Forbidden Nights with the Viscount

by Julia Justiss

  ‘Maggie mine,’ Giles whispered in her ear. ‘What a wonder you are.’

  She kissed his neck. ‘You’re rather wonderful yourself.’

  ‘You’ll not think so, if Davie finds you here tomorrow morning.’

  Her eyes flew open. Davie! Albany! A midnight misadventure that could end in disaster if she did not get back to Aunt Lilly’s before dawn lit the streets.

  As she considered the other possible consequences of her rashness this night, panic fluttered up, like a crow flapping its wings to take flight. She pushed the feeling away; time enough, when she was safely back at Grosvenor Square, to sort this out.

  Regardless of what rational reflection revealed in the cold light of day, she would never regret this night.

  ‘You’re right, I must go,’ she said, scooting off the bed. ‘Don’t get up!’ she said as he made motions to follow her. ‘Mr Smith told me he’d see me safely home. You should rest—especially after that unintended exertion.’

  ‘I could do with an unlimited amount of that “exertion”,’ he said, catching her hand and pulling her back for a quick kiss. ‘It was...glorious.’

  Maggie felt ridiculous tears threaten. ‘It was,’ she agreed softly. And it must never happen again.

  Pulling free, she inspected his hand, noting with relief that the bandage appeared dry. ‘Heaven be praised, I don’t think you re-started the bleeding.’

  ‘You mustn’t come here again,’ he warned. ‘I’ll visit you soon in Grosvenor Square and let you know what they learn after they question Godfrey. Hines seemed to think that when they tell him he assaulted a sitting Member of Parliament, he’ll sing like a meadowlark. I’m hopeful we’ll know the full story soon.’

  ‘It will be good to know the truth at last.’ She finished tidying herself and smoothed down her skirts. ‘Goodnight—or rather, good morning. Recover quickly, my dear Giles.’

  With one last kiss to his forehead, she walked out of his bedchamber.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Later that same morning, Maggie sat in her bedchamber, sipping coffee. Though she’d not returned until nearly dawn, and despite the peace satiation normally brought, she’d not been able to sleep.

  She wasn’t too concerned that there would be dire consequences from the previous night’s folly. Her courses were due any day, and she was usually quite regular, so the chance that she’d conceived was small enough that she wouldn’t worry over the prospect now.

  Not when there was a devastating task she must steel herself to perform.

  Breaking off her liaison with Giles Hadley.

  Last night had proven what she’d secretly known in her heart from the beginning: despite her fine words to the contrary, she couldn’t trust herself to be sensible with Giles Hadley. She wanted him too much, and that single taste of completion only whetted her appetite to experience it again and again.

  She simply couldn’t risk that.

  When they’d begun this, she’d hoped that when the end came, they could part as friends. She didn’t think that would be possible now—not when the mere thought of him brought a rush of desire and a deep craving to be with him. What she felt for him was too powerful and too all-encompassing to confine within the narrow, polite box of friendship.

  Attempting to chat with him over a cup of tea in someone’s drawing room would be to sustain a thousand tiny cuts of loss and longing that would bleed for ever. Better one sharp, deep slash to sever the bond cleanly.

  No matter how debilitating that single blow was likely to be.

  Doing something difficult never got easier by putting it off. Setting down the barely tasted cup of coffee, she drew out a piece of paper, and began to write him a note.

  * * *

  Maggie spent the day gathering her belongings and preparing to return to her father’s house in Grosvenor Square; with Godfrey in custody, she intended to resume her usual duties, whether Giles believed it safe or not.

  Nor, at the moment, did she particularly care. Why bother worrying about her safety when the man she’d wanted to spend time with when her freedom was restored she must no longer see?

  It wasn’t until late afternoon that Giles replied to her summons. She’d almost hoped he wouldn’t come today, so she might put off the final break. She felt his name like a punch to the gut when Rains announced that Mr Hadley awaited her in the Great Parlour.

