Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story

by K. L. O'Keefe

  “Really?!” As she peered at him through her fingers, Edith was sneering. “You would have proposed to Georgiana?!”

  “Heavens, no!” James chuckled. “I know she is your sister, and I am sorry if I offend you, but... she can be quite unbearable.”

  “You owe me no apology, my lord! Believe me, my sister is hardly my favorite person in the world! I am almost embarrassed to claim kinship!” Edith rose from the couch and headed for the door. If they were going to search for Cynthia, there was no time to waste. “So... what if Cynthia hadn't been there, my lord? You were going to propose to someone, were you not?”

  “That was my intention,” James said, “but Cynthia was always my first choice.”

  “Even though you thought she was a maid?”

  “Yes. Even then.”

  “I suppose you know her true identity, then?”

  James nodded. “I do. But I proposed to her before she confessed it to me. I would have happily married her, whether she was an earl's daughter or a maid.”

  Edith smiled. When she heard the passion in his voice, it made her believe in the existence of true love—even if it would never exist for her. “So... who would you have chosen, if not Cynthia and Georgiana?”

  James knew the answer, but he did not know if he should tell her. Apart from being inappropriate, it was a pointless question to ponder. He wanted Cynthia—only Cynthia—and they were going to find her.

  Nevertheless, he decided to tell her the truth, and hope it would not be too awkward.

  “You, Edith,” James said. “If you had been there, I would have proposed to you.”

  * * *

  James, Edith and a half-dozen footmen were plodding through the forest between Ridgeley Manor and Montforth Hall, searching for any sign of Cynthia. They had been at it for nearly an hour, and so far, their search had been fruitless. Along the way, James and Edith had somehow gotten separated from the footmen. They continued to search on their own, and despite the fact that her feet were sore, Edith did not want to complain. She rarely complained about anything.

  However, when he saw her limping, he knew something was amiss. “Are you alright, Edith?”

  “P-pardon?”

  “I thought I saw you hobbling,” James noted. “You are usually not as ungainly as that.”

  When Edith saw him grinning, she knew he was teasing her. “I am fine, my lord. However, the ground is moist... it makes walking difficult.” She held out her boot, which was encased in a shell of mud. “My foot has gotten mired a few times.”

  “We should have traveled on horseback,” James said, “we could have covered more ground, and your feet would not be injured.”

  “My feet are not injured!” Edith assured him, “And if we were on horseback, we might not see her. No, it is better to scour the area on foot!” The next time she stepped forward, her boot lashed across the blister on her heel, and she drew a sharp breath.

  Lord Charmington's hands flew to his hips. “You really aren't hurt, Edith?”

  “No, my lord, I--”

  “You know, you should really call me James, seeing as we are practically family.”

  “Are we?” Edith had to mask her grimace as she walked toward him. She wanted to look strong, determined. If nothing else, she did not want him to know she was in pain. “We should keep going.”

  “You're right. We should.” As he watched her limp ahead of him, his brow was pinched with concern. “But if you need to take a rest...”

  “I am fine,” Edith insisted. “How large is this forest, anyway?”

  “You have lived in this area much longer than I have. I am sure you have a better idea of its size.”

  “But I do not make a habit of traipsing the woods. In fact, I am sure this is the first time I have ventured so deep within them.” Edith stopped walking and took a moment to scan her surroundings. “You do not think we'll get lost, do you?”

  “I would say anything is possible.” When he saw the worry line between her eyes, he added, “That is to say, I, uh... I am quite certain I could find my way back.”

  “What if we cannot find Cynthia?!” Edith exclaimed. “What if she is somewhere far, far away from here? She could be anywhere!”

  “Try not to be so discouraged, Edith. We have only just begun our search.”

  “What if she tries to contact me at Montforth Hall when I am not there? What if she tries to contact you?”

  “Perhaps our servants will inform us of her safety,” James suggested. “Your concern for your sister is touching.”

  “Is it?” When Edith glanced in his direction, her eyebrow was raised. “I hope you are referring to Cynthia and not Georgiana!”

