Page 30 of A Countess of Convenience

As he stepped onto the landing, a dim figure in a long white gown stood at his chamber door, her hand poised to knock upon it. Had the chambermaid brought more washing water? Or had she come to see if he required any other services? The Sun didn’t strike him as one of the inns where such things were common, but gentlemen were always beset by a bevy of maids peddling their wares. He’d take the water, if that was all she was offering, and say good night.

“Good evening. May I help you?” He drew nearer to the woman, who started and turned toward him. John stopped in his tracks. “Judith?” It couldn’t be her, could it? “What the devil are you doing here?”

* * * *

By the time her maids had returned, Judith had managed to stop shaking, although her stomach remained so queasy she feared she’d cast up her accounts. Her question to John had been ill-advised and she’d known it. She’d stumbled into the bedroom and sat in the chair before the fire, scattering her night things in her haste to sit down. What would she have done had he taken her literally and escorted her into the bedroom? He’d never have done such a thing, of course. That was why she’d felt safe asking the question. Because she’d known, deep down, John would never take advantage of her, even in such a moment of weakness.

Was that what she had come to? A tease? She knew John had tender feelings for her, had had ever since they were children. To act this way toward him, to dangle hope of a tryst—or worse, a warm regard for him—was nothing short of cruel if she did not mean it. A horrible disservice to a man who’d shown her nothing but kindness, who was making this taxing journey to help her and her child. She was better than this. To make amends, she must go apologize to him.

She rose from the chair just as the parlor door opened, admitting the two maids. She looked avidly beyond them, hoping to see his tall frame in the doorway. But the door closed, and Mary and Rose trooped into the bedroom, bent on preparing her for bed.

“One moment, I beg you. I must just catch Lord Haxby before he reaches his room.” She hastened to the door, but the lowered voices of the maids whispering then giggling sent a shiver down her spine. They knew something was going on between her and John; they had to know. At least she doubted they would tell anyone of consequence until they arrived back at Ruecroft, and likely not then. Her parents’ servants had always been loyal to the family.

Drawing herself up, she opened the door and peered out into the dim hallway. No sight of John. He must’ve hurried to his room after seeing the maids in. Carefully, Judith slipped out of her chamber and silently ran to John’s door. Taking a deep breath, she knocked and called out, “Lord Haxby? Lord Haxby. It’s Mrs. Harper. I need to speak to you a moment about our departure in the morning.”

Travel plans would always be an appropriate topic for them to discuss, should anyone overhear her.

Still no response. She knocked again. “Lord Haxby?”

Perhaps John had gone to avail himself of the privy before turning in for the night. Reluctantly, she turned back toward her room. It was late. Maybe she should wait until morning and make her apology at breakfast. Her feet leaden, she crept back to her door, keeping her gaze on the staircase at the end of the corridor, her ear attuned for footsteps on the stairs. No one had appeared by the time her hand rested on the latch of her chamber. Disappointed still, she entered and handed herself over to the ministrations of her maids. Best sleep quickly and deal with her guilty conscience in the morning.

That would have been an excellent plan, save once she was crammed into the trundle bed—indeed so small she must lie cattycornered in it to allow her legs to stretch out—she found herself wide awake. Her abbreviated nap earlier—with that terribly disturbing dream—had left her fully resistant to the charms of Morpheus. Unable to turn over comfortably, she lay staring at the wall across from her until the maids clambered into the comfortable bed above and blew out the candle.

Then she stared into the darkness, trying her best not to think about John. The clock on the mantle struck eleven and still she could not even close her eyes. This kind of punishment happened when one acted badly. Apparently, her conscience would not allow her to rest until she made amends.

Silently, she extricated herself from the tiny trundle bed, being careful not to run into anything. Judith felt about for her robe, but it eluded her. Faint light came from the banked fire and her eyes were now accustomed to the dark, but she couldn’t find the garment. Had the maids even unpacked it? She didn’t remember wearing it before bed so perhaps they had left it in the trunk.

Judith had a choice to make. Either give up this mad attempt and go back to the torturous bed or forge on without a robe. Scandalous by anyone’s standards, but then what she was attempting to do—accost a gentleman who was not her husband, in his bed chamber—was equally risqué. In for a penny, in for a pound.

With great stealth, she managed to make her way into the parlor without incident. She unlocked the door then inch by inch opened it and stuck her head out. Nothing stirring at all, thank goodness. She glided through the doorway and pulled the door to, being careful to hold onto the key. With a backward glance toward the stairs, she hurried down the corridor to John’s room. Hoping to God he wasn’t asleep, Judith scratched on the door and whispered, “John? Can you open the door? John?”

Nothing. Perhaps he was asleep already. She put her ear to the panel. “John?” Once more she stepped back and drew back her hand to knock this time.

“Good evening. Can I help you?”

The sound came not from within the chamber, but from down the hall behind her. Judith jumped and turned around, her hands going up to cover her face. The less anyone saw of her, the better.

A man stopped and squinted at her in the shadowy light of the sconces. “Judith? What the devil are you doing here?”

Chapter 12

Confounded by her presence outside his room, John didn’t have time to chastise her for her foolish move. He unlocked his door, seized her arm, and dragged her inside. Shutting the door with a loud thump, he gave a relieved sigh then turned the lock and leaned back against the broad panel. One disaster averted. He glared at his charge, looking up at him petulantly. “I only hope to God no one saw me do that.”

“I saw no one in the corridor.” Judith pursed her lips, not a good sign at all.

“You’d be surprised how nimbly potboys can nip up a staircase without being seen.” With luck, they were safe for now. There was still the adventure to come of getting Judith back to her chamber unseen. Good thing he’d requested a bottle of brandy be sent up upon their arrival. He needed some about now. “Why are you here, Judith?” He strode to a desk that served as sideboard then poured a good three fingers of the amber liquid and took a hefty swallow. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, there is, John.”

The gravity of her voice made him glance up at her. Brows furrowed, lips pressed into a straight line, hands on hips, she looked less like a flibbertigibbet and more like a woman with a legitimate concern. Had he immediately misjudged her? He put the glass down and took her hands, all pique at her forgotten in an instant. “What is it, my dear? Are you ill? Is it one of the maids?”

“No, I am well. They are asleep and I pray will remain so until I return and wedge myself back into that horrible trundle bed.” She gave a tiny shudder.

“You were in the trundle bed?” The words made no sense. His mind skipped to the first possible explanation—her head injury had reasserted itself and some of her faculties had gone missing again. “Here, sit here.” He pulled a small, worn chair next to the fire and thrust a poker into the meager coals until they burned brightly. “Let’s get you warm.” He urged her into the chair, finally took in her appearance, and froze.

The white garment that he had rightly deemed a nightgown, and which on another woman would’ve been unremarkable, seemed almost indecent on Judith. The rounded neckline showed the tops of her breasts, unfettered by a corset, and through the thin cotton material, he could see a hint of her darker nipples.

John swallowed hard and licked his lips, parched even though he’d just taken a large swallow of brandy.