Beastly Lords Collection Books 1 - 3: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Sydney Jane Baily

  Instantly, his hand slipped through her hair to cradle the back of her head and draw her close. As his lips touched hers, she sighed against him. Opening her mouth to receive his skilled, probing tongue, she relished the thrilling sensations coursing through her.

  After a few delightful moments, Maggie pulled back.

  “I cannot wait until we are in bed for the first time. Kissing like that when one is completely naked and lying together must be utter heaven.”

  His cheeks seemed to color slightly, and she watched him swallow before he puffed out a breath of air. However, when she expected words of love and longing, instead, he groaned slightly.

  “I’m afraid, darling, I need you to climb off my lap. You’ve awakened a part of me which needs to move and to have room. And unfortunately, your lovely rounded bottom is also starting to make my injured leg ache like the devil.”

  She jumped up as if burnt.

  “You should have said something sooner.” Then she stared at his lap to see the ‘part’ of him which needed to expand.

  “I can see it,” Maggie said, evoking a pained laugh from John, who put his hand to his ribs.

  “Let’s only hope no one else comes outside too soon. There are things I’d like to keep private between us.”

  “Agreed.” Then she thought of his injury. “But your leg. Is it all right?”

  “Throbbing a tad.”

  She watched him reach into his pocket, the same from which he’d pulled the handkerchief. This time he withdrew the familiar, dark glass bottle, opened it, and took a small sip.

  “Only a few drops,” he said when he saw her watching him.

  She could hardly chastise him this time. Who would look after him, though, when she left? Then it dawned on her how much she didn’t want to leave.

  “Do you think I have to return to Belton now we are engaged?”

  “It would be the proper thing to do. I won’t marry you until I can stand by your side. And I want you to have a ring as lovely as your eyes, if such were possible. I need to get to London for that.”

  Then he groaned.

  “What is wrong? Is it your leg?”

  “No. I wanted to ask you to marry me somewhere singular and in some special way.”

  She crouched down beside his chair.

  “I cannot imagine a more perfect place than being on your lap. It was extremely special.”

  A glimmer of a smile crossed his handsome face.

  “Maybe we’ll do the proposal again properly when I have the ring in hand.”

  Shrugging, she stroked the side of his cheek. “I don’t mind if you wish to ask me again. My answer will be the same.”

  “Your answer?” Simon echoed, coming onto the veranda in time to hear her last words. “What are you two discussing?”

  “Getting engaged,” Maggie replied, standing up in time to catch her brother-in-law’s delighted expression. “Which we just did.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’m very happy for you both.” Simon swept her into an embrace before reaching down to smack John on the shoulder in lieu of shaking his right hand. “Jenny will be pleased, too.”

  “I’m determined to be standing when I marry this lady,” John insisted.

  “Thus, we wait,” Maggie agreed. “We’ll have a decently long engagement, unlike some people.” She shot an amused glance toward Simon.

  “Are you saying your sister and I were indecent?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Knowing my sister, your quick marriage was all done for very practical reasons.”

  “True,” Simon agreed. “I couldn’t keep my hands off of her, and so she decided we’d better be official.”

  Both the men laughed, but Maggie refused to find amusement at any remark that hinted at impropriety where her older sister was concerned.

  Seeing her countenance, Simon coughed to cover his laughter.

  “Tonight, we must have a celebration before the ladies Chatley depart tomorrow.”

  Maggie felt a little sorry Jane would be gone. She had proved to be a true friend and no threat at all.

  “When the senior Lady Chatley hears our news, she might not be in a celebratory mood,” John surmised. “And she might take it out on Jane.”

  “Nonsense. Jane’s mother will have to realize there are as good fish in the sea as ever came out of it. Unquestionably, as good as one Bedfordshire earl.” Simon considered. “Besides, we must know a few eligible men we can throw in her path.”

