As she descended the stairs, her curiosity about the unexpected caller grew. The clock in the hallway chimed softly, indicating that it was just after six o’clock, a rather unusual time for a social call. Her mind raced with questions as she made her way down to the parlor.
As she approached, she heard her stepmother’s unmistakable voice. Peering around the corner, she spotted her stepmother conversing with a gentleman, though she could only see the back of his head, as he was facing away from her.
“And what about you? Are you involved in a courtship?” Matilda asked.
Judith’s eyes went wide. She could not make out the guest’s response but saw his head move back and forth. Something about him was oddly familiar, though she could not place him.
“Ah, well then, I am glad you are here to see my stepdaughter. Judith is highly accomplished, I assure you. She plays thepianoforte, and she is well-read. Any gentleman should be glad to have met her,” Matilda said.
While Judith appreciated her stepmother’s praise, she didn’t like that it was addressed to a stranger.
“She is a wonderful dancer also, and a skilled conversationalist.”
Judith’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she listened, feeling exposed and vulnerable in the presence of the unknown guest.
She had to put a stop to this. She wasn’t a cow at the market who had to be made to sound attractive. Whoever this man was, he would not wish to speak to her anymore after her stepmother all but foisted her on him.
Swiftly, she burst into the parlor, ready to stop her stepmother, when she stopped in her tracks. The stranger sitting in the armchair was no stranger at all.
It was the Duke of Nottingham. And he wore his telltale smirk.
Her heart sank like a stone as she absorbed the implications of their conversation.
“Your Grace,” she greeted, recovering the air of poise she’d carried earlier.
“Lady Judith,” he replied and rose with a smile on his face.
He wore a deep burgundy waistcoat that complemented his skin tone perfectly and made his reddish lips look redder still.
“I was just telling His Grace what a wonderful dancer you are,” Matilda piped up with a beaming smile. “He is unattached,” she added with a wink, and Judith wished the ground would open up and swallow her that very second.
“Lady Worcester, it is not right to say such things in front of a guest. He may be mortified by such a declaration,” Judith interjected, her tone firm but not unkind.
Matilda’s expression faltered, and she appeared remorseful at her misstep as she addressed Aaron.
“I beg your pardon, I meant no offense.”
“There is no need, Lady Worcester,” he assured her quickly, then turned his attention to Judith. “Please, Lady Judith, your stepmother spoke of you only with the highest regard. There is no need for concern, and I do not mind having my status advertised,” he added, his voice warm and understanding.
“Right, well, I should leave the two of you be. Judith, I will leave for the dower house for the night. Call on me if you need,” Matilda said and then made her way out of the parlor.
Judith never called on her stepmother and generally spent the evenings alone in the grand house, though she did not recall her stepmother offering before.
Shaking off the abasing experience, Judith took a moment to compose herself before turning her attention to the Duke, her curiosity unabated.
“Well, now that we are alone, may I ask what brings you to our home at this hour, Your Grace?” she inquired, her demeanor composed but with a tinge of unease lurking beneath the surface. “I was not expecting you.”
“I was not expecting to be here either, but as I thought about what occurred today, I came to the conclusion that it would behoove us to have an honest conversation before the ball tomorrow. Would you care to take the air with me?”
She hesitated, dreading what he had come to say, but realized she had no choice. She was mixed up in this arrangement with him now, and the sooner she got this out of the way, the faster she could get back to her book.
“Of course,” she replied and motioned behind him, where the door led out to the garden.
She noticed that his greatcoat was resting on the back of the chair, which was unusual, for normally it would have been handed to the butler. However, he slung it on now but then eyed her with a raised eyebrow.
“Should you not get your coat? It is rather cold.”
“I am quite all right,” she said, not wanting to bother with fetching her coat and bonnet. She did not intend for this conversation to last very long.
