Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies

by Lucinda Nelson

Since arriving at Sarah’s family home in Winchester, I have done my utmost to discover all that I can regarding her encounters with her previous employer in America. At first, Sarah was extremely reluctant to share the truth with me. She paled whenever the matter was raised. This fact accounts for my delay in writing to you. It was necessary for me to make her feel secure and steady before pressing the subject any further with her. I feared that if I did not treat her delicately, she would stop speaking to me entirely.

  This is, as you know, nothing like the Sarah we once knew. She seems fragile now, in a way she was not before. But since being here with her, she has started to improve and is seeming more like herself. I know that I have never said this before, but I have missed her terribly. It is good to be with her when she needs me most. Please thank Lord Rivers for sending me here.

  Having afforded her some time to feel more at ease, I again asked Sarah to tell me what happened in America. I explained the urgency of the matter, and she at last gave me the name of the duke she was employed with. His name was Tristan Allerand, the Duke of Trantworth. Sarah has also disclosed that the duke had a lover with whom he was living, whose Christian name was, indeed, Amelia.

  Sarah reiterated what she had discovered during her time with the duke and how she had discovered the abuse taking place in the kitchens. She also revealed the correspondence address for the maid she ran away with, who goes by the name Maria Patroon and lives at 43 Barrow Street, in New York. Sarah has expressed that she did not sense any friction between the duke and his lover, but that she left several months ago and that tensions may have developed since then.

  I do hope that this information is useful to you and Lord Rivers. I look forward to seeing you soon. Sarah sends her love.

  With all my love,

  Joseph

  “You see?” Henry said, when he read the letter. He was smiling breathlessly, as if he could barely contain his own feelings. “This proves it. She was running from him, just as Miss Marrow did.”

  Maggie wasn’t smiling. She was frowning down at the letter. “That won’t hold up, Henry. It’s speculation. We can’t prove it. We need something more.”

  Henry’s face fell when she said this, as it dawned on him that she was right. It was at that moment that Alfred announced the arrival of Mr. Thomas, the runner.

  “We have word,” Henry said, when the runner walked into the drawing room.

  Henry handed him the letter, which Mr. Thomas scanned quickly. Then he returned it to Henry and said, “I have word too. The Duke of Trantworth, Lord Tristan Allerand, is currently in England.”

  “He’s here?” Henry balked. Maggie watched his face, but she couldn’t deduce how he was feeling. “Why?”

  “He claims that he has just arrived, to pay his respects and collect the body.”

  “Lies,” Henry retorted. “It was him. I’m certain of it. Find out when he really arrived.”

  The runner inclined his head in agreement. “I will also contact the maid, to see if she can provide any further evidence of the duke’s violent disposition.” With that, the runner left, just as suddenly as he’d arrived.

  “He’s here…” Henry said to himself as the runner left. He seemed to have forgotten that Maggie was there and was simply staring at the open door of the drawing room.

  As Maggie looked at his face, she felt a sickening feeling of dread.

  Chapter 38

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  He’s here. In England. The man Henry had thought of with rage in his heart ever since he’d first stolen his wife from him. For a long time, he’d held the duke responsible for everything that had gone wrong in his life. For the shame and the heartache.

  In time, he’d realized that Amelia had played a part too. That she was responsible for her actions. That had made it harder at first, because it forced him to recognize that Amelia hadn’t been ‘stolen’ from him. She’d decided to leave, because she didn’t want Henry enough.

  And now the Duke had returned to England. He’d murdered the mother of Henry’s child. And, Henry suspected, he’d also tried to sabotage Henry’s good name by pinning the murder on him. It explained the rapid spread of rumors that had a strange consistency to them, as though they originated from one source and one source only.

  “Henry…” Maggie murmured.

  Henry blinked and his eyes refocused. For a moment there, he’d felt lost in his own head. He’d forgotten where he was and who he was with. As he looked down, he saw Maggie standing in front of him, gently touching his chest and trying to get his attention. She was watching him closely.

  “Sorry…” Henry answered. “I was just surprised by the news.”

  “It’s good news,” she agreed. “We just have to wait a little longer.”

  Henry nodded. “Yes.”

  His mind was already plotting and scheming. Without even being aware of it, he’d made a decision. A crazy, wild decision. But he knew that if Maggie was aware of his intentions, she’d try to stop him. And he couldn’t let that happen.

  So he faked a smile and said, “I’m feeling tired. I think I’ll retire for the night.”

  Maggie frowned. “Now? It’s early yet. Are you unwell?”

  “Perhaps a little poorly,” he said. He stepped away from her and walked towards the door as he said this. “You should sleep in your own room tonight,” he suggested. “I wouldn’t want to risk you catching anything, if it’s contagious.”

  Maggie’s frown deepened. “Are you sure?”

