Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  He was sure there was plenty he could find to do today, but all he really wanted to do was see Maggie. He went to the library, but he didn’t go inside or announce his presence immediately. He stood in the doorway and watched.

  Maggie was sitting on the floor with Alicia. They had an atlas spread out on the floor, and she was pointing at Britain. “That’s where we are right now. But there are so many other places we could go.” Her finger moved. “This is France.”

  “Where’s this?” Alicia asked, as she pointed at the map.

  “That’s America,” Maggie said.

  Henry watched Alicia’s face fall. “That’s where mama went.”

  Henry almost stepped into the room. He didn’t know what he was going to say, but he knew that something had to be said. But before he took a step, he saw Maggie smile softly and sadly. “Yes, Alicia. That’s where she went.”

  “It doesn’t look so far away,” Alicia observed.

  Maggie softly touched the back of Alicia’s head, drawing her closer so she could kiss her temple. “It’s a long way, my darling. A very long way.”

  Alicia’s eyes lowered, but she leaned into the kiss.

  “Do you understand why she left, Alicia?”

  Alicia shook her head gently. Henry felt as if someone was gripping his heart in his chest. He supposed he should have expected this. How could she possibly know when he’d never tried to explain? When he never understood himself?

  “Children aren’t the only ones who make mistakes. Your mama… she made a mistake when she left.”

  Alicia’s brows pulled together and she looked up at Maggie. “But why?”

  “We think we know what’s right. We think we know what’s good for us, but sometimes we’re wrong. Your mama left behind a beautiful, wonderful daughter. That can’t be anything but a mistake.”

  Alicia blinked, and her lips parted slightly. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears, but she didn’t cry.

  “Would you leave your papa, Alicia?” Maggie said, as she softly pushed a lock of hair back over Alicia’s ear.

  Alicia shook her head slowly. “No.”

  “That’s right,” Maggie said, with a small smile. “You wouldn’t do that. Your mama shouldn’t have done that. She shouldn’t have left either of you, but she did. But her leaving doesn’t mean that you’re bad, or that you and your papa can’t be happy. Do you understand that?”

  Alicia sniffled, then nodded again.

  Maggie kissed the top of her head once more, then pointed at the map again. “This country is almost entirely made of ice. Can you believe that?”

  This was a sufficient distraction for Alicia. She leaned over the map again and started to smile. The lesson continued, as if Maggie hadn’t just addressed a crucial question that his daughter had no doubt been harboring since her mother left.

  Henry was left speechless in the doorway, until Maggie glanced up and caught sight of him. At first, she looked surprised to see him, but then she smiled. She gestured for him to come inside and join them.

  “Papa!” Alicia exclaimed, as she always did when she saw him.

  “Hello, sweetheart. What are we learning today?”

  Henry picked his daughter up and sat down on the floor with her held in his lap. As Alicia started to tell him everything she knew, Henry stole a glimpse of Maggie’s face.

  Their eyes met, and he felt warmth shoot through his whole body.

  “Thank you,” he mouthed, silently.

  She smiled in answer, her cheeks becoming rosy.

  They sat around that map for a long time. Henry told them about all the places he’d been to, how long it had taken to get to each of them, and the wonders he’d seen when he was there.

  Alicia beamed throughout. “Can I go with you next time you go somewhere?” She asked. “Maybe France?”

  Henry smiled. “Of course you can.”

  “And Miss Riley? Can she come too?”

  Henry and Maggie looked at each other again. He could see that Alicia’s question made her uncomfortable. She quickly looked back down at the map. “If Miss Riley would like to come,” Henry answered, in a rich and warm voice. “Then certainly.”

  Though Maggie didn’t reply, or even look up at him, he could see a smile hiding at the corner of her lips.

  Chapter 25

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  “I wanted to thank you for what you said to Alicia,” Henry said, as they walked side by side through a grove of trees on the grounds. “When she asked about her mother.”

  Maggie hadn’t been certain that he’d heard their conversation until now. She was just pleased that he wasn’t angry with her. “I hope I did not overstep.”

  Henry shrugged his shoulders. “Perhaps you did,” he said. “But it was an answer I should have given her a long time ago. I am glad you were able to afford her some clarity.”

  “Then you’re welcome.”

  They walked a little longer in comfortable silence, watching Alicia. She was running ahead of them, ducking down to pick up various flowers and daisies as she went. “Last night…” Henry murmured, his voice softer and quieter.

  Maggie lowered her eyes to the grass, her cheeks getting warm as she remembered his touch, his kisses; the wonderful weight of him over her. Above all, the passion and intensity.

  “I-”

  “Don’t,” Maggie interjected. She touched his arm as she said this and shook her head.

  Henry blinked down at her, clearly perplexed.

