Wages of Sin (Regency Rebelles Book 1)

by Jen Yates

  She hadn’t even thought of visiting the lightning tree since she’d arrived, which had been high on her priority list when they set out from London. That moment Justin’s stricken form had fallen against her in the carriage represented a threshold over which she’d stepped without even noticing, leaving the selfish dreams of youth behind and accepting the burdens and responsibilities of adulthood.

  She’d made vows to love and honor this man who lay on the verge of death. Coerced she might have been, but she’d kept the vow to honor and obey him. Although she’d thought her love reserved only for Levi.

  Love, she’d discovered, was not a matter of choice.

  Love came in many guises.

  Love could be confusing. And painful.

  It was nearing dusk of the second long day of vigilance by the bedside before Justin stirred and Liberty began to have an inkling of the extent of the damage. All the right side of his body was affected.

  That side of his face drooped grotesquely and he could not move his right arm or leg. Worse, he could not communicate in anything other than guttural grunts.

  Brant hovered, as desperate as Liberty to alleviate his master’s obvious distress—and Liberty’s. For she could not stem the weary tears as she considered the indignity visited on a man who had always been immaculately turned out, who’d been alluringly articulate, and an interesting companion.

  Dr. Abbott came and brought Mrs. Calder from the village to help with the nursing and while Liberty was grateful for the assistance, she was surprised to find it was difficult to release herself from Justin’s side.

  She wanted to be there so he would see her when he woke.

  Kindly Dr. Abbott impressed on her the need to look after her own health.

  ‘You might be young, Lady Earnslaw, but you’re not invincible.’

  On the fourth day the rider dispatched to London with a letter for Gareth and George, returned.

  Helena and Nanette were sitting with Liberty by Justin’s bed when Sherman brought Lord Gareth’s response.

  She couldn’t suppress her small gasp of outrage as she read the short missive, then her eyes flew to the man on the bed. It was still hard to accept that he, whose heart was so large, produced a son with so little feeling? Two sons, since there had been no response from George at all.

  ‘What is it, Libby?’ her mother asked.

  She couldn’t say anything here where Justin might overhear. She had the distinct impression his hearing was still intact and his mind could well still be working, even while his ability to communicate was so radically impaired.

  With an inclination of her head she led the way out of the summer morning room, which had been turned into the sick chamber, for it was a pleasant room on the ground floor. In the adjoining sitting room, Liberty let out a hiss of disgust.

  ‘Gareth writes to say it’s probably not a good thing to remove his father to Earnslaw in his present state. I’m to let him know if I need extra funds for his father’s care and—I quote—this outcome could not be unexpected when one marries a man at the twilight end of his life. Our sincere condolences that you’re now saddled with the role of nurse rather than an old man’s pampered darling. I suggest you pray for a speedy delivery.’

  Her mother’s elegant brows flew into her hairline then immediately settled into a frown.

  ‘Then you are free to make your own choices, Libby. Justin can remain here where you’ll be better able to look after him. You’ll have our support and you know Dr. Abbott and Mrs. Calder and anyone else we may need to call on. At Earnslaw you really wouldn’t know that many people.’

  ‘I know that, and I’ve already realized how fortunate I am it happened here rather than there. What riles me is Gareth’s—and George’s—apparent lack of caring that their father is ill. I made it very clear they would be welcome here if they wished to come and see him. Clearly they’re just waiting for him to die. And that’s—that’s how they think I feel.’

  The last few words were little more than a guilt-ridden whisper.

  ‘I’d have said that was how you felt when you wed him, Libby,’ her mother said, an inflection in her tone that indicated she was actually asking a question.

  Liberty screwed up Gareth’s letter and tossed it into the unlit grate, then threw herself with a similar lunge of fury into the cushioned seat in the window nook.

  Her mother and Nanette remained standing just inside the door, both clearly expecting an answer to that last observation.

  ‘Probably true,’ Liberty admitted at last. ‘But—they’re his sons. He’s a good father. You’d think they’d at least want to come and see for themselves that he’s being well cared for—or something.’

  Not that she had any desire to set eyes on either of them. Especially George.

  Her mother came across and wrapped her arms about Liberty’s shoulders and pressed her daughter’s head to her breast.

  ‘You clearly care and that’s probably all that matters to Justin. Just give him the best you can now, Liberty.’

  The best she could? All he’d really wanted was her love. Now it was too late.

  ***

  Liberty opened her eyes to find Justin staring at her. His right eye drooped, along with the rest of his face, but some deep emotion looked at her from those eyes, still grey, still knowing and living.

  Pain ripped through her chest.

  He was a good man. He didn’t deserve this—and he deserved so much more than she’d ever given him.

  Setting aside the embroidery fallen into her lap when she’d closed her eyes for a moment, she leant forward and clasped his hand in hers.

  ‘I love you, Justin,’ she said, and with this speaking of the words she knew it to be true. It was not the passionate, soul-deep love she had for Levi, but she could truthfully say she’d come to love this man she’d married in a gentle, daughterly kind of way.

  But it was love, and he should know that.

