Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  “Fine,” he lied. He didn’t say anything else. Just stared at her with a furrowed brow.

  She shifted awkwardly in her seat and looked away. When she caught sight of the light spilling in through the curtains, she stood and crossed the room towards them. She pulled them closed so that the light no longer shone on his face. The increased darkness soothed the ache in his head, but it also made the room feel much smaller.

  Made her feel much closer and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. It made his stomach feel queerly tight and warm. “Might I ask what you’re doing here?” He asked, before she sat down again.

  Maggie stopped at the end of his bed, looking surprised by the question. Then, perhaps, slightly hurt. No, that couldn’t be right. His fuzzy mind had surely misread that. “You’ve been sick for three days,” she answered, as if that explained her presence.

  His frowned deepened. “Then why are you here?”

  He didn’t mean to sound callous, but it was clear that she took it that way. Ordinarily, she stiffened when she felt that he was being unkind. But in this case, she didn’t. She looked down at her hands, which she was wringing together in front of her.

  “Mrs. Rayne said that I could sit with you. We didn’t want you to wake alone.”

  Despite her explanation, his confusion grew. “Why should you want to sit with me?” He asked, as he tried to sit up. He made a muffled, grunting sound, and it took him longer than it should have, but he managed it. “Why am I so sore?”

  “You’ve had a fever. You’ve complained of aches and pains in your limbs and back.”

  “I have? Haven’t I been asleep?”

  She shook her head. “Not always. Sometimes you’ve been awake.”

  “I don’t remember any of that.”

  She was right. His back did hurt, and sitting up made it worse. Grimacing, he shifted uncomfortably. Maggie came closer and put her hand on his shoulder. “Can you lean forwards?”

  He could, just about. When the space between his back and the headboard opened up, she lifted his pillow up and plumped it to support him. Then she pressed against his collarbone, easing him back.

  He sighed softly in relief. “Thank you.”

  Maggie blinked down at him, as though he’d said something remarkable. Had he really never thanked her before? She nodded and stepped back. “What do you remember?”

  “Getting into a fight,” he muttered. “Coming home.”

  “The kitchen?”

  “Yes. I remember being in the kitchen. I think I was getting something to drink.”

  “I found you there.”

  “You did?”

  Just trying to remember was like moving through fog. He put his hand against his forehead and squinted his eyes shut, trying to envision that night. “I don’t remember that. What happened?”

  When Maggie didn’t answer immediately, he opened his eyes again and looked up at her. He was sure that her cheeks were pinker. “Nothing,” she said, in a strangely pitched voice. “I went to get Alfred and had the doctor called.”

  Henry didn’t know why… but he thought that she wasn’t being entirely truthful with him. But then, why would she lie? It must be his injuries. Making him paranoid.

  He nodded.

  They were silent for a while. It felt awkward. Like there were things left unsaid between them, but he didn’t know what those things were. “You don’t have to stay,” he said, at last. He wanted to free her from any sense of obligation. He didn’t want her to know that he was still in pain. In truth… he was so ashamed that she’d seen him like this that he could hardly look at her.

  What had she seen of him in the past few days? Had she seen him vomit? Had to help him when he fell? Had to wipe the sweat from his forehead? These thoughts came to him all at once, making his cheeks warm and his jaw stiffen. He hadn’t even let his wife see him in such a state.

  She looked as if the thought of leaving hadn’t even occurred to her. “Oh,” she said. “Of course.” She turned towards the door, but before she reached it they heard a knock.

  Alfred opened the door and said, “Lord Crawley is here to see you, my Lord. Shall I bring him in?”

  Henry expelled a long breath. He thought about saying no, because he wanted to be alone, but didn’t want to be rude to Jeremy. “Send him in,” he said. Maggie made to leave again, but before she made it through the door, Jeremy walked inside. His eyes went straight to Maggie and he smiled.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said, dropping into a bow. He kissed her knuckles, while gazing up at her from beneath his brows.

  The sight made Henry’s stomach turn.

  “It’s good to see you too, Lord Crawley. But I was just leaving.”

  “Leaving? Certainly not. You must stay.”

  Maggie looked at Henry, uncertainly. The tension in his body mounted; a simmering feeling that he couldn’t put a name to at first. He nodded shortly. “Stay,” he said, to assure her, though his voice was stiff and cold.

  “You’re looking better, Henry,” Jeremy said, as he approached Henry’s bedside.

  “You’ve come before?”

  “Yes. I came the day before yesterday. Don’t you remember?”

  Henry shook his head.

  “Miss Riley has been taking wonderful care of you. I don’t think she’s left your bedside.”

