Rogue Countess

by Amy Sandas

  “Well, maybe that will help,” she said with a gesture toward the box. “The stubborn child refused when I tried to give it to her, but perhaps she will accept it from you.”

  The dowager countess stepped up to Jude and placed a dry kiss on both of his cheeks. Then she grasped his arms and leaned back to study his face carefully.

  “You know, I have to admit, you are a bit of a disappointment to me, Judy. With the reputation you had garnered during your exotic travels, I would have expected you to have had your wife wrapped around your finger weeks ago.” Then she shrugged and gave a little sigh as she patted his arm. “I’m sure you’re doing your best.”

  Jude looked at his mother and tried to catch up to her bright and sudden shift in mood. He had to consider the possibility she might have gone mad.

  He watched in befuddlement as she walked gracefully around him and headed for the door. Just before leaving, she turned back with a glowing smile and a little wave. Her smile faltered a little when she noticed Jude’s dark expression.

  “Oh, don’t take it personally, darling. The girl really is terribly stubborn and more vulnerable than she lets on. It was years before I ever found out the truth of that fateful night. Good luck,” she called over her shoulder then swept through the door.

  At a loss for what else to do, Jude turned and picked up the box, hoping it at least might provide a more clear explanation than what his mother seemed capable of. When he lifted the lid and saw what was nestled in the soft velvet lining, he chuckled in amazement.

  His mother should be on the stage.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Jude slipped the box into the inner pocket of his coat and glanced impatiently at the clock.

  Dammit. What the hell was taking Anna so long? How much time could a woman spend at Tattersalls?

  His lips twitched. Knowing Anna, she could be there all day.

  He rubbed his hand along the shadowy growth of rough hair on his jaw. A hot bath, a close shave and a fresh set of clothes would perhaps set him up better for the intricate confrontation he intended to force on his wife once she finally returned home. And keeping busy with such tasks might help to prevent the maddening urge to pace.

  He turned to leave the breakfast room just as Hastings stepped into the open doorframe.

  “A guest to see you, my lord,” the servant announced.

  “Good God, now who could it be?” Jude muttered.

  “The Duchess of Clavering.”

  Jude scowled. “Tell her Lady Blackbourne is not at home.”

  The well-trained butler cleared his throat. “Her Grace was very clear in indicating that she is here to see you. I have shown her to the study for lack of a better option since the morning room isn’t exactly suited to receiving visitors,” Hastings noted with a distinct lack of expression. “Would you like me to advise Her Grace that you are indisposed?”

  Jude sighed heavily and glanced at the clock. It was barely one o’clock in the afternoon. By London standards, it was unusually early for so many callers, and this one in particular he would have liked to postpone indefinitely.

  Last night at the ball, Olivia had been an annoyance. She had been cloying and effusive and insincere. He had nearly resorted to outright rudeness in order to excuse himself to follow Anna after she had slipped away. He had probably been a bit insensitive and likely owed her an apology. Better to get this over with quickly.

  “Thank you, Hastings. I’ll see her. Would you please have a bath sent up to my room?” he said as he left the breakfast room and crossed the hall toward the study. “This will be a very short visit.”

  He entered the study and saw Olivia standing in front of the full-length windows, staring out at the courtyard.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.”

  The duchess jumped and whirled around to face him with a look of surprise as if she had not expected him. Her recovery was swift and complete as a smile of relief and pleasure brightened her face. She rushed over to him instantly with her gloved hands outstretched and a soft cry.

  “Oh, Jude, you can have no idea how happy I am to see you right now. You are literally a bright star in the dark night my life has become. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you as such a dear and loyal friend.”

  Jude was momentarily dumbstruck by the theatrical greeting. What on earth was going on this morning? First, the odd visit from his mother and now this. He looked down at Olivia quizzically as she reached him and took both of his hands in hers.

  “You are a friend to me, are you not, Jude?” She looked up at him, her soft brown eyes red rimmed, puffy and swimming with unspent tears. Her pink lips quivered in distress. In fact, her entire appearance was rather rough around the edges. Her hair was falling from its coiffure, her face powder was smudged and blotchy in places as if she’d been crying.

  A cold feeling of dread swept across his skin.

  “Something’s wrong. What happened?” A frown creased Jude’s brow. “Is it Anna?”

  “No,” she nearly shouted as she resisted his hand at her elbow. A tear fell now from the corner of her eye. “Tell me you are a friend to me,” she demanded, hysteria rising in her voice. “I must know if you will help me or I will leave right now.”

  There was something about her demeanor that bothered him. Jude looked at her carefully and saw the dilation in the pupils of her eyes. He noted the way her hands clenched and unclenched involuntarily and the way she glanced about the room. The woman was in a definite panic, that much was obvious. He kept his tone low and calm as he answered.

  “Of course, I am your friend. I know my behavior last night may have been rude, but I would hazard a guess that is not what is upsetting you now,” he stated.

  “Oh, it’s just awful, Jude,” she wailed as she turned away from him to pace back toward the window she had been standing in front of when he had entered the room. She pulled a small glass bottle from her reticule and put it to her lips with a shaky hand.

