Wages of Sin (Regency Rebelles Book 1)

by Jen Yates

  ‘There are too,’ Verity declared with a toss of her head. ‘Last time I went to the ruins the abbess was there. She was old, her skin was really pale—almost transparent—and she wore a black cloak that flowed out behind her in the wind at the top of the ruined tower. I was going to climb up there but she warned me not to—said it wasn't safe.’

  Usually Liberty stopped Verity when she started recounting one of her spirit encounters, for not everyone understood or accepted such things as normal, as the Davencourts did. But her attention was all on Levi, as she absorbed the rugged symmetry of his features, the wind-tossed disarray of his dark hair, the cobalt blaze in his eyes as they rested on her.

  There was so much she wanted to say, to ask, yet she could give voice to none of it.

  ‘Well, no ghost is going to stop me from climbing the old tower,’ Rose declared. ‘The view from the old belfry is amazing. You can see clear to the top of the downs.’

  ‘No, sprat, but I will,’ Levi growled. ‘I’d rather you didn't break your neck. Just as well I can ride with you and make sure you behave yourself.’

  And as naturally as that he turned his string of horses and fell in to ride beside Liberty.

  ‘Keep an eye on those two, Russ,’ Liberty called to the groom, as Rose spurred Boots forward with a challenge to Verity.

  ‘Race you to the ruins!’

  ‘She's just like her big brother,’ Liberty said, turning to Levi, snatching the only private moment they were likely to get. ‘Full of mischief and devilment.’

  ‘I had an accomplice, as I recall.’

  Their eyes locked, the world narrowed, stilled.

  ‘How are you?’ he asked softly.

  ‘Happy now I’ve seen you. It's difficult. Justin senses something, I think, and gets terribly frustrated trying to communicate—and Papa—just watches. Sometimes, I feel he’s daring me to try—anything.’

  His gaze lingered, then slewed to where the others had disappeared around the bend on the path.

  ‘We should keep up,’ he said, urging the horses forward.

  Liberty started, realizing they were just sitting in their saddles, gazing at one another. Lord, it was beyond foolish to allow themselves to become distracted. Verity might not appear to understand the nuances of adult behavior, but she had a disconcerting way of asking oddly discerning and difficult questions at the most unexpected times.

  It would be enough that they’d seen one another, spoken a few words and it was probably better that they dared no more.

  Though not reaching out and simply clasping his hand was harder than she could have imagined.

  At the ruins they stayed mounted, watching as Rose and Verity scrambled over the piles of fallen masonry while Russ held their horses. When they started up the tower, Levi called to Rose.

  ‘Only climb to the first landing, sprat. It gets too dangerous after that.’

  ‘Aww, Levi! The view’s better from the top.’

  ‘Rose.’

  The warning in his voice was clear and with a pouting lip, Rose stopped at the first landing and waited for Verity to catch up to her.

  ‘You can see Stannesford Hall from here,’ she pointed.

  ‘And Pennington Towers,’ Verity called, waving her arm to the west, ‘and the whole of the village.’

  There was nothing exceptional in the day’s encounter, but it settled the longing and hunger within her and Liberty was able to take a calm farewell of him as they returned to Stannesford Hall and he to the village via the old Roman road.

  As Rose galloped a little way ahead, Liberty rode alongside Verity.

  ‘Please don't tell Papa we saw Levi.’

  ‘Why not? We just happened to meet him.’

  ‘Exactly. However, Papa will likely not see it that way—and he may insist I—we—return to Earnslaw.’

  ‘I like you being at Stannesford, Lib. Sometimes Papa can be so—obtuse.’

  Their father was anything but obtuse, especially when it came to her and Levi.

  For certain, she would watch her too if their roles were reversed.

  Which didn't make her any more in charity with Papa.

  ***

  The days when he didn't see her were long and dreary.

  He continued to take the afternoon training shift every day because that was the most likely time she'd be free to ride. He'd seen her once in the last two weeks and it had been heaven and purgatory all at once. To see her without touching, to speak to her without saying anything of import was more than frustrating.

  Maintaining an even temper was at times beyond him.

  ‘You're a grumpy bastard these days, boss,’ Rab said one morning when Levi had curtly admonished him for leaving a stable door swinging open. ‘Tom an’ me reckon you need to get laid.’

  Fuck!

  ‘You and Tom want to mind your own damned business and I'll mind mine.’

  ‘Yeah, boss,’ Rab muttered. ‘I'll see you when I get back—if I come back.’

  With that cryptic grumble he rode out of the stable yard with the string of horses.

  The four he was leading were ready for the sale and would be going to Newmarket next week. It would be his first foray into that rarefied world of horse transactions, kept telling himself his uneasy temper was caused by anxiety at taking his business to this next level.

  And not the constant hunger for a glimpse of Lou, for an end to the wanting, for—

  ‘Good morning, Mr. Longfellow. I’m considering buying another riding hack—and your establishment has been recommended to me.’

  ‘Lou?’ Her name flew from his lips in a moment of unguarded shock at her appearance. ‘What on earth are you doing here?’

  Her eyes flashed at him while he just drank her in.

  She was not wearing a riding habit today, but the most elegant walking dress he’d ever seen in a pale apricot gauze trimmed at the hem with ruched emerald ribbon. With it she wore an exquisitely detailed emerald spencer and a pale straw bonnet held in place by a wide green satin ribbon.

  She could have been shopping on Bond Street in London.

