Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

  Chapter 34

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  Maggie had bid him a goodnight, leaving him sitting opposite from the letter, which now lay on his desk. He stared at it, but didn’t touch it. It seemed impossible to him that he’d received word from Amelia, who he hadn’t heard from in over a year. He’d never expected to hear from her again, and now she wanted to come home.

  The very notion took a long time to sink in. Processing this wasn’t easy, and it was made more complicated by his relationship with Maggie. He’d wanted to tell her that he loved her tonight, and instead she’d gone to bed looking despondent and broken.

  He could understand her fears. He imagined that they were the same as his own. Having a relationship with her was different when his wife had abandoned him and was out of the picture. But if Amelia returned… if she wanted him back… then what Maggie and he had started would seem a lot more like an affair. It had been clear before that Amelia had left him. He’d been the betrayed party. But if she came back… what would that mean?

  Henry spent the next hour sitting at the dining table with these questions, and others, going round and round in his head. But no answers were forthcoming. And that was the trouble really. He knew what he had to do, just as Maggie had said, but he didn’t know what it would mean.

  And all he wanted, more than anything in the world, was for Maggie not to have left. He felt like he was about to lose her, and he couldn’t stand that thought.

  With a sudden sense of desperate conviction, Henry went upstairs and headed for Maggie’s room. He hesitated outside, then knocked ever so softly.

  There was a moment of silence, then a soft, “Come in.”

  Henry opened the door and slipped inside. It was dark, but he could see that she was sitting up in bed and wiping at her eyes. Had she been crying?

  “Henry…” she whispered, and her voice was raspy. “What are you doing here?”

  Henry didn’t say anything, because words couldn’t do justice to how he felt. He walked towards the edge of her bed and tentatively pulled back the covers. She blinked, but inched over, allowing him to slip into the bed next to her.

  He did something he never would have imagined himself doing a few weeks earlier. He put his head on her chest and lay down with his arms wrapped around her waist. Maggie’s lips parted, and her hands hovered over him as he settled.

  And then, with the utmost tenderness, he threaded her fingers softly through his hair. It comforted all his heartache and all his confusion. He closed his eyes and let her soothe away his pain, breathing in the scent of her and holding her body tight. “I don’t want you and I to grow distant,” he whispered to her. “I know that I have to do this… but I don’t want to do it without you.”

  In answer, Maggie made a soft noise. It sounded like a quiet sob. He looked up at her and saw that she was smiling, but with tears in her eyes. She cupped his cheek and ran her thumb along his cheek.

  Looking up into her eyes, his fear and confusion was overwhelmed by that same feeling of love that he’d felt the night before. He put his hands on either side of her against the mattress and pushed himself up towards her. His brows were furrowed as their lips met, and he felt safe from any pain.

  She held his face between her small hands and kissed him back.

  ***

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  Maggie and Henry didn’t speak of his wife anymore that night. They didn’t speak at all. For just those few hours of darkness, they pretended that everything was as it had been the night before.

  They held each other, but they didn’t make love again. Though it was unspoken between them, they both knew that things had changed. If they took their physical intimacy any further, Maggie would be his mistress. And neither of them could let that happen. His wife would be returning soon, and until their divorce was settled, Henry and Maggie needed to keep each other at arm’s length.

  But just for tonight, she wanted to hold him, even if they could do nothing more.

  In the morning, Henry wrote his reply to his wife’s letter. He asked Maggie if she wanted to read it, but she said that she didn’t. With a sombre expression, he sent the letter.

  It was, of course, a while before they heard any word back from his wife. The days merged into each other as the weeks passed, and she steadily lost track of the time that had passed.

  She and Henry, despite saying that they wanted nothing more than to do this together, struggled to connect with one another during those weeks. There would be days when all she felt was love for him, but it was clear that his mind was on the future and whatever misfortune it might bring.

  There were other times when all he craved was a touch and a fond word from her, but she felt like all she could see was his wife’s face in her mind.

  The days when they both felt truly at ease and affectionate were extremely rare. When her mind was full of problems, she wanted space and time to clear it.

  She and Henry spoke about abstaining from physical intimacy, and agreed not to share in lovers’ touches, given his wife’s imminent reappearance. It devastated her, but she knew that with his wife back in his life – whether Henry loved Amelia or not – they couldn’t make love again.

  “Perhaps she won’t write back,” Henry said one day, when they were sitting outside on the grass in the gardens. “Perhaps she won’t be able to wait that long and she’ll just arrive.”

  A terrifying thought. From then on, it was all Maggie could think about. His wife turning up at the door and demanding his heart again.

  Maggie didn’t express her insecurities to Henry. She knew better than to give him another thing to worry about.

