“Aaaaah!” In a state of panic, Cynthia threw down the duster and ran around the room, smacking her head and flailing her hair. As he watched her conniption, Robert almost felt guilty for being the bearer of bad news.
Cynthia danced and convulsed and flipped her hair for several seconds, then she shrieked, “Is it gone?!”
“I think it might be.” Robert was grinning as he collected her feather duster from the floor. He didn't want to see her panic, but it was really an amusing spectacle. “If it managed to cling to you after all that, it would have to be a champion spider.”
“Will you check my hair?!” Cynthia ran to Robert's side and thrust her head under his chin.
“You want me to pick through your hair like a monkey?”
“No. Nothing like that!” Cynthia said, “Just tell me you don't see anything!”
Robert shuffled a finger through her hair, which was terrifically disheveled after her frantic dance. “I don't see anything.”
“Are you certain?!”
“Quite.”
Robert was about to lead her out of the room, but before he could move, the door to the guest room opened, and Roland stepped inside.
“My dearest Cynthia, are you alright?!” Roland clasped a hand over his heart as he ran to her side. “I thought I heard a scream!”
Dearest?! What was he playing at? She wasn't his dearest in any capacity whatsoever. Apart from her stepmother and stepsister, there was no one she hated more than Roland Eggert. “I am quite alright, Roland. There was... a spider.”
“A spider?!” Roland gasped. “All that fuss over a spider?!”
“I... have a fear of them.” When Cynthia's eyes met Robert's, she issued an ocular plea. She wanted him to come up with an excuse, a way they could leave the room posthaste—but Robert looked amused, if anything. “Did you need something, Roland?”
Rolly seized her arm and dragged her toward him. “I need YOU!” he professed.
“You need... me?” Cynthia tried to pull away, but his grip was fierce. “Is there some task you need me to perform?”
“I need you to heal my heart, Cynthia! I need you to merge your soul with mine! I need your love, your devotion, your affection. I need you to stop this game and end my misery!” Roland panted as he spoke, as if his words were his undoing. “I believe we are both in misery, Cynthia, and you are the only one who can end it!”
Roland's hand slipped away from her arm, so Cynthia inched away from him. “I'm not quite sure what you mean, Roland...”
“Marry me! Marry me, and put an end to this sham! You don't have to live in shame, Cynthia! You don't have to keep doing this to yourself!” Roland got down on his hands and knees and groveled. He didn't care that there was another man there, or that the other man was smirking. All that mattered was Cynthia—his sweet, wonderful Cynthia! “It hurts my heart to have to see you slave away like this!”
“You are the one who put me in this position, Roland!” Cynthia reminded him. “You and my stepmother... you are both to blame!”
“I needed to teach you a lesson!” Roland squeaked. “Am I wrong to think the lesson has been learned? Surely you have seen the light by now? Surely this isn't the sort of life you want for yourself!?”
Cynthia crossed her arms over her chest as she glowered down at him. “And my only salvation would be to marry you? Is that what you're saying?”
“Well... yes.”
“Then my answer, as always, remains the same!” Cynthia said. “I would rather be a servant than marry you, Rolly!”
An audible whimper slipped from his throat. “Are you serious?!”
“I am as serious as I could possibly be. Now, if you'll excuse us, we need to inform Lady Montforth that the room has been prepared.” Cynthia gave a nod to Robert, who obediently followed her out of the room. If she was any other servant, she knew she would be chided for giving Roland the cut direct.
But she wasn't just any servant.
If only Lord Charmington knew...
* * *
“Biscuits?!”
When Cynthia saw Edith standing in the doorway with the plate in her hands, she gasped. It had been so long since she had spoken to Edith, Cynthia thought her stepsister had forsaken her. Edith quietly stepped into the room, careful not to rouse Cynthia's roommate. Tess was already asleep and snoring—a fact that continuously contributed to Cynthia's sleeplessness.
“I brought them for you...” Edith handed over the plate and sat beside Cynthia on the bed. “I should also take the time to iterate how completely and utterly sorry I am!” Edith's words were supported by the fact that she had tears in her eyes.
“Why? You have nothing to be sorry for, Edith.” Cynthia sank her teeth into a ginger snap and reclined on her pillow.
“I do! I feel terrible!” Her words were emphatic, but she kept her voice low. “I cannot believe my mother is capable of this... I cannot believe what she's done to you! And for what reason? It is happening right under my nose, and there's nothing I can do about it!”
“Nevertheless, you have no reason to apologize,” Cynthia insisted. “The fault lies entirely with Jemima and Roland.”
“I am so sorry I didn't come sooner.” As she spoke, Edith stroked the younger woman's hair. “I was afraid my mother would forbid it. But... rest assured, you are still my sister. You will always be my sister. You are more of a sister to me than Georgiana could ever be!”
“Likewise.”
“I only wish there was something I could do to help you,” Edith sighed.
“The biscuits are wonderful,” Cynthia said, flashing an encouraging smile. “And really, it isn't as terrible as you might think. The servants are friendly... and while the work is demanding, it keeps me busy. It leaves me no time to fixate on gloomy thoughts.”
