Wages of Sin (Regency Rebelles Book 1)

by Jen Yates

  ‘It sounds like you've come to care for him.’

  Of course she had. This was Lou—who cared about her siblings, her parents, her animals, everyone and everything. He could have predicted she’d come to care about Justin Dilmore.

  She stared straight ahead for some time, color washing along her cheek bones. When she turned to him again her eyes were soft and apologetic.

  She cared about him.

  ‘I have. It's very difficult to withstand a person who loves you and longs only to make you happy. In a way I've come to love him too—but it's nothing like the way I love you. It doesn't change how I long for you.’

  Her flushed cheeks and sideways glances told him she worried her admission had hurt him. It was so like his Lou—caring for everyone. No surprise she'd come to care for the old man. It was her nature.

  And regardless how he might feel, it had to be better that it was so. Better for Lou, anyway.

  ‘I'm glad,’ he assured her, ‘that you’ve managed to find a measure of happiness in your situation. I worried how you’d cope, how he was treating you. If he loves you, takes care of you then I have to be glad of that. I hoped you were enjoying London—a Season in London is not something I could ever give you.’

  Her emerald eyes scanned his face, as if seeking to verify his statement that he was glad. Daring him to lie to her.

  Her. The other half of his soul.

  Seemingly satisfied with what she saw, she looked ahead again.

  But not before he’d noted the sharper angle of her cheekbones and the deeper hollows beneath. Though subtle, the changes wrought by time and unhappiness, were obvious to him.

  The soft light of joy was gone from her eyes when she looked at him.

  Replaced by sorrow and longing.

  ‘London—the Season—was surreal. I'm glad I experienced it—but I missed Stannesford. In the end it just felt so pointless. I tried, Levi. I truly tried to be what Justin wanted—to enjoy myself as he wanted and to at least be grateful to him for everything he showered upon me—gowns and jewelery, anything I wanted, and he took me everywhere. Some might say he almost killed himself trying to please me. And in the end, all I wanted was to come home.

  ‘Mama being ill was my excuse. It was just a summer cold but I also think she fretted about how I was coping with my marriage. So I asked Justin to bring me home—we were going to return to Earnslaw once Mama was recovered. Justin’s stroke has changed everything. Dr. Abbott says he could have another at any time—or he could linger indefinitely in his current state. I can only pray if he lingers—that he gains more mobility and ability to communicate. He hates being so dependent on others—and I hate it for him. The truth of the matter is, he could continue like this for years.’

  That stark truth hung in the air between them.

  Levi fixed his gaze on Liberty, feeling the need to memorize every curve and angle of her face, every shade of green in her eyes, every fiery gleam in the dark auburn of her hair.

  ‘The longer it takes the more ready for you I'll be.’

  The more impatient, frustrated, angry. But he’d not burden her with any of that. Doubtless they both felt it and it was pointless dwelling on it.

  They had no choice but to wait.

  They’d ridden around the old Priory land and had arrived at the Roman bridge over the Stannesford River before either of them recalled the time or where they were.

  ‘I’d best go back,’ Liberty said suddenly. ‘I should not be seen riding into the village with you. Do—do you ride this way every day?’

  ‘I will now.’

  ‘Would it interfere with your training if I were to ride with you—sometimes?’

  Worry, despair, hope all looked up at him from her expressive gaze.

  Did they dare? Could they accept just the occasional chance to see and talk to one another without wanting, daring—more? Could they resist?

  Chest aching with hope, he couldn’t answer her.

  ‘I'm just asking to ride with you, Levi. I'm going mad. Mornings and evenings with Justin will be bearable if I know I can just ride with you, see you and talk with you occasionally of an afternoon. Can we?’

  ‘I'm not sure, Lou. Can we?’

  There was no doubt she understood what he was asking.

  ‘What if I bring Verity with me? Then it will appear we only meet coincidentally—which will be true. Really.’

  He should veto it completely, but God damn, he could not.