  “Into Jane’s path or her mother’s?” Maggie asked. “You two make it sound as if one earl is as good as another, or any man is the same to a woman. Which I assure you is not the case. If Jane had truly wanted John, then this would be a terrible evening all around. Only because her heart will not be injured, I am agreeing to our announcing this at all.”

  Simon stared at her.

  “What is it?” She put her hand to her hair under his scrutiny, checking for stray tendrils.

  “For a moment there, you sounded exactly like your sister.”

  The two men laughed again. This time, Maggie joined in. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to see her family, and that was the only consolation for leaving John and Turvey House behind.

  *

  John had been correct about Lady Emily Chatley, whose mouth formed a thin line of disapproval as soon as he gave his announcement at the beginning of dinner. Then it seemed to Maggie the older woman was trying to decide whom to blame. Was it Maggie’s fault for being in the right place at the right time, or was it some innate flaw in her own daughter which made Lord Cambrey choose one over the other?

  Jane, for her part, expressed delight.

  Maggie was glad, and more than a little relieved, John’s mother also appeared happy. How awful if Lady Cambrey had had her heart set on Jane for a daughter-in-law!

  Later, when Jane was playing the pianoforte, Lady Cambrey approached Maggie and took her hand in hers.

  “We will be family, and I shall have a daughter at last.”

  Maggie felt tears prick her eyes. What a lovely way for John’s mother to welcome her.

  “You will probably have three daughters. Simon will want to visit his best friend, and thus, my sister Jenny will come. And Eleanor will want to visit Beryl, too, and most probably stay here with me some of the time.”

  “My little plan worked well.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure she’d heard the older lady correctly.

  “Your plan? I’m sorry, Lady Cambrey, I don’t understand.”

  The woman clamped her lips together at the same time as she smiled, creating a droll, mischievous expression.

  “I could see my son was taken with you from the beginning, and never wavered even all the weeks he worked with Jane. I thought I could help bring about this happy outcome. I wrote to Simon, hoping you would hear of John’s accident. I knew you would be the best medicine for him. When you arrived, it was clear you cared for my son. And I invited the Chatleys because sometimes, nothing shows a man—or a woman—what they want as much as seeing what they don’t want.”

  Maggie shook her head in admiration. “Lady Cambrey. I shall be honored to call you my mother-in-law.”

  The woman nodded. “I just realized we’ll both be Lady Cambrey. I have never shared the title because my husband’s mother passed away giving birth to John’s father.”

  “Is my sharing it all right?”

  “Of course. You will make an excellent countess, I have no doubt, which is why I sent you unaccompanied into his bedroom with the newspapers. I thought I’d get a declaration of engagement out of him that very day.”

  Maggie was shocked.

  “What are you two whispering about?”

  John, who’d learned how to move the pushchair in a straight line with only one hand, was suddenly behind them.

  His mother bent down and kissed his cheek.

  “Women like to share secrets, dear boy, especially family.” She winked at Maggie and walked away to sit by Lady Chatley senior.

&nbs
p; John watched her go then, looking up at Maggie, crooked his finger so she would bend close.

  “I wish I could pull you onto my lap again,” he said quietly. “And I’m not even going to ask what my mother meant.”

  “I’m not going to tell you anyway. But I wish I could sit upon the part of you which likes to move.”

  They stared long at each other.

  “I don’t want you to leave.”

  “I don’t want to. Except to see my family.”

  “Invite them all here.”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “As a newly engaged woman, I must grow up and act mature. I will go home and tell my own mother the good news.”

  “Please plan on returning after my arm cast is removed. You can bring your whole family with you if you like.”

  “Maybe Eleanor.”

  Jane had finished, and it was Maggie’s turn to perform.

  “Will you sing with me as we did before?”

  “I’d be honored,” he told her.

  She kept thinking about the richness of his voice, and the sweetness of his last tender kiss when she climbed into the carriage for the long journey back to Belton a few days later.

  Leaning out the window and waving to him until John and his mother were out of sight, Maggie reclined on the leather seat and stared at Simon.

