Page 56 of A Countess of Convenience

“No more so than you, temptress. If you continue to move as you are doing, we will very soon be distracted again, and I have news I think you will wish to hear.”

“What is your news? I have some that may have to do with Lord Downing.”

“Mine as well. Come, let us sit up and try to relay it without falling prey to lust for at least the next quarter of an hour.” He grinned and rolled off her then propped himself up in bed, the rumpled sheets tangled across his groin.

Judith sat up and leaned against the headboard, her breasts bare and enticing.

The sheets across his groin stirred.

“My love, can you please cover up your lovely distractions or I will not remember a word of what the letter said.”

Giving him an impish grin, she pulled the sheets up to just cover her nipples. “Is that better?”

“Scarcely. However, I will endeavor to ignore them.” He could control his urges for a little while at least. “Well, then, I received a letter this afternoon from Mr. Johnson, the Bow Street Runner I engaged to find out everything he could about Lord Downing. If we are to have hope of having him replaced as guardian, we must discover something the courts will not tolerate and inform them of it.”

“And has Mr. Johnson done that?” Judith sat up straighter and clutched the sheets to her breasts. “What has he found?”

“Unfortunately, he says nothing of gambling debts, or financial insolvency, or even any immoral behavior on the viscount’s part.” John had been downcast when he’d read that.

Judith’s shoulders slumped.

“He did, however, uncover a sudden and extremely close friendship between Lord Downing and the Earl of Swindon. Do you know the Earl of Swindon?” An older gentleman, Swindon was known to John, but they didn’t run in the same circles.

“I may have heard the name before.” She winced, her face screwing itself into a mask of pain. “I don’t rightly know where. Neither can I see how this will have any bearing on Anna.”

“Judith, are you ill? You’ve grown quite pale.” His wife always seemed so robust it was difficult to remember that she’d had a delicate operation only two months ago.

“A sudden headache, but it’s better now.” She gingerly touched her scalp where the skin and hair had grown back over the hole in her skull. “But the name Swindon doesn’t mean anything to me. I wish Dora were here. She might know more. I should write to her, in any case, asking her to come testify about her father.”

“Her testimony about his cruelty may end up being our only hope. I doubt if she’s heard anything about this sudden friendship.” Likely it had been brought about during a game of cards or some other social function, but it never hurt to ask. “Mr. Johnson has also given me the name of a gentleman, Sir Reginald Matthews, a magistrate at Bow Street, who has a personal connection to Lord Downing. Now I have Johnson’s report, I am only waiting to hear from Sir Reginald about meeting with him. No one can say we are leaving a single stone unturned.” He leaned back against the headboard, more than ready to listen to her melodic voice for a while. Without a doubt, he had missed her. “So what is your news from Ruecroft?”

“The first thing is about Mamma. As I wrote to you, she agreed to come to London for the rest of the Season. However, when we reached Biggleswade the first night, she suddenly got the notion that she wished to visit with her cousin, Mrs. Hargrove, who lives in Cambridge. I tried to dissuade her, but Mamma can be stubborn.”

“I suppose that’s where you get it from.”

“Wretch.” She swatted at him. “Fortunately, when we arrived Mrs. Hargrove was very happy to have Mamma stay for a while. The plan is now for us to fetch her when we head north after the Season.”

“That sounds fine.” A mother-in-law at this stage of their married life might not have been ideal anyway. “Was there something else, my love?”

“Yes, something I thought about most of the time I was traveling here. But I’ve thought about it so much I’ve come to think this news cannot actually have a bearing on the case nor be used to show anything damaging about Lord Downing.”

“You’ve piqued my interest at least, sweetheart.” He kissed her and took her hand. “What is it?”

“Before he died, Pappa settled five thousand pounds on Anna.”

“Good Lord! That could be motive enough if Downing intended to use it for his own gain.” Men had done worse for less than five thousand pounds. Much less.

“But it’s in a trust she cannot touch until she is one and twenty or until she marries with the consent of her guardian.”

“Neither can guardians use money put in a trust.” John frowned. So close to an argument for malfeasance. “Who is the trustee?”

“Trustee? It didn’t occur to me to ask, John. I am sorry.” She slid down in the bed.

“Do not blame yourself, my dear. You didn’t know to ask. All you need do is write to Mr. Piper and he will tell you.” He took her hand and kissed it. “As I think of it, this may all be a tempest in a cream pot. Downing would have had no knowledge of the trust fund. If he didn’t know about it, there’s no way he could be accused of coveting it or trying to use it illegally.”

“So, I don’t need to write to Mr. Piper?” She had scooted closer to him again.

“As Anna’s mother, you should know who the trustee of her account is. I’d say write to him tomorrow.” He pulled her against him, reveling in the softness of her skin, the faint scent of lavender. “I told you earlier you looked pale.” Kissing the side of her neck, he rolled her over to lie flat on the mattress. “I insist you get some more rest.”