Maid to Be Mine: A Regency Cinderella Story

by K. L. O'Keefe

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  When his lips departed, Cynthia was faced with a crushing disappointment. She wasn't disappointed that the kiss had ended; rather, she was disappointed that the kiss did not live up to her expectations. All her life, she imagined her first kiss would be magical, like something out of a fairy tale. Either kisses weren't all they were cracked up to be, or she was kissing the wrong man.

  Cynthia thought it was the latter.

  “James...” She tried to hide the disappointment in her voice, but she could not hide it from her face. The anticlimactic kiss had soured her expression. “I really am happy to see you safe.”

  “I could say the same to you.” As he was consumed by guilt, James' gaze wandered away from Cynthia's face. Kissing a beautiful woman like Cynthia should have been the apex of his life, and yet, he was blue-deviled. In kissing Cynthia, he felt like he was betraying someone else. His sentiments made no sense whatsoever, because Cynthia was his fiance, and if he harbored feelings for anyone else, his fiance was the one he would betray.

  His heart had already betrayed her.

  “James... are you sure you are alright?” Cynthia peeled back his blanket and peered beneath the covers, but his wound was hidden by his shirt. “You are in good health?”

  “I won't die, if that's what you mean,” James said. “I am expected to make a full recovery. I am sure I will be in fine fettle soon enough.”

  “What of your spirits? Are you... sad?”

  “And why would I be sad? I have you.”

  “Y-yes... I... I suppose you do.” It was surprising, really, to discover how little her heart was longing for him. Try as she might, Cynthia could not muster the merest modicum of affection for her fiance. She cared about his well being, of course, but her feelings were otherwise invested. She could not let it continue like this, but she needed to let him down gently, lest his health would suffer a regression. “My lord?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I... I am not sure we should be married.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  To Cynthia's surprise, his voice was surprisingly devoid of emotion. Her fiance did not seem terribly disappointed by her suggestion. “I just... I don't think... well, I...I...” Cynthia's muddled thoughts made her groan. “I feel terrible! I've been missing for two days, you're wounded, and now I tell you this?! You must think I'm rotten to the core!”

  “Not at all!” James brought her hand to his lips, hoping the gesture was platonic enough. “Please, Cynthia, help me understand where you're coming from.”

  “I...” Cynthia took a deep breath. “I have a... a sinking suspicion that... that I might be...”

  “Go on,” he politely encouraged her.

  Cynthia squinted her eyes; she could not bring herself to look at him. He had shown her kindness, and now she was going to crush his heart. “I might be in love with someone else...”

  “Really?”

  “I think so,” she deduced. “Therefore, I couldn't possibly marry you. And I'm... I'm terribly sorry. I truly am. I know I might be making a terrible mistake, and you could certainly give me a comfortable life, but...”

  James laid a finger over her lips, gently silencing his former fiance. “It is fine, Cynthia. You do not have to explain yourself any further. I understand completely.”

  “You... do?”

  “I do.” James kissed her hand a second time, and when he did, he realized it would likely be the last time his mouth would touch her skin. He was perfectly fine with that. “You should be with someone you love.”

  “But please, James, I... I would not want you to think I do not care about you!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I've spent the last two days in misery, in a desperate struggle to return to you. I would never want anything bad to happen to you!”

  “I feel the same way about you, Cynthia. Exactly the same way,” Lord Charmington said. “And for that reason, we should always remain friends.”

  * * *

  He found her in one of the sitting rooms, reclining on the settee. Light trickled through the window, illuminating one side of her face. The sunlight ignited her auburn hair, setting it aglow, like a crimson fire. The sight of her was a balm for his weary heart.

  James clutched his walking stick as he ambled into the room. When she saw him enter, Edith gasped.

  “My lord!” She flew to her feet and ran to his side. “What are you doing?! You should not be out of your bed!”

  “I had to see you,” James insisted. “I needed to speak with you.”

