Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story

by K. L. O'Keefe

  There was one other place she could find shelter: the stables. Huddling under a horse blanket had to be better than shivering in the sleet. Unfortunately, the former was not an option, as the stables had been locked for the night. She tugged the door with all her might, and even dealt it a swift kick. She spent the next few minutes trying to force her way inside, but it was impossible. Even the windows, if she was to shatter one, were too narrow to climb through.

  “I should have never stepped into the carriage...” Cynthia hugged herself. As the words passed through her benumbed lips, a cloud of white air swirled around her mouth. It was so cold, she could see her breath. “I should have never gone back to Montforth Hall with Jemima and Georgiana. I should have stayed with Lord Charmington... he would have protected me.”

  Coiling her arms around her trembling body, Cynthia started in the direction of Ridgeley Manor. Her fiance's estate was several miles away, but it was her only option. Staying under his roof might have been a danger to her reputation, but she was in no position to quibble. A danger to her reputation was less of a threat than a danger to her life.

  As she continued forward, the rain pounded her head, and a bit of hail bounced off her shoulder. Her toes were frozen, encased in paper-thin slippers. It was a miracle she could keep walking, because she had lost all sense in her deadened legs. More than once, she nearly collapsed to the ground, but her desire to see her fiance's face was enough to keep her moving forward.

  Several minutes into her journey, the had rain stopped, but her panic did not. Cynthia squatted on the dirt path and hugged herself tighter. She tried to rub her arms, to create some friction, but her fingers were like icicles. Tears fell from her eyes, rolled down her cheeks, and when they reached her chin, they had nearly turned to ice.

  “I have to keep going...” Cynthia whispered encouragement to herself. “If I stop... if I let myself rest... I might not wake up.”

  She forced herself back to her feet and stumbled forward. She tripped over a tree root, but it did not matter. Under normal circumstances, stubbing her toe might have made her yelp with pain, but she could no longer feel her feet. Cynthia tugged off her lacy gloves—which provided no warmth whatsoever—because she wanted to check the status of her hands. Sure enough, her fingers had taken on a bluish tint.

  “No...” Cynthia whimpered. “Oh no, no, no...”

  A few minutes later, Cynthia had to rest again: she sat on an enormous rock and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine Edith's panic the next morning. She could envision her stepsister's search for her, and the eventual discovery of her frozen corpse. She tried to imagine James' panic, his sorrow, his devastation.

  “I'll never make it...” she whispered to herself. “I'll never make it to him.”

  Cynthia could feel a tickle in her chest, and she wondered if the icy rain had given her some inflammation of the lungs.

  “Please, Father...” Cynthia squinted her eyes as she issued her solemn plea. “Please help me. I need you. Please, please, please.”

  It might have been a coincidence, or it might have been divine intervention, but her rescuer arrived a few seconds later. When Cynthia heard the sound of horse hooves, she somehow managed to spring to her feet.

  Robert was riding his brown mare down the muddy path. When he saw Cynthia rush into the middle of the road, he gasped. “My god! What happened?!”

  “I'm cold... I'm freezing... I think I might be dying!” Cynthia touched her head, and when she did, she crunched the ice crystals in her hair.

  Robert immediately dismounted his horse and ran to her side. He pulled off his leather glove and touched her cheek, which was as cold and wet as fresh snow. “We need to get you home!”

  “I cannot!” Cynthia wailed. “I cannot go back there! They threw me out!”

  “Are you serious!?”

  Her mouth was so frozen, Cynthia's words were slightly slurred. “Lord Charmington proposed. When my stepmother found out, she let Georgiana abuse me... then they barred me from Montforth Hall. I tried the front door, the servants' quarters, the stables... everything was locked! I... I...” Cynthia's frozen legs finally gave out; she collapsed to the ground beside Robert's feet.

  “We need to get you someplace warm, and straight away!” Robert crouched beside her, scooped her into his arms, and carried her to his horse. “My grandmother's cottage isn't far.”

  “They tore my letter!” Cynthia cried.

  “What letter?” Robert placed her on the horse and climbed onto the saddle behind her. He shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, then wrapped his arms around her.