  ‘Good morning, Mr. Longfellow,’ she said again, with a little more emphasis on his name and he clenched his mouth shut as a man followed her through the door.

  It was clear from his mode of dress he was not gentry.

  What mischief was she about now—and how the devil could he avert his eyes from the glorious allure of her in a gown that clearly outlined her feminine form?

  God, he wanted to order her home to change—into one of her all-concealing riding habits. It did peculiar things to his blood imagining other men looking at her, seeing what he saw, envisioning what he envisioned.

  ‘L—Lady Earnslaw, what brings you to my humble establishment?’

  Finally he got his tongue untangled and his brain re-hinged.

  ‘I’m considering the purchase of another riding hack as Contessa is getting on and I’d like to breed from her before she's too old. I thought perhaps to bring her to your stallion, if you were agreeable?’

  What the devil was she about? And how was he to get her alone to give her the talking to of her life?

  ‘I brought Coleman, my husband's groom. Justin swears by his eye for good horse flesh. Do you have anything that might suit me?’

  ‘Something similar in height and weight to Contessa?’

  ‘I was only fifteen when Papa bought Contessa for me, and I fancy a taller, more robust animal now.’

  Levi exchanged nods with the groom then turned back to Liberty.

  ‘Do you have a color preference?’

  ‘Palomino. Or chestnut perhaps. I thought either would go well with my coloring.’

  ‘Indeed,’ he muttered, wondering where his Liberty Lou had gone and who the devil was this haughty female looking down her nose at him.

  Then he noted the sparkle in her eyes.

  The little witch was enjoying herself and so far she appeared to be pulling it off. The groom had no suspicion. How to g
et rid of the beggar?

  ‘Palomino? Or chestnut?’ he queried, stalling a little, trying to think clearly. ‘If I recall, Contessa is black. I would have thought you looked well on a black. I have a black gelding that might interest you.’

  She tossed her head in accurate imitation of every haughty Miss he'd ever observed. Her lack of such airs and graces were one of the things he loved about her.

  ‘I'm sure I've seen a palomino in one of your training strings.’

  ‘There is one, but Rab has just taken them out for the morning run. But,’ he said, unable to keep the lilt from his voice at the thought, ‘there is a beautiful chestnut mare running over on Larkhurst that might interest you. Perhaps Coleman could go out and catch her for you. I'll bring a bucket of apples and call them up to the rails.’

  ‘A chestnut mare? I should love to see her.’

  He handed the groom a halter, suggesting he make a wide cast around the field and begin moving the horses towards the stables.

  As soon as the man had cleared the fence into the paddock beyond, Liberty was in his arms and their mouths were fastened hungrily on each other. Angling his head, seeking, delving and tasting with his tongue was never going to be enough.

  ‘Dammit, Lou, I want you,’ he growled, grinding his arousal into the fork of her thighs.

  ‘And I you.’

  ‘But—we're not—going to do that, Lou,’ he gasped, struggling to ease his breathing. ‘This is the single most foolish thing you've ever done. If you're Papa was to get wind of it, he’d likely send you back to Earnslaw and never allow you to return. Even if I can't see you, at least I know you’re here, nearby.’

  ‘Don’t you understand how cruel that is, Levi? Being so near you—and yet so far. I might as well be at Earnslaw.’

  ‘You think I don't feel the cruelty, the pain?’ He swore unapologetically. ‘But—patience is our only hope. I’ll not sacrifice our future happiness to a few moments of instant gratification. We'd best get out to the rails or Coleman will be back with the horses and wondering what the devil we’re up to.’

  He snatched up the apple bucket and led the way across the yard.

  Noting that Coleman was still half a paddock away, he stopped and turned back to face Liberty.

  ‘I can't tell you how happy it's made me, seeing you today, my love, but promise me you won't take such a risk again? You don't really want another horse do you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘And your papa will know that.’

  Goddammit, her eyes filled with tears.

  He longed to kick something, punch something. When would he have the right to take her in his arms, soothe her pain, wipe away her tears?

  ‘Sometimes I—bother—’

  She swiped at her eyes.

  ‘—for goodness sake go and catch the horse. I'm going to pick a fresh apple from the tree.’

  Aye, best there was no sign of those tears when she reached the fence and Coleman's interested gaze.

  ***

  Desperation was making her reckless.

  Following her heart was singularly reckless.

  Going to the stables this morning was beyond reckless.

  But once the idea had formed in her mind it would not be dislodged. The longing to see Levi would not abate and the opportunity to see him in his own milieu was beyond tempting.

  The fire flashing in his eyes had been worth it—but Papa had been at the Stannesford stables when she returned in the gig with Coleman.

  It was unlikely she’d escape an interrogation.

  ‘Come on, Justin. This stew is delicious. Cook insists she’s made it extra tasty just to tempt you and you’re not really trying to do it justice. You need to eat more than that to keep your strength up.’

  ‘I—wn—die.’

  Liberty let the spoon clatter into the bowl.

  ‘You didn’t just say you want to die, did you?’

  ‘Mmm,’ he responded, his lips closing firmly.

  Dropping his head back on the pillow he shut his eyes and lay still, his face a sadly twisted mask, mouth clamped in a crooked line.

  ‘Oh Justin, don’t,’ Liberty whispered, anguish clear in her voice.

  Oh God, what had she done with her selfish pursuit of a love that was wrong on so many levels?

  ‘You must not give up. You have to fight. You can get well—if you try. Please eat