“You had no time to mourn your father,” Edith said with a pout. “It isn't fair!”
“I have had the same thought... but perhaps it is a blessing? He would not want me to spend my days crying about him.” As an image of her father's kindly face flashed before her eyes, Cynthia could feel tears filling them. “But I do miss him. So much.”
“As do I.” Edith took her stepsister's hand and gave it a squeeze. “And he would be disgusted with my mother for what she's done!”
“True. But wishing he was here will never bring him back...” Cynthia sighed. “I just have to keep moving forward. I don't intend to be a servant forever. Somehow, someday, I'll get my life back.”
“And if there's anything I can do to help...”
Tess grumbled and stirred, so both girls were silent for several seconds. The maid rolled her head into a spot of drool and continued her sonorous slumber.
“What about Lord Charmington?” Cynthia whispered.
“What about him?”
“Is he...” Cynthia hesitated. While she trusted Edith with her whole heart, she did not want to tell another soul about her encounter with the earl. The fact that Robert knew about it was bad enough. “Has he set his cap on Georgiana?”
Edith laughed. “Goodness, no! I think she vexes him! You know how Georgiana can be. She can be quite a handful!”
Cynthia nodded in agreement, then nibbled on her biscuit. She couldn't shake the feeling that Lord Charmington would be her hero, her salvation. The fact that they were under the same roof made her even more eager to cross paths with him. As the minutes ticked away, Cynthia became desperate to see him again. Apart from slipping into his bedchamber—which she would never do—she did not know how to approach him.
At the moment, all she could do was dream of his face.
If only she could sleep!
Chapter Thirteen
Her vision was so blurred by sleeplessness, Cynthia was having a hard time reading the words. The fact that her candle's light was waning did not make the task any easier. It was after midnight, but she would have to wake up early the next day. It seemed she would be enduring yet another night without rest.
She couldn't set
tle her mind long enough to fall asleep. Every time she laid down, it was as if she was swimming in a sea of self-sabotage. The moment she felt her body slipping, her brain conjured new thoughts to keep her awake.
Now that she was a servant, she doubted she would be welcome in the library, but she didn't care. Novels were her only escape—if only she could focus on the words she was reading!
When she saw the door open, Cynthia held her breath for a few seconds. If Georgiana, Jemima or Rolly found her reading in the library, she could only imagine the repercussions. However, the late night visitor was none other than Lord Charmington, the very man she had been dreaming about all day long.
“Oh!” he exclaimed when he saw her. “I did not realize the library would be occupied at such an hour...”
Cynthia's head sunk between her shoulders. While she desperately wanted to be in his presence, an encounter with the earl wasn't without its risks. Not to mention, it was hardly proper for a lady to cavort with a gentleman after midnight.
Fortunately for Cynthia, she wasn't a lady anymore.
“My lord...” Cynthia closed her book and rose from the table. “Would you like me to excuse myself?”
“No. Not at all. Please, sit.”
Cynthia sunk back down to the chair and folded her hands on the table. As she stared into the candle's flame, her mind conjured all sorts of scandalous images. Kisses in the moonlight... caresses in the garden...
“Every time I see you, you are always reading” Lord Charmington noted. “A maid and a bluestocking. Such a curious combination!”
“It isn't so strange, is it?”
“You are an original, but there's nothing wrong with that!” Lord Charmington sat across from her and displayed a heart-melting smile. “If I was to write you a poem one day, it's good to know you could enjoy it.”
“A p-poem, my lord?!” Cynthia exclaimed. “Why would you write me a poem?”
“Why does any man write poetry for a lady?” He waited a few seconds, but when she didn't respond, he finished, “because he is captivated by her!”
“You're... captivated... by me?” Cynthia swallowed hard, ashamed by her lack of eloquence. Ever since their first encounter, she had been hoping she would run into him again. Now that she was in his presence, her thoughts were muddled. She wanted to sound intelligent and charming, not like a half-wit.
“I am,” he admitted. “Forgive me for being so forward, but I still believe you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Every other creature on earth pales in comparison to you.”
“I'm not that pretty,” she objected. “In fact, I haven't had a restful sleep in ages! I must look a fright!”
“If this is you looking frightful, I can only imagine how you might look when you're at your best!”
Cynthia pulled her book into her lap and started fidgeting with its pages. Every time she glanced in his direction, she felt her heart flutter. To make matters worse, her mind was full of salacious thoughts about him. She just wanted the thoughts to stop!
“I can only imagine what it would be like to hold you in my arms for the first time...” Lord Charmington went on. When he saw the worried look on her face, he added, “I-I'm sorry. I shouldn't say such things.”
“No. It's...” Cynthia took a moment to gnaw on her lower lip, which she often did when she was nervous. “It's quite alright.”
“Quite alright,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Really, though, I should learn to mind my tongue. You deserve more respect.”
“If you want to flatter me, I don't mind.”
“It isn't flattery. I'm being very honest. Your face is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. It's an angel's face. I wish I could paint it, to preserve it for all time.”
“You paint, my lord?”
“I do. I wouldn't say I'm a master, but I've dabbled a bit. I am afraid my brushstrokes could never do you justice.”