  By the time they heard word, the pair of them looked sleepless and desolate. She was sitting in the library with Henry one evening, watching the sunset through the windows, when Alfred came in with a letter.

  It read;

  My darling husband,

  I would have written to you from America if I’d thought the letter would reach you in good time, but I couldn’t waste a moment. With the money you sent, I bought a ticket to England. And the moment I arrived, I sat down to write this letter.

  I would have come to Radingley by carriage but, in truth, I am afraid to go outside. I am staying at the Hill’s Port Inn, and I pray that you’ll come to me so that we can travel home together. You are the only person I can trust right now, Henry. I am wholly depending on you.

  Please come.

  Yours,

  Amelia

  “I cannot fathom what must be frightening her so,” Maggie observed, when Henry allowed her to read the letter. But as she looked up from it, she saw that he was leaving the room. She followed him downstairs into the foyer, where he asked Alfred to bring the carriage round and picked up his coat.

  “You’re leaving?” She said, her voice sounding suddenly shaky. She should have expected it, given the contents of the letter, but it still made her feel like the worst was happening.

  “I won’t be gone long,” he assured her. His voice was tight and his expression was grim. “I’ll return with her as soon as I can.”

  “But Henry-”

  “There’s no time to waste.”

  He kissed her forehead… and then he left.

  Chapter 35

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  He was going to see Amelia for the first time in over a year. During the carriage ride, he tried to put all of this into perspective. He recalled every feeling of betrayal, anger, and failure that he’d felt over the past year. He remembered the jealousy, the drinking; the heartache.

  And he asked himself now, as they got closer and closer to the port, if he still felt those things. The answer surprised him. No. Since Maggie had come into his life, she’d started to stitch up his old wounds. And though the stitches still felt fresh and fragile, he had hope for the future.

  He was in love with someone else now.

  When Hen
ry arrived at the Hill’s Port Inn, it was pouring with rain outside. He stepped from the carriage and was soaked through within a few seconds. He asked the driver to wait and walked towards the inn’s entrance, his heart feeling like a stone in his chest.

  He felt nervous, but strangely resolved. He didn’t know what he would feel when he saw her, but he knew it wouldn’t be love.

  “Step back, sir.” A man said, putting his hand against Henry’s chest to keep him from getting any closer. Henry frowned. Though it was late, there was a throng of people around the inn. And he realized that the man who’d stopped him was a constable.

  “I’m here to pick someone up,” Henry said. “I’m going to the inn.”

  “No one’s allowed in the inn, sir. Now please step back.”

  “I don’t understand. What’s happened? I’m here to see my wife.”

  “Step back, sir. I won’t ask you again.”

  Henry stepped back. He looked at the door of the inn, craning his head over the crowds in an attempt to see what was happening.

  When they carried out a body, the whole world seemed to slow.

  ***

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  Maggie couldn’t sleep. She tried, but she had this terrible feeling of dread in her belly that she couldn’t shake. In Henry’s absence, she and Alfred had arranged for Alicia to be taken to Rachel’s, who they’d corresponded with on the subject a week earlier.

  They saw the girl off right away. She’d asked why she was going to London, and they’d told her that Rachel had insisted on it, because she had a surprise for Alicia. Rachel, for her part, had indeed arranged to take Alicia to the circus, so Maggie wasn't lying.

  Once Alicia was gone, the house felt extremely quiet. Like the joy had been stolen from it. Maggie watched the door for a long time, gnawing her lip, until Alfred had insisted on her keeping herself occupied, lest she drive herself mad with waiting.

  Maggie had agreed, albeit reluctantly, and went to speak to her brother. Maggie had told him about Henry’s wife not long after they’d received the first letter from her, and he’d expressed his concern with a grim countenance.

  She sat with him in the kitchens for a long time that evening, while they waited for Henry’s return.

  “You need to write to Lord Crawley,” he told her.

  “I’m not abandoning Henry now, Joseph.”

  “But Maggie, don’t you see that-”

  “I won’t speak of it,” she replied, curtly. She knew what her brother had been about to say. That Henry’s affections for her, however real they might be, were in jeopardy. That she should seek out the safer option and write to Jeremy.

  But Joseph didn’t understand. It wasn’t a matter of safety anymore. What she felt for Henry surpassed all material concerns.

  A long silence passed. Then Joseph gently took her hand. The feeling of his comfort, however small, made her eyes well with tears.

  “Miss Riley,” Alfred said, as he appeared at the bottom of the kitchen stairs. “His carriage has returned.”

  Maggie leapt up from her seat and ran upstairs. Her heart was thundering in her chest as she stepped into the foyer, just in time to see the door swing open.