  “Let’s not talk about it.”

  Henry frowned. “Why?”

  Maggie pursed her lips, musing over how to answer him in a way that wouldn’t be misunderstood. “I don’t want to think about it too much,” she said.

  His frown deepened. It was a strange look on him. It made him seem almost hurt. “Oh.”

  “You’ve misunderstood me,” Maggie said. She squeezed his arm, sliding her hand down his forearm until she could touch his hand. She didn’t twine their fingers together, but let the touch remind him that what they’d shared the night before still existed. “I just mean that I feel like it’s a secret that shouldn’t be expressed beyond your bed chambers. Some part of me feels that bringing into reality might shatter it.”

  Of course, there was more to it than that. She didn’t want to ruin it by falling into the temptation of thinking about what it all meant. What it could mean for their future. “Do you understand?”

  This seemed to ease Henry’s concern. He smiled and nodded. “You want to live in the moment. I want that too.”

  She wanted to hold his hand. He was so different now. There was something new and open about him that made her feel warm and tender. There had been so much friction between them for so long. So much tension and frustration. After last night, those feelings of friction felt like a thing of the past.

  Now, Henry was gentler. He was less confrontational. He even seemed… happier. It was so peculiar to see him this way. She’d gotten used to his temper. To the barriers he kept around himself. She felt like those barriers were starting to crumble, and he was too content to notice and prevent it from happening.

  Somehow, she’d snuck past his defenses. And what she found on the other side was like nothing she’d ever anticipated. He was charming. He was sweet. He was the sort of man who smiled and laughed. He wanted to be admired and desired, just like everyone else.

  And he cared what she thought of him. Maggie had never imagined that even being possible.

  Maggie smiled up at him, letting their fingers brush again as they walked. There was so much that was left unsaid between them. So many questions. What would she tell Jeremy? Did he intend to propose to her? Would their physical intimacy escalate any further? Did he expect her to come to his bedroom that night and join him again? Was there affection between them, or only passion?

  She didn’t know any of the answers to those questions. What she didn’t want to tell him was that she didn’t want to ask them
because she was afraid of the answers. What if there was nothing but passion? What if he didn’t want anything more from her than physical intimacy?

  As soon as she let herself worry about these things, it would ruin what they had. And she wanted to hold on for as long as she could, even if it was doomed for failure. Maggie knew that was reckless. She knew Joseph would disapprove. But for the first time in her life, she didn’t want to do the clever thing. She wanted to do something that made her happy, even if it was a short-term happiness.

  “Papa, look!” Alicia ran up to them, and Maggie shifted her hand away from Henry’s. Alicia held up a chain of daisies that she’d made into a necklace.

  “Beautiful,” Henry said, taking the necklace from her with careful hands. He showed it to Maggie, who smiled as she touched the delicate little flowers.

  “Very pretty, Alicia.”

  Henry then put the necklace over Alicia’s head, so that it hung around her throat. “Shall we head back for some lunch?”

  ***

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  Though it was unspoken, Henry expected Maggie to join him in his bed chamber again that night. He couldn’t even entertain the prospect of getting into bed while he waited. Instead, he sat up by the window in an armchair. He looked out over the grounds, cast in darkness and moonlight, while he sipped from a glass of whiskey.

  He felt a strange lurch of nervousness mixed in with his excitement. It was an unusual feeling for him. He’d been with countless women and had never felt nervous before. In fact, being with women always made him feel powerful and in control.

  That wasn’t the case with Maggie. With her, he felt entirely out of control. He drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, sending regular glances towards his bedroom door. It was almost midnight. He expected her to come around then, when she was sure everyone else was asleep.

  When he heard a soft knock, Henry expelled a slow breath, trying to gather his senses before he saw her. He wanted to seem confident, charming, aloof. Not like an adolescent boy about to kiss his first girl.

  He went to the door and opened it.

  It wasn’t Maggie on the other side. It was Alfred, looking frantic. “My Lord, I’m so sorry to wake you, but there’s someone here.” Alfred whispered, though his voice was urgent.

  Henry’s brows knit together. “Here? What do you mean?”

  “My Lord,” he said again, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “It’s the Baroness.”

  Henry’s expression leveled out. The Baroness. Alfred didn’t need to say anymore than that. Henry only knew of one woman who would come here in the middle of the night. Rose. Henry didn’t say anything more. He simply passed Alfred in the doorway and went downstairs quickly. He didn’t know why she was here, but he could certainly guess.

  When he stepped into the drawing room, where she was waiting for him, he saw that she was crying. She stood in the middle of the room with bloodshot, tears eyes. But she didn’t look sad. She looked full of rage.

  “Weeks,” she whispered. “Weeks and I hear nothing from you. How do you have the nerve?”

