His confessions of love were making her light-headed; the night's outcome was even more wonderful than she imagined. “I... I don't know what to say.”
“Say you'll marry me! Make me the happiest man in the world!” He was still on his knees, so he leaned forward and rested his head against her stomach. “I love you, Cynthia!”
“I love you too...”
When he heard her response, Lord Charmington gazed at her with trembling lips. “You do?! You love me?!”
“I do. And I want to marry you! I want that more than anything in the world!”
James leapt to his feet and pulled her against his chest. “You have no idea how happy this makes me!”
“And me as well,” Cynthia said. “But first, there is something I must tell you. Something about... my past.”
“There is nothing you could tell me that would change my mind about you, dearest Cynthia. Whatever you need to say, say it. My heart will always be yours.”
“Well...” Cynthia motioned toward a bench in the garden. “I think we should probably sit.”
“Of course.” James took her by the arm and led her to the bench, a cold stone slab surrounded by English roses. Once they were sitting, he plucked a rose, checked it for thorns, then handed it to her.
She accepted the flower with a smile. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He tucked a lock of Cynthia's golden hair behind her pixie-shaped ear. He could hardly tear his eyes away from that ear, as perfect as it was. Every inch of her was a testament to perfection. “Now... what did you need to tell me, my love?”
Cynthia closed her eyes for several seconds. Why was she so afraid? If this moment was going to change her life, it could only change it for the better. “I am not who you think I am, my lord.”
“What do you mean?”
Cynthia spun the rose's stem between her fingers. As she spoke, she kept her eyes on the spinning red petals. “I am an earl's daughter.”
Lord Charmington's eyes swelled. “Pardon?!”
“I am Lord Montforth's daughter... the former Lord Montforth, that is,” Cynthia explained. “He passed away not long ago.”
“But you... when I see you...” Lord Charmington took a deep breath as he struggled to express his thoughts. “Why are you working as a maid in Montforth Hall?!”
“My stepmother, Jemima, hates me more than anyone in the world. I am not sure why... perhaps it is jealousy? Or perhaps she does not want me stealing her daughter's glory? Whatever it is, she has always hated me... and when my father died, she took away everything I had, and she made me work with the servants.”
“But that's impossible!” James exclaimed. “How would she have the authority to do such a thing?!”
“She had the support of my cousin, the new Lord Montforth,” Cynthia explained. “Rolly wanted me to marry him, and when I continued to refuse, he was not merciful.”
“Why did you let them do this to you?!” James tenderly brushed a forefinger across her cheek. “Why not leave?”
“And where would I go?” Cynthia asked with a shrug. “I have no other family to turn to. I have no money of my own. I have nothing, my lord. I have--”
He laid a finger over her lips. “How many times have I told you to call me James, you silly girl?”
“My apologies, James.” Cynthia smiled at him. “Now that we are engaged, I suppose I should start calling you by your Christian name. Assuming, of course, your feelings for me have not changed?”
“Goodness, no!” Cynthia's absurd suggestion made him chuckle. “Why in the world would you think that?! All this time, the only thing that held me back was the fact that you were a maid... but I fell for you regardless. Now I see no reason why we should not be together. It is perfect! And it explains a lot, come to think of it. For a maid, you were an extraordinary dancer.”
“And an avid reader,” she pointed out. Cynthia laid her flower aside and reached for James' hand. She held it in her lap, massaged his fingers, and gently caressed his knuckles. “I feel like everything is perfect now. I have nothing to be afraid of anymore.”
“You don't. I'll take care of you, Cynthia. When you are my wife, I will make you the happiest woman in the world. Your happiness will be my life's purpose.” James stared at her lips, which he had been dying to taste. “I want to kiss you.”
Her heart buckled at the thought. “You do?”
“So much,” James said. “I cannot even begin to tell you how much I want to have your lips on mine.”
“I've never been kissed before,” Cynthia quietly confessed. “Ever since we met, I have wanted my first kiss to be yours.”
“I want your heart to be mine as well.” He leaned toward her, slowly closing the distance between their mouths.
“It is yours. My heart was always yours.”