  Rejecting the impulse to delay, she made herself walk from her study, each footfall like a bell tolling of doom.

  The smile that lit his face when she walked in just twisted the knife deeper.

  ‘I’m sorry it took me so long to respond,’ he said, coming over to kiss her hand. ‘I’ve been at Bow Street and the magistrate’s most of the afternoon.’

  Motioning him to sit, she took a chair, rather than a place beside him on the sofa. Might as well begin distancing herself.

  ‘Tell me what you discovered.’

  ‘Godfrey did finally give up the name of the man who contacted and paid him. An intermediary; the Bow Street men are tracing him now, and once they locate him, they are confident they can establish who ordered the attack.’

  ‘So it was ordered. I still find it hard to believe.’

  ‘Godfrey claims he was paid just to fire at you, not to hit you. Insists his aim is true enough that if he’d intended to strike you, he would have.’

  ‘What will happen to him?’

  ‘If the charge were attempted murder, he would hang, which is why he tried to silence us all after he left the tavern. Hines subdued him in part by telling him he might get clemency instead of the noose, if he co-operated. That will be up to you and your father.’

  Maggie sighed. ‘Papa was livid when I told him what happened. He’d probably prefer thumbscrews and the rack, but I’ll work on him. How is your hand?’

  ‘Hurts like the very devil, but the wound is dry, with no sign of heat or suppuration.’

  ‘Good. I’ll have Rains get you some powdered yarrow from the still room; use it each time you change the bandages.’

  ‘You looked tired, sweetheart—as well you might, after so...vigorous a night. And about that—’

  ‘Please, don’t apologise! I couldn’t bear that. It might have been regrettable, but I don’t regret it at all.’

  ‘Nor do I. Although, I suppose when we begin again, we’re going to have to think of some measures to prevent a recurrence of so delightful but dangerous an interlude.’

  ‘I’ve already given that a great deal of thought.’ Forcing herself to say the words, she continued, ‘I can’t meet you at Upper Brook Street any longer, Giles.’

  He recoiled, shock on his face, but she made herself continue, ‘I hate to end what we’ve shared, but last night showed I simply can’t trust myself to be prudent. And the consequences of that failure could be catastrophic, for both of us.’

  He opened his lips as if to speak, closed them, and sprang up. She watched him pace around the room, drinking in the sight of him, imprinting it on her memory. Even as she died a little with each glance, knowing it was the last time she would see him alone.

  He halted in front of her, his face grim. ‘I’d like to argue with you, but I cannot. My fault, probably, to think we could place limits on passion, which by its very nature defies limits.’

  She shook her head. ‘It was just as much my fault as yours. Sadly, wanting something very badly doesn’t make it possible. I’d thought to take the coward’s way out and send you a note, but then I decided I must tell you face to face. And kiss you goodbye, one final time.’

  He seized her as she rose to meet him, crushing her against him with his one good arm, kissing her with intensity and conviction. She kissed back just as fiercely, putting into that final kiss all her passion, love, and regret.

  After several moments,
his kiss gentled, and ended in a series of gentle brushes of his mouth against her forehead, her eyebrows, her cheeks. He wrapped his arms around her and simply held her, while she battled despair and tears.

  ‘Are you sure?’ he whispered against her hair. ‘I certainly don’t want to give you up! If it is the matter of conception, there are ways...’

  ‘I don’t trust them,’ she said, slowly detaching from his embrace, each lost bit of contact—his shoulder, his chest, his hand, and the final release of his fingers—another hammer blow at her heart.

  Suddenly it seemed important that he understand how hard this was for her—by knowing the reason she couldn’t take even the smallest risk. Before prudence could prevent her from revealing what no one on earth but Polly knew, she said, ‘You may think me ridiculously cautious, but I know...I know I could not face the consequences again.’

  It took a moment before the meaning of her words registered. ‘Again?’ he repeated.