  ‘I’ll look for you,’ he said softly, then leaned across so their lips could touch in a lingering kiss.

  He could drown in her eyes, the green as deep as oceans, the fire within their depths igniting just for him.

  When they'd been youngsters that fire had fueled his tendency towards mischief and childish adventure. That glow in her eyes still incited him to mischief, but there was nothing childish in the nature of it. If she gave him the slightest encouragement he'd abandon the damn horses and fall on her right here on the old Roman Bridge and to hell with who might come upon them.

  Her thoughts, he could tell, were as incendiary as his own. It was fire they'd be playing with if they agreed on this plan.

  And it was mischief they risked—on a scale that made those long ago childish escapades pale in comparison.

  ‘I'm still married. Justin is still alive. I made vows—however unwillingly. If—if it's too hard, I won't ask.’

  He could never resist her when her voice took on that deep husky tone. It played his heart, as the maestro the harp.

  ‘What if we’re seen? Others ride this way.’ He quirked his brows at her. ‘Everyday? T’would hardly look like a coincidence then.’

  ‘Oh God, if I could just see you every day my life would be bearable—I could face anything.’

  ‘And your papa?’

  Her gaze dropped but not before he'd seen the troubled shadows in her eyes.

  ‘I only speak to Papa—when I can't avoid it. He no longer has any jurisdiction over me. And the man who does is little more than a—a log of wood. I'm done trying to please everyone, Levi. This is for me. For us.’

  He heard the edge of desperation in her voice and knew he could not refuse her. Never had. Why would he think he could start now?

  ‘Actually, I ride this way twice a day, every day except Sundays,’ he said quietly, not explaining that he had staff who did at least half of the training rides—usually. ‘I’d enjoy your company, Lou, more than I can ever tell you. I love you and struggle just to breathe when I allow myself to think about you—with him. Seeing you—when you can get away—will ease the pain for both of us. And you'd better go now, or you’ll be very late back.’

  He nudged Sir Galahad with his knees to bring him alongside Liberty's mare. The big gelding was more settled with the new horse now and Levi could lean right in and taste her mouth, brand her with his own.

  It was all he dared—and he could not demand any less.

  There were tears in her eyes again when they drew apart, and for a long moment she just stared at him, the pain and longing stark in her gaze.

  ‘I’ll ask Verity to ride with me,’ she whispered. ‘If I come alone I doubt either of us can be trusted to—to—’

  ‘—remain honorable? Chaste? You're probably right, Lou. Bring Very. I suppose she thinks she's a young lady now? Like our Rose. Twelve going on twenty-two. In fact if Very rides with you, Rose probably could too—since she and Very have lessons together—and what more prosaic chaperones could we have, than our kid sisters?’

  Liberty nodded, then said, ‘Knowing you ride every day is a terrible temptation, but I won't be able to come every day, especially not if I wish to take the girls out of the schoolroom. But I will come when I can. Now I must go. I—I love you.’

  Those last three words were thrown desperately over her shoulder as she urged the black mare along the track to the ruins and the brook path leading back to Stannesford Hall.

  ‘Go carefully, Lou. I love you,’ he called after h
er, reveling in the freedom to speak the words they’d not be able to say when their sisters rode with her.

  ***

  Chapter 9.

  Light and warmth filled her and she was doing a poor job of suppressing it.

  Justin was watching her rather than focusing on the food she was trying to spoon into him. His eyes followed her every movement, then fixed on hers with an oddly discerning regard.

  As if he knew.

  ‘Gnn gnn rrrgh.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Gnn m gg—’’

  ‘You don't like your dinner?

  His eyes snapped at her and he made more unintelligible sounds. He really wanted to make himself understood. His frustration was clear and when she couldn’t manage to construe what he wanted to say he lashed out at the bowl and sent it flying out of her hands.

  Biting her tongue on the angry response she wanted to hurl at him, she reminded herself how terribly frustrated he must be, trapped in a body that would no longer do his bidding.