  Laudanum. It explained the dilated pupils, the odd frenetic movements and swift emotional shifts. An acrid taste developed in Jude’s mouth.

  After taking two drawing swallows of the opium-based medicine, she replaced the stopper in the top and tucked the bottle away again. “I don’t know if he’ll ever forgive me.”

  “Who?” Jude asked carefully. “Clavering?”

  “Who else would I be talking about?” Olivia snapped waspishly before turning contrite. “I’m sorry,” she muttered weakly as she turned around to face Jude. “I have been up all night trying to find a solution to my problem. I have been going around to all of my friends, but none of them will help me anymore. They say I have gone too far, that I am no longer trustworthy, that I must find a way to get myself out of this on my own.”

  Jude watched her with growing concern as she rambled through the nonsense explanation that told him nothing of what kind of help she needed. He studied her appearance a bit more closely and recognized the pink gown that she wore beneath her cloak. It was the gown she had worn to the ball the night before.

  Distress, drugs and alcohol and a significant lack of sleep did not contribute to a very steady or clear state of mind. Under such influences, a person could become unpredictable. A perfectly mild-mannered gentleman could turn into a belligerent lunatic with no care for others or himself.

  Jude had seen it happen far too many times.

  “Slow down and explain what happened,” he insisted.

  Olivia eyed him carefully, suspiciously, as if she were measuring his reaction, eyeing his commitment to her plight. She glanced back over her shoulder out the window. She wasn’t just worried and panicked. She was also extremely distracted, as if she were anticipating something happening. Then she looked back at Jude with a vague but unblinking gaze and stated bluntly, “I am in need of a rather significant amount of money.”

  “How much, Olivia?” he asked, giving away none of his concerns in the even tone of his voice.

  “Oh, I am such a wretc
hed soul,” she wailed suddenly, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “How awful for you to see me thus.” She walked toward him with an expression of supplication, holding her hands out in a begging gesture. “Remember how we used to be, Jude? So young, so happy. I hope you weren’t terribly upset when you found out that I had married Clavering. You understand, don’t you?” she pleaded. “You know why I did it.”

  “Of course, I understand,” Jude answered carefully.

  She smoothed her hands over the lapels of his coat. Her head was bent and Jude could not read her expression. He remained still, poised for her next move. When she spoke, it was hard for him to discern the emotion behind her words.

  “There is a lot of talk going around about you and Anna. The gossips seem to think the two of you have set at each other like a pair of caged tigers. Circling and striking with subtle attacks. Was that what the kiss was last night, Jude? Did you do it to show the world what a common tramp she is?” she asked as she tilted her head back and met his cautious gaze with eyes wide and unfocused.

  She looked as if reality barely had her in its grip. He hesitated, wanting to avoid the kind of answer that might set her loose completely.

  “Or have you reconciled with my strange little sister?” She pouted her lips and crinkled her brow. It was a tactic she used to employ quite a lot when he had been courting her. How could he have ever thought the overdone expression was charming?

  When he didn’t answer right away, she interrupted with a shout of impatient fury. “Oh, I don’t give a blast what happens between you and the twit. I have bigger problems and you haven’t told me yet if you’re going to help me.”

  “Of course, I will do what I can,” Jude assured her, “but I’m still not sure what it is you need from me.”

  “Money, Jude! I need money!” she shouted in exasperation. “I thought I made that clear enough. You are my last option.”

  Olivia whipped around and walked to the cold fireplace. She stared down at the empty grate and continued in a voice filled with spite and disgust. “My dear sister has already refused to lend me any more funds. The self-righteous brat said I must learn not to risk so much at the tables. As if she understands what it’s like for our set. Everyone gambles. It’s expected. I am the Duchess of Clavering. It is my reputation on the line if I back out when the stakes get high. What does she know?” Olivia asked with snide conviction as she fumbled around with her reticule, likely searching for another dose of laudanum. “She makes a fortune with those foul beasts and still I must come begging at her doorstep for the smallest little loans. No, she will not help me anymore. Not this time. Not without the right incentive.”

  Olivia turned to eye Jude with a dark and dangerous light shining in her gaze. Her mouth curled into a snarl and a glimmering sheen of sweat could be seen on her forehead and upper lip. Her body was tensed for action, as if poised just barely on the edge of sanity.

  Jude watched her warily, his senses alert. Olivia’s emotional instability was escalating and he had grown quickly more concerned during her vehement tirade. The stark hostility in her voice as she spoke of Anna caused a cold chill of fear to chase over Jude’s skin. He was infinitely grateful that Anna was safely away from the house.

  “And you won’t help me either,” she said with stark certainty as she lifted her chin with theatrical pride. She held her hands clasped tightly behind her back and straightened her posture. “I can see that now. I think it may be best for me to leave.”

  She crossed the room with slow and deliberate steps and then stopped when she stood between Jude and the door. Eyeing him intently, she brought her hands forward from behind her back. One of them held a small silver pistol that she raised to point straight at Jude’s heart. When she smiled then, it was oddly apologetic.

  “I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, Jude.”

