Judith. Mark’s gaze shifted from the fire to his escritoire, which sat in a corner near the door. A single silk stocking, tied with a ribbon, lay curled neatly inside a hidden cubbyhole, waiting. He had plans for that stocking—and its mate—plans he dearly hoped had not been derailed by a suspicion of murder.
He closed his eyes, a low desire stirring as he remembered Judith’s scent of arousal—which had flowered as his fingers caressed her calf—the softness of her leg, the abrupt change in her face at his words,I wish to own a part of you.Her mouth had parted, her eyes wide and understanding. She had known exactly what he meant. And had been thrilled by it. The pure joy in that expression had taken some of the edge off discovering Stella with Shropshire. Had, in fact, tempered the anger he had felt. It had been a blessing, a promise. A dream.
But first, he had to heal. Slowly, he pushed up out of the chair and eased his way to the bell pull next to his bed. Time for Howe to earn more of his money.
Chapter Nine
Tuesday, 19 July 1814
Sculthorpe Manor stables
Five in the afternoon
Judith was notcertain which terrified her more—seeing her four-year-old son sitting atop a gentle pony or the fact that he did, in truth, have “a fine seat.”
Their time in the park had been short, yet they had still run later than Judith had wished. She desperately needed a wash and a rest before supper, but she could not break away from watching William as he learned to groom his own horse. He stood on a stool, with Mr. Robins within catching distance should he fall, and Nanny nearby, waiting to take him for a bath and supper. They had waited until early afternoon so that Robbie could join them, and he, too, stood nearby, brushing his own, slightly larger Highland Pony. Although they would seldom have to groom their own horses when they were grown, she—and Mr. Robins—felt learning to care for the animals an important part of becoming an adept and knowledgeable estate manager.
Tears clouded Judith’s eyes. Her babies were becoming skilled and handsome young men.
“Oops!” The brush flipped from William’s hand and hit the floor of the stable with athunk.
“I’ll get it.” Nanny scooped up the brush and handed it to Mr. Robins. Their hands touched briefly, and they glanced at eachother. Nanny’s cheeks pinked and Mr. Robins cleared his throat, returning his attention to William.
She should be grateful, Judith told herself, that her boys were so loved and cared for by so many. But she did not feel grateful.
She felt afraid.
Judith took a deep, steadying breath and swept away the tears. She moved forward and brushed a hand down William’s back. “Did you enjoy today?”
“Yes, Mummy! When can we go again?”
Everyone chuckled.
“Soon. As soon as I recover.”
He scowled. “What? Are you hurt?”
She kissed his cheek. “Never you mind. I must go up. Will you be all right with Mr. Robins and Nanny?”
“Yes!” He rocked up on his toes, almost losing his balance on the stool.
Mr. Robins gripped him, standing him straight. “We’ve got him, my lady.”
“I know you do.” She touched the man’s arm and turned, striding from the stable before the tears flowed again.
Her marriage to Edmund had not been one of tremendous love, but his loss had still hollowed Judith out, leaving her bereft, without an anchor. Her only grounding had been the children—all five of them. Now she felt that hollowness again as she watched her three boys edge away from her, just as Edmund and Daniel had, simply by growing up. Daniel, who had quarreled with his brother over some issue they had never explained to her, had become estranged from them all, and Judith missed him terribly.
They are all leaving me.
Although she wanted exactly that—she dearly wished to see them become healthy and happy young men, thriving in whatever they chose to do—but it still left that ache of emptiness.The curse, she supposed, of being a mother who adored her children. Maybe her peers who saw their children as little more than accessories had it right after all.
Never.
Taking another deep breath, Judith swept up the steps, pausing on the first floor as she heard voices from the receiving room, businesslike and strident. Edmund’s... and a voice familiar but annoying. Not their steward. With apprehension, she stepped into the open doorway.
Their words stalled as they spotted her. A man Judith knew by sight—and reputation—sat in a wingback opposite Edmund and Margaret, who took up either end of the settee. The man—and Edmund—rose to their feet as Judith swallowed and spoke, her words coming rapid-fire. “My apologies. I did not realize you had a guest.” She dropped her voice as she addressed Edmund. “Have I overlooked a visit at which I should have been present? Or am I intruding?” She gestured down at the flared skirt and coat of her riding habit. “I was riding with the children.”
The man touched his forehead. “Not at all, my dear lady. We are discussing estate business, but you are welcome, if you like.”