  Wrapping her arms around herself, she walked to the hearth, facing away from him. ‘You asked me once about my being engaged, and I told you we broke it off because I was sure we would not suit. But there was much more.’

  ‘More...what?’

  ‘I suppose, even after Robbie died, I looked at the world with the naïveté of a child. Several years had passed since I lost him, and I was lonely. I convinced myself that marrying again might help me finally bury the grief. With Papa’s position and my wealth, there were always suitors milling about. Sir Francis Mowbrey was the most persistent and devoted.’

  She grimaced, the details humiliating, even at this remove. ‘I’d grown up with Robbie, and never doubted his devotion or the sincerity of his love. When Sir Francis gave me the same vows of love and constancy, I accepted them without question, even though I knew that worldly considerations of wealth, position and politics certainly figured into his desire to make me his wife. After I’d accepted his suit and we’d set a wedding date, he...pressed me to become intimate, and I agreed.’

  She laughed without humour. ‘As I said, I was incredibly naïve! It never occurred to me to wonder why Sir Francis happened to have a house in Chelsea we could use for our trysts. It wasn’t until several months later, when I decided to surprise him on a day we were not to meet, that I arrived to find the house...already occupied.’

  She paused while he took in the meaning. ‘Did you confront him?’

  ‘Not then. I ran off, hoping, I suppose, to find some innocent explanation for what I’d discovered. There wasn’t, of course. When he called on me later, we had a terrific row. I was hurt and angry, he defensive and rather insulting—something like George, when I refused him. He left after telling me that, as a widow nearly past her prime without any great beauty to recommend her, I ought to think again before breaking our engagement over so “trivial” a matter.’

  ‘What a fine gentleman,’ Giles said derisively.

  ‘Hurt, confused, and bitterly disappointed, I had no intention of reconsidering, at first. Until I learned that...I was increasing.’

  His eyes widened. ‘Merciful heavens!’

  ‘With that realisation began the most wretched month of my life. How could I marry Sir Francis—who, I’d discovered, didn’t really love me after all, or at least not with the devotion I desired? But how could I bear a child out of wedlock, condemning him or her to the stain of bastardry, when all that was needed were a few words of contrition, and the child could be born within the confines of marriage? A miserable union for me, perhaps, but one representing safety for the child. Or if I were prepared to birth a bastard, how could I carry a child and give her up, be forced to deny her existence and never see her again?’

  At that, he walked over to pull her into his arms. ‘I’m so sorry. So, in the end, you did choose...’

  ‘In the end, God had mercy, on me at least. I went back and apologised to Sir Francis—though I did not tell him about the child. Two weeks later and just before the wedding, I lost the babe. As soon as I recovered from my sudden “illness”, I broke off the engagement for good. He was furious—I believe he incurred a number of debts, expecting that he would soon have my fortune at his disposal...to fund his gambling and his mistresses,’ she finished bitterly. ‘He never forgave me, and only his awareness of the damage Papa could do him if he maligned my name tempered the nastiness of the comments he made about me to society.’

  ‘Did none of your family suspect?’

  ‘Aunt Lilly may have, though she never asked me about it. I told Papa only that I’d discovered Sir Francis did not love me as Robbie had, and I wouldn’t settle for less. Of course, all the world but me knew of Francis’s little house in Chelsea, so Papa wasn’t surprised. He even confided that he’d almost told me about it himself, to make sure I was aware what sort of husband Sir Francis was likely to be.’

  She pulled away to take a turn about the room. ‘After that, I was never tempted to respond to another suitor, since they were all of Sir Francis’s stamp—Tories, who could use my wealth and connection to good advantage. How could I trust anything they said?’

  ‘Surely you can’t doubt how witty, intelligent, and captivating you are! Completely deserving of any discerning gentleman’s love and devotion.’

  His praise eased her bruised heart. ‘It shook my confidence at first,’ she admitted, ‘but I recovered—left with only one deep regret.’

