Epworth sniffed. “Yes, my lord.”
Mark snorted, looking at Smith. “No one messes with Epworth.”
A grin flashed across Smith’s face before he turned somber again. “Indeed.” He checked his notes on the foolscap. “Atkinson had apparently planned to stash the vase in his lordship’s bedchamber. He put up a significant struggle when thwarted, threatening everyone until”—he glanced at Epworth—“suddenly silenced.” Smith cleared his throat. “The package containingthe vase has been taken to the magistrate. It will probably be returned to Devonshire by tomorrow afternoon. Atkinson will be tended to by the doctor at Newgate.”
“That will be a change of scenery,” Mark muttered.
Judith tried to scowl at Mark, but her pride in Epworth and their butler pushed out any other emotion. She gave a sigh of relief. “Thank you both.”
Smith folded the foolscap and tucked it into a pocket, along with his stub of a pencil. “I will make a full report to the magistrate in the morning. If we have any more questions, we will let you know.”
Smith trotted down the steps, shooing the other men in front of him, as Mark closed the door. Judith turned to Epworth and the butler, unable to contain her joy any longer. “I thought everything was lost. You saved us!”
They both seemed to glow, and Epworth even raised up on her toes. “It was an unexpected pleasure, my lady.”
The butler nodded. “The blackguard had it coming.”
“You are gems, worth your weight in gold. I will make sure his lordship knows what happened tonight.”
They both smiled, then before her very eyes, they resumed their roles as servants, straightening their backs and forcing their expressions to become staid. Epworth gave her a slight curtsy. “I will meet you upstairs, my lady. I know the evening must have been exhausting for you as well.”
“I will return to my pantry and await the family, my lady. Do you think they will be very late?”
Judith, who suddenly realized she had no idea what stage the ball had reached when they left, looked at Mark.
“They had served the supper and champagne, so they probably will not be much longer.”
She nodded. “I will also wait in the receiving room.”
“Very good, my lady.”
As they turned to leave, Judith touched Mark’s hand. “You do not have to stay.”
He peered down at her, one eyebrow arched. “You have had a private audience with the Prince Regent. You have swooned in the midst of a ball—”
“I do not swoon.”
“And your home has been broken into, a notorious criminal assaulted by your staff, and he has been hauled away by a Bow Street Runner. Do you even dream that I would leave you alone?”
Judith looked down at her hands a moment, her thoughts and heart a jumbled mess. Pride and gratitude blended uneasily with worry and a touch of fear. The affair with Atkinson seemed resolved but so much else felt topsy-turvy and unsettled. Her heart had driven her steadily toward this man who had stood beside her, while her mind sent out too many questions. She straightened her shoulders, then turned toward the receiving room as Mark followed her, determined to speak her mind and either find peace with their relationship—or step away.
“I have been—uncertain—the last few days, about what has passed between us.” She pushed open the door and entered.
He left the door open a bare crack. “Why have you been uncertain?”
Judith looked up at him, her stomach roiling. “I have”—she pressed a hand to her abdomen—“your family, in a group, can be a bit... overwhelming.”
He smiled. “And that was only a few of us.”
“Precisely. And you seemed to be holding Olivia at bay.”
He hesitated, looking away toward one of the windows.
“Mark, I know Rose is dying.”
He snapped back toward her, his expression sharp. “How do you—”
“Her appearance. I thought she seemed oddly familiar that evening, and I finally realized... she looks like Edmund did—my Edmund—in the last weeks of his life. She has cancer, does she not?”