As his lips descended, they were interrupted by a gruff, “Ahem!” There was someone standing behind them, and they did not approve of their conduct.
When Cynthia turned around, her spirits plummeted.
Her stepmother was glaring at her.
Chapter Twenty Two
“Goodness!” Jemima exclaimed. “This is a bit inappropriate, is it not?” Her voice had taken on a sickly-sweet tone, likely for Lord Charmington's benefit. “You should not be alone in the garden with a gentleman, dear.”
Cynthia rose from the bench, ready to stand her ground. “He has just asked me to marry him!”
“Has he?! Oh my!” Jemima tightened her lips and forced a smile. “And what did you say to him, Cynthia?”
“I want to be his wife,” Cynthia said. “I need to be his wife!”
“Well, then...” Jemima held her hands behind her back and clenched her fists so tightly, her own fingernails were digging into her flesh. “Then I suppose I should congratulate you.”
James stood by Cynthia's side. “Is it true, madam, what Cynthia said? Are you really forcing her to be a servant?!”
Cynthia winced—no good could come of this!
“WHAT?!” Skilled at theatrics, Jemima clasped a hand over her heart and threw back her head. “Is that what she said to you?! Goodness, Cynthia, why do you make up such stories?!”
“I know it is true, Lady Montforth. You have no reason to deny it,” James spoke on Cynthia's behalf. “I have seen her working... at Montforth Hall... in a maid's attire. Do you care to explain why that is?”
“Cynthia is a very fanciful girl, my lord.” As she approached the couple, Jemima laid a hand on Cynthia's back and gently led her away from the earl's side. “What she does in her free time... I have no control over that. Perhaps she wanted you to fall for her as a maid? If I was as beautiful as Cynthia, I would want to make sure someone loved me for me, not just for my face or my upbringing.”
“James...” Cynthia whispered his name. As Jemima led her away from the bench, Cynthia sent a forlorn glance over her shoulder. Jemima's presence had rendered her powerless—she was as terrified of her stepmother as she had ever been. She needed her fiance to save her. “James, it isn't--”
“This is so exciting! Really... is it!” Jemima interrupted. “You really want to marry my dear, sweet stepdaughter? This is a felicitous occasion indeed!”
As Jemima steered her stepdaughter in the direction of the house, James stayed on their heels. “With all due respect, my lady, something is amiss!” he insisted. “If Cynthia was pretending to be a maid, why was she never introduced to me?! All those times I called on you... when I spent the entire evening at Montforth Hall... why did no one bother to introduce me to the former Lord Montforth's daughter?!”
“It is late, my lord,” Jemima said. “We should really take our leave. As soon as I find Georgiana--”
James grabbed Cynthia's hand, halting their retreat. “I don't want Cynthia leave. I want her to stay here.” His midnight blue eyes were searing, beseeching. “With me.”
Jemima chuckled. “Now that is inappropriate, my lord! Until you are married, Cynthia couldn't possibly stay at R
idgeley Manor. Tongues would wag, people would make assumptions. Imagine the damage to her reputation!” She tugged the earl's hand away from her stepdaughter. “We need to return to Montforth Hall. At once.”
As her stepmother whisked her away, Cynthia frowned at her fiance. Everything was happening so quickly, Cynthia was petrified; her thoughts were thoroughly muddled. Staying at her fiance's estate did not seem like an acceptable option, nor did she wish to return to Montforth Hall. Try as she might, she could not think of a suitable solution to her problem. “I'm sorry, James. I'm so sorry!” she exclaimed.
“If you need to see her, my lord, you are more than welcome to call on her tomorrow,” Jemima assured him. “In fact, I fully expect you to come. We have much to discuss, I am sure... such as her dowry.”
Dowry?! As if her stepmother ever intended to give her a dowry!
Jemima dragged Cynthia into the ballroom, where she hoped the earl would have sense enough not to make a scene. Leaving Lord Charmington behind, Jemima located Georgiana, who erupted with a snake-like hiss when she saw her stepsister's face.
“They were together, weren't they, Mama?!” Georgiana exclaimed.
