The Last of Lady Lansdown Read Free Page A

child, but please have patience and don’t keep asking.”
    Her words seemed to make no impression on her mama. “You do realize what would happen if his lordship dies without issue? The title would pass to that worthless twin of his.” Seemingly horrified at the vision she had created, she scowled. “Dear God, that awful Beatrice would be the new Countess of Lansdown. She would get everything, and you, Jane, mark my words, would be thrown out on the streets with nothing but your jointure.”
    “I won’t be out on the streets. I’ll have my dower house.”
    Mama ignored her. “The rest of your poor family would be out on the streets, too. I can just see Beatrice flouncing about, Queen of the May, with her fancy title.” Mama seethed with mounting rage. “Oh, I cannot bear the thought. You must give the earl an heir immediately!”
    Easier said than done. Jane stifled her smile. “You are the one who always says ‘Everything in its own good time.’ Well, give it more time and don’t look for trouble.”
    “Oh, indeed,” Mama sniffed, “I would not be surprised if Beatrice prays every night you will go the way of the first countess.”
    Enough was enough. “Let’s proceed to a more pleasant subject, please .”
    Granny spoke up. “I wish to go upstairs now. Jane, ring for Griggs. Tell him I want that new young footman to carry me up, the one with the shapely calves.” She sneaked a conniving glance at Jane. “Do you suppose he pads them?”
    “Mother, please! You are not supposed to even notice a mere servant, much less—”
    “She’s joking, Mama.” Jane rose hastily and went to the bell pull. “I’ll ring.” She was grateful to Granny for distracting Mama’s attention. She wished she could be distracted. No such luck. Ever since her husband had issued his command invitation, her ordinarily sunny mood had given way to joyless apprehension. She had grown to hate the summons to her husband’s bedchamber. Worst of all was knowing that she did not have a choice.
    Why did he go to Sudberry this morning? What was so important he had to go himself?
    She could not imagine what it was.

 
    Chapter 2
     
    On the cobbled main street of the small village of Sudberry, passersby stopped to watch the shiny black coach, resplendent with the Lansdown coat of arms on its doors. It was pulled by four matched grays that brought it rumbling to a stop in front of Felton’s Apothecary Shoppe. The interest of the passersby turned to ill-concealed surprise when the earl stepped from the coach. Seldom were they privileged to gaze upon His Lordship in person.
    “Wait here, Thomas.” Arthur Elton, Earl of Lansdown, a tall, spare man in his early fifties with a thin face and hawkish nose, stepped to the curb and cast a scowling gaze upwards at the wooden green apothecary’s sign swinging above the door. A mortar and pestle were painted on the sign, circled by the Latin phrase, Major Agit Deus. “ A God more powerful is the agent,” the earl silently mouthed. From Virgil’s Aeneid . He would lay odds that nary an oaf in this wretched village could translate the words, and that included old Felton. Well, he did not give a farthing which God was more powerful as long as he acquired what he came for.
    A bell jingled as he stepped inside the shop and closed the door. No other customers, thank God . Felton stood behind the counter. He was a stooped, bespectacled old man, backed by shelves lined with the Dutch blue delft jars storing his various nostrums. One was filled with water that was teeming with a disgusting collection of leeches.
    “Ah, Your Lordship!” Felton’s rheumy eyes lit with delight. With a bright smile, he came around the counter and gave an obsequious bow. “Again, I am honored you have graced my shop by your presence, sir. I—”
    “Do you have it?” Lansdown’s lips tightened. Smiling at underlings was a waste of time.
    “Indeed, I do, m’lord. At last!” Felton, his smile stifled, scurried