  It felt good to tell him, to see the soft look come into his eyes, but it broke her heart when he tried to respond and the only sounds that would issue from his mouth were undecipherable gibberish.

  ‘It’s all right,’ she told him gently. ‘I know you love me for you’ve told me several times. I just needed you to know that I’ve discovered I love you too. And I’ll take good care of you.’

  Tears dribbled from his good eye and Liberty gently wiped them away and held his hand until his eyes drifted shut and he slept again. Picking up the embroidery, she set another stitch, wishing she could just close her eyes and sleep, like Justin.

  Could forget the pain of loving him, and the guilt and even deeper pain of loving Levi more.

  She was a twisted mess of love and guilt and resentment for the father who’d forced her into this untenable situation—all overlaid with the certain knowledge all of it was necessary if she and Levi were ever to have a future together.

  Though she privately considered it would’ve been easier if she’d not come to care for Justin as she had.

  The feeling of a noose tightening about her neck increased daily along with the wish that would steal upon her in unguarded moments that Justin had simply died—or would die.

  The ambivalence of her feelings was taking its toll. She didn’t much like the person that made her—which made it difficult to like anyone else either.

  Nanette, Goldie and even Verity occasionally ran up against her impatient tongue, and she wondered how long it would be before whatever it was aching in her chest reached explosion point.

  Liberty knew herself. Suppress the ugliness as she might, there would come a day when she no longer could.

  God, she needed Levi.

  ***

  Staring out into the darkness at three in the morning dreaming of Levi, did nothing to alleviate the restlessness. It was so easy to envision his naked form stretched out on the big bed in the loft above the stables, the ridges of muscle and bone gleaming in the candle light; his dark chest hair soft and curling about her fingers
.

  She couldn't remember much else about the layout of the loft or the shadowy furnishings Levi had been working on. Her memories were all of how his hands and his body had grown since boyhood—specific parts of that body.

  Most of all she reveled in the memories of how he'd made her feel. So womanly, loved, wanted. How he made her want.

  Justin had showed her pleasure and her body had responded, unwillingly at first, but eventually she'd allowed him to give her pleasure, which had given him pleasure also.

  But nothing had ever stopped her longing for Levi. Especially in these deep hours of the night when she knew darkness could cover her escape to the stables at the other end of Stannesford village, when a few minutes of uncomfortable sneaking through the dark could have her in his arms, knowing his love again.

  You made vows to Justin, she reminded herself—over and over.

  To love and honor.

  In sickness and in health.

  As long as you both shall live.

  Now Justin lay, not dead, but scarcely alive either. How long must they wait? How deep did the guilt have to cut before she’d be granted surcease?

  How long would Levi wait?

  ‘As long as it takes,’ he'd vowed, but could he?

  What if Dr. Abbott was right when he said Justin could have another stroke any day that could prove fatal—or he could continue to live on in this near vegetative state indefinitely?

  Could she expect Levi to put his life on hold for such a nebulous future?

  ***

  Three weeks had passed since they’d returned to Stannesford and each day Justin improved a little. It was clear he understood what was being said to him and he became painfully frustrated with his efforts to respond.

  His eyes followed her every move and she was sure he could read her thoughts and frustrations, just as clearly as he ever did.

  The terrible part was being able to read his. God she hated herself. Hated Papa for engineering this whole ugly mess. She'd scarcely managed to speak to him and usually left the room when he came to spend time with Justin each day.

  She didn't think her father had any deep feelings towards Justin, but he was always determined on doing what was proper and doubtless considered it proper to at least give a small part of his day to the man who was a longtime friend and had married his daughter.

  Papa was a great believer in doing the proper thing.

  Though she was grateful to him for sending the groom, Carmody, to Earnslaw to fetch Contessa back to Stannesford.

  This afternoon while Papa sat with Justin she would ride to the lightning tree to see if perchance Levi had left her a token. He had to know she was at home, if only because his mother would have mentioned it to Granny Joan.

  And what token would she leave for him? Feeling lighter than she had for days, she went up to her room, cut a small shield shape from a stiff piece of paper and carefully snipped a pair of slits into it. Dressing hurriedly in the beautiful forest green habit Justin had bought for her, she left the house through the back entrance and walked down to the stables. Thankful that Verity had not escaped the school room as she often liked to do in the afternoons, she waited impatiently within the stable shadows while John saddled Contessa.

  ‘Shall I ride with you, my lady?’

  ‘No thanks, John, I only intend to ride down to the river and along the bridle path a little way.’

  She needed no witness when she left her tiny shield with the two daisies slotted into it, in the bottle in the lightning tree. Two daisies on a mediaeval Knight’s shield indicated he was the lady’s choice.

  When she opened the bottle and a very dry twist of ivy fell into her palm, Liberty sank down on the hard ground beneath the tree and let the tears flow.

  Constancy. Eternal fidelity.

  Another treasure to add to the envelope hidden beneath the papers in her writing desk. If anyone found it, they’d have no inkling of the depth of love implied by a handful of unrecognizable specimens of dried flora.

