Epworth stood a little straighter. “Are you ready for a tray?”
Judith nodded. “Real tea. Toast, I think. And”—she gave a quick glance at William—“a bath, I think.”
“Of course.” Epworth nudged Nanny, which seemed to break the spell. “Girl, get the child. We need to go.”
Nanny jerked, looking from Epworth to Judith, with a bare peek at Mark. “My apologies, your ladyship. I only turned my back for a second.”
Judith’s smile seemed forced, and she winced as she shifted in the bed. “He is a squirmy one.” She pushed the covers back and swung her legs over the side of the bed but did not stand. “Let me hug you.”
William almost leapt into her arms, giggling. Judith’s back tensed, but she wrapped her arms around her son, holding him tightly. Then she eased him away and pointed at the nanny. “Go. I will visit as soon as I am able.”
“Good! I miss you!”
“I miss you too. Now be a good boy today. No more scares for Nanny.”
“Yes’m.”
Mark watched as William skipped back to Nanny, whose face had gone quite pale. The three left the room, and Epworth pulled the door shut. When Mark heard a key turn in the lock, he chuckled again. “They will be talking about this for months.”
“A true scandal.” She twisted to face him, squeezing his hand. “Thank you.”
He tightened his grasp on her fingers. Signs of pain still pulled at her face, with deep circles under her eyes and lines along her cheeks. “But you are not yet well.”
She took a deep breath, as if to steady herself. “Much improved. The pains are less. The sleep will help.”
Mark got out of the bed and walked around to her side. “Let’s get you nested again.” At her nod, he moved her legs back onto the bed, then slid one arm behind her shoulders, the other under her thighs, shifting her higher in the bed. As he released her, he saw blood had stained his sleeve.
So did she. “Damn it. I am sorry.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips. “It will give Howe something to fuss about.”
Judith cupped his face with her hands, pulling him back for a second kiss. “You should go. There is a key on the edge of the escritoire. I believe my instructions were that you had to leave before dawn.”
“If I were good at following instructions, my mother would not have anything to complain about.” He stepped back. “Expect an invitation to dinner shortly.”
“For Olivia?”
Mark’s chest tightened at how quickly she had grasped his intent. “Yes. And we will not be alone.”
“Understood.” Her smile seemed less strained this time. “Now go. Epworth and Nanny can be trusted. Edmund and Margaret, not quite so much.”
Mark kissed her again, then reached for his trousers. He did not care to remind her how skilled he was at fleeing women’s bedchambers in the early morning hours, but in this moment, he felt grateful he could dress quickly and walk without his boot heels thudding on the stair treads. In mere moments, he found himself in the bright morning air of a Saturday morning, his long stride stretching his legs, carrying him home before his own servants would be checking on him.
*
Judith watched Markdress and leave, chewing lightly on her lower lip. Her thoughts swirled in a miasma, nothing settling. She felt oddly unconcerned that Nanny had seen Mark in her bed—even her lack of concern should have bothered her, but it did not. Nanny and Epworth both could, in truth, be trusted not to gossip about his presence to the other servants, but would Nanny eventually tell Mr. Robins?
Or would William? Her youngest son was not a great keeper of secrets. George had been tight-lipped even as a toddler, and Robbie already had proved to be capable of many closely held thoughts. William, however, had become a rather pronounced chatterbox, even carrying on conversations with his toys or other inanimate objects.
Why did she not care if anyone knew? Was it because they had already declared their physical connection in that bloody wager? Or was it because he was willing to marry her?
Judith clutched her hands together on her lap, staring at them.Only with you.She had been close to sleep, but she had heard the words, clear as day. She had not responded,pretending to doze, as it seemed he had not intended her to hear them. And then she had fallen deeply asleep, not truly waking again until she heard her son’s voice. Even that had seemed a dream.
A low, dull ache gripped her abdomen. Sore, but not the intense pains of the past twenty-four hours. Whether residual relief from the laudanum or the normal passage of time, Judith could not be sure—nor did she care too much about this either. She usually hurt like hell for at least two days, sometimes three, bleeding for five or more. If the rest, heat, and drug had shortened the pain, all the better. Being able to eat a bit would aid her as well.
What Judith did care about were all the topics Mark had wanted to discuss, topics they had not touched in the short chat before she had disappeared into the laudanum. That he even sought to discuss these things with her filled Judith when an inexplicable pride, something she had seldom felt. Last night, even in the midst of her pain-laced fog, she had relished his attention, his tenderness, his questions, his touch. She had sent him away this morning out of absolute necessity, but she had not wanted him to leave.
Ever.