  “Quite certain.” He quickly bid her a goodnight and then slipped out of the room. Though he didn’t look back, he could feel Maggie’s eyes on him as he left. He wondered if she suspected his intentions, or if she was only concerned for him.

  He knew what he was going to do. But first, he had to get one last thing from Mr. Thomas. Henry went briskly into the courtyard, where he found Mr. Thomas mounting his horse.

  “I need his address,” Henry said, to which the runner quirked his brow.

  ***

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  Maggie couldn’t sleep. She was twiddling her thumbs, pacing the room, thinking about Henry. She hadn’t changed into her nightgown, because she was finding it impossible to sleep. With a sudden sigh, she sat on the edge of her bed and wrapped the covers around her shoulders. Henry’s behavior had been strange after the runner had left. Maggie had gone to the drawing room windows after he’d gone, to see him in the courtyard speaking to Mr. Thomas.

  The runner took a pen from his pocket and wrote something down on a scrap of paper, which he handed to Henry.

  Then Henry went back inside, and she heard his footsteps on the stairs. It all made her feel rather anxious, and she caught herself gnawing her lip as she lay in bed.

  Perhaps she should go to him, and damn the risk of contagion. Being near him would put her mind at ease. This time felt so extremely delicate. Full of hope. And she was terrified of all that hope coming to nothing.

  Throwing back the cover, she got out of bed again and went out into the hallway. When she saw Henry in the corridor, she started to smile. She thought he might be coming to her bedroom to see her. But instead of turning towards her, Henry shut his door quietly and went towards the stairs instead.

  Maggie’s brow crinkled. Where was he going? She thought about calling his name, but when she saw how carefully and quietly he was walking… she started to grow suspicious. Her eyes narrowed as she watched him sneak downstairs.

  Maggie knew that she shouldn’t follow him… but she couldn’t stop herself. She followed silently, until she saw him leave through the front door.

  “Where are you going?” She whispered to herself.

  And then it dawned on her. Mr. Thomas handing him that slip of paper… Henry avoiding her when he was clearly anything but sick…

  She knew where he was going. And the very thought made her breath catch in her throat. She ran down the stairs and through the front
door. “Henry!” She shouted, but knew that he wouldn’t hear her. He was galloping down the path towards the gates, with rain thundering around him.

  Within seconds, Maggie was wet from head to toe. Alfred appeared beside her, looking dazed and sleepy, having heard her shout. “What’s happening?” He asked.

  “He’s going to the Duke's. I need to go after him.” She picked up her sodden skirts and made for the stable, but Alfred caught her arm to stop her.

  “You can’t! You’ll catch your death!”

  “I have to do this,” she replied, snatching her arm from his hold. “Call for a doctor to come to the house. I fear we might need one.”

  With those final words, she ran for the stable and picked one of Henry’s best stallions. She saddled it up, her heart beating at a frantic pace, and rode it into the courtyard. Alfred stopped her as she passed, quickly handing her a coat to put on. She slipped into it, thanked him breathlessly, and rode.

  Following Henry’s trail wasn’t hard. At the speed he’d been galloping at, he left clear tracks in the mud. It wasn’t an easy ride, with the rain and the cold, but the warmth of the horse’s body and her own fear kept her going.

  When the tracks finally reached an end, she was outside an iron gate. And it was wide open. For a moment, she just froze and stared down the path leading into the grounds. She didn’t know what she would find at the end of it, and that was the most frightening thing of all. Not knowing.

  There was a loud crash, like glass shattering, and Maggie stopped thinking. She pushed the horse back into a gallop and rode down the path. What she found at the end of it made her feel like her heart had stopped beating.

  Henry was on the ground, with a burly man on top of him. They were grappling, and Henry managed to get the upper hand – but only momentarily. He rolled the man, who must have been the duke, onto his back and drew his fist back to strike him.

  Behind him, the bay windows on the ground floor were broken, and there was glass all around the brawling men. One of them must have been thrown through the window, and by the looks of the condition of the pair of them, it looked like it had been Henry. His clothes were torn in places and he had a few small cuts on his hands and face.

  Maggie wanted to scream his name, but she couldn’t risk distracting him, and she knew better than to approach them. She felt like a fly buzzing around dragons. Like her existence was insignificant in the face of their anger and their strength.

  Henry delivered a blow to the Duke’s face, but when he drew his arm back to strike again, Maggie saw a shard of glass flash in the moonlight as the Duke took it into his hand.

  She didn’t have time to scream, or to warn him. As soon as the duke touched the glass, he slashed at Henry.

  There was blood. It poured out like a river across Henry’s face, gushing into his eyes and making him stagger backwards. His cry was such a hollow, despairing sound. She’d never forget it. She’d relive it in her nightmares.