  “My father's letter. You saw it, didn't you?” Cynthia sniffled. “Jemima found it. She ripped it to shreds!”

  “That wicked old harridan...” Robert whispered into Cynthia's ear. He coaxed his horse into a sprint and turned in the direction of his grandmother's house.

  “I c-can't move, Robert,” Cynthia whimpered. “I can't feel my arms.”

  “Shhhh.” Robert wrapped his arms around her as tightly as he could. “Everything is alright now. You're alright.”

  “W-why were you here?” her trembling lips stammered. “Why did you come? Why were you riding so late?” She needed to know if her father had sent her a hero, or if Robert stumbled on her by accident.

  “I was waiting for you,” Robert said with a chuckle. “I was waiting at Ridgeley Manor... I was going to take you home, or so I thought.”

  “Oh...” Cynthia was ashamed of herself. She had completely forgotten about Robert!

  “In time, of course, I realized you were gone,” Robert continued. “When the rain subsided, I decided to ride back to Montforth Hall to make sure you had gotten back safely. I didn't expect to see you on the side of the road.”

  “I'm glad you came. If not for you, I might have died out there,” Cynthia said. “And I might yet die. My body feels weak, my hands are blue...”

  “You'll be fine,” Robert assured her. “We just need to warm you up.”

  A few minutes later, they arrived at this grandmother's cottage. He quickly dismounted, lifted her into his arms, and carried her inside.

  As soon as they entered, a blast of warm air caressed her face. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feeling. “Where is your grandmother?”

  “Asleep.” Robert carried Cynthia to his bedchamber and laid her on his bed, then he went to build a fire.

  “Robert.” Cynthia tried to clench her hand, but she couldn't even move her fingers. Her panic made another tear slip down her cheek. “I'm frightened.”

  “Shh. Everything will be alright...” As soon as he had the fire going, he returned to Cynthia's side and held her hand. He held her frozen fingers between his palms in an attempt to warm them. “You need to remove your wet clothes.”

  “I can't!” Cynthia sobbed. She tried to move her arms, but her entire body was paralyzed. “I can't!”

  The removal of her clothes was an essential first step to warming her body—but what was he supposed to do? “I...” He gave his ratty hair a nervous scratch. “I, uh...”

  “My entire body is tingling!” Cynthia exclaimed. “Is that a bad sign?!”

  “Maybe... maybe not. I can't say for sure.” Robert stared into the fire for several seconds, wishing he could bring it closer to her. “Cynthia, I'm going to have to remove your clothes. Of course, I would never do anything without your permission, but--”

  “Do it!” Cynthia tried to sit up and assist him, but she couldn't move. “Do it, Robert. I don't care.”

  With shaking hands, Robert proceeded to peel the gown off of Cynthia's shoulders. As wet as she was, the garment was clinging to her, which made the task more difficult. He removed the dress and tossed it, and the sodden garment slapped the ground. Then, with a knot in his throat, he eyed her bodice and petticoat. Before continuing, he removed Cynthia's soiled slippers and soaked stockings. When he finally reached for her bodice, his eyelids fluttered.

  “I won't look,” Robert whispe
red. He used his knuckle to brush a lock of hair from her forehead.

  “It's alright, Robert. Whatever must be done... it's... it's quite alright.” When she drew a deep breath, Cynthia swore she could feel her lungs rattling.

  Robert loosened the strings of her bodice. As he pulled the garment away from her body, he turned his eyes to the ceiling. He kept his eyes on the wall as he fumbled with her petticoat and unmentionables.

  When he finished removing her clothes, he wrapped two fuzzy blankets around her body. “There. Done.”

  “Did you look?”

  “Not at all.” And it was true. Robert did not allow his eyes to wander to any portion of her naked body. Not even her bare thighs or naval.

  In spite of the awkward situation, Cynthia managed a smile. “I don't care what anyone says, Robert. You are a gentleman, through and through!”

  “Can you be Irish and a gentleman? It might be an impossible combination.” Robert's eyes were twinkling as he spoke. “The only thing we can do is wait for you to thaw. If you aren't feeling better on the morrow, I'll fetch a doctor. Now... is there anything else I can do for you before I go?”