Jemima glanced over her shoulder, making sure the earl had not followed them. She did not want her daughter to make a scene any more than she wanted the earl to make a scene. Any breech of civility would not reflect well on the family. “Georgiana... until we are in the carriage, please mind your tongue.”
“But it's true, isn't it?! You found them together?!”
One of Jemima's hands encircled Cynthia's wrist; her other hand prodded her daughter. “This is a discussion for another time, dear.”
“And what are you doing here, Cynthia?!” Georgiana gasped. “You were not permitted to come!”
“Hush, Georgiana, hush!” her mother insisted. She led her daughter and stepdaughter out of Ridgeley Manor as quickly as she could. The sooner they were alone, the sooner she could unleash her wrath. When she found their carriage, she yanked open the door and motioned for Cynthia to get inside.
“No!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I'm not leaving!”
“And what other option do you have?” Jemima gave her stepdaughter a push, urging her into the carriage. “You can't stay here, can you? If you stay with Lord Charmington before you are married, someone might assume you are his mistress! You wouldn't want that, would you?”
“And what is my alternative?!” Cynthia tried to climb out of the carriage, but Jemima held onto her arm. “I can only imagine what you might have in store for me once we return to Montforth Hall!”
“Don't be so overdramatic, dear,” Jemima said. “Lord Charmington has already fallen for you. The damage is done. What more could I possibly do?!”
When the carriage started moving, Georgiana squealed, “He's fallen for Cynthia?! What do you mean, Mama?!”
“It seems our beloved Cynthia has been sneaking behind our backs, Georgiana,” Jemima calmly explained. “Unless he managed to fall for you in a single night, you must have been cavorting with him for some time. I am so ashamed of you, Cynthia.”
“As if I care!” Cynthia shrieked. Miraculously, she had found her backbone—she was actually standing up to Jemima! If only she could have stood up for herself when James was with her! “When we're married, there's nothing more you can do to me!”
“Married?!” Georgiana hollered. “You're getting married?! He proposed to you?!”
“He did,” Cynthia proudly announced. “He's in love with me!”
“Mama!” Georgiana immediately dissolved in a fit of vapors. As she wailed, she buried her face against her mother's shoulder. “Mama, please tell me it isn't true!”
“I am afraid it might be true, Georgiana.” Jemima gave her daughter's hair a comforting caress. “Lord Charmington has chosen Cynthia.”
“Noooooo!!!” Georgiana's body was wracked by a monstrous sob. “No, it can't be true! It can't be true! It cannot! I LOVED him!”
“There there, dear...”
“This is the WORST day of my LIFE!” Georgiana lifted her head from her mother's shoulder, but only for a moment, so she could glower at her stepsister. “I HATE you!”
Cynthia simply shrugged. She already knew they hated her. It was nothing she had not heard before.
As she stroked Georgiana's hair, Jemima whispered in her ear, “Don't worry, dear. We will have the last laugh...”
Her mother's promise temporarily ceased Georgiana's sobs. However, when they arrived at Montforth Hall, and she saw the smug look on Cynthia's face, Georgiana had a second breakdown. She cried convulsively, whimpering and wailing as she stumbled from the carriage. When she was on her feet, she nearly slipped on the icy ground. As they journeyed home, it had started to rain—and the rain had turned to sleet.
Cynthia climbed from the carriage and headed toward the house. Before she could get very far, Georgiana grabbed her arm and screamed at her. “HE LOVED ME! I know he loved ME!” She tried to drag Cynthia to the ground, but she managed to stay on her feet. “If you didn't exist, we would be together!”
“Girls,” Jemima cautioned them. “Girls, please. Don't scuffle!”
“I hate you!” Ignoring her mother, Georgiana pulled Cynthia's hair. In her defense, Cynthia gave her stepsister a shove. “I hate you, I hate you, and I wish you would die!”
“It isn't my fault that he fell in love with me, Georgiana. It isn't my fault that you are intolerable and unlovable!”
“Urrrrrrrrrgh!” Georgiana plowed her hands into Cynthia's midsection, shoving her as hard as she could. Cynthia's foot skidded against the slippery ground; she fell to her knees. When she did, her reticule flew at Georgiana's feet, and Georgiana stomped on it.