  “Then you should have sent for me! You're in no condition to--”

  “Edith.” James interrupted. He was wincing, so she led him to the settee, into which he tiredly collapsed. “There is something I must tell you.”

  “It must be dire, for you to wander all the way down here!” Edith shook her head at him, like a mother exasperated at her child's errant behavior.

  “It is important. Without a doubt, this will be the most important day of my life,” James said. “Cynthia has jilted me.”

  “She has?!”

  “She has. It is shocking, is it not?” For some strange reason, James was grinning as he spoke. “Even more shocking is the fact that I am completely and utterly indifferent. Her decision does not bother me in the least.”

  “Really, James? That is surprising. You were, after all, quite desperate to find her.”

  “I was,” he agreed. “Now that I've found her, now that she has rejected me, I can be honest with myself. My feelings for Cynthia were based entirely on infatuation. True love, real love, must mean more than that.”

  “I imagine it would be quite easy to become infatuated with someone like Cynthia.” Edith glanced at his hand, and for the first time, she noticed he was holding a flower: a single daisy. “She is very beautiful.”

  “You are beautiful.” James raised the flower as he spoke. “Not handsome, but beautiful.”

  Edith looked down at her hands as they fidgeted in her lap. With a nervous giggle, she said, “Surely you don't mean that...”

  “I do.” James took her hand and placed the daisy in her palm. “Red roses are everywhere. Daisies are just as beautiful, but they're often overlooked. Do you know what a daisy represents?”

  She could feel tears burning her eyes, which was an odd thing indeed, because Edith never cried. “I haven't the slightest idea.”

  “Red roses are passion and romance,” James said, “but daisies represent much more. They represent innocence, gentleness, and loyalty. It seems like an appropriate flower for you, Edith.”

  “I don't know what to say...” Edith whispered. “You have rendered me quite speechless, I am afraid.”

  “I care about you, Edith. You're an amazing woman, the most amazing woman I've ever met. You are kind and caring, and you put others before yourself.” As he poured out his heart, James' hand drifted along her hair. “Now that Cynthia is gone, my true feelings are more evident than ever. I am falling for you.”

  Always a skeptic, Edith was shaking her head as she listened to him speak. “But do you honestly mean that? I may be a spinster, my lord, but my desire to be loved—truly loved— is as strong as anyone's. I would not want to be your second choice.

  “You could never be my second choice,” James said. “How could you ever be my second choice, when you are the one who is perfect for me?”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “I do. I believe it so strongly, so completely. When I was close to death, you are the one I wanted at my side. Please...” As she held the flower under her nose, James watched her intently, desperately trying to gauge her reaction. “Ease my mind. Please tell me my feelings are not completely one-sided.”

  “They are not,” Edith said. “I have always cared about you, James, but I did not want to impede my stepsister's happiness, nor did I think you could possibly return my feelings. I...”

  Without warning, James wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her onto his lap. Edith gasped,
but she did not protest. After many years of loneliness, and many years of assuming she would spend her life alone, being held in his arms was a wonderful feeling, and she did not want it to end. James laid her head against his shoulder and gently caressed her hair. “I still need a wife,” he whispered.

  “Are you serious?!” Her head flew away from his shoulder. “Until recently, you were engaged to Cynthia!”

  “I know, I know...” James sighed. “But when my mother returns from London, she will expect me to have a fiance, and there is no one in this world I would rather marry.” With a grin, he added, “You are the only one in this world I would marry.”

  “Really, James? The only one?” Edith's eyebrow was raised, as if she didn't believe him. “What if Cynthia never jilted you? What then?”

  “The only one,” he insisted, ignoring her reservations. “You're the only one I would marry. You are the only one for me.”

  If his words did not convince her, perhaps a kiss would? When she felt Lord Charmington's lips on hers, Edith could feel her tension melt away.

