Ten in the morning
Judith struggled toremain still as her maid braided and twisted her hair into a tightly knit updo interwoven with a royal-blue silk ribbon and a half dozen matching feathered pins. Epworth had started with a psyche knot at the back of Judith’s head and expanded the style with looping braids as well as the ribbon and pins. It made her scalp itch from the tightness, but she bore it silently, wanting to look her best for today’s meeting with the Bow Street Runner.
But not for the runner. While important to their scheme—vital, even—Judith had no desire to impress him with her looks or style. Instead, her goal was to make a clear impression on the Duke of Embleton and his family... including his brother.
Mark.
Judith straightened her shoulders even as her thighs tightened.
“Almost finished, my lady. Only a few more minutes.”
Judith smiled into the mirror, not wanting to admit the true reason she had squirmed a bit. “It looks remarkable. Thank you. And the bonnet will not hurt the feathers.”
Epworth spoke around one of the said pins, currently held between her lips. “No, my lady. They point downward and will be below the brim.”
“Excellent.” Judith’s hand rested on her right leg, her fingers tracing the outline of the white silken ascot currently tied around her upper thigh. Her mind lingered on the moment when Mark had tied it there. After visiting the room he had prepared for his daughter, they had returned to his bedchamber to fully dress. She had sat on the bench at the end of his bed to replace her stockings, and he had snagged the ascot from the covers, kneeling in front of her. He had pushed her skirts up and wrapped it about her thigh, tying it as if it were around his own neck, kissing her, his fingers stroking lightly between her legs.
“Wear it whenever you go out. To remind you that you belong to me.”
And she had. Although she had not been out of the house much over the last five days. Most of Friday, she had been ensconced with Edmund, reviewing their accounts to check the progress of their efforts. Saturday, she had stayed in her room most of the day, as Edmund had received word from White’s that his wager had been declared resolved. The payout that had accompanied the certification of the event had been lovely—several hundred pounds each to Edmund, Sir Rory, and Lord Anthony—but Judith had no desire to face either her son or his wife with the knowledge of how the wager had been declared and certified. It was one thing to have himthinkhis mother had lovers—another entirely toknowwith certainty and have it declared in a public forum.
But when the money had arrived from Lord Anthony Saturday evening—as well as a note from Sir Rory as to how his winnings would be applied to Edmund’s debt at At Wheel’s End, her son had sent for her, any embarrassment set aside by gratitude. They noted the funds in the ledgers, and Edmund haddelivered in person a good portion of their winnings to one of his creditors, closing off yet another debt.
Sunday had been set aside for church—Judith felt a touch blasphemous wearing the ascot under her clothes but did so anyway—but they had all skipped a promenade along Rotten Row. They had had their fill of being gawked at and whispered about for the moment.
Monday, Judith had met with the three wives involved in the scheme, including Margaret, and over tea and biscuits, they had discussed the topics to be raised with Atkinson. All three were young and far too giggly for her comfort, but those qualities could easily work in their favor, as Atkinson would be less suspicious of three flighty girls than experienced dragons of theton.
Although, since Thursday, Judith had felt less like a mature woman than she had since her marriage. When not wearing it, she had slept with the ascot under her pillow, her hand resting on the fine fabric. Judith had scolded herself at first, feeling rather childish, as if she were a young girl with her first infatuation. But she also realized that what she and Mark had exchanged had been anything but childish. The very power of it sometimes took her breath away.
Judith also had Epworth retrieve Edmund’s unique bed cover from the attic, cleaned and boxed, and delivered to the house in Bloomsbury. The return note of thanks had been ebullient and heartfelt, with a touch of naughtiness, as if the witty man with the gleam in his eye she had met at the Huntingdale ball had finally recovered from his injuries.
Epworth placed the final feather, then stepped back and took a deep breath. “That’s it then.” She glanced toward the array of garments on Judith’s bed. “Let’s get you dressed.”
With a last touch on the ascot, Judith stood. Epworth expertly garbed her in Judith’s finest summer day gown, a royal-blue linen with black embroidery around the puffs of the upper sleeves. It had been her favorite from two seasons before, and Epworth had added a broad black band at the high waistline, which anchored a pale-blue gauze overlay of the skirt. Epworth had added a ruched black smocking to the hem, a finishing touch to the gown’s refurbish.
Black kid gloves and boots completed the outfit, and Judith sat long enough for Epworth to gently settle a blue linen bonnet amongst the feathers.
“You look magnificent, my lady!”
“And I am grateful for your skills.” Judith glanced at the clock on her mantel. Almost time.
As if hearing her thoughts, their butler rapped lightly on the door, opening it to announce that the carriage awaited her at the front entrance. Judith took a final deep breath, touched her right thigh, and left the room.
*
Tuesday, 9 August 1814
Embleton House
Quarter to eleven in the morning
Mark stood atthe receiving room window, staring out at the pavement in front of the house. He felt rather than heard Matthew’s presence behind him.
“Smith is downstairs. I told Stephens to have him wait in the servants’ hall until we send for him.”
Mark continued to watch the street, but his hand smoothed over the pocket holding the letter to Stella with its one hundred pounds. “Probably a wise idea.”
After a moment, Matthew cleared his throat. “It is hardly time for her yet.”
