Chapter One #3
Judith sighed. Her precious boys. She and the fifth earl had waited until Edmund and Daniel had matriculated to Eton to have children, with George born less than a year later.
Robbie had come along two years after that, and William another six years later, after two losses.
Too long. William would never know his father, and Robbie would have scant remembrances, if any.
But no one, not even their family physician, had realized how ill the earl had been.
He had hidden that—as with much of his life—from everyone, even his wife and his heir.
A good man but remote with all things, even his heart, especially after his time overseas, fighting in the colonies.
Judith had learned to deal with the memories and nightmares that had haunted her husband, but she remained determined that her sons would not be so distant from those who cared about them.
And she prayed they would never have to go to war, never have to deal with the evil that warfare did to good men.
Thus her frequent visits to the fourth floor.
“Mum?”
Judith turned. Robbie stood in the door of the nursery, his dark eyes still bleary with sleep, his nightshirt loose and rumpled on his thin frame. Judith smiled and went to him, rubbing his shoulder. “How is my sleepy one?”
He gave her a half-smile. “Sleepy.”
She hugged him. “Did I wake you?”
He gave a weak gesture toward his brother. “William, I think. Incessant giggles.”
“‘Incessant’? My, Mr. Thompson is indeed earning his salary.”
Robbie stood a little straighter, pride shining in his eyes. “He tells me I am making excellent progress with my Latin and vocabulary. He tells me we will start reading botany soon.”
“And mathematics?”
He sniffed, then wiped his nose on his sleeve.
She pushed his arm down. “Not so much on manners, I see.”
His cheeks pinked. “I do not understand them. Manners make no sense.”
She kissed the top of his head. “There are many things in life that do not make sense, Robbie. We must do them anyway. Manners will make life smoother. They make being with other people easier. You will find, for instance, that your mother is much happier when you do not smear your sleeve with snot.”
He snickered. “Yes, Mum.”
The longcase clock on the first-floor landing chimed the half-hour, its mellow bongs echoing through the house. Judith gave Robbie a quick hug. “Now. Go get ready for your breakfast and studies. I must return downstairs.”
He returned the hug and tolerated one more kiss before shuffling out of the room.
At a tug on her dressing gown, she looked down at William, whose sweet face and bright brown eyes gleamed up at her.
All three of her boys had inherited their father’s dark features and tawny skin—such a contrast to her own fair appearance—looking enough like their half-brother Edmund that no one would question their relation to him.
And she knew they would grow up to be just as handsome, just as attractive for the ladies.
That Edmund had married so young and apparently so wisely had been a blessing.
But this one, her William, with those dark twinkling eyes and mischievous manner, he would be trouble. He could benefit from firm male guidance—Judith hoped Edmund would be up to the task.
She bent and gave William a silly kiss on his relatively clean forehead, making him giggle again. “I must go, jammy boy. It will be a busy day for both of us, I’m sure.”
He pouted.
“You will be nice to Nanny today?”
He nodded. “Always!”
Nanny gave a scoffed laugh, and Judith bit her lip. “We must work on your ability to tell the truth.”
His eyes widened, then he brightened. “Can I ride? Mr. Robins likes me to ask questions about the horses.”
For a moment, Judith wondered if their groom truly liked having her son around—or if it were Nanny’s company he preferred. She had seen the two of them exchanging shy looks. “It’s quite chilly outside—”
“Please!”
“I really do not know what happened to our summer—”
“I will wear a jumper!”
Judith looked at Nanny. “Ask Mr. Robins if he has time for a pony ride.”
“Yes!”
Nanny grinned, her cheeks flushing pink. “Yes, my lady. I’m sure the exercise will do him some good.”
“And give you a rest. Or perhaps a chance to chat with our handsome groom?”
Nanny’s cheeks grew even rosier. “Perhaps, my lady.”
Oh, she would miss this woman! In a few weeks, William would shift to Mr. Thompson’s care and tutoring, and Nanny would be in need of a new position. But good nannies were in great demand, and Judith reminded herself to write an excellent reference for her.
She stroked William’s curls again. “I will see you this afternoon.” Sometimes Judith thought she had survived her husband’s death solely because of the daily visits with her boys.
Her marriage had been no love match—nor had she expected it to be when she had accepted Edmund’s suit.
Neither had had much to offer in the beginning, and she had not been his first choice.
But in the long term, they had been good for and to each other, eventually becoming friends and constant if not exactly exciting lovers.
His illness had gutted her, but her boys .
. . they had restored her hope, and she craved their presence.
She had added the morning visits when the afternoons were no longer enough.
William raised both arms. She gave him another quick hug, then headed back downstairs. She peered into her bedchamber and let out a sigh when she saw that Perry had taken the hint. Her bed was empty. Perfect.
She went inside and rang for her maid, Epworth, and worked again to get the knots out of her dressing gown’s sash.
Epworth knew a great deal about her mistress’s activities.
She had been Judith’s one and only lady’s maid as well as her confidante for the past twenty-two years, and she often guided young nobles up to Judith’s bedchamber.
Still, Judith had no desire to explain the knots had been the result of Judith’s instructions to the young—and relatively inexperienced—Perry.
Even after several months, the man still failed to grasp the concept that some knots were not supposed to be escapable.
One twist of her wrists, and Judith had been free to turn the tables on him. Which delighted him far more than her.
She sighed, pulling the last jumble free, tossing both the dressing gown and sash onto the bed.
Tonight the Huntingdale ball awaited, and she and Epworth had a lot to do.
With a grin, she wondered which handsome treat she might entice to join her afterwards.
While her boys had restored her hope, in the events of the ton, Judith had discovered a different kind of contentment in the ebullient life she had missed by marrying at seventeen.
She would turn forty in two years, and she remained determined to make the most of what youth and beauty she had left.