  If she stayed on the river path she could eventually come to St. Anne’s ruins to the north of the village, and she would not have told John an outright lie—even though she’d gone much further along the path than John would be imagining. She knew Levi used the ring of riding lanes around the village to exercise his horses for he’d told her so the night he walked her home before her wedding.

  She didn't even try to convince herself that wasn't why she’d chosen to ride that way. It would not be breaking her vows just to catch a glimpse of him, maybe exchange a few words. At least something more than a few dead flowers, however precious their message.

  Chances were she’d not see him at all.

  She could only pray fate would not be so cruel.

  ***

  Urging Contessa back onto the path beside Stannesford Brook, Liberty guided her in the direction of the ruins on St Anne's Hill, then let the horse set her own pace. The piece of dried ivy tucked into the pocket of her habit warmed her to her core and for several moments she rode blind, tears burning her eyes.

  But the sun was shining, the brook playing its incessant symphony over the rocks and sparkling joyously in the sunlight—and riding towards her on the path was a familiar figure on a large bay leading a string of four horses.

  Contessa danced and whinnied excitedly at the approach of the other animals.

  ‘Settle, girl,’ Liberty soothed, petting the sleek neck. Truth was she wanted to prance and call out in excitement as well, but Levi already had his hands full with the string of horses. She needed to concentrate on keeping Contessa calm.

  As the mare quieted, they came to a halt at the side of the path and waited for Levi to reach them.

  Damn, she was crying again. The closer he came, the harder the tears fell. She was happy to see him, dammit! And with her eyes full of tears she couldn't—and she didn't want to miss a second of his presence.

  ‘Lou? What's wrong?’

  There was a hint of panic beneath the deep tones of his voice.

  ‘Nothing. I'm just so happy to see you—and I just got the piece of ivy from the tree—and it made me cry—and today is the first day I've been able to come out riding—and—’

  He brought the bay in as close as he could and leaned across so their lips could touch. Liberty laid her hand against his cheek, desperately wishing she was not wearing her gloves.

  ‘Hell, Lou. I cannot let these animals loose, but damn I want to kiss you—hold you.’

  He leaned close and their mouths clung—the bay tossed its head at Contessa, and they drew apart.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Levi asked.

  ‘Just riding—and hoping I might see you.’

  Liberty swiped at the tears on her face and gulped in air as she gentled the mare, then raised her gaze to his again.

  There were shadows in his eyes, lines appearing at the corners of his mouth and on his forehead she'd swear had not been there before. His shoulders seemed wider than ever and the thighs gripping his horse rippled with muscle. He was so damned beautiful it hurt.

  Dear God, it hurt.

  ***

  Liberty Lou.

  The gaping hole in his heart filled up with love, joy, and longing for this woman. How he'd yearned just for the sight of her—and here she was. His life was a barren desert without her.

  He reminded himself over and over how rich he was for having her love, for having consummated that love, once—for having a purpose for his life. Every thought and deed, every day, was focused on providing for this woman and the life they would ultimately share together. He'd long accepted the painful truth that the only way they could realize that dream was to accept separation—for now. Like Jacob in the Bible, he had to pay his dues. He could only hope and pray it would not take seven years—or even seven years more.

  ‘Ride with me? I have to keep these horses moving.’

  And such dismal thoughts from his mind.

  There was so much he wanted to ask her and not a senten
ce could he formulate with the reality of her at his side. The worst thing about their situation was being unable to even ask anyone anything about her. They couldn't risk causing any hint of the scandal Liberty’s marriage was supposed to have averted.

  ‘Talk to me, Lou. Tell me how you've been?’

  ‘I've managed. Tell me what you've been doing. I worry for you, so alone—oh God I miss you. How do you bear it?’

  Looking down into those solemn, green eyes, Levi thought his heart would simply stop with the pain of the longing he knew was mirrored in his own.

  ‘I bear it because everything I do is for us, Lou. I've accepted—we have to accept—this is the only way we can ever be together. You have to go through this marriage and I have to wait. I'm not wasting this time. Lord Charles, Lord Highbrooke and Lord Wolfenden have all been supportive of the stud and are sending me business. I want to be able to provide the best for you I possibly can, my love. I know it can never be like Stannesford or anything that you’re used to, but—I have plans for a proper house not just a loft above the stables—and I spend my nights building furniture for us. I intend to be ready when you are.’

  And he constantly prayed that would be soon.

  He was likely ensuring his place in hell with the intensity of his prayers for the demise of one Justin Dilmore, Earl of Earnslaw.

  ‘I don't know when that will be,’ she cried. ‘Sometimes Levi, I feel so trapped. Justin—he's had a stroke.’

  ‘I heard. I make a point of being at the mill house when Mama comes home. She always shares the doings of her day at the Hall with Granny Joan. I just have to be where I can hear. Sometimes I desperately want to shake information out of her, but I dare not give us away. Even to my mother. She says he’s improved a little?’

  He kept his tone flat, strove to keep all emotion from his words.

  ‘He has. And—it's like he's trapped too. His mind is still alert, aware. His eyes express so much—frustration—especially when he tries to talk. I hate seeing him like that. It's so—undignified.’