“You went to London just a couple of weeks ago. Have you changed so much since then?” She spoke bitterly, but her gaze was dejected.
“I have,” he replied. “I may not be entirely changed, but I am changing. Because what we have is different.”
“How am I to trust your word on that? When you treat love and physical intimacy so carelessly?”
“I did not love her, Maggie. Do you think I would have thrown away love?”
“Do you love me?” The question felt like a punch to the gut. His lips parted, but he was speechless. As she asked him this question, her countenance became challenging. Daring. Like she was daring him to lie to her, or calling him out, finding the flaw in his argument.
Henry didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t thought about this before. He knew that his feelings for Maggie were very real, but did he love her? Could he commit to that idea when things were so new and unsteady between them? Could he bare his heart, with nothing but hope that she wouldn’t trample it?
Henry’s lips closed, and he swallowed.
Maggie nodded and looked down, her expression warped by coldness and resignation. “That’s what I thought,” she said, more quietly, but no less bitterly.
She shook him off her and, in his stupor of surprise and indecision, he allowed her to do so.
Without another word, she walked past him and back towards the house, leaving him standing in the rain.
Chapter 26
Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath
How had she been such a blind fool? She’d chosen not to see what was right in front of her, what her brother had warned her of, and had entertained the notion of being with him. Being with him. A man who’d shown his character unreservedly.
And yet she’d felt certain that there was more to him, lingering beneath the surface. That his tough manner was all for show.
How wrong she’d been.
And the shame of having been so wrong, though it was only she who knew of it, was almost unbearable. When Maggie had heard the Baroness’ accusations, she hadn’t wanted to believe them at first. But the more she spoke, the more raw feeling she demonstrated, the less Maggie felt able to deny her claims.
Had Henry meant to do the same thing to her? To use her and then cast her aside? With this question haunting her mind, she threw herself down onto her bed and let herself weep. She couldn’t even see past her misery enough to change out of her wet clothes.
She hadn’t even realized she felt so much for him until that moment. The sense of betrayal was so extreme that she knew she couldn’t dispute her feelings for him any longer. Somehow, Henry had made her fall in love with him. And now he’d snatched her heart from her chest and trampled on it.
The reality was that nothing had really changed. Henry had always been this way, and Maggie had just been too smitten to see it. Even at the start - when she’d been determined to solve the ‘mystery’ of him – even that had been infatuation. She’d been intrigued by him the moment she’d seen him in the pits, but had refused to admit it even to herself.
Every time they fought, she found herself thinking about him more. He’d consumed her mind ever since she’d arrived. She’d thought it was fear, suspicion, rage, a sense of injustice, but the truth was that it was nothing more than basic intrigue.
She’d wanted him. And refusing to address that want had led her here. She’d ignored it so she could entertain it without remorse. So she could overlook the things about him that should have been warning signs.
She deserved what she felt now. For her stupidity, if nothing else. That thought alone should have been enough to facilitate a feeling of resignation. But instead, she just felt restless and frustrated.
Once she was done crying, Maggie threw back the covers and stepped out of bed. She stood in the middle of her room as a reckless thought occurred to her.
And she knew that she had to decide whether to follow that thought where it planned to take her, or if she should get back into bed and continue to cry. She knew that it was dangerous and reckless, but the thought of staying inside was insufferable. She needed the fresh air. The cool rain on her skin.
In her misery and sense of betrayal, Maggie’s teeth clenched and she grabbed her hooded cloak. She inched out into the hallway as quietly as she could and stole away into the night.
Maggie walked for a long time. She left the grounds and wandered down the main path. It wasn’t long before her clothes were soaked through with rain, but she didn’t care. She barely felt the cold.
When her feet got tired, Maggie started walking back to the estate. She was starting to feel the chill now and rubbed at her arms as she walked.
The main path felt far smaller in the dark, and the trees flanking either side of it seemed like they were moving closer. It gave her an eerie feeling, which made her walk faster.
When she heard the snap of a branch, she whipped around and froze. She stared out into the darkness with wide eyes, her breath caught in her throat. “Just an animal…” she whispered to herself, before beginning to walk again.
It was only a few moments before she heard another snap. But this time, it was closer. To the left of her. Again she spun to face the noise, her breaths coming faster. “Is someone there?” She called, her words catching in her throat.
When she saw something move, she told herself that it was just a tree in the breeze, or a deer. But she couldn’t lie for herself for long.
A man stepped out of the tree line, onto the path. “It’s late to be out alone,” the man noted. His voice was deep and accented.
Maggie didn’t answer. She turned away from him and kept walking, but faster. Radingley was so close. In a few more steps, she’d be able to see the gates. “Where you going?” The man called after her. She could hear his footsteps. He was following her.
“I’m not far from home,” she told him, in a shaky voice. “There’s people waiting for me there.”
“People?” He responded. “Why’d you be all alone if you have people? You sure you don’t need a place to stay, miss? Maybe you should come back with me.”
“I’m fine,” she replied. She was starting to feel a burn in her calves. “They’re waiting.”
“Waiting at this time? Sounds like a lie, miss. Why would you lie about that? Now, why don’t you come back with me? I got a nice, warm bed.”
She felt the danger as sharply as she felt the cold, and she knew that she had to make a decision fast. When she saw the gates of Radingley appear, she acted on instinct and started to run.
“Come on now, miss!” The man called after her, but he sounded like he was getting further away. He wasn’t following her. And she was so close to the gates.
When she was within a few steps of them, she reached out her arm. But before her hand touched it… a figure blocked her path.
Maggie gasped in a breath and dropped her arm, stumbling back a few steps. It was another man, who’d sprung from the trees.
“What you doing running, miss?” He said.
“No need to run, miss,” the man said from behind her. He’d caught up to her.
Maggie spun to look at his face. He was smiling. “I don’t want any trouble,” she assured them, though her voice sounded very frail. “And you don’t want to make trouble.”
“And why’s that?” The second man, who was blocking the gate, asked.
“Because Lord Rivers is my master.”
“Lord Rivers? Don’t imagine he cares much about you. You a maid?”
“I’m a governess,” she told them, whipping her face around to see the man by the gate take a step closer to her. “If you let me pass, he’ll reward you.”
“Which is it? He going to make us regret, or he going to reward us?”
“That depends on the choice you make.” She tried to make her voice sound strong, but it was failing her miserably. In truth, she’d never been so afraid in her life.
“This maid thinks she’s a lady,” he replied, flash
ing a look to his friend, who laughed.
They were still closing in. When the one by the gate, the taller of the two, grabbed her wrist, she slapped him clean across the face with her free hand. It didn’t appear to faze him. It just made his eyes darken.
Maggie swallowed and tried to yank her wrist free of his hold, but he wouldn’t let go. And while she was focusing all her efforts on getting loose of him, his friend came up behind her. He seized hold of her other wrist and put his hand on her face, curving his fingers around her jaw. “Try that again,” he suggested, in a deadly whisper.
Had they not been holding her so tightly, with bruising force, she would have trembled. “Please…” she whispered. He started to smile and his grip on her face tightened, making it hard to speak.
He took a step closer. So close that she could feel his pungent breath on her face. He smelt like whiskey.
When the smell struck her, she started to struggle furiously. She thrashed against the other man’s hold and kicked out her legs to prevent either of them from getting too close. And then she started screaming. “Help!”
It was when a cold, iron arm folded around her torso, squashing her back against the taller man’s unrelenting chest that she realized it was over.
But that didn’t stop her fighting. She stamped her foot on top of his and kicked back against his shin. He yelled, and she knew that he was about to hit her.
Before he could raise his hand, his yell was cut short. She felt something strike into him, which knocked her forwards, into the ground. She scrambled in the wet mud and looked up at the two men.
But there weren’t two men anymore. There were three.
“Henry!” She cried out, as the second man took a swing at him. He ducked it and landed a blow to the man’s stomach, sending him reeling backwards. But it was two against one and the second man struck out at Henry’s head, knocking him so hard that he staggered.
Henry wasn’t the sort of man who lost a fight. She could see that. He’d done this before. He was known for tavern brawls, after all. But unlike the two men, he was sober, so that was to his advantage, despite being outnumbered.
As Maggie watched them fight, entirely paralyzed on the ground, she felt certain that he’d win. She had to feel certain of that, because she couldn’t bear the thought of what it would mean if he lost.
His method seemed to be to hit one so hard that they were immobilized by the pain for at least a few moments, which gave him the opportunity to try to neutralize the threat of the second man.
It was working, until the man who’d taken a blow most recently pulled a knife from his belt. It was clear that he hadn’t meant to use it unless he absolutely had to.
Before he flung himself at Henry’s back while he was wrestling the other man to the ground, Maggie let out a shrill cry and threw herself at the attacker wielding the knife. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hung off his back, trying to wrench him away.
“Maggie!” Henry cried, when he saw them. Then his eyes widened when he caught sight of the knife, which was currently flailing in the air as the man tried to throw Maggie off.
She was cutting off his air, as she’d intended. Henry came at him and seized his wrist, squeezing hard to get him to release the knife. But before the man gave in, his friend rose from the recent hit he’d taken and punched Henry’s gut.
Henry grunted and released the man’s wrist so he could grip his stomach. Maggie saw it all happen slowly, though it must have been a mere instant. Less than a second. When his wrist was released, the man brought his knife down in a rapid arc, sliding across the top of Henry’s thigh.
He let out a yell which made her insides shiver. Instinctively, she let go of the man and threw herself down onto the ground where Henry had fallen to clutch at the blood gushing from his leg. She covered with her hands, her eyes frantically flickering over the wound. She saw the red spill out around her hands, but she couldn’t think what to do. She couldn’t think at all.
Chapter 27
Miss Magdalene Riley, Daughter of the Baron of Brambleheath
“It’s Lord Rivers…” one of the men breathed. He’d only just had the chance to truly see Henry’s face. He staggered backwards and said, “She wasn’t lying.”
“Let’s get out of here,” his friend said, abruptly. They both turned away and ran down the path.
“Henry,” Maggie said, frantically. “I need to get you inside. I need to get you a doctor.”
Henry was shaking his head wildly, and he put his hands over hers to staunch the blood. “I won’t bleed out,” he said, though his voice was shaky. “He didn’t hit an artery.”
“There’s so much blood. How can you be sure?”
“I’m sure,” he promised her. “It’s just a cut. I don’t need a doctor.”
“But Henry-”
“I don’t want any more rumors spreading,” he said, urgently. “Help me inside. Please.”
Maggie put her shoulder beneath his arm and helped him to his feet. He struggled to walk on his own, but refused to put much of his weight on her. “I can take it,” she assured him, her voice still trembling. She had to say this several times before he finally leaned on.
They hobbled through the gates, and she felt safer the moment she could see Radingley ahead. But her fear for Henry was still prominent. It made her feel sick with worry.
“We need to have Alfred call for the doctor,” Maggie said.
“No,” Henry said. “I won’t have anymore rumors. No doctor.”
“But Henry-”
“No doctor, Maggie,” he said again. “Please.”
With hesitation, Maggie nodded.
She made him sit in his armchair in the drawing room and went to fetch some scissors, bandages, a bowl of warm water and some rubbing alcohol. She then knelt beside Henry’s chair and stretched his leg out gently so that she could see the cut.
***
Lord Henry Rivers, the Earl of Radingley
When Henry had heard her scream, it had sent a terror through him the likes of which he’d never experienced before. When Alfred had come to his bed chamber to tell him that he’d seen Maggie sneaking out the front door, Henry hadn’t known what to think. He couldn’t imagine where she might have gone.
He followed her out, but when he reached the end of the grounds, he didn’t know which way to turn. The only place that was within walking distance of the estate was the local village, but everything would be closed. Nonetheless, he couldn’t imagine her going into the woods alone, so she must have stuck to one of the main paths.
He walked for the longest time, becoming more afraid for her with every second that passed.
When he heard the scream, Henry stopped walking. Then he started running.
And now he was sitting in his drawing room, bleeding all over his damned chair, practically begging his butler not to call for the doctor. With there being so many rumors about him already, he didn’t want to risk creating more. He’d been in tavern brawls before, of course, but there had been a change in him over the past few days.
He wanted to be better. He didn’t want to be that sort of man anymore. For the first time in a year, he was starting to feel like the person he’d been before his wife had left him. Someone who Maggie, perhaps, might think well of.
Someone she might be proud to call hers. And that started with cleaning up his reputation as best he could. Or, at the very least, prevent it from getting any worse.
“What were you doing out there?” Henry said to her, in a soft, but slightly desperate sounding voice. His fear still hadn’t entirely settled.
Maggie was still looking down at his cut. She was kneeling at his feet, gently trying to pry the torn material of his trousers out of the gash so that she could cut away the leg of the trousers.
He hissed in a breath when the material tugged on the wound, and her hands retreated as if he’d scolded her. She seemed to steady herself, took a deep breath, and then resumed her work. “I wanted to be outside,�
�� she said.
“You went for a walk?”
She nodded without looking up at him.
“Where did you walk to?”
“Just down the path towards the village,” she answered.
“In the middle of the night?”
“Yes. The air helped clear my thoughts.”
“You couldn’t have walked around the grounds? Where it’s safe?”
He saw her neck bob as she swallowed. Silence reigned for several moments, while Maggie started cutting away his trouser leg above the wound.
Title Sinful Tales of Desirable Ladies Page 78