Page 8 of A Countess of Convenience

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“What a pleasant afternoon for this time of year.” Smiling, Judith sipped her tea before plucking an egg salad sandwich from the tray set before them. A hard-won repast if ever there was one. The day before, she’d suffered through the bland and spindly invalid diet imposed on her by Cook and Lord Farringdon—Miles—with as much grace as she could muster. Then, just before tea, Dora and Mamma had draped her robe around her, helped her to her feet, and she’d actually walked the three steps to the wingback chair. She’d felt as though she’d walked five miles, but now she knew for certain her legs would work once more. And as she’d been so compliant—and so agreeable into the bargain—Miles had agreed today she might make the trek downstairs to the parlor for tea.

A real tea too, with sandwiches, cream cakes, and shortbread.

Judith sank her teeth into the tangy egg salad, savoring the hint of curry that gave them a piquant flavor she’d always loved.

“We’ve been in the midst of a very early spring this year, my dear.” Mamma poured more tea for Judith then added a lump of sugar and splash of milk. “It began to get warm on the very first day of March. Now that we’ve gotten used to such fine weather, I fear we will regret it even more when it changes on us.”

“I suppose I shall have to get used to cold weather all over again once I resume my journey.” Dora took up a cream cake, bit into the middle, and closed her eyes in bliss. “I daresay the northern reaches of York have yet to have a thaw.”

“Can you not stay here with me, Dora?” Judith crunched into a shortbread petticoat tail. Lord, she had missed Mrs. Pennyfoil’s shortbread. “I am certain it would be as much of a punishment to be banished to Marholm. It was as dull as ditches when I left here.” She looked inquiringly at her mother. “Nothing exciting has occurred while I have been in the south, has it, Mamma?”

Her mother shook her head. “I would not designate us a backwater, Judith, however, things here move at a much slower pace. Our most interesting event has been the advent of Lord Farringdon.”

“Thank goodness for that.” Dora sipped her tea, her face a study in melancholy. “I am so grateful that he has healed you, Judith, even if that means I must soon travel onward. I suspect I shall receive a letter from Papa shortly. I wrote to him of your recovery, and that I intended to stay here with you and your family until you had completely convalesced.” She sent Judith a lackluster smile. “When we left Harper’s Grange, he told me in very direct terms that I was to deposit you at your home with your parents then continue on to York as swiftly as the horses would allow. So I could begin my punishment.”

“Why is he punishing you, my dear? And how does he intend to do it?” Mamma cocked her head, frowning, then straightened it to sip her tea.

“By sending me into the country until he can make as advantageous a match as he can for me. Having lost Lord Trevor’s fortune, for which he rightly blames me, he will scarcely forgive me unless he secures as brilliant a match as he had before.” Dora swirled her tea then set it into the saucer with a clink. “Of course, with the reputation of a jilt following me, I doubt Papa will have any takers.”

“The very reason he should allow you to remain here with me.” Judith set down the cake she had just picked up and took Dora’s hand across the table. “I’m certain you will find few eligible gentlemen in the north country of York. Here there is at least some society where perhaps you could make another match.”

Dora squeezed her hands. “Where would the punishment be if I am allowed to find my own husband? And have my favorite company into the bargain? Oh, no, he will order me to travel on as soon as the letter reaches him.”

Sighing, Judith retrieved her cake. Surely she could concoct some inducement for Lord Downing to allow Dora to stay. “I will think about this. I am certain I can come up with a plan.”

“You are welcome to try, but I fear you will be disappointed in the end.” Dora looked at Judith’s mother and smiled. “Thank you again for your continued hospitality. I did wish to make sure of Judith’s recovery, but I see I should have had no fears. She seems almost her normal self, to judge by her consumption of the cakes.”

“Dora!” Judith laughed, only pretending shock at her friend’s words. They had, from their earliest acquaintance, bantered and teased each other thus. Without a doubt, she would miss her sister-in-law almost as much as she would miss—

Her thought cut off abruptly before it could fully form. She wanted to think of her husband not at all, for as she had lain in bed these past two days, she had come to feel only gratitude to the Almighty and Lady Trevor for ridding her of the monster who’d been her husband. So thinking she would miss him was ridiculous. Judith shook her head, wiping away the unpleasantness of her marriage, and turned her thoughts back to Dora.

Her sister-in-law had her head cocked, brows in a petite V. “Are you all right, Judith?”

“Forgive me.” She put the cake down and licked icing off her thumb absently. “I was woolgathering about you continuing your journey and how much I shall miss you.”

The door to the parlor opened, admitting Inman. “Lord Haxby, ma’am.”

Judith frowned at her mother. “I don’t believe I know a Lord Haxby. Do you, Mamma?”

Her mother smothered a smile. “Please show him in here, Inman.” She turned to Judith. “I believe you will recognize him when you see him, my dear.”

Curious, Judith straightened her gown. Black was not her best color, but she’d need to wear it for at least another three months before moving on to the lighter purples, browns, and grays of half mourning unless she wanted to be thought scandalous. Raising her chin, she smiled pleasantly as the door opened, and a tall, long-limbed gentleman entered the room. Dark hair and eyes, a straight, narrow nose, and a firm jaw that seemed very familiar indeed.

“Mrs. Harper.” He bowed and smiled. “I was told just this morning you were home once more. I could not wait a moment longer to come call upon you.”

“John?” Judith had known him the moment he spoke her name. A feeling of warmth and homecoming sped through her. “Is that you?”

“It is indeed.” His smile broadened. “So good of you to remember me after these eight years.”

“Do sit down, John. Miss Harper, may I make known Lord Haxby?” Mamma fairly beamed when she introduced their long-time neighbor. “He was, until lately—”

“Lord Donningham!” Dora’s grin stretched ear to ear. “Although I gather it is now Lord Haxby?” She turned to Judith. “I made the viscount’s acquaintance during the round of autumn parties and balls, Judith. Just after you were taken ill.”

“You were taken ill during the fall, Mrs. Harper?” The earl’s jovial face was suddenly lined with concern.

“John, do not be ridiculous. Please call me Judith, as you have always done.” The fact that he wished to be circumspect about their relationship spoke well of him, but then John had ever been kind and thoughtful. And a stickler for the correct forms. “Yes, I apparently fell and was knocked insensible in November. I have only just regained my faculties a day or so ago.”