  “What are you doing, Olivia?” he asked evenly as he opened his palms and held his hands out from his sides in a non-threatening gesture, keeping his eyes trained on her face.

  She appeared strangely calm all of a sudden. And that terrified him. She had made some sort of decision, and he had no idea what it might be.

  “Why don’t you explain to me what you are doing with that gun?”

  “Oh, this?” she asked lightly. “I got this a few years ago when I found myself having to associate with some unsavory characters. They don’t always respect their betters as they should, but they respect this,” she finished with a jerky nod toward the gun. “Now, I am tired of talking. It is time for us to go. Before Anna returns and this is all ruined.”

  Jude had a horrible vision of Anna walking in while Olivia was in her current state of mind and holding a gun. Terror seized his chest and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rose in alarm at the thought of what could happen should Olivia’s obvious animosity toward Anna find a target. Such a thing had to be avoided at all costs. Suddenly, that was his only concern—get the mad woman out of the house.

  He would figure the rest out later, once he could be confident of Anna’s safety.

  He raised his hands in surrender and nodded.

  “All right, Olivia, if you are certain that is what you want.”

  Olivia’s smile was filled with joyful delight at his willing cooperation.

  “Of course, Jude. I am completely certain. Come along now,” she urged brightly, but when Jude started toward the door, she shook her head with a childish frown. “Uh-uh, darling. Out the window, if you please. I do not want to pass by Anna’s trusted guards while pointing a pistol in your back. They’re liable to think something is amiss.”

  Jude turned away slowly. He opened the full-length window Olivia had been staring out of and stepped out into the stone courtyard behind the house. Olivia was close behind him and very vigilant in keeping him in line with the barrel of her gun.

  Her carriage had been pulled off the street and into the narrow lane between the house and stables. The coachman immediately jumped down from his box at the sight of them. The man showed no surprise at seeing his mistress holding a weapon, and Jude realized with sharp disappointment that the servant would be of no help to him.

  Once he was seated across from Olivia in the closed carriage and they had started off down the road, he finally released a sigh of relief.

  Anna was safe.

  Now he needed to get himself the hell out of this mess.

  He trained his eyes on Olivia. All he needed was one brief moment of opportunity where he could make a go for the gun. It had to be soon. He didn’t know how far they were going, but once they reached her intended destination she may enlist the coachman’s aid in tying him up. Then he would have very little chance of escaping on his own. He could only be grateful that she hadn’t thought to restrain him during the drive.

  He tried to give the impression of being resigned to her keeping. He lounged back in the seat and watched her. The gun was surprising steady in her hands considering how much she had been shaking earlier. After several silent minutes of Olivia seeming perfectly content to keep her barrel and her gaze fixed upon him with relentless focus, Jude shifted in his seat, testing her reaction.

  She followed his movement precisely.

  In the very next second, the carriage wheel hit a rut in the street and the sharp jostling of the vehicle was enough to throw Olivia’s hands up by just a couple inches. Jude seized upon his chance and lunged forward and swung his hands up underneath hers to force the barrel upward. He made contact with her clasped fists and the weight of the weapon’s movement transferred down the length of his arms just as he heard the deafening shot echo through the confined space.

  Sharp, blinding pain exploded like lightning against his temple, knocking him back into his seat. His head rapped against the back of the carriage and blackness swooped across his vision like a shroud at the same time that everything went piercingly silent. And then there was nothing.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Anna entered the stables, walking Georg
e behind her.

  Dressed in her usual riding costume of breeches, knee boots, a linen shirt and wool jacket, she felt competent and strong. Fully self-sufficient, completely self-aware, she knew her purpose in life and was comfortable in the space she occupied. She moved with calm, deliberate confidence as she removed the saddle from her mount. These tasks were as natural to her as breathing. She was relaxed, her movements steady and sure, her pleasure in the activity undeniable.

  The night before had been an amazing revelation. Anna had no idea that by committing herself fully to the terrifying feelings she had for Jude she might discover a gift more powerful than she had imagined. She had loved Jude with a childish infatuation when she had been sixteen. Upon his return to England, it didn’t take long for her to realize that a long-buried tenderness still existed no matter how hard she fought to ignore it. And over the last weeks that tenderness had only spread deeper as she grew to admire him for the man he had become and to appreciate his company and conversation.

  Making love with him last night had been the single most beautiful experience of her life.

  Once Jude had fallen asleep, she’d stayed in his bed only long enough to ensure that every detail of the time spent in his arms would be seared forever into her memory. She’d silently studied the familiar contours of his face, the solid structure of his features, the detail of lines and shadows that shaped into expressions of frustration, joy and passion. Their passionate and inevitable joining was destined to change everything between them, and she had no idea what the next day might bring.

  But during that private aftermath, Jude was still all and only hers.

  Then she’d carefully and quietly slid from his bed and tiptoed from his room. She would have loved to be able to float along in her newfound joy and contentment, but she had to make some serious choices.

  When Jude awoke, he would start questioning her with the harsh facts of reality. He would not allow her to escape his inquiries any longer.

  She had gone back to her own bedroom, but she hadn’t slept.