  “Of course!” he laughed. “It is evident that she is your true sister.”

  “And my truest friend,” Edith added. “Perhaps my only friend.”

  As he walked alongside her, James gave her a nudge. “And what of me, Lady Edith? Am I not your friend?”

  “I... suppose.”

  “You suppose?!” Her tepid response made him chuckle. “You know, I would still like to paint you. Your handsome face would capture well on canvas.”

  “Handsome.” Edith repeated the word with a roll of her eyes. “It is not the first time someone has used that word to describe me. It is either that, or plain.”

  “Well, you are hardly plain!”

  “I can only imagine what it would be like to be Cynthia,” Edith said. “Georgiana envies her so much, and I can understand why. Cynthia possesses a sort of... otherworldly beauty you don't often find in this world. Don't get me wrong... I have no delusions about my face. I know beautiful is a word reserved for someone like Cynthia, but just once, I would love to have someone describe me as pretty.”

  “You--”

  “Please, don't say anything,” Edith interrupted him. “Whatever you say now, it would only be to appease me. Besides, we should not even be having this discussion. We should focus on the task at hand, which is to find Cynthia.”

  “You're right. Nothing is more important than--”

  Lord Charmington was interrupted yet again—but not by Edith.

  “HALT!”

  James grabbed Edith's arm and turned around slowly, in the direction of the commanding voice. When they faced the speaker, they found themselves staring at the end of a pistol.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  When she wandered out of the bedroom the next morning, Robert and Ada were sitting in the next room, and Robert was massaging her feet.

  “Rub them harder!” his grandmother commanded him. “My poor bunion is more than I can bear!”

  “When is the last time you washed your feet, Gram?! They smell like fish!”

  “Are they really that awful?” Ada asked with a pout. “When you get as old as I am, you'll see how difficult it is to scrub your feet!”

  Robert hammered his knuckle against the arch of his grandmother's foot. “You should soak them then. They're like leather!”

  “Robert, you're such a d--” Before she could finish her insult, Ada spotted Cynthia in the doorway, and her voice trailed off. When she locked eyes with the younger woman, Cynthia raised her hand in salutation.

  “Good morning,” Cynthia said.

  “Good morning, dear,” Ada responded.

  Robert whirled around, facing Cynthia's direction. She was wearing one of his grandmother's dresses, which he had laid out for her that morning. It was much too large for her, and the muted green material was atrocious, but she was in no position to complain. “You look fetching,” Robert teased her.

  “Do I?”

  “Aye. Like a veritable goddess!” Robert exclaimed, which earned him a playful slap from his grandmother. “Ow! Why'd you hit me, Gram?!”

  “Because of your false compliments!” Ada said. “They try my nerves!”

  “False? Who says they're false? My compliments are always genuine. I happen to think Cynthia looks lovely when she's dressed like a cantankerous old crone.” Before hi
s grandmother could swat him again, which she surely would have, Robert leapt to his feet and stumbled several paces away from her. “All she needs is the hat, and her ensemble would be perfect!”

  Ada touched her head, on which there was a ruffled mobcap. “I should turn you over my knee, Robert! I swear I should!” Ada's eyes went back to Cynthia. “I apologize on my grandson's behalf. His behavior is... he can be so...”

  “I know. I am very familiar with Robert's wily ways,” Cynthia said. “He means well.”

  “Does he!?”

  “I am sure he does.” Cynthia smiled at the older woman, then she turned her attention to Robert. “Your grandmother must think my presence is strange. She must wonder why I'm here.”

  “Not at all. I explained everything this morning,” Robert said. “As for you, young lady... back to bed with you! While I'm happy to see you've regained the use of your limbs, it's too soon for you to be straggling from your bed!”

  Cynthia flexed her arms. Parts of her body were sore, but she had greatly improved. “I'm quite alright.”