  Henry looked at Maggie, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze. Her cheeks colored pink. “Yes,” he said, slowly. “I’ve heard.”

  “How are you feeling now? You’re starting to look better.”

  “I’m lucid, so that’s an improvement.”

  Jeremy nodded. “You seem tired though. Perhaps we should leave you in peace. I just wanted to come by and check on you.”

  “That’s kind,” Henry said, unsmilingly.

  “Though, while I’m here, perhaps you and I could take a walk again, Miss Riley. What do you say?”

  Henry’s eyes flashed between them. They were looking at each other. Jeremy was smiling, and there was so much charm in his face that he wondered if any woman could deny him. And as he thought this, he was finally able to name that queer feeling in his gut.

  He was jealous.

  Why on earth was he jealous? Maggie had done nothing but enrage him, and yet the prospect of her and Jeremy going for a mere walk made him feel crazy.

  Had they forgotten he was there?

  No, not quite. Maggie shifted her eyes to his face. He wondered what she was looking for. Permission? Ire? Did she want to aggravate him? “I’m not a child,” he said, tersely. “I don’t need constant watching, Miss Riley.”

  When he said this, her face changed. He watched her eyes harden and her cheek flicker with tension. “I’d love to go for a walk, my Lord,” she said to Jeremy, without taking her eyes off Henry’s face.

  It felt like a blow to the gut. Jeremy bid him farewell, but Henry didn’t answer. He just stared at Maggie as the pair of them left the room.

  Chapter 14

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  It was a long time before Maggie returned to Henry’s bedroom. She hadn’t taken the time to truly savor fresh air since Henry had fallen ill, so it was hard to let go of it now that she’d finally acquired it again.

  She and Lord Crawley made small talk, as they usually did, but it didn’t go any deeper than that. At least, not at first. They went farther into the grounds than they ever had before. So far, in fact, that she started to lose her bearings. She didn’t realize this until the sky turned purple and she suggested that they head back. When she turned to go back down the path they’d walked, she quickly became confused. She looked around, but couldn’t figure out exactly which way the house was.

  Before this became a concern, Lord Crawley reached out and touched her hand. “Miss Riley,” he said, softly. “Might I call you Maggie?”

  Maggie turned to face him, blinking down at his hand on hers. She didn’t think it was a good idea for him to call her by her Chri
stian name, but also didn’t think it proper to deny him. She reminded herself that she was only a governess, after all. So she nodded, but felt this uncomfortable churning of nervousness in her lower belly.

  “There’s something that I’ve been meaning to say to you,” he admitted. He came closer and took her other hand in his. She thought about pulling away. The last time a man had been so close to her, she’d let her feelings run away with her and had done something she was coming to regret.

  But as she looked up at Lord Crawley, she knew that her feelings wouldn’t run away with her today. Because when she stared into his eyes, she didn’t feel the urge to touch him or kiss him. He was just a man.

  “Lord Crawley-”

  “Jeremy,” he interjected. “Please call me Jeremy.”

  She pursed her lips and bit her tongue.

  “I like you, Maggie.”

  “I’m a governess,” she reminded him, but didn’t take her hands from his.

  He smiled. “I know that. But I don’t care. You don’t act like a governess, Maggie.”

  If Henry had said that, it would have been a criticism, but she knew that Jeremy meant it as a compliment. Jeremy complimented her all the time, while Henry only critiqued her. Then why had she wanted to kiss him so terribly, but just holding Jeremy’s hands felt strange and unwelcome?

  Maggie swallowed. She tried to think what to say to him, but words were lost on her.

  “I don’t need an answer now,” he added, still smiling. His confidence was charming. And it made sense, of course, that he was confident. Because what mere governess would dare turn him down, when he promised a life of luxury, kindness and rank?

  “Are you certain of what you’re asking me?” Maggie said.

  “Quite certain,” he replied.

  It remained unspoken between them, and she was glad of that. She didn’t want a marriage proposal. Not now. But by declaring his interest, he was preparing her for one. Maggie nodded. “I thank you for your affection, Lord-” She stopped and caught herself. “Jeremy,” she corrected.

  This made his smile widen. He walked her back to the house, and they spent most of their remaining time together discussing which path to take. Neither of them knew the way back, which meant that they took a number of wrong turns. By the time they finally returned to Radingley, it was late evening and they were soaked through from a rain that had come down hard on them in the last hour.

  He’d given her his coat, but she was still shivering. At the door, she bid him farewell and went to her room to change. Even once she’d changed into dry clothes, her teeth were chattering. She thought about going to bed, but she needed to check on Henry first. She’d spent so much time by his bedside in the past few days that it felt strange and wrong not to visit him. Just to assure herself that he hadn’t slipped back into a fever.