  “Go?!” Cynthia gasped. “I don't want you to go...”

  Robert, who was sitting at the end of the bed, gently squeezed her foot. “I should go. I don't think it would be proper for me to linger.” Not to mention, having a naked woman in his bed wasn't exactly a sedating thought. He was trying to be as gallant as possible, but he wasn't a saint. His thoughts had meandered into the realm of indecorum more than once.

  “But I want you to stay,” Cynthia insisted. “I'm terrified. I don't want to be alone right now.”

  “Alright then. I'll sit with you.”

  “No!” Cynthia demanded. “Get under the blankets with me. You can warm me up.”

  “I...” Robert drew a laborious breath. Cynthia's request was going to be the death of him—or his gentility. Either way, sharing the warmth of his body wasn't exactly a bad idea. Robert kicked off his shoes and slipped beneath the blankets with her.

  “I should apologize,” Cynthia whispered, “for leaving you at Ridgeley Manor. When my stepmother found me, I couldn't think straight. I lost all sense of reason.”

  “Please. After everything you've been through tonight, you owe an apology to no one,” Robert said. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her against his chest. He stared at her shoulder, which was bare and begging to be kissed. As difficult as it was, he had to fight the urge.

  “I owe an apology to Lord Charmington as well,” Cynthia went on. “I am sure he would not want you removing my clothes and curling up next to me.”

  “Our excuse is the situation. We need to warm you up.” Robert kept staring at her shoulder, wishing he could kiss it. If his lips made contact with her skin, he wondered how she would react. Have some control, Robert, he cautioned himself. After everything Cynthia had been through, she needed a friend. She didn't need him pawing at her, as tempting as it was.

  “I feel as if my life began and ended tonight. I've lost everything, and yet... I've gained so much.”

  “The only thing that matters right now is your health,” Robert said. “Are you feeling any better? Can you feel your arms?”

  “The tingling sensation remains, but...” Cynthia's leg shuffled beneath the blankets. “I think there has been some improvement.”

  “Great. Good. I'm glad.”

  “And I am so glad you found me, Robert.” Cynthia shyly peered at him over her shoulder. “I cannot thank you enough for... for taking care of me.”

  “I would always come for you, Princess.” As he spoke, Robert ran his warm palm along the length of her arm. “And I would always take care of you.”

  Chapter Twenty Four

  “You turned her out? Last night? Are you serious?!”

  Jemima did not flinch under Edith's censure. She was pleased by her decision—perhaps even a bit proud of herself. “She destroyed Georgiana's happiness, Edith. It was the least she deserved.”

  Edith glanced at her sister, who had been sulking in the corner of the sitting room ever since they arrived. Georgiana's eyes were swollen and red, which suggested she had spent most of the night in tears. “And how exactly did she destroy Georgiana's happiness, Mother? Do you care to explain that to me, because it doesn't make any sense!”

  Jemima straightened her back and set her needlepoint aside. “Georgiana loved Lord Charmington... and Lord Charmington chose Cynthia.”

  “It was his choice to make!” Edith shrilled. “Perhaps it was Lord Charmington who ruined Georgiana's happiness. Why have you not pinned the blame on him?!”

  “I expressly warned Cynthia to stay away from the earl,” Jemima matter-of-factly stated. “She disobeyed me.”

  “He sought her out! You know nothing of the situation!”

  When Jemima saw Georgiana holding her hands over her ears, she said, “Lower your voice, Edith. You're hurting your sister's ears. Not to mention, all of this shouting is giving me a headache!”

  “You cannot blame Cynthia for all of your problems! It isn't fair!” Edith ignored her mother's request—she did not lower her voice. She wanted them to know just how irate she was. “And I cannot believe you would throw her out of Montforth Hall! It was her father's ancestral home!”

  “And it belongs to her cousin Rolly now,” Jemima countered.

  “It was freezing last night!” Edith exclaimed. “When I awoke this morning, I had ice on my window! What if Cynthia died out there?!”

  “Then it would be a small price to pay for Georgiana's happiness,” Jemima coldly stated. “Justice would be served.”

