Chapter Eleven #3
Judith tasted bile again, but looked up at the unexpected awareness, oddly pleased that he had recognized that.
“Indeed. His father had fought in the colonies. He had seen slavery up close. And despised it. Spoke out against it. If he had known his son would ever be involved, he would have disowned him.” She took a nibble of a small biscuit, her gaze on her plate again.
“I am a dowager with no legal power in any of this, and he took comfort in that as he deceived me. Edmund may not have realized exactly how miserable I could make his and Margaret’s lives.
” She swallowed, the lump hard in her throat.
“But he is finding out.”
“I suspect so.” She gave a slight smile.
“He keeps looking at me as if I have grown two heads.” She pushed her teacup away and looked into Rydell’s eyes.
Even laced with obvious pain, those blue eyes entranced her.
“Why is it men always underestimate women? Treat them as if they are part of the furniture?”
The smirk returned. “Because they are fools who do not recognize how truly remarkable women can be. How strong and powerful. How determined.”
“And you do?”
“You will find, Lady Sculthorpe, that is an advantage rakehells and rogues have over other men. Most of us adore women. We not only take great pleasure in their sweet scents and soft skin but their conversations, the power they wield when their husbands are not paying attention. It is part of our charm.”
“And how you managed to seduce so many.”
“Enjoying the physical company of the fairer sex is only the beginning.”
“I really do despise that phrase.”
He tilted his head. “‘The fairer sex’?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It implies we are kinder and weaker than men. We are not.”
“Are you saying women are cruel?”
“We can be, even more so than men at times. And you are about to witness exactly how cruel I can be.”
“How so?”
“You may be less to blame in this than Edmund implied, but others are not. And if I have to go to war to save my family, I will gladly do so, no matter the consequences.”
*
Mark hesitated, studying Judith, the set of her jaw, the dark expression that clouded her face. He had no doubt how seriously she took her own declaration—and at first, he thought she intended to turn her cruel streak toward him. Now, not so much. “Exactly what do you have planned, my cruel lady?”
Her mouth jerked, an attempted smile that failed miserably. “In all your worldly travels, have you ever come across a female wolf with cubs?”
Mark’s eyebrows arched at the image. “I have. In one of my journeys to the American colonies. Do you see yourself in that way?”
She gave a quick nod. “Do you remember me telling you I believe all children to be precious?”
“It is seared into my mind.” An image of Olivia flashed through his thoughts, but he pushed it away.
“That includes Edmund. And Daniel. Although we both have referred to Edmund as my stepson, I do not, in truth, see him as my husband’s son alone.
Nor Daniel. They are my sons as well. I married their father when Edmund had barely turned four.
Daniel not even a year old. I am the only mother they remember, and I could not care more about them had I birthed them.
And someone has tried to ruin them, ruin my family.
” Her eyes narrowed. “And if I have it in my power, I will destroy them, make them suffer until the day they die.”
Mark believed her, every word. “So what is your plan?”
She paused and sipped her tea. “First, determine exactly how errant my son has been. You have helped with that, but I need a great deal more verification. Second, find out without a doubt who the miscreants are and what they have done. From there, I will examine what is within my power to wreak vengeance.”
The calmness with which Judith made these pronouncements both unsettled and intrigued Mark. “Can I presume you no longer consider me one of those miscreants?”
Her mouth pursed a moment. “Let us say that I find your side of the tale somewhat more believable than Edmund’s.” Her expression smoothed and she took a bite of a small cress sandwich. “But I must ask. Why did you call in his debts?”
“A business decision, not a personal or social one. When I reviewed the accounts of the establishment before I bought in, it became clear that he had amassed debts greater by far than his annual income, and I knew his investments and possessions would begin to tumble next, especially when I discovered his debts to other organizations. Prudence dictated collecting while time remained on our side.”
“Is that why you agreed to meet me?”
Mark shifted in his chair. “Partially. I was curious as to Edmund’s motives. But you also intrigued me.”
“How so?”
“Your reputation.”
Her eyebrows arched and a smile played on her lips. “You mean as a wanton harlot.”
Mark laughed, then groaned as his ribs ached.
“My apologies.”
He grinned at her. “No need. Laughter may make my ribs sore, but it is good for my spirit. And not much has been these last few weeks.” He paused for a sip, then went on.
“According to my mother—and others—you came out of mourning like a racehorse freed from its stall. Balls, soirees, long discussions at Gunter’s with some of the most prominent members of the ton.
Visits to the Royal Society lectures. Afternoon calls on friends you had not visited in months.
Everyone believed your goal was remarriage, but after a year and no acceptance of potential suitors—even turning down some admirable prospects—you seemed more keen simply to enjoy life than improve your situation.
You are known to take lovers, with no obvious confirmation as to who any of them are.
The mystery that remains woven in their certainties makes the ton most intrigued and speculative.
And rather gossipy, if I may add. You are fascinating to those who conform to all social guidelines. ”
Her eyes gleamed as she ate a few more bites. “Indeed? I had no idea anyone paid that close attention.”
“Bollocks. You know it and you adore it.”
This time her laugh sounded genuine. “I have to admit I did. I do.”
“And you would have continued had Edmund not pissed on it all. Another reason I despise what he has done.”
She focused on him. “And why is that?”
“Because obnoxious bets aside, after only one dance, I truly wanted to know more about you. And to bed you, had the opportunity arisen.”
Her eyes widened, the pupils dilating. “Somewhat presumptuous, do you not think?”
“Not at all. I had already made plans for our paths to cross often.”
“By attending more balls with your mother?”
“As I suspected encounters in the theater would be more scarce, I intended to court you.”
Her gaze turned sharp for a moment, then softened slowly. “And if I were not interested?”
He reached for her hand. She did not offer it but nor did she resist as he took it, holding it between both his own.
“Then I would have had to convince you that the two of us have far more in common than we have with the young waifs and pinks of the Beau Monde. Experience that could make our time together enticing, arousing, and memorable.”
She bit her lower lip. “You are not suggesting marriage.”
He released her hand and leaned back. “No. Which I believe is something else we have in common. An extended courtship is allowable, as some of the patronesses of Almack’s can attest.”
She laughed, a low chuckle that sent a shot of heat into his chest. “You are quite incorrigible. Like a boy who can never quite surrender his toys.”
“But my toys, dear lady, make a great deal more money.”
Judith hesitated, a finger circling the rim of her teacup. “Did you really go to the Americas?”
Mark blinked, startled at the change in topic.
After a moment, he nodded. “I did. And I plan to return. My father and uncle had their own involvement with a transportation company. I went several times on my father’s behalf, and after my uncle’s death, my cousin Gordon and I went over to survey that part of the company—and the country.
We traveled through the colonies, down to the West Indies.
I came home. Gordon stayed for almost ten years. Why do you ask?”
She pushed a sandwich around on her plate.
“Edmund—my Edmund, the fifth earl—fought in the colonies.” She gave a dismissive wave with one hand.
“He was not the earl yet. Second son. Expected to always . . .” Her silence lingered a moment, then she took a deep breath.
“He changed . . . he said it changed him. He couldn’t sleep.
Nightmares. I always wondered what he had been like bef—whether it was the Americas that changed him, or the fighting. ”
“It was the war.” Mark’s voice caught in his throat, sounding like a rusty wheel. He cleared it as he stared at the wall behind the table. “It changes men.”
“Did it change you?”
He looked back at her, fear lingering in the back of his mind. How far would her questions take him? “Yes.”
“Is it why you have only had one mistress since your return?”