  “Be that as it may, a bit of bed rest wouldn't be a bad idea.” Robert took her by the arm and led her back to his bedroom. When he motioned toward the bed, Cynthia climbed beneath the blankets with a sigh. “Let me take care of you, Cynthia. I'll return with some soup. And don't worry.” He gave his fingers a whiff and twisted his face into an exaggerated grimace. “I will be sure to wash my hands. After touching my grandmother's fetid feet, it's really the least I can do.”

  Cynthia giggled. “Very well, Robert. I will eagerly await your return.”

  Robert winked at her before disappearing from the room. When he was gone, she realized she really was eager to see him return. Though she often complained about his behavior, Cynthia had grown accustomed to Robert's quips, and they never failed to improve her mood.

  A few minutes later, Robert returned with a bowl in his hands. He sat at the end of Cynthia's bed and stirred the broth.

  “I know you think I should rest, but I really cannot stay!” Cynthia said. “Edith and James must be worried about me.” When she tried to reach for the bowl of soup, he held it out of range.

  “No, no. I'm feeding you!” Robert brought a spoonful of chicken broth and potato to her lips. Cynthia rolled her eyes as she took the spoon into her mouth.

  “And why are you feeding me? And soup, no less. You'll dribble all over me! I'll have you know, I am perfectly capable of feeding myself! My arms are perfectly fine... they're mobile and limber and--” Before she could finish speaking, Robert handed her the bowl.

  “I always wanted to do that,” Robert said. “Feed someone, take care of someone, that sort of thing. Now that my desire's been sated, you're welcome to feed yourself.”

  “You're insufferable,” Cynthia said—and she was sure it was not the first time she had said those words to him. After taking another bite, she asked, “Did you hear what I said about Edith and James?”

  “Oh, I heard it. Your stepsister and Lord Magnificent are worried about you.” Robert leaned back and crossed his arms, because he was slightly vexed by the mention of her fiance. At times, he could almost forget she was an affianced young lady, far above his station in life. “I'm sure they are.”

  “I need to let them know I'm well,” Cynthia said. “Who should I approach first? Edith or James?”

  “I suppose that would be entirely up to you, Princess.”

  “Lord Charmington might offer me a place to stay, and I have no desire to return to Montforth Hall,” Cynthia said. “Though I have many good memories there, I have just as many terrible ones... I have Jemima and Georgiana to thank for that. I hope I never lay eyes on them again!”

  “Which is a perfectly understandable sentiment.”

  Cynthia took another spoonful of soup into her mouth. As soon as she swallowed, she said, “Then I suppose I should visit Lord Charmington, and he can send word to Edith.”

  “A fine idea. I'll get you back to him...”

  For the next few minutes, a period of silence reigned. During that time, Cynthia finished most of her soup and set the bowl aside. She laid down, tugged the blankets to her chin, and shyly said, “Last night, I slept more soundly than I have slept in ages. Why do you think that is?”

  “You were exhausted?”

  “Indeed. I was,” Cynthia agreed. “But I believe it might have been... more than that. I felt safe. Protected.” As she spoke, she fidgeted with the ends of her hair. “Perhaps... having you with me wasn't such a bad thing?”

  “Really?!”

  “Having your arms around me as I slept... your presence was a comfort. As long as no one knows it happened...”

  “No one will know,” Robert said. “Your secret is safe... your reputation, intact.”

  “Good.” Cynthia timidly peered at him over the blankets. “Do you think... I mean... could you find it in your heart to...” Her request was on the tip of her tongue, but she could not bring herself to say it.

  “What do you need, Princess?” Robert asked. “I would do anything for you. Anything at all.”

  “Do you think you could...” Cynthia closed her eyes as she finished the sentence, “hold me again?”

  Robert did not hesitate, for fear that she would change her mind. He slipped beneath the blankets, tucked an arm around her waist, and gently pulled her toward him. As he held her close, Cynthia breathed a contented sigh. Robert laid a hand against her head and coaxed her to lay on his chest. With all the tenderness in the world, Robert sifted a hand through Cynthia's golden locks. She closed her eyes and savored the moment—which was as strange as it was exhilarating.