  “Are you serious?!” Edith repeated. “You have no heart! I cannot believe I am related to the likes of you!”

  “Then by all means, Edith, sever your ties with us.” Jemima's cold eyes were fastened on her eldest daughter. “Do you know what I do to relatives who turn against me? I can give you a hint, if you need one.”

  “I am not afraid of you, Mother. Not anymore. And I'm going to do the right thing!” As Edith turned to the door, she flashed an infuriated look over her shoulder. “I am going to search for Cynthia.”

  * * *

  “Lady Edith is here to see you, my lord,” the staunch butler announced.

  Lord Charmington was sitting at his desk with a quill in his hand. He was trying to look busy, but in actuality, he had spent the better part of the morning in a daydream about Cynthia. “Edith? Really? Are you certain?”

  “Indeed, my lord, indeed,” the butler asserted. “She is waiting in the sitting room.”

  James dropped his quill in the inkwell and rose from his chair. “Take me to her, Johnston. If Lady Edith has come all this way to see me, I should not keep her waiting. It must surely be a matter of importance.”

  Lord Charmington followed Johnston to one of the sitting rooms, where Edith patiently awaited his arrival. When she saw him enter, she rose from the settee, ran to his side, and ardently seized his arm. At the moment, propriety was the furthest thing from her mind. “I needed to speak with you, my lord! It is a matter of dire urgency!”

  “What is it, Edith?” Her eyes were so wild, they made his heart clench. “Are you hurt?”

  “No. Not me, my lord.”

  “Cynthia?!” James exclaimed. “Has something happened to Cynthia?”

  “Indeed. And I am concerned for her health and well-being.” Edith saw the panic in his eyes, so she explained herself quickly. “My mother turned her away from Montforth Hall.”

  “Last night?! But it was freezing!”

  Edith nodded. “I know.”

  “I knew I shouldn't have let her leave me last night!” James raked his hands through his hair, tousling his thick brown locks. “Why did you not stop your mother?!”

  “You're placing the blame on me, my lord?!” Edith gasped. “I was asleep when it happened. I did not find out about Cynthia until I woke the next morning.”

  “I'm sorry.” As he apologized,
Lord Charmington laid his hands on Edith's shoulders. “I am sorry, Edith. None of this is your fault, I... I should not lay the blame on you.”

  “No,” Edith quietly agreed. “You shouldn't.”

  “So where is Cynthia now?”

  “That is why I came to you, my lord. I thought she might have come here,” Edith explained. “Shortly after I arrived, I realized I was mistaken.”

  “Where do you think she might have gone?”

  Edith shrugged. “I haven't the slightest idea! If she isn't here, I... I don't know where she went.”

  “Don't fret, Edith. We will find her,” he insisted. “I will not rest until she's found. I'll assemble all of my footmen... we'll mount a search.”

  “I would like to help you search, if you don't mind,” Edith said. “May I come with you?”

  “Of course, Edith.” When he saw the tears forming in her eyes, he had to resist the temptation to pull her against his chest. Edith was distraught, and his instincts told him she could use a comforting embrace. Edith was hardly a stranger, but it wasn't as if she was family. James did not know if she would welcome the contact. “Where do you think we should begin our search?”

  “I... do not know.” A tear scurried from the corner of her eye, so he whipped a handkerchief from the pocket of his greatcoat and gently dabbed her cheek. “I feel... as if it is my fault. I should have been more vigilant. I-I should have protected her!”

  “No. It is not your fault!” James insisted. “I was a fool for making you feel that way!”

  “But it is! It is my fault!” Edith sunk into the settee and clutched her hands to her face. “I convinced her to go to the ball... I let her borrow my gown... I encouraged her to pursue you! If something terrible has happened to her, it will be on my conscience!”

  As Edith sobbed into her hands, James was dying to approach her. He wanted to comfort her, but he did not know what would be appropriate. If he wrapped his arms around her—which he was tempted to do—he knew the affection would be ill-timed. “Edith... I'm glad you convinced her to go to the ball. If not for you, I might have been engaged to Georgiana by now!”