  She could only assume he'd had enough to eat—although her guilty conscience told her it was more likely he sensed something different with her.

  It was as if he knew—even though she told herself it was not possible.

  When he finally fell asleep, obviously exhausted by his efforts to communicate, Liberty sat with tears rolling down her cheeks.

  She wasn’t sure why she cried. Pain and frustration for Justin? Loss and heartache for Levi?

  Or guilt—because if Levi was not so honorable—or if he'd not been hampered by the string of horses—she’d have been in his arms today?

  Just being with him, talking with him had been enough—and nowhere near enough.

  Mama and Nanette came in and sat with her for a while. Verity danced in to say goodnight, hugging Miss Pearl to her chest to keep the rambunctious pup from jumping on the bed and waking Justin.

  Goldie came in and tucked a shawl around her mistress's shoulders for, she said, the evening had turned chilly.

  The household had gradually settled for the night and she knew the next person through the door would be Brant, to banish her to her bed and the miserable company of her thoughts.

  Not too soon, she hoped.

  Forcing herself to sit by Justin, to watch over him and be present so his eyes could find her if he woke, felt like some sort of necessary penance for the happiness she'd dared to steal for herself today, and the sure knowledge she’d have stolen much more had the opportunity presented itself.

  Likely still would should that opportunity become available to her in the future.

  Vows be damned.

  What had Justin been trying to say?

  ***

  She hadn't come again today.

  Sanity was unraveling inside him.

  When it began to unravel all about him as well, he was going to be in trouble. For Lou’s sake he needed to ensure he kept it altogether.

  He’d sensed her emotions were balanced on a fine edge, nursing Justin who’d come to matter to her, watching him trying to claw back some semblance of health and function while coping with the ambivalence of also wanting his death.

  Knowing her father doubtless watched her every move, ever vigilant for any hint she yet courted the very scandal he'd sacrificed so much to prevent.

  But it was the desire, the hunger, and the deep ugly heartache looking out of her eyes when they rested on him that ripped the deepest scores in his composure.

  The same searing pain that looked back at him from the mirror every morning when he shaved.

  Liberty Lou.

  Why was it only she who stirred his blood, commanded his every waking thought, blazed through his dreams and bound his heart with unbreakable chains? Why not one of the young women of Stannesford or the surrounding villages, any one of whom were his social equal and would be considered a good match for him?

  And where the hell was Lou? He’d taken every afternoon shift since meeting Lou instead of alternating with Tom and Rab. They were starting to question with their eyes and mutter between themselves.

  What was he going to say when one or other of them actually challenged him about it?

  For they would.

  Because he’d not miss an afternoon ride—just in case.

  It was only three days, he kept telling himself and if anything dire had happened or Justin’s state had changed in any way his mother would have talked of it to Granny Joan—surely?

  He'd begun to haunt the house once his mother came home, afraid he'd miss the one snippet of information she might let drop about Justin or Liberty, hanging about in the crowded millhouse kitchen long after he'd usually returned to his nest-building in the loft—which was what he privately called his passion for creating furniture—for the home he dreamed of one day sharing with Liberty.

  Tonight he’d settled onto a stool by the mill-house hearth, which was cooling now the cooking fire had died down. The summer nights were warm enough and the hearth a convenient place for the debris from his whittling. With a patience and facility that had become second-nature to him, he carved drawer knobs for the kitchen dresser from a piece of dark grainy wood he'd acquired in a dray-load of timber from a demolished house out on the Oxford Road.

  ‘This is nice,’ Mama said suddenly into a lull in the usual evening chatter. For once his sisters and Philip were playing cards amicably and not hassling him to join them. ‘All of us together.’

  ‘It is,’ Granny Joan croaked from her nest of shawls in his father's big wing chair. ‘Nice our Levi stays a little longer after dinner instead of hieing away to his loft, banging and sawing and such.’

