Rogue Countess by Amy Sandas Page B

enough to meet with the estate manager and go over the current state of the Blackbourne properties. He was very pleased to discover that everything was running smoothly and the estate was making excellent profit under the capable management of Mr. Harding. He shouldn’t have expected any less. His father would only have chosen the most competent and reliable fellow to handle such important business. Jude was pleased to see that in many cases, some very modern practices had been put in place.
    After setting up further meetings with Mr. Harding in London to discuss additional possible improvements, Jude decided there was not much else keeping him in Essex.
    Even his mother seemed anxious to see him go. Initially, when he had found out Helena seldom traveled to town anymore, he had worried that she might be lonely after losing her husband. He soon discovered the error in his assumption as visitors poured in throughout the day. His mother ran a veritable court of local peers and gentry. And she was clearly very contented with her position as the reigning social queen of Essex.
    Jude had returned to London determined to find a solution to the unexpected difficulty his wife had proven herself to be. He could kick himself for declaring her identity in the middle of the crowded Newmarket tavern. It would have been much better to handle the matter discreetly. But then he had expected to find her flaunting her association with the Blackbourne family, not concealing it. It rankled his pride she would reject his family name.
    In truth, public opinion didn’t matter to him nearly as much as his liberation. Annulment proceedings could be ugly. His mother may never forgive him the scandal. But he was prepared for that. What he hadn’t expected was that the woman might completely refuse him. And there was no way he could have anticipated his personal reaction to her.
    Every time he thought of her, he became filled with anger and lust. An uncomfortable combination. He wouldn’t be able to approach his problem properly if his mind was twisted by such opposing emotions.
    When he had returned to London and Rutherford suggested a night at the club, Jude thought it a perfect opportunity to spend some time among old friends with great spirits, excellent food and better conversation. Surely such masculine pleasures would return him to his natural state of ease.
    His estimation of the evening couldn’t have been more wrong.
    Jude swirled his brandy in his palm as he jerked his head toward the group gathered across the room. “Do you know that woman?”
    Rutherford didn’t bother to turn his head to see who he spoke of. There was only one woman in the place, after all.
    “Is that what has you wound so damn tight? I would have expected all your time abroad to give you a more open-minded perspective.”
    “Well, what the hell is she doing here?” Jude muttered in an unforgiving tone. “This is a gentlemen’s club. One of the strictest rules of this establishment is that no women are allowed.” He heard the petty intolerance of his words and hated it. He abhorred such limiting sentiments, but his current frustration got the better of his greater intelligence.
    Rutherford sighed, clearly intimating that the subject was old news and not necessarily worth the waste of conversation. “This happens to be the exception which proves the rule then. She was given honorary membership a little more than a year ago. Lord Derby sponsored her in a flush of generosity, and when it came up for a vote of the members, it went through.”
    “She was Derby’s mistress?”
    Jude’s voice was dark and cold, but Rutherford didn’t seem to notice the underlying tension in his friend’s question and shrugged noncommittally.
    “Could be, though I doubt it. Didn’t seem like that kind of relationship. More professional than personal. She doesn’t come in very frequently.” He lifted his brandy in a jaunty salute. “Just your luck, I guess, to be here on the