  Maggie snuck into his room quietly, something she never would have done before his illness. But she’d gotten so used to being in his private space, to being close, that she didn’t even consider whether he’d reprimand her for it. And frankly, she didn’t care if he did.

  Maggie went to his bedside. The room was almost pitch black, but she could make out the outline of his face. His breathing was deep, which made her think that he must be asleep. Very gently, she pressed the back of her hand against his forehead.

  She breathed a sigh of relief. No fever.

  Maggie was about to take her hand away, when she felt fingers close around her wrist. “What are you doing here?” Came his voice through the darkness.

  She didn’t yank herself free of his grip, just stood over him, keeping very still. “I wanted to check on you,” she whispered.

  “Is that your job now?” His voice was cutting, and he released her wrist as he spoke.

  “No,” she answered, calmly. “It’s something I wanted to do.”

  Her eyes were adjusting to the light, so she could see his dark expression. “Are you in pain?” She asked.

  “Get out,” he replied.

  Maggie blinked rapidly, her lips parted in surprise… and hurt. “Why?” She asked, with furrowed brows. It was such an instinctive response, because she couldn’t understand why he’d want her to leave. Why he seemed so angry. Could he truly not remember what had happened between them in the kitchen? Did he not care that she’d stayed by his bedside for days?

  “Because I don’t want your pity.”

  “I don’t pity you.”

  “You’re a liar.”

  Maggie’s eyes turned icy. “Do not call me a liar,” she said, slowly.

  “You told me you weren’t courting.”

  “So that’s what this is about?” She balked. “Jeremy and I?”

  “It’s Jeremy now? I told you to stay away from him.”

  “Why do you care so much?” She demanded, heatedly.

  “He’s my friend,” Henry blurted, through gritted teeth. “And you’re a governess.”

  It made sense, but it stung so much. “You don’t think I’m good enough for him,” she deduced, her voice wavering slightly as it dawned on her.

  Henry didn’t reply, which she took as answer enough.

  “You may think that,” she said, after several moments of silence. “I cannot stop you from thinking that.”

  “Then you’ll stop seeing him?”

  “No.”

  Once she said that, the silence between them was so heavy and impenetrable that she thought it would never end. She couldn’t just see the piercing blue of his eyes. She could feel it too. It felt like he was frosting her skin with his stare.

  She knew that he could fire her at any moment, but she didn’t take back what she’d said. She wouldn’t auction off her dignity or her free will. Not for safety, security, or even his good opinion.

  When Henry didn’t answer her, just continued to stare, Maggie decided that it was time to leave. She went out into the hallway and closed the door softly behind her. Expelling a breath, she put her back against the wood and looked up at the ceiling. Her heart was beating wildly, but she didn’t understand why.

  Closing her eyes, she remembered the night in the kitchen. How it had felt to be kissed by him. God, she hated herself for liking it. Now she wished it had never happened.

  ***

  Lord Henry Rivers, Earl of Radingley

  In her absence, Henry felt so overcome by his feelings that he put his hands to his head and gripped his hair, which pulled at his injury. It made him hiss in a breath, but he didn’t stop. The pain suited him right now. He groaned into his hands and lay back in his bed again.

  It was difficult to sleep that night, despite still feeling groggy and weak. He felt like he’d been confined to his bed for an eternity and couldn’t stand to be there any longer. The room felt stuffy with sickness.

  In his efforts not to think about Maggie, Henry thought about his daughter. He wondered if she’d been afraid for him while he’d been sick. Henry missed her, as he often did. It was why he always did his best not to think of her, because it made him hurt inside when he thought of how little time he spent with her.

  Alicia had been the reason he’d gone drinking that night. Because after what Maggie had said, he couldn’t deny the truth any longer.

  Henry was a bad father. A neglectful, unkind father. But there was one thing Maggie had gotten wrong. He wasn’t uncaring. Henry cared more than he could stand. He was only afraid.

  This was the first time he’d been lucid since his argument with Maggie in his study. All the thoughts he’d been trying to drown with alcohol came to him now that he was sober. And when he finally acknowledged the truth, Henry felt his eyes sting and water. He put his face in his pillow and let the sorrow and regret pour out of him.

  Her mother had left her. And her father rejected her time and time again, just as his father had done with him. He’d known this all along, but had hidden from it so very well. He’d needed someone else to say it. To thrust in his face and make him see. Though he needed it, a part of him hated Ma
ggie for putting him through this pain. The truth was too much for Henry.

  By morning, Henry had wept himself dry. Despite being sleepless all night long, he felt stronger than he had the night before. The last dregs of his sickness were falling away, and there was one thing he wanted to do.