folly, and her heart unaccountably sped up again. “Oh, I believe it is John.”

“I was wondering when he would return.” Mamma sipped her tea, her gaze resting uncomfortably on Judith. “He always visits regularly when he is in residence at Donningham.” She smiled triumphantly. “How fortunate I asked Inman to lay in a supply of cups.”

John’s lanky form hurried toward them, a joyous smile on his face. “Ladies, my lord. At last, I have discovered your hideaway.” He bowed to them all. “Mrs. Welbourne, Judith, Miss Harper.” He paused, and his smile dimmed slightly. “Farringdon.”

The man’s timing could not have been better as far as Judith was concerned. She could change the subject easily now. “What brings you here, John?”

“I stopped by to ask your father about the planting. My steward had mentioned Mr. Welbourne might be changing his wheat crop.” John grinned at her. “Deadly boring stuff for ladies, I suppose. Although you might be interested, Farringdon.”