  The Duke scrambled towards Henry, who was stumbling backwards along the ground. He’d lifted his hand towards his face, but wouldn’t touch the wound. His hand just hovered in front of it, trembling.

  The Duke came at him again, still wielding the glass, but Maggie launched herself at him, using both her hands to restrain his wrist. “Stop! Please, stop!”

  Lifting his free hand to strike her, the Duke took his eyes off Henry. Just for an instant. But it was all Henry needed. He rose up, no doubt still blinded by blood, and threw his full weight into the duke’s gut, knocking him back onto the floor. The glass flew from his grip, and Maggie fell to the ground. She looked up through her soaked hair to see Henry strike one final blow.

  She didn’t know how he mustered the strength, but the contact of his fist with the Duke’s skull rendered him unconscious.

  And then, with a shaky breath, Henry fell to the ground beside him.

  Chapter 39

  Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley

  When Henry woke up, it looked like his world had been torn in half. He squinted, and felt something coarse against his face. It took him a moment to realize that his left eye had been bandaged, and that the gauze had fallen in front of his right eye, covering half of it.

  He tried to blink, but his left eye felt stuck. Lifting his hands towards the bandage, Henry touched the gauze and did his best to sit upright.

  “Careful now,” someone said. It was a man’s voice. Henry tried to look up and focus, but all he could see was a blurred face. “It’s Doctor Sail,” he said.

  “I can’t see,” Henry rasped. He could feel his heart picking up speed.

  “You’ll regain your sight,” the doctor said. “The right one should recover within a few days, but the left one is likely to take longer.”

  Henry tried pulling at the bandage again, but felt a hand on his arm. It didn’t feel like Doctor Sail’s hand. It was much too soft. Much too gentle. He turned his head so that he could look at the person touching him, but could only see the hazy outline of their face. “Maggie?”

  “It’s me,” she said, and her voice made him feel steadier. Grounded.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “Several days,” Maggie said. “The doctor has been coming to see you every afternoon. He says you’re going to recover just fine.”

  “There won’t be any issues?” Henry clarified, but didn’t turn his face to look at the doctor. He was trying to focus his vision on Maggie. He wanted to see her. She seemed to sense this. She picked up his hands and pressed them against her cheeks so that he could feel what he couldn’t see.

  The doctor seemed to hesitate, before saying, “There won’t be any pain, once it is healed.”

  “That’s good,” Henry said. He was starting to smile as he felt the curve of Maggie’s cheekbones, and touched the corner of her lips with his fingertip.

  “But…”

  Henry stopped moving and dropped his hands from Maggie’s face. “But what?”

  “The scarring will remain.”

  “Scarring?”

  “The glass cut across your face, from your temple, across your eye, and down to the right side of your jaw.”

  “I want to see,” Henry said, his panic beginning to brew again. But once more, when he reached for the bandage, Maggie stopped him.

  “Please don’t, my darling.”

  “You need to keep the bandage on for now. And continue to rest.”

  Reluctantly, Henry withdrew his hands.

  “You said I’ve been asleep for several days?” He said, as this information fully registered with him. He felt like his mind was playing catch up. Like he was thinking through a haze of fog. “What happened?”

  “You were conscious for a short while after the fight. Long enough for me to get you home. Alfred had the doctor waiting there, but by the time we got you into bed, you’d lost consciousness.”

  “And the Duke?” It was the only question Henry truly cared about. He couldn’t remember everything about his decision to go to the Duke’s home. Only that he’d gone with rage in his heart. He recalled the Duke instigating the fight and throwing Henry through the window.

  “He has been arrested,” Maggie said.

  “What?”

  “Mr. Thomas received word from the maid in New York. Once she heard of the murder, she feared that he might come for her next. With Mr. Thomas’ assurance that they’d be able to secure a sentence if she provided evidence, the girl conceded to assist with the investigation.”

  “Go on,” Henry pressed.

  “She sent a book to Mr. Thomas. A book that she’d taken from the Duke’s study before running away with Sarah. It was his own personal journal. It accounted for many of the atrocities he committed against the maids, and the most recent entry detailed growing tensions with his lover, Amelia, and how she’d discovered his activities. There were also more… explicit statements which implicate him in the murder.”

  Henry knew what that meant. It was hard to imagine that there was
a book out there containing a man’s crazed intentions to murder the woman Henry had once loved.

  “Once we had the book, we had all the proof we needed.”

  “Then…”

  “Your name is cleared,” she confirmed. He could hear the smile in her voice. He only wished he could see it.

  ***

  Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath

  Once the doctor had finished his visit - during which time he checked on Henry’s eyes and insisted on him drinking plenty of water and eating a hearty meal – Maggie slipped into the bed beside Henry.

  Having him in her arms again felt almost unreal. There had been moments when she’d wondered if she’d ever hold him again. If she’d ever see him with his eyes open again.