  When he raised an eyebrow in enquiry, she continued, ‘Glad as I was to have my dilemma resolved without having to marry Sir Francis, I still feel...guilty. Would I have carried the child to term, had I been thrilled, instead of filled with dread about it?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone knows how much influence one’s feelings have over such a thing. I do think it beyond reasonable that you should blame yourself for it.’

  ‘As I believe it beyond reasonable that you should feel in any way responsible for the fate of your mother?’

  He smiled. ‘You have me there, I suppose.’

  ‘So you understand now why I can’t continue? Of course, it goes without saying that I trust you will never reveal to anyone what I’ve just confessed.’

  ‘Of course not,’ he assured her, then halted. After a long pause, as if he were weighing his words, ‘I’m only sorry you had to suffer so devastating an experience.’

  She waited, perhaps in the very depths of her heart hoping he would say more, that though he understood why she must break it off, that he couldn’t imagine not seeing her, that he cared too much to say goodbye.

  Of course, he did not. While she mentally flayed herself as a fool, Giles said, ‘You will let me know if there are any...untoward consequences from last night.’

  ‘You agreed to an affair, nothing more,’ she replied, the words as much to emphasise that truth to herself as to affirm it for him. ‘That’s all that was or is required of you. Besides, the timing is such that there is very little likelihood of any “untoward consequences”.’

  ‘But you would let me know if there were,’ he repeated, gazing at her.

  She shook her head. ‘I was married once, to a man who loved me completely and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. I won’t settle for less than that.’

  ‘You think I don’t care for you enough.’

  She gave him a sad little smile. ‘Love comes to us, unbidden. Like a wild fawn, it cannot be saddled and bridled and directed the way we want it to go. It simply happens...or it does not. I bear you no ill will because it did not happen for you, but I...I cannot be just your friend.’

  ‘So you are saying...you don’t want to see me at all,’ he said slowly.

  ‘Yes. I’m sorry, but that’s exactly what I’m saying.’

  ‘I see.’

  He stared past her, as if he were having difficulty making sense of her words.

  The little knives were sawing deeper, and M
aggie didn’t think she could bear much more. ‘Then we’ve said all that needs to be said. Goodbye, Giles. God keep you safe.’

  She curtsied, and looking shocked and disbelieving, he bowed. When he still did not move, she gestured towards the door, both frantic to end this and wanting to savour his presence until the last possible moment.

  At length, he nodded and crossed the room, then paused on the threshold. Turning back to her, his expression troubled, he said, ‘I still intend to discover who hired Godfrey to shoot at you. Shall I send you a note once I’ve uncovered the whole?’

  ‘If you wish. And thank you,’ she added belatedly. He would probably expect thanks for trying to figure out who had endangered her.

  Somehow, that threat didn’t frighten her nearly as much as the sight of Giles Hadley, about to walk out of her life for good.

  Once the echo of his footsteps in the hallway faded, Maggie staggered back to the sofa, numb and stunned, like a boxer who’d just taken a powerful blow to the chest. She hadn’t felt so bereft, so absolutely devastated and hopeless, since she lost Robbie.

  The obvious implication finally occurred to her. It seemed so clear and simple now, she wondered why she’d not recognised it much sooner.

  Of course she was bleeding inside. Of course the world without him seemed an agonising emptiness. Of course she’d wanted to belong to him completely, everywhere and as often as possible.

  It was why she’d felt so strongly driven to intervene in his life and smooth his path. Why she was utterly content, just to listen to him speak about the politics that consumed him, though his opinions were so different from her own. Why, when she’d told him she meant to terminate the liaison, that still naïve child deep within had hoped he would refuse, proclaiming that he couldn’t go on without her.

  No point trying to deny the fact any longer: despite assuring herself she’d never let herself be vulnerable again, she’d fallen in love with Giles Hadley.