Page 5 of A Countess of Convenience

“Oh.” Judith subsided to mull that information over. She supposed a gentleman could be both, although one would think being an earl would take more of one’s time so one would naturally give up his work as a physician. “I suppose that makes sense.” She slid her gaze over to Dora. “So where is Simon? I would have thought he would be here by now.”

“Oh, my dear.” Her mother came forward, clasping her hand once more. “I hate for you to know, but perhaps it is best. Simon is—”

“Mrs. Welbourne.” Dora shot Mamma a sharp look then shook her head. When she turned back to Judith, her mouth was strained. “Simon is…not here, Judith.”

“Oh.” Judith frowned again. “But we were together in London, for the Little Season, weren’t we? You are to be married, aren’t you, Dora?”

Her sister-in-law licked her lips and shook her head. “When you became ill, the wedding was postponed. And then…” She swallowed hard. “Lord Trevor and I had an irrevocable difference of opinion, and I released him from the betrothal.”

“Dora, I am so sorry.” Judith reached out and patted her friend’s hand. “But I think you were not very much attached to Lord Trevor, were you?”

“Not at first, no, although he did improve as I got to know him better.” Tears glistened in Dora’s eyes. “He has since married, and I wished him happy at his wedding and meant it.”

“Married already?” Judith stared at the young woman beside her. “But surely that was rather abrupt.”

“It was. However, there were certain circumstances that warranted it.” Dora drew a deep breath. “But Father was most displeased with me for breaking the engagement and has exiled me to his property near Northallerton, in Yorkshire, as punishment.” She gave a sharp laugh. “The same property that was to have been my dowry for Lord Trevor. At least I will not have to remain at home with Mother and Father. That would be punishment indeed.”

“But then I will not see you either, my dear.” Judith took Dora’s hand. “I will miss you so dreadfully. I will have Simon, but it will not be the same at all.”

Dora’s eyes widened. She clenched her jaw, loosed Judith’s hand, and turned from her. Mamma gasped and shoved her crumpled handkerchief under her eyes. Her father looked away, but his jaw had tightened as well. Dread gathering, she turned her gaze at last on Lord Farringdon.

He sighed impatiently and said, “You will have to tell her,” then stalked out of the room.

With stricken looks, Mamma and Pappa hurried after him, leaving only her and Dora, who stood wringing her hands. Fear growing, Judith reached out and squeezed the hand that had suddenly grown cold. “Tell me what, Dora?’

* * * *

“He’s truly dead?” Dora’s words sounded like so much nonsense to her. Perhaps her injury had addled her brain after all. She should be weeping, sobbing great tears, but the words hadn’t touched her heart. Not yet.

“I am very sorry, but yes, he is. In January.”

“January?” Judith glanced out the window at the sunny day. Hints of green misted over the trees. “But it’s November, isn’t it?” She shrank back into the pillows. “How long have I been ill?”

Dora’s lips firmed into a straight line. “Four months, my dear. I’m afraid it’s already the middle of March.” She squeezed Judith’s hand, which she’d held all through the horrible revelation.

“But…but what happened to me? Why can’t I remember? You said I’ve been ill?” As though the world she’d always known was spinning off its axis, Judith closed her eyes and gripped the sides of the mattress. “Please, Dora, for pity’s sake, tell me what happened to me to make me forget four months of my life. Forget that my husband died.” Oh, but to say that hurt abominably. She’d been wild for Simon once, though over the years of their marriage, the fever had dulled. They’d had differences of opinion, he’d had cruel moments, but surely every marriage was not a carpet of roses you walked down all your life. And now he was gone? She could scarcely wrap her head around it.

“That night in November, you and Simon quarreled in your room. I’m not…sure what you were arguing about, but I heard voices raised as I came toward your chamber. Then…then…”

Dora’s hesitation, coupled with the look on her face, made Judith fear her next words even more.

“I heard the sound of a slap, and then a thud.” Dora looked away. “Then Simon called out for help. I rushed in, and he said you fell and struck your head.”

Judith’s mouth dried. It would not have been the first time Simon had struck her. But as his wife, she was duty bound to defend him. “You can’t know for certain what occurred. You weren’t in the room.”

“I didn’t need to be, Judith. His handprint was on your cheek.” Dora rose and paced to the window. “Simon was a bully from the day he was born. He loathed me and made my life miserable. I’m only surprised he didn’t turn you against him with his hateful ways.”

“I’m his—” Judith stopped, gritting her teeth and clenching her one good fist. “I was his wife. A wife is loyal to her husband.”

“Even when he isn’t loyal to you?” Dora had turned from the window and stared straight at her, a scowl on her usually pleasant face.

“What do you mean?” Judith swallowed hard, a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“After your accident, Simon attacked two of the governesses Father had hired for Anna. He…ravished them.” Dora’s cheeks reddened. “When he tried to do the same thing to the third one, Miss Carlton, Lord Trevor rescued her and challenged Simon to a duel for her honor.” Dora’s chin went up. “Lord Trevor is a real hero. I was sorry to break our betrothal, but he was desperately in love with Miss Carlton and she with him. So, he and Simon dueled. I think, for my sake, Lord Trevor spared his life.”

“But then how did he die?” If Simon survived the duel, surely he must still be alive?

“The coward attempted to shoot Lord Trevor in the back. But that bit of dishonor was thwarted by Miss Carlton, who hit him in the head.” Dora stared at Judith with cold eyes. “In just the same place you were hit, my dear. Simon, however, did not manage to survive as you have.”