  “A successful visit,” Simon remarked.

  Maggie started to snicker at the neutral way he categorized what was the biggest event in her life so far. And then, her happiness spilled out of her as a hearty laugh, with which he joined in.

  She never imagined when returning a few weeks later she would find such a changed, nearly unrecognizable man.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Cam hadn’t had a drop of opium tincture in two days, and his punishment was to writhe in agony all night, exactly as he had done all day and the night before. In fact, he was startled at how quickly he’d begun to feel wretched after deciding to stop sipping from the laudanum teat.

  Within hours, he’d felt utter anguish.

  Unable to sleep, he stared at the ceiling. His nose was running and his eyes were watering to add to everything else that was physically ailing him. Nausea was his nighttime companion despite having lost the meager contents of his stomach hours earlier. He’d already called for his valet twice, bringing Peter out of a deep slumber only to swear at him and send him away.

  If Cam could crawl out of his own skin, he would. The only part of him which didn’t hurt was low in his back, where for some reason, he felt inexplicably numb. Above anything else, he wanted to move in various positions, as it was sheer torture to lie still. What’s more, he had not an ounce of sleepiness in his entire body despite yawning all day.

  Though no longer in the restricting sling, his leg cast hampered his movements. Regardless, he hauled it from side to side all night long as he tossed and turned.

  At this point, he almost didn’t care if he reinjured his leg. He simply had to move.

  Tossing the bed clothes off his heated body as he had been doing all night, he knew in a very few minutes, the air would cool the sweat seeming to pour from him, and then he would feel chilled.

  If he’d thought the stomach ache he’d been experiencing while taking opium was painful, he had been sorely mistaken. For now, the cramping in his belly was a hundred times worse, making him moan aloud.

  “Aaaaahhhhh,” he yelled for the hell of it.

  Nothing happened in the silent house, and thus, he yelled again. His mother always slept soundly down the other end of the hall, and Gray had his own cottage on the estate. Cam could scream loudly enough to curdle blood without him ever knowing.

  He wanted Margaret. He wanted to see her, to kiss her, to make love to her. A notion caught hold of his thoughts—if she were there, he would feel no pain. He was convinced of it.

  What’s more, he kept vividly imagining her luscious body lying bare beneath him, her rich honey-brown hair spread over the pillow, her lids heavy, her lips parted, her legs also parted. If he could plunge into her, there would be no pain for either of them.

  “Margaret,” he screamed into the darkness, not caring he sounded like a madman.

  His valet returned again, bleary eyed and still dragging his coat sleeves on over his nightshirt.

  “My lord?”

  “I did not call for you,” Cam yelled at him.

  “I know, my lord, yet I am here nonetheless.”

  Cam beat his fists upon the mattress on either side of his body, glad at least the arm cast was gone and he had full use of his right arm again. It was a slender, pathetic companion to his other arm, but he would steadily work to make it stronger again. For Margaret.

  If he couldn’t have her, there was only one thing that could help him.

  “Give me my laudanum.”

  “My lord?” Peter looked shocked and took a step back.

  “Give me the laudanum,” Cam repeated.

  “You specifically ordered me not to, my lord.”

  “Now I am ordering you to. Give it to me.”

  “But, my lord, you said—”

  “I don’t care what I said. Either you find me a bottle now, or you are relieved from your position. I’ll send you packing, as Shakespeare’s Falstaff said. Do you understand? You will leave this estate this very instant without references, and I won’t care if you fall in a ditch and starve to death. Am I clear?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Good. Now hand me a bottle, or I will hire someone who can take orders.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  His valet looked as hot and sweaty as Cam felt, before disappearing into the dressing room for a moment. Peter returned with a bottle clutched in his hands.

  As he approached the bed, the man dared to ask him, “Are you certain, my lord?”