  Philip’s brown eyes swiveled in his direction then angled back down to focus on his cards, but Levi had caught the knowing gleam in his brother's eyes.

  What the devil did Philip think he knew?

  He thought he'd done a pretty good job of concealing the parlous state of his heart and convincing them all he was a reclusive sort more content with his own company than any other and totally uninterested in pursuing female companionship. It was not his intention they learn anything different before it was safe.

  But God damn, he’d go mad if he didn't hear something of Lou—soon.

  ***

  Not only did she feel Justin watching her, she was almost certain Papa was more observant than usual also. Justin she understood, condoned even. He struggled every day to form words and make himself understood, often until they were both exhausted from the frustration of it and just sat holding hands in a hopeless silence.

  Liberty made all sorts of guesses at what he was trying to say and his huffs and snorts of disgust told her she was wrong, over and over.

  Sometimes she wondered if he was even trying to question her about Levi, but she was not going anywhere near that imbroglio. There was too much scope for misunderstanding and pain when she had to make wild guesses at what he was trying to say, with minimum success.

  But Papa's silent regard unnerved her.

  If it weren't for her absolute desperation to occasionally see Levi, she'd override Dr. Abbott's recommendation they not shift Justin and simply return with him to Earnslaw.

  It was four days since she'd seen Levi and her forbearance had reached its limit.

  ‘Could you spare the girls for a ride this afternoon, Longie?’ Liberty asked Levi’s mother, as they finished at luncheon, the one meal they'd always traditionally taken en famille in the breakfast room.

  Papa smiled benignly from the head of the table, his habitual dark countenance considerably softened by the phenomenon.

  ‘A perfect afternoon for it,’ he declared. ‘I have yet to see you riding your new pony, Very. This will be a good opportunity, while Liberty is here.’

  Verity’s lip dropped.

  ‘I’d rather ride Fat Nat,’ she muttered, naming the plodding Welsh pony they’d all learned to ride on. ‘Rose can ride Boots. Her legs are longer than mine.’

  Though she remained silent, for Rose had been made well
aware of her place and the privilege of being included in family luncheon at the Hall, her hazel eyes were bright with excitement.

  ‘So be it,’ Henry murmured, inclining his head towards his younger child with an indulgent smile that Liberty found herself resenting.

  Papa never looked at her that way.

  Surely she was not childish enough to begrudge her baby sister their father’s love?

  ***

  ‘Are we riding to the ruins, Libby?’ Verity asked as they left the stables, Liberty leading the way on Contessa. Verity rode her beloved Fat Nat beside Rose on the new bay pony with four white socks, whom Verity had named Boots. A young groom, Russ, followed on Charity’s horse, Blue Lace.

  Liberty had not dared argue against taking the groom as Papa was sure to hear of it and question her decision.

  Perhaps it was prudent. With Russ as well as Rose and Verity in attendance she’d not dare more than the most mundane of conversations with Levi.

  But she’d not pass up the chance to ride with him, if they should meet.

  Liberty had fallen back to chat with Russ, asking after his grandfather, a long-time gardener at the Hall, who was almost crippled with arthritis.

  It was Rose’s excited cry that alerted her.

  ‘Levi!’

  Rose waved madly at her adored big brother, coming towards them along the path.

  When Liberty looked up, his smile was as wide as his sister's, and she had trouble controlling her own.

  It occurred to her then that having Rose ride with them was perfect. What could be more natural than her brother riding with them for a way along the path?

  ‘Hello, Rosie Posie, that's a fine pony you're riding.’

  ‘This is Boots. He's Verity's pony really but she still likes riding Fat Nat.’

  ‘Fat Nat? My goodness. I learnt to ride on Fat Nat. So did L—Lady Liberty. Good afternoon, Lady Liberty, Lady Verity. Russ. A nice afternoon for a ride. How far are you going?’

  ‘We're going to the ruins to visit the ghosts,’ Verity said with relish.

  ‘There are no such things as ghosts,’ Rose immediately countered.