by Jane Goodger
“Of course, Your Grace. I’m certain Elizabeth’s grumbling will be wonderful for my aching head,” she said, laughing. He smiled and Maggie silently congratulated herself for not dissolving into tears in front of the duke.
Maggie let out a sigh and forced herself to climb the stairs to the duke and duchess’s private quarters, praying she met no one, particularly Lord Hollings, on the way.
Elizabeth was going insane with boredom. There were only so many booties and hats a person could crochet. She had a small chest filled with the things already. Now she was embroidering a duckling on a little white nightgown, holding the material to the light so that she could review her progress. The worst was she simply could not get comfortable, and turning this way and that to find comfort was nearly impossible. She’d had painful gas all morning and was finding it extremely difficult to expel it to get relief.
“I think it is time for you to come out,” she said crossly to her baby, who at that moment gave her a nice kick.
“You still have two more weeks to go,” Maggie said.
“Oh, thank God you’re here. Talk to me. Tell me what’s been happening. Rand can tell me nothing, for all he does is work and visit with me. Is Amelia still in love?” Elizabeth stopped her chatter abruptly, for never had she seen her friend so pale and forlorn. “Maggie, what is wrong?”
Tears instantly filled her eyes and Elizabeth held out her hand for Maggie to take. “What has happened?”
“Sir William asked me to marry him,” she said, laughing and crying at the same time.
“So you are happy?” Elizabeth asked skeptically.
Maggie shook her head, her curls whipping around her.
“You are sad.”
Maggie nodded, her face crumpling and fresh tears streamed down her face.
“Tell me,” she said, wincing a bit as a particularly wretched bit of gas attacked her bowels. She patted her hand on the bed and Maggie sat facing her, her hands twisting the material of her skirt.
“Lord Hollings asked me to marry him, too.”
“Goodness. You have been busy.” Elizabeth searched her friend’s face for a smile, but saw nothing but misery. She’d never before seen a girl so unhappy at receiving not one but two proposals. “I take it you don’t want to marry either one?”
“Oh, Elizabeth,” Maggie wailed, throwing herself onto her shoulder and sobbing uncontrollably. For several long minutes, all Elizabeth could do was hold her friend and murmur comforting words. Finally, Maggie pulled away, her face ravaged with tears and grief.
“I love him so much.”
“Who?” Elizabeth asked cautiously.
“Lord Hollings,” she said, as if Elizabeth had gone quite daft. “I’ve loved him since Newport. And he loves me.”
“Why, that’s wonderful. Is it not?”
Maggie shook her head, unable to speak as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She swallowed audibly. “I have to tell you something. I have to tell someone or else I will go mad. I feel as though I’m falling apart, Elizabeth. I cannot take any more. I cannot.”
“Tell me,” Elizabeth said, her concern increasing tenfold.
“It all started with my father’s arrest, you see. It all started there.” Maggie’s eyes were glazed, as if she were no longer a part of herself, and Elizabeth grabbed her hand to bring her back. Her friend looked at her and Elizabeth had never in her life seen such abject despair. “We were told my father would likely be sentenced to five years. It was to be a lesson, you see, a way to point out the evils of greed. One of the men testifying against my father was an old friend, Charles Barnes.”
Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. “I know him.”
“I went to him and asked if there was anything that could be done to save my father, to reduce his sentence. And he told me he could help. He promised.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I told him I would do anything. I knew what I was saying, I’m not that naive, but I was so desperate to help Papa. I thought it was such a small sacrifice to make for him.”
It slowly dawned on Elizabeth what her friend was telling her. “Oh, Lord, Maggie. Charles Barnes?” Barnes was an odious man, completely unappealing. He’d always made Elizabeth exceedingly uncomfortable at their meetings. He had a way about him that made one’s skin crawl.
Maggie covered her face with her hands and shuddered. “He promised me Papa would get just one year. If I let him…” She stopped and swallowed, and Elizabeth’s horror grew. “…have me. And so I did,” she finished, sounding almost calm but for the smallest trembling in her voice. “It was quite unpleasant.”
