“Which is?”
Mark cleared his throat. “Laudanum.”
Judith stilled a moment, her mind a bit fuzzy, then murmured. “Laudanum?”
“I figured if it would help my innards, it might help yours. I understand the teas bring some ease but not full relief.”
Judith tried to push back against the headboard, without much success. “True.”
Mark moved around the bed. “Let me help.”
Before Judith could react, he slid an arm about her waist and pulled her backwards, his strength like a warm massage against her aching back. He braced her with one arm and plumped a pillow with the other, slipping it between her and the headboard.
“Nicely done,” muttered Epworth, standing back with the tea in hand.
Judith’s eyes narrowed as she looked from her maid to Mark. “You really should not be here. Have the two of you have conspired on this? My note said nothing about my actual ailment.” She winced. “Which is not an actual illness, so to speak—”
“Only in that Epworth was startled enough by my appearance that I was able to persuade her to present you with the laudanum.” He stepped away from the bed, and Epworth moved up, offering Judith the cup and saucer.
Judith took the cup, eyeing both with suspicion but aching too much to truly care. She took a small sip, relishing the taste of real tea, even if it were overlaid with a bittersweet tanginess. She licked her lips, then nodded at Epworth. “The brick is cold.”
Epworth blinked, then moved quickly to pull the heavy square from beneath the covers, as Judith glared at Mark again. “You should not be here.”
Mark stepped to the side of the bed. “Ah, and that brings us to another reason I decided to come, despite your admonition.”
Judith sipped the tea. “And that is.”
“To deliver to your aid a regenerative source of heat and pressure that does not need to be inserted into the fire grate every hour or so.”
Epworth snorted but did not look around. Instead, she busied herself stoking the fire and pushing the brick into the embers.
Judith heard his words, but her mind did not truly register their meaning. She blinked, playing them over to herself, herbrain attempting to sort through all the scientific lectures she had heard at the Royal Academy or information from any of the books she had read about any device that created its own heat. Her thoughts swirled in confusion. “You mean like Thomas Savery’s engine?”
Epworth stared at her as Mark laughed. He moved closer, his gaze focused on her face. “You really are the most remarkable woman. I had something much simpler in mind. And more at hand.”
Judith drank more tea, which began to have a warm and calming effect on her stomach. “Such as?”
“A human body. Specifically, mine.”
Judith’s eyes widened.He could not possibly want me to—“You cannot mean for us to—”
He held up a hand. “No. Not that. At all. I only propose to hold you. To talk, if you are able. There are things we should discuss.”
“Such as?” Judith swirled the tea in her cup, then took several sips. The taste did not seem as bitter now, and she could see a few grains of the brownish sugar in the bottom.
Mark rested his hand on the covers near the top of her thigh. Judith could feel the warmth of his palm through them, and it seemed to spread upward toward the heat growing in her abdomen. She nodded slowly as he answered.
“The Blackwell ball. Your plan.”
“Our plan.”
He smiled. “The plan. The three ladies. Olivia.”
Judith snapped a look at Epworth, who still busied herself with the fire, which now blazed brightly.
Mark’s smirk returned in full form, as did the gleam in his eyes. “If you do not think the servants know everything in our lives...”
Judith relented, give a low chuckle. “Oh, I know they do.” Judith drained her cup. “Epworth?”
