Her hands relaxed at her sides. “I do.”
“And your role in them?”
Another nod.
“Then let us proceed this evening as nothing has changed.” Mark folded the note and tucked it into his pocket. “However, if she expresses any displeasure at my presence, I will leave immediately.” He paused. “This will be a risk for both of us.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mark took a step back. “Howe.”
His valet, now butler, instantly appeared in the doorframe. “Please escort Miss Epworth back to Sculthorpe Manor.”
Both servants looked startled, exchanging quizzical glances that almost made Mark laugh. “It is late, clouds are beginningto gather, and Miss Epworth is a respectable woman. Pretend for the next half hour that you are a gentleman, one who has an umbrella.”
Howe’s face turned almost purple as he cleared his throat, gesturing for Epworth to move ahead of him and glanced once over his shoulder as he closed the parlor door.
Mark retreated to the fireplace and dropped into a wingback chair. He pulled out the note and looked at it again.Madness. This is pure madness.He had seen Judith angry, but this ran the chance of having her push him out of her life entirely. Insanity.
Still . . .
He wanted to do it. If he could offer her comfort of any kind, he wanted to.
And there was a possibility that he could offer more than his presence...
Chapter Twenty
Friday, 12 August 1814
Sculthorpe Manor
Half-past ten in the evening
Judith shifted, tryingto push the brick at her feet farther down under the covers. It had gone cold, and her legs threatened to cramp from being curled up against her belly for so long. She twisted her hips, groaning as another spike of pain moved across her back. Although she had been in bed for almost twenty-four hours, drinking so much tea she had almost floated to the chamber pot, she had not been able to sleep or even find a position that remained comfortable for more than a few minutes. As she lay there, Judith tried to imagine what it would be like for all this to stop permanently, dreaming of a time her mother-in-law had referred to as “a saintly relief.”
She also tried to gather the wherewithal to get out of bed for a few moments, to stretch aching muscles, and she lifted her head to peer at the fireplace, wondering if a miniscule flare remained among the embers.
A soft tapping on the door preceded it opening a few inches. “My lady?”
Judith sighed.No more tea, please. I’m swamped.She had also had another cleansing and new cloths less than an hour ago. She should be good for the night, although she did not expect to get much rest. “Enter.”
Epworth pushed open the door, bring in yet another tea tray, although she left the door standing open as she placed the tray on the bedside table. Judith watched, eyebrows arched, as she looked from her maid to the open door, then to the tray, where the sugar, teapot, and cup had been joined by a small brown vial.
“What is that?”
“A helpful gift.”
Judith jerked toward the baritone voice, pushing up in her bed as she stared at Mark Rydell, the last person on earth she wished to see in that moment. “What in God’s name are you doing here? Did you not receive my message?” She gave Epworth an accusatory glance, then winced as her stomach gave a sharp cramp. Judith pressed a hand to the pain. “Damn it.”
Mark closed the door but came no closer. “I did. But I became convinced I should come anyway.”
“Why in hell would you do that?”
“Because I am in your debt, and I believe I know a way to repay you.” He gestured toward the tray behind her.
Judith turned as Epworth added sugar to the cup. “Please, Epworth. I do not think I can take another sip of those blasted teas.”
Epworth nodded, stirring. “This is just regular India tea, my lady.” She picked up the brown bottle, uncorked it, and added a few drops to the cup. “Plus Lord Mark’s gift.”