  Would she be beautiful? Would Maggie pale in comparison? Would she be holding on to his arms? And he looking down at her lovingly? God, the questions were more than she could stand.

  Henry stepped inside.

  Alone.

  Maggie’s brows knit together. He was soaked through, pale, and his face looked gaunt… like he’d seen a ghost. “Henry?” She said, softly, as she stepped closer. “Are you alright?”

  He didn’t speak a word. He took off his coat, which Alfred rushed forward to take, and started climbing the stairs. Maggie followed him at first, saying, “Henry? What’s the matter? Where’s…?”

  Henry paused on the stairs. “She’s dead,” he whispered, in a voice so broken that it cut through her and lashed at her heart. “I… I need some space.” There was a quiver in his voice that made him sound like a child. She’d never heard such an agonized voice before.

  With parted lips, Maggie watched him continue up the stairs. She longed to follow him. To understand and console him for whatever grief had been set upon his heart.

  But she respected his wishes and gave him his space, hoping that he would seek her out soon.

  Maggie maintained this hope for several days, but Henry did not come out, nor did he speak to anyone. But he did not need to speak to them for Maggie to discover what had happened. News spread like wildfire, particularly news of this particular nature.

  Lady Amelia Rivers, Henry’s wife, had been found dead in her room at the Hill’s Port Inn. It was being considered a murder.

  Once Maggie understood, she couldn’t even imagine what Henry must be feeling. She went to his bed chambers and knocked on the second morning after he’d returned, but he didn’t answer. She spoke to Alfred, asking if Henry was receiving food, but was told that he was not allowing anyone into the bedroom.

  Maggie was sleepless, and those days that passed were a true torment. When Jeremy came, she’d never felt so relieved. “Thank God you’re here,” she breathed, when he met with her in the drawing room. “He hasn’t come out in two days, nor has he seen anyone.”

  “And you had hoped that he might see me,” Jeremy deduced. His face was unsmiling.

  She wasn’t sure there was anyone in the world who Henry might see, but there was nothing to be lost from trying. “It’s possible.” Her optimism was clearly faltering, but she continued to hold onto it for dear life.

  “He may see me,” Jeremy said, in a voice that was becoming increasingly morose. “But perhaps only because I have something to give him.”

  Jeremy showed her a bundle of letters he’d been keeping in the inside of his jacket. “Is it something to cheer him?” Maggie asked, feeling a spark of hope.

  “I’m afraid not.”

  Maggie blinked. “Then what?”

  “These are letters I have received in the past few days.”

  “From who?”

  “From anyone with a concern to express.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Jeremy expelled a soft, dismal breath. “Rumors are spreading,” he murmured. “Rumors about Henry. People from all over the county have been writing to me to express their confusion, or their fear or their suspicion. Many of them have warned me against him.”

  “Against Henry? But-”

  It dawned on her then, and she took a step back as if she’d been struck. “They think he did it…” she whispered.

  Jeremy nodded slowly. “Some of them do. I do not know who has been spreading these rumors, but it’s clear that they’re widespread. The magistrate has taken an interest in the death, and I have heard word that a private investigator may become involved soon, which is why I have come. He needs to be prepared.”

  As Jeremy said this, he moved towards the drawing room door, as if he meant to speak to Henry now. Instinctively, Maggie ran to block his path. “You can’t!” She cried. “He can’t take it. You mustn’t.”

  “He needs to know the truth,” Jeremy replied, his expression soft and calm. “He’s a strong man. He can take it.”

  But Maggie wasn’t sure he could. She shook her head frantically, trying to think of a way out of this. With a consoling look, Jeremy put his hand on her shoulder and said, “If he doesn’t know… he won’t be prepared. And God only knows what will happen then.”

  His words deflated her. Her arms dropped back to her sides, and she moved out of his path. She did not follow him when he passed her. She felt too defeated. Those past several days, she’d kept telling herself that eventually he would start to feel better.

  And now with this news… she didn’t know if he ever would.

  Chapter 36

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  He was surrounded by letters, and he’d been staring at them for so long th
at they’d stopped looking like letters at all. Instead, they looked like fallen men after a battle.

  Henry was sitting on the floor in his bedroom, wearing his dressing gown. The letters were strewn around him. He’d read them all a hundred times after Jeremy had left. Jeremy had tried to talk to him, but Henry hadn’t been able to muster a response.

  Henry had huge purple rings under his eyes, and he’d lost weight because he hadn’t eaten. His heart felt like this shriveled pit in his chest. A vacant hole that was achy and raw. He didn’t feel like himself anymore, and time didn’t seem to be helping.