  Henry had dealt with this situation before. She wasn’t the first woman to become upset with his conduct. “Please take a seat, Rose,” Henry said, with a placating tone. “Let’s talk calmly.”

  “Don’t condescend me,” she hissed at him. “What do you have to say for yourself? Why did you do it?”

  “No one knows,” he reminded her. “I haven’t told a soul. Your reputation is untarnished, provided you handle this matter as delicately as I have.”

  “Delicately?” Her voice was getting louder. He put his hands out, as if he was trying to calm down a raging animal.

  “Keep your voice down,” he said, softly. “And take a seat.”

  “I will not take a seat!” Now she was practically shouting, and the silence that followed her words felt especially heavy.

  Henry dropped his hands and expelled a slow breath. “I’m sorry if you misinterpreted my intentions, Rose. But in truth, I don’t think you did. We hardly knew each other. Were you expecting a marriage proposal?”

  “You’re a cad,” she bit out. “I should never have let you overcome my good sense.”

  “I’m sorry,” Henry said again, gently. He knew that he hadn’t been her first, and she’d surely had this very same conversation with other men, but he was truly sorry for not wanting more from her. He’d enjoyed their time together, but he didn’t love her. She didn’t even intrigue him. In fact, as he stared at her, he wondered how he’d even mustered the desire to bed her.

  Seeing her made him realize that what he had with Maggie was different. Every woman was a shade beside her. “You’re not sorry,” she sneered, shaking her head. “This is what you do. I’m not the first, and I’m sure I won’t be the last.”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” he promised, though his voice had a little less energy in it. Before his wife had left him, he hadn’t been the sort of man to engage in casual encounters with women. He’d wanted someone to love.

  But after Amelia, all that had changed. The prospect of letting someone in again, and letting them see who he truly was, was terrifying.

  At least, it had been. He was still afraid, but the terror was diminishing. He wanted Maggie to see who he was. The good man he’d been. Not this man who’d slept with Rose, and many other women, on a whim and nothing more.

  As he thought this, Rose stormed past him. He stood still in the drawing room and almost winced when he heard the door slam.

  In the quietness that followed, he let himself feel the shame for the first time in a year. He let himself recognize that what he’d been doing was wrong. He let himself imagine how he must have made women feel and told himself that he wouldn’t do that again. He wouldn’t do that to Maggie.

  Maggie.

  What if she was heading to his bedroom right now? What if she’d heard? He turned around to rush upstairs, but froze the moment he faced the doorway.

  Maggie stood within the frame of the door, her lips parted, and her eyes glistening. “Maggie…” he breathed, a feeling of dread settling in his stomach. He took a step towards her and reached out his hand, but she started shaking her head furiously and backed up a step. “Please, let me explain.”

  Maggie whipped around and ran, not upstairs, but through the front door. She must have known that she couldn’t escape him by going upstairs, and she surely didn’t want to risk a staff member encountering her so upset, with him hot on her heels. So she went outside instead.

  He followed her, seeing her look up at the sky pouring rain down on her, just as Rose’s carriage disappeared down the path. But Maggie didn’t stop. She kept running across the courtyard until her feet hit the sodden grass. She was crying. He could hear it, even over the rumble of distant thunder getting closer.

  “Maggie!” He called. He was faster than she was and powered by fear for her. It was too cold and wet for her to be outside. “Please come inside!” He called. “Let’s talk about this by the fire!” He reached her as he said this, catching her by the arm and forcing her to stop.

  Maggie snapped her face around and stared down at his grip on her, yanking against his hold. “I don’t want to talk to you!” She cried, over another clash of thunder.

  “Please,” he said, desperately. “You’ll catch pneumonia out here.”

  “I don’t care! I already feel sick to my stomach.” Her voice broke as she said this. She was still trying to pull his hand off her, but weakly. She was too upset to fight. Soon, she’d wilt, and he’d be there to catch her when she did. “Joseph was right about you. You don’t want me. You just use us and then throw us away.”

  “Maggie, I’m not like that anymore.” He let go of her arm, but only so he could hold her shoulders, keeping her close to him, forcing her to meet his eye. “I’m not that man.”

  “You expect me to believe that you’ve changed so rapidly? When were you with that woman? Was she even the last?”


  “Before you came here,” he said. “The night we met in the pits.” He hesitated before answering the next question. He might have thought about lying… if he didn’t respect her so damn much. He shook his head reluctantly. “There were a couple of women in London.”

  “A couple?” Following this, she laughed with bitter sadness. “I’ve been a damned fool.”

  “No,” he replied, sharply, tightening his hold on her and lifting his hand to her chin. He tilted her face up so that he could stare into her eyes. He didn’t know if she was still crying or if it was just the rain on her cheeks. “Don’t say that,” he begged.