“So now you think you are unworthy,” Elizabeth said, guessing at what had made her friend so upset about the two proposals. “I should like to kill Charles Barnes. I should think you would want to as well.”
Maggie lifted her head in surprise.
“Aren’t you angry, Maggie?”
“With him?” It seemed as if she hadn’t even considered the idea, which shocked Elizabeth. “I suppose I’ve been so ashamed and angry at myself, I didn’t think to get angry with him.”
“What he did is beyond despicable. He used you for his own sordid pleasure. He’s the one who deserves to be in prison. I never did like the man and now I know why. He’s the slimiest, dirtiest, most horrid man to walk the earth. He ought to be strung up in front of the entire New York Four Hundred and made to confess his sins.”
Throughout Elizabeth’s tirade, Maggie could only stare. She’d never considered how disgusting what Barnes had done was, only how disgusting what she had done was.
“He took advantage of a poor girl who wanted nothing more than to save her father. I cannot think of a more horrible crime than to do that. I think you should go to New York to kill him. I will gladly supply the gun.”
Maggie burst out laughing. “No wonder I love you,” she said, hugging Elizabeth fiercely. “I was so ashamed, so embarrassed. I still am. But I do believe I’m a bit angry, too.”
“You should be angry. You should be murderously angry. How dare he do what he did! And not only that, he took you and didn’t make good on his word.”
Maggie looked down at her lap. “I was a bit angry about that part.”
“The entire thing is unconscionable.” Elizabeth winced. “I think I have to use the toilet,” she said. “But first you have to promise to not let what that horrible Barnes did to you stop you from marrying the man you love.”
“I can’t do that. He could never get over it. I know it. He thinks I’m good and pure and a virgin. He wants to be the first, Elizabeth. He told me so. He would never look at me the same, it would always be there between us. I couldn’t bear it if he looked at me in a different way.” She twisted her hands painfully. “The truth is, I feel…” She took a long shaking breath. “Dirty. Unworthy of him.”
“No!” Elizabeth said, grabbing her hands and squeezing gently. “You did nothing wrong. Well, practically nothing.”
Maggie let out a watery laugh. “It was wrong. Very wrong. I still cannot believe I allowed that man to touch me. But I could only think that as horrible as it was, if it meant my father could go free after a year, it would be worth it.”
“I don’t understand why it would be fine to marry Sir William and not Lord Hollings. It doesn’t make sense to me.”
“I love Lord Hollings. And that makes all the difference, at least in my heart.”
“I see,” Elizabeth said slowly, and Maggie suspected she didn’t understand at all. She hadn’t heard what Edward had said, the joy in his voice. Better to hurt him once now than to have him pretend it didn’t matter, to hurt over and over.
“And Sir William?”
“I told him only that I’m not a virgin. He doesn’t seem to care, though he doesn’t know the details. I could never tell him that.”
Elizabeth made Maggie look at her. “I think if Lord Hollings truly loves you, it wouldn’t matter.”
Maggie shook her head.
“Yo
u should tell him what you told me.”
“He would go to New York to kill him.”
“Because he deserves it. Now, could you please help me to the toilet?” Elizabeth asked, wincing. She heaved her legs to the side of the bed and then with Maggie’s help, stood up. And looked down, at the growing puddle at her feet.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Edward watched as the maid closed the last of his trunks, then hurried out of the room as if her dress were on fire. “Home.”
“To hell you are. Elizabeth’s just gone into labor and I need you here.”
Edward stared at his friend in disbelief. “I don’t give a bloody damn if you are going into labor. I’m going home. I’m needed there. I need to leave.” He grabbed a flask and took a long draught, grimacing as the heat of the alcohol seared its way down to his stomach. He wasn’t drunk yet, but he sure as hell was on his way. He wanted to hit something, and right now his friend was standing in the way, blocking his escape, and he was damned convenient, so he took a swing.
