Judith let out a long sigh. “Apparently, you three ladies are only adept at keeping secrets from the gentlemen of theton. Pray tell me, what is your concern?”
Lady Cowper’s shoulders dropped a scant inch, even as Lady Jersey stiffened, as if facing the guillotine. She pursed her lips,as Lady Cowper leaned closer to Judith. “Because you are our friend.”
Definitely serious.
“Then I am grateful.” Judith waited.
Lady Jersey gave a single nod and squared her shoulders. “Would you consider yourself ‘a certain fair widow of renown’?”
Judith stared at her. “I beg your pardon. A what?”
Lady Blackwell stepped closer. “Has anyone in your acquaintance referred to you as ‘a certain fair widow of renown’?”
Judith scowled, confusion clouding her. “I do not think—I am not—”
Epworth cleared her throat, and Judith looked around at her. She mouthed, “The earl.”
Judith’s eyes snapped wide as she recalled the night. They had been in the withdrawing room after a congenial dinner with friends of Edmund. Two other couples. Playing cards. And he had teasingly called her... “my stepmother, a certain fair widow of renown.”
The phrase had made its way through the servants to Epworth before the final hand of cards.
Judith looked back at her friends. “Perhaps. Why do you ask?”
More glances. “Do you know that the gentlemen keep a wager book at White’s?”
Judith nodded. “This is a well-known fact, however much the gentlemen liked to think it a surreptitious item.”
Lady Jersey looked around, as if searching for eavesdroppers. “We have it on good authority that a new wager has been placed in the book, concerning”—she cleared her throat—“Lord Mark Rydell and ‘a certain fair widow of renown.’”
Oh, dear God.
“Of course,” Lady Blackwell put in, “they would never include a lady’s name. It would be too scandalous and dishonorable. But apparently a good many people believe it refers to you.”
Of course they do.
Lady Cowper looked a bit chagrined, an unusual look for the patroness. “Surely, the earl would not—”
Judith sighed. “I would not bet on that. Edmund likes to gamble. And for some reason, he would like to see me involved with Lord Mark Rydell.”
The three looked startled, and Lady Cowper’s usual haughtiness returned in force. “Then let us hope he abandons that idea and quickly.”
Odd. “I realize Lord Mark is somewhat notorious—”
“Notorious?” Lady Jersey’s exclamation abandoned the pretense of secrecy. “Now we hear he is also a murderer. That he has killed his mistress!”
Chapter Seven
Monday, 18 July 1814
Embleton House
Quarter past six in the evening
“Is this whyyou summoned me? For pity’s sake, Mother. I did not kill Stella. Matthew believes me. Even the runner believes me. Her maid saw me leave while Stella continued to screech at me. There are people who saw me after. Why canyounot believe me?”
His mother paced before the receiving room fireplace, her black bombazine-and-tulle skirts sounding like a dog shaking rain from its coat. She thumped her fan against her palm, blithely ignoring the precarious hold her black-feathered bonnet had on the crown of her head. She had returned from the park in a full bristle, demanding to see him, and ranting about the world, theton, and her sons in particular. Clearly, many of the pins had slowly worked loose from her hair, and now the bonnet ticked back and forth on her head as she strode, wobbling horribly whenever she changed directions.
“It is not about belief—”