“Georgiana! Sweetheart!” Jemima tried to calm her daughter's fury. “I know you hate her. As do I. But please... have some restraint!”
Georgiana plucked Cynthia's reticule from the ground and tore it open, scattering its contents. When she saw Cynthia scrambling to her feet, Georgiana gave her another shove, which made her land on her face. “What's this?!” Georgiana bent down to pick up a slip of paper: Lord Montforth's I LOVE YOU note. Her eyes scanned the words, then she showed it to her mother. “I think Lord Charmington has been giving her love letters!”
“Give that back to me!” Cynthia hissed. She tried, a second time, to rise to her feet. When she did, Georgiana kicked her shins. Georgiana knew her behavior was as far from ladylike as it could possibly be, but she did not care. At the moment, the only thing that mattered was exacting revenge on her nemesis.
“Is this a love letter from Lord Charmington?” Jemima asked. “Has he been giving you inappropriate letters? Knowing what I know now, I would not put it past him...”
“It is not from him!” Cynthia leapt to her feet and tried to snatch the letter from her stepmother's hand, but Jemima was too fast. She held the letter in the air, and Georgiana gave Cynthia another push. “It's from my father! Please hand it back to me!”
“From my husband?” Jemima raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“It was the last thing he wrote before he died! It gives me strength!” She tried to grab the letter, but Jemima held it high; she was a much taller woman than her diminutive stepdaughter. “Please, Jemima, please! If you care about me at all...”
“I do NOT care about you at all!” As she screamed the words, Jemima tore the I LOVE YOU note in half.
And she didn't stop there. She tore it into tiny pieces, tossed the shredded letter to the ground, and smashed it into the mud.
“No!” Cynthia dropped to her knees beside the mutilated letter. “No, no, no, no, no!”
“The last remnant of your father is gone, Cynthia. But why should you care?!” Jemima hissed. “From now on, you will have Lord Charmington to comfort you!”
Georgiana grinned at her mother. Her tears had stopped, and they were replaced by pin prickles of elation. Her entire body shuddered with joy over her stepsister's misery.
“You are my hero, Mama,”
Georgiana said. “An absolute hero!”
“Thank you, Georgiana. Now... let us go inside, shall we?” Jemima took her daughter by the arm and led her away from Cynthia, who continued to sob over her father's ripped letter. “Oh... and Cynthia? From now on, you will be barred from Montforth Hall. If I have my way, you will never set foot inside these walls again!”
“Are you serious?!” Cynthia shrieked. The freezing rain had already chilled her lips to the point where she could not feel them. “I'll catch my death out here!”
“And that would be wonderful!” Georgiana shrilled. “Come, Mama... I'm cold. I want to wrap myself in a cluster of warm blankets!”
As she watched them walk away, Cynthia screamed, “You're evil! Both of you! You're evil through and through!” Her angry words would not save her from her predicament, but they made her feel better.
But not by much.
Her legs were already going numb.
Chapter Twenty Three
Cynthia ran to the front door and tried to pull it open. Not surprisingly, it was already locked.
“Solomon!” She pounded on the door as hard as she could, hoping the old butler would come to her aid. “Solomon, please! Solomon!” Cynthia hovered around the front of Montforth Hall for several seconds, but the door never opened. Either Solomon had retired for the night, or he had chosen to ignore her plea.
Cynthia hurried to the side of the manor: the servants' entrance. “Tess!” As she shouted for her roommate, she tried to peer into one of the windows. Everything inside was pitch black; Tess was probably asleep. “TESS!” She waited in the freezing rain for a few minutes, praying the door would open, but no one came to her rescue.
She ran to the opposite side of the house, where Edith's bedchamber was on the second floor. “Edith!” As she cried her stepsister's name, Cynthia's lips clamped together. If no one else would help her, Edith most certainly would—but at what cost? In her rage, what if Jemima turned Edith out of Montforth Hall as well? Cynthia did not want to subject her sweet stepsister to a fate that was similar to her own.
Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story Page 13