Rand was almost shocked enough to let the blow hit its mark, but at the last moment he shied away, escaping the brunt of it. “What the bloody hell is wrong with you?” he asked, immediately taking a boxer’s stance.
“Get out of my way,” Edward said, his fists still clenched by his side.
Rand straightened, staring at his friend. “Edward?”
Rand was looking at him in disbelief, and Edward let out the most foul curse he knew as he realized why his friend was looking at him that way. He hadn’t cried since his parents had died all those years ago, but damned if it didn’t feel like he had tears in his eyes. He turned away from his friend, and with all his might, punched the wall. Then cursed again because it hurt like all hell.
“Who is she?”
Another curse as he looked at his bloodied knuckles.
“Edward, I’ve only hit a wall once and it was over a woman. Now, who is she?”
“Maggie.” God, just saying her name hurt. “Miss Pierce.”
“Ah.”
Edward looked fiercely at his friend. “What does that mean?”
“Only that I suspected something between you two, but when Sir William came around I assumed nothing came of it. What happened?”
Edward walked to his window and stared stonily out, clenching his jaw painfully. “I offered for her and she rejected me.” He shrugged, then turned to Rand. “The thing is, I love her so goddamn much.” He shook his head angrily as he felt the sting of threatened tears. “I can’t stay here and watch her with him. I can’t.”
“What is it about these American women who drive us so insane?” Rand asked. He let out a long breath. “I understand you need to leave, but please stay until the baby is born. If something happens…” Rand, apparently, could not finish the thought, and so picked up Edward’s flask and took a drink. “I need you here.”
“Nothing’s going to happen, Rand.”
“Women die in childbirth all the time. Babies, too.”
Edward felt his resolve to leave waning. He’d always come to Rand’s rescue, always. And he wasn’t going to stop now.
“I’ll stay, but only until I know everything’s all right. And then I’m gone. I’ll finish the library later.” When Maggie has gone.
“Thank you,” Rand said, throwing his arm around his friend. “I owe you one.”
“You owe me far more than one,” Edward grumbled. “How is Elizabeth?”
Rand looked momentarily stunned, as if he’d forgotten why it was so important for Edward to stay. “Elizabeth. I told her I’d be right back.” He ran through the door. “Go to the library, I’ll be down presently after I make certain she’s all right. And bring that flask.”
Edward watched his friend disappear with a small smile. He tried to ignore the ache in his chest, but he sat down heavily on his bed and let the pain wash over him. It hurt so damn much. He picked up the flask, giving it a little shake to determine how much brandy was left, then took another sip. He’d stay drunk for a week, he thought idly. Maybe two. Once he was home and taking care of his estates, he’d be fine. He’d get over her. He just prayed she didn’t marry Sir William, because no doubt in the years to come, they would see each other. She was the duchess’s best friend, after all. He’d see her, see her children, watch her grow older with another man. Ah, God, he didn’t know if he could endure it.
Chapter 17
Maggie stood at the entrance to Sir William’s lovely country home feeling a bit of real regret. She loved his home, its warmth, the safety it represented. She could live out her days here content, mistress of her own home, perhaps the mother of a child or two. It would be so easy to marry him, to pretend everything was well in the world. She’d done that for so long, it was very tempting to do it again.
But not this time.
This time she was going to face her demons. She was going to New York to confront Charles Barnes. Perhaps she wouldn’t kill him, though the dark part of her heart wanted to. The shame had been pushed aside and replaced by pure rage. Elizabeth was right. What Barnes had done was unconscionable and he should be made to pay. The only way to do that was to kill him. Or shoot his cock off. Maggie smiled at the thought, feeling strangely giddy at the thought of him writhing in pain. Oh, goodness, I do believe I belong in Bedlam, she thought happily. Maggie didn’t understand where this rage she felt came from and could only conclude it had been there all the time, lurking inside her soul waiting for it to be sprung free.
The need to see Barnes, to tell him she wasn’t destroyed, that she thought he was the most loathsome creature on earth for what he’d done, to make him beg for mercy right before she pulled the trigger, it was nearly overwhelming.
Then…Well, then she wasn’t sure what she would do. Return to England, perhaps, escape before anyone knew what she’d done. No one would imagine she could be the culprit; no one knew what had happened. She would shoot him and drop the gun into the East River and hop on the first ship back to England. She wished she could be so callous. Perhaps by the time she arrived in New York that rage she felt would have festered long enough to turn her into a woman who could, indeed, commit murder. She hoped so.
In the most secret place in her heart, she imagined that when she returned, Edward would be waiting for her, that he’d forgive her everything. That he would hold her in his arms and tell her all was well and all the ugliness would simply disappear.
For now, she had to break the news to Sir William that she was leaving for New York and might not be coming back. With new resolve, Maggie turned the bell and waited, and was surprised when Sir William himself answered the door.
“I saw you walking up,” he said rather sheepishly. “Please come in.”
Maggie hesitated only a moment before crossing the threshold and following Sir William to a small sitting room. It was a lovely room, full of sunlight and potted plants, completely unexpected in a bachelor’s home, and she felt another small twinge of regret.
“You’ve decided,” he said, motioning for her sit across from him.
For a moment she thought he somehow knew of her murderous plan, before quickly realizing he was talking about his proposal. Her nerves were far more frayed than she realized, it seemed. “I have.” She shook her head. “I am afraid I cannot marry you, Sir William.”
Sir William nodded sadly, almost as if he expected this to be her answer. “May I inquire as to why?”
“I do like you. I think you are a wonderful, kind, good man. But I don’t love you.”
“I knew you did not,” he said softly. “But I suppose I hoped you were desperate enough to accept my offer anyway.”
Maggie looked at him fondly. “I don’t believe I could marry anyone at the moment. I have some unresolved business back home and I must take care of that. And I…” She wasn’t certain if she should be completely honest with him, for she didn’t want to hurt him more. But he finished her sentence for her.
“You love him,
don’t you?”
They both knew he was referring to Lord Hollings, and she looked down at her hands. “I do. That’s why I have to go to New York. I’d not make anyone a good wife now.”
“What was this all about, then? A way to make him jealous?” His voice was tinged with anger and hurt.
“No. Never.” She shook her head miserably. “I did love him, but I didn’t think he cared at all. And then you came along and seemed so…safe.”
“Safe.” He all but snorted.
“I wanted to be safe. I haven’t felt that way in a long time. Please don’t be angry with me. I never intended anyone to get hurt.”
“So you are marrying Lord Hollings. I suppose an earl is a better catch than a mere baronet.”
Maggie bristled and stood. “I realize you are hurt, but you have no call to think such a thing of me. Titles have never mattered to me. Not one whit. Not that it is any of your concern, but Lord Hollings asked me to marry him and I told him no.” Her eyes glittered with unshed angry tears.
Sir William’s anger seemed to deflate before her eyes. “You told him no? Why?”
Her tears spilled over. “He thinks I am someone I am not. I cannot lie to him anymore. I am sick to death of lying.” Maggie swallowed. “I have to go.”
Sir William stopped her with a gentle hand. “My dear, whatever it is that is troubling you, please know that if you need help, I am here.”
Maggie gave him a tremulous smile. “Thank you.”
She walked out of the house and down the pretty lane that led to his property, tears streaming down her face. “I need something good to happen,” she whispered. “I need something good.”
Then she shook her head, and dashed away her tears fiercely. No one could save her, not Lord Hollings and not Sir William. She had to save herself. With renewed resolved she marched back to Bellewood, determination in every step, her anger growing. This time, though, it was not anger against herself, but at Charles Barnes.
He would pay for what he’d done if it was the last thing on earth she did.