  Cam was not going to put up with this insubordination a moment longer. Holding out his hand, he remained silent. He had given his order and wouldn’t repeat it. Maybe he would fire his valet anyway as soon as he felt better.

  With a shaking hand, Peter gave Cam the opium. He snatched it with an equally shaking hand. How strange.

  Holding it close, he unstopped it in a second and swiftly took a sip. He knew he must be careful. A few drops would be enough. Any more than that and he would be no good to anyone.

  Letting the emotional relief and the blissful effect wash over him, Cam breathed calmly and waited, knowing all his anguish would soon be over. In a few moments, he felt euphoric. Everything was fine. Why had he ever thought not taking this miraculous liquid was a good idea?

  Even as his mouth felt dry and his limbs became heavy, at least he no longer wanted to writhe and wriggle like a ridiculous worm.

  “Water,” Cam ordered his silent valet, who stood watching him with large eyes. “And ale,” he added. “I think I shall want both.”

  The man departed, and Cam drifted off to sleep before he could have either.

  *

  “I cannot wait to see my fiancé.” Maggie practically sang the words as she and Eleanor approached Turvey House, with not two but four liveried Lindsey servants atop their carriage. It was the only way Simon would allow them to go alone.

  “You keep saying that,” her sister reminded her, not sounding as if she really minded too much.

  “I know.”

  “I think you like to say the word ‘fiancé’ almost as much as you like to have one.”

  They both laughed.

  “Just you wait, my girl. Another few years, and you’ll have a Season and find a husband.”

  “That’s not what happened for either you or Jenny. You both found your husbands in the country, not in Town.”

  “True. You’re an observant girl.” Maggie peered out the window for the hundredth time.

  “We still have an hour to travel, didn’t you say?” Eleanor pointed out.

  “Didn’t I say the same an hour ago?”

  Eleanor giggled again. “No, more like five minutes.”

 
“I wish Jenny could have come this time. Having a little one like Lionel certainly takes up all your time and energy. I don’t remember Mummy being overwrought.”

  Eleanor shrugged. Having been the baby, she had no knowledge.

  “Come to think of it,” Maggie added, “Mummy had me and Jenny to help take care of you, which we adored doing. You were like a living doll with whom we could play.”

  This brought a smile to her sister’s face, and Maggie saw for a moment the lovely lady who would emerge from the girl in the next few years.

  “I can’t believe it was sixteen years ago.” Maggie might be sitting next to her own delightful daughter in a few years.

  Eleanor fidgeted with her skirts before saying, “Jenny has Mummy and Simon.”

  They looked at each other a moment, then Eleanor gave a very unladylike snort at her little jest of having only those two for help. Their mother liked to bounce the baby on her knee, and that was about it, perhaps feeling she’d done her duty with three of her own. When Lionel cried, she gave him back immediately. When he was hungry, she returned him to Jenny’s arms. And especially when his diaper was soiled, Anne Blackwood was extremely quick to hand him over.

  As for the father, Maggie pondered her brother-in-law.

  “Simon is earnest in his desire to help.” Unfortunately, he seemed to be all thumbs around his son at present, and it was painful to watch him try to swaddle him.

  “I think he will be more helpful when the baby is a grown boy, ready to learn to ride and hunt,” Eleanor surmised.

  “Agreed.”

  They lapsed into easy silence, watching the countryside go by under the late-afternoon sunshine, and occasionally munching on orange-flavored biscuits until finally, they turned onto the driveway leading up to Turvey House.

  “Oh dear,” Maggie exclaimed aloud.

  “What is it?”

  “I actually feel a little nervous.”

  Seeming wise beyond her years, Eleanor leaned forward and patted her sister’s hand.

  “I think it’s to be expected. Last time you arrived here, you were not engaged, and you left quickly afterward. It must seem like starting over again.”

  Maggie stared at Eleanor. “You are right. I feel as though I’m meeting a stranger to whom I happen to have promised to wed. That’s nonsense, of course. I know John, and I love him.”