  A part of her did not care to get back to Lord Charmington. She was exactly where she wanted to be.

  * * *

  “You'll have to excuse my uncle's horses,” Robert said. As he approached the insubordinate nag, the animal gnashed its teeth. “They aren't exactly the finest horseflesh in the world.”

  “I think this horse is lovely.” Cynthia stood beside the white mare and stroked its silver-white mane.

  “And this one?” When he patted the other horse's hind quarters, it snorted at him. “I'm not certain we'll make it all the way to Ridgeley Manor on this one. She's liable to throw me off!”

  “Hopefully you're a skilled rider.”

  “Not so skilled,” he confessed. “Let's hope my time as a groom has improved my ability to handle horses.” When he mounted his steed, it brayed like a donkey. “Am I correct to assume our destination is Ridgeley Manor?”

  “Of course.” As she mounted the white mare, Cynthia tried to imagine what she looked like. She must have been quite a sight: an earl's young daughter riding sidesaddle in an elderly woman's dress. “I have no sense of direction, so I'll follow you.”

  “If I can get this disgraceful nag to obey!” Robert clicked his tongue, which finally set his horse into motion. As he trotted away from his grandmother's cottage, Cynthia rode beside him.

  “So, Robert...” Cynthia began, “What do you really think of Lord Charmington?”

  “Lord Magnificent,” Robert said with a chuckle. “Now that he is your husband-to-be, I suppose I should stop calling him that.”

  “And why is that? Whenever you called him Lord Magnificent, I was always secretly amused. I must confess... Charmington is a ridiculous moniker!”

  “When you're married, you will be Lady Charmington,” Robert pointed out.

  “Oh my... I never considered that!”

  “I suppose I should start bowing to you. I'll have to treat you like a proper lady... Lady Charmington.”

  “I would not want anything to change between us! I know it might be unconventional, but I would like for us to remain friends.”

  “After you're married, you might not see me again.” Robert glanced over and saw her pouting. “You'll be at Ridgeley Manor, or wherever your husband might take you. And I'll be stuck at Montforth Hall.”

  “Perhaps you might work for us instead?” Cynthia
suggested.

  Robert shook his head. The thought of working for Cynthia and her husband did not sit well with him, but there was nothing he could say to make her understand that. He did not want to reveal too much of his heart and mind—Cynthia did not need to hear it. He would only embarrass himself.

  “So, what is your opinion of him?” Cynthia asked again.

  “He seems like a decent sort of man.” With a grin, Robert added, “for a lord.”

  “Do you think he will make a good husband for me?”

  “Aye,” Robert was quick to answer. “He seems to care about you, and you deserve nothing less than an earl.”

  Cynthia pressed her lips together, which stopped a sigh from escaping her lips. His answer should have been perfect, but she was strangely disheartened by Robert's reply.

  They rode in silence for the rest of the journey. Despite the fact that Robert's horse continuously stalled, they somehow made it to their destination. Shortly after they arrived at Ridgeley Manor, they were confronted by a tall, gaunt butler, who stared at them down the length of his impossibly long nose.

  “I am here to see Lord Charmington,” Cynthia said. When the butler didn't flinch, she added, “I'm... his fiance?”

  “Oh. I see.” Her provincial attire must have given him pause. “I believe he is out searching for you, my lady.”

  “He is?!” Cynthia squeaked. “Where is he searching?”

  “Of that, I cannot be sure,” the butler said. “If you would like, you may wait for his return. Or, if you prefer not to stay, I can inform him of your safety when he arrives.”

  Cynthia glanced at Robert, who appeared to be woolgathering. She had to nudge him to get his attention. “Robert!”

  “Oi?”

  “We should search for him!”

  “We should search for the man who is searching for you?” Robert chuckled. “That seems a bit ironic.”

  Turning her attention to the butler, Cynthia said, “If my fiance should happen to return, please tell him I am in good health. And good spirits.”