  His kisses could be very persuasive.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Robert!” When she found him, he was wandering away from Ridgeley Manor. His hands were in his pockets, his head was between his shoulders, and his feet were shuffling through the grass. “Robert, wait!”

  As he turned to face her, Robert forced a smile. “What is it, Princess?”

  “Are you leaving?” Cynthia crossed her arms and sneered at him. “Why would you leave without a word?!”

  “I'm supposed to be working right now,” Robert explained, in his thick Irish accent. “I'm supposed to be at Montforth Hall. I can't afford to lose my job. Besides...” He looked down at the ground as his foot scuffed the grass. “I don't think I'm needed anymore. You're right where you need to be.”

  “But... Robert...” Cynthia unfolded her arms and clasped them behind her back. “Are you happy for me?”

  “Aye.”

  “Truly happy for me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Really?” Cynthia's mouth was trembling, so she sucked her lower lip into her mouth.

  “Why wouldn't I be happy for you? This is what you've wanted all along, isn't it? If you're happy, I'm happy,” Robert said. “And that's the truth. Now I should really get going, if you don't mind. I'm sure our paths will cross again.”

  “Oh...” Our paths will cross again. Our paths will cross again. Cynthia replayed the words in her head at least a dozen times, and each time she heard them, they were more and more painful. They were so formal, so platonic. They lacked any feeling whatsoever.

  “Farewell, Cynthia.”

  “Farewell.” As she watched him walk away, her legs were trembling, and her heart was aching. “Robert...”

  What was she supposed to do now? She could never return to Montforth Hall, she had jilted Lord Charmington, and she could not bring herself to confess her feelings for Robert. Where was she supposed to go?

  “How could he leave me?” As she whispered the words to herself, Cynthia glared at the back of Robert's fleeing head. “How could he leave me so easily... he must know how much I need him! He's heartless... cruel...” She heaved a tremendous sigh. “I should have known better than to pin my hopes on a man.”

  All of a sudden, Robert turned around. He hesitated for several seconds, then he returned to her. When she saw him walking toward her, Cynthia could feel her spirits returning. It was as if her entire happiness was solely dependent on Robert's closeness.

  “Cynthia?” he called out to her.

  “Yes?” She kept her voice as dispassionate as possible, for it was too soon to let him know how much he meant to her. “What is it?”

  “Before I go, there's something I wanted to give to you,” Robert said. “I couldn't decide if I should give it to you or not. I didn't know if it was inappropriate or... or if you would appreciate it... or if I would be infringing on something sacred, or--”

  “Robert,” Cynthia interrupted. “Just give it to me, for goodness sake!” She held out her hand, flicked her fingers, and prayed it would be some sort of romantic gift. All she needed was a sign—some small indication that Robert felt the same way for her as she did for him.

  Robert pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and laid it in her hand. “My penmanship is awful,” he warned her. “And my reading skills are somewhat limited, so...” He held his breath as she unfolded the note.

  When Cynthia read the words, her entire body froze. There they were, as plain as day. And they were exactly the sign she was looking for.

  The message simply said:

  I LOVE YOU

  “I know it could never replace your father's letter,” Robert said. “But... I wanted to give it to you. You see, I've spent a lot of time thinking about that letter, and why your father gave it to you. He wanted you to know that even if he was gone, he would always be with you. He wanted you to know he would always take care of you. He would always protect you.” When he saw a tear fall from Cynthia's eye, his heart felt a pinch of guilt. “That's what I think, anyway.”

  “Robert... I...” Another tear fell, so Cynthia swiped it with the back of her hand. “I don't know what to say.”

  “My letter means the same thing, more or less,” Robert continued. “You might be married to Lord Whats-His-Name, and we might not see each other so often, but you'll always be close to my heart. Even if I'm not with you, I'll always protect you. If you ever need me, I'll always be there for you.” When he finished his speech, Robert drew a deep breath. “And that's a lot, coming from me. I'm not particularly reliable, after all.”

  Cynthia chuckled at his deprecatory statement. Without a doubt, Robert was the only man in the world who could make her laugh and cry in a single moment. “But the words themselves... do you mean it?”

  Robert gave his head a nervous scratch. It seemed like an appropriate moment to feign stupidity. “I'm not sure what you mean.”

  “I love you!” Cynthia exclaimed. “That's what the note says, Robert. Do you love me?!”

  For a moment, Robert thought she was confessing her love to him. Alas, it was not so. He raised his chin and said, with pride, “I have always loved you, Cynthia. I could never love anyone else.” When he saw the shock on her face, he took a few steps away from her and added, “and now that I've bared my soul, I need to slink away with my tail between my legs and find a quiet place to cry, if you don't mind.”

  “Robert!” Cynthia grabbed his arm. With the strength of someone much larger than herself, she pulled him back to her. “I love you too, I love you too, I love you too!”

  “Are you sure that wasn't I love you three?” Robert asked with a grin.

  “Robert, please! Now is not the time for your foolishness! I'm being very serious!” Cynthia cried. “I don't want to marry Lord Charmington... I already told him as much. How could I possibly marry him when my heart belongs to you?!”

  “Lady Edith was telling me about the earl's fever.” As he spoke, Robert laid a hand on Cynthia's forehead. “Are you sure you haven't contracted it?”

  “No!” Cynthia gave his hand a gentle slap. “Please don't make light of my feelings! I love you, Robert. I need you. And if I can't have you, I--”

  Robert pulled her toward him and brought his face close to hers. She could feel his breath on her lips when he asked, “Do you really love me?”

  “I love you!” Cynthia exclaimed. “As long as I'm with you, I don't care about anything else. I don't care about worldly possessions. I don't care where we go, or where we live, or what I have to do to survive... as long as I'm with you, nothing else matters to me. You're the only one who gives me comfort. It might be madness on my part, but I do love you, and I don't want to be with anyone else!”

  “It is madness,” he agreed with a chuckle. “Any feelings you might have for me are completely and utterly absurd. I don't deserve you.”

  Cynthia wiggled the I LOVE YOU note in front of his face. �
�How could I not love you, Robert Sweeney? You are everything I could ever want!”

  “Everything? Really?” Robert grinned at her. “I am sure you could think of something else you might want! A kitten, perhaps?”

  “You are everything I could want,” Cynthia insisted. “Everything... and more.”

  And with that, Cynthia pulled him down for a kiss.

  Then she kissed him again.

  And again.

  And again.

  Her happily ever after was even better than a fairy tale.

  Epilogue

  Two months later

  “I cannot believe it, Mama!” As she shook her head, Georgiana's black curls twirled around her face.

  “What can you not believe, my dear?”

  Jemima was standing beside her daughter's carriage. Georgiana was awaiting the arrival of her traveling companion—and she wasn't waiting with bated breath. Her gloom was written all over her face in the form of a ridiculously prominent pout. “I cannot believe Edith is marrying Lord Charmington!” She punctuated her statement with a snort. “My sister is marrying the man who should have been my husband! It isn't fair! Why would he want some... some dried up old spinster over the likes of me?!”

  “There there, dear...” Jemima patted her daughter's gloved hand.

  “Promise me, Mama...” Georgiana went on. “Promise me!”

  Jemima knew exactly what her daughter wanted, because she had already made the promise at least a dozen times. “Edith will never be welcome at Montforth Hall, dear. Never again.”

  “Good. ...Good!” Georgiana haughtily raised her chin. “You know what else gives me satisfaction, Mama? Cynthia's fate! I take comfort in the fact that she married some lowborn wretch. I will have pretty things, and she will have nothing!” Georgiana rubbed the palms of her hands together, like a sinister storybook villain.

  “And some day you might... you might...” Jemima could not bring herself to say the words, because she was sure they were untrue. “Someday you might grow to love your husband.”