Cynthia sighed so deeply, her breath made the candle's flame wobble. It wasn't fair! Cynthia knew she was conversing with the love of her life, but he would never have her. She would never be worthy of him, and he would never know she was an earl's daughter.
But what if he did know? What if she told him? As her mind toyed with the possibility, Lord Charmington devoured her with his eyes.
“May I paint you?” he asked. “If I had a subject such as you, I am sure I would be more inspired than ever.”
“I...”
“I'll pay you, if you would like.”
Being an artist's model wasn't exactly a respectable profession, but she had nothing to lose. Her mind was playing out an assortment of scenarios. He falls in love with me, I tell him my identity, I will be free from this life...
But what if a dalliance was all he was after? What if the fact that she was a maid was the only thing that drew him to her? As much as she wanted to trust Lord Charmington, she needed to be cautious. She did not want to pin too much hope on him, only to be let down.
“I require no payment, my lord,” Cynthia said. “I would happily sit for you.”
All of a sudden, James reached across the table and seized her hand. With his thumb, he caressed her knuckles and stroked her fingers. “Do you remember the first time we met?” he whispered.
“Of course.” I've been replaying it in my mind ever since that day, her thoughts finished.
“It is inexplicable, how much I am drawn to you. Now that I know you exist, I don't think my life will ever be the same. You could be my world, Cynthia. My whole world.”
“That's certainly... a lot to say.” Cynthia looked down at her hand, which he continued to hold. The simple contact between their hands had accelerated her heartbeat beyond her control.
“How do you feel about me?” James asked. “Have you given me any thought?”
“I... don't quite know what to make of you.” She gently tugged her hand away from him. “I don't know if I should enjoy the attention you've paid me, or if I should be guarded.”
“Guarded? Why do you say that? My intentions are nothing but honorable...”
“But I am a maid,” she reminded him. “Your intentions couldn't possibly be as honorable as I wish they were.”
Lord Charmington looked wounded, but she certainly had a point. It wasn't as if a servant could be his bride. His mother would be up in arms—he would never hear the end of it! So what were his intentions, he wondered? To make her his mistress? If that was the case, his intentions certainly weren't honorable, and Cynthia deserved better than that.
At the moment, he just wanted to remain in her presence, to bask in the glory of her beauty. The constant pain of longing almost made him wish they had never crossed paths.
Cynthia did not know what to make of his silence, so she rose from her chair. “Well, my lord... I should really get back to my room. I have an early start tomorrow, so--”
James took her arm and pulled her toward him. “When can I see you again?”
Cynthia raised her chin. “I'm not sure we should ever--”
“Please,” he beseeched her. “You already said I could paint you! You couldn't possibly take that away from me, now that I am anticipating it so much!”
“I don't... think...” Cynthia took a deep breath before continuing. As much as she wanted him, she would not endanger her honor, and she could not risk her position. “I do not think it is such a good idea after all, my lord.”
“Please,” he repeated. “The thought of seeing you again is my only solace. I need to see you again.”
“I...” As she stared into his beautiful blue eyes, she could feel her reservations melting. How could any woman deprive him of anything when faced with those eyes? “I suppose... it would not be so terrible.”
Her flippancy made him chuckle. Lord Charmington released her arm and leaned back in his chair, pleased. “When should I come?”
“Well...” Cynthia turned to the window, where she saw flurries flickering down the pane. “I do not think the snow will keep you here another ni
ght, my lord. You will have to return some other time, but.... they cannot know you're here to paint me, or my job will be lost. You'll have to sneak into the house through the servants' entrance.”
“Sneak?” His eyebrows were raised mischievously. “Good. I enjoy sneaking. It can be quite a thrill.”
“Why don't you return in a few days' time?”
“A few days?!” he whimpered. “A few as in... three or four?! How am I supposed to endure so many days without you?!”
“I am sure you'll be just fine. Now...” She retrieved the candle from the table and gripped it in her hand, clutching it with all her might. She did not want to be parted from him any more than he wanted to be parted from her. The days without him would be agonizing. “I should really go.”
“Will you think of me?”
“Occasionally,” Cynthia said with a smirk, even though the honest answer would have been constantly. “Good evening, my lord.”
“Good evening, my angel.” As he watched her head for the door, he said, “You know, my life will stop as soon as you leave this room...”
Cynthia paused in the doorway. Speaking over her shoulder, she asked,“And when will it start?”
He gave her the answer she needed to hear.
“The next time I see you, my life will start again.”
Chapter Fourteen
When the lords and ladies of Montforth Hall gathered for breakfast the next morning, Georgiana made no secret of her affection for Lord Charmington. While she did not directly state her feelings, they were written all over her face. Throughout the entire meal, she was staring at him like a lovesick mooncalf.
Unfortunately for Georgiana, he never spared her a glance. He conversed with Edith, prodded his food, and generally ignored her. He is pretending! Georgiana tried to convince herself. He does not want to make his affections too obvious, but he definitely cares for me.
“Lord Montforth.” It was James who spoke, but Roland did not acknowledge him. Roland's sullen eyes were downcast and his head was between his shoulders, which made his double chin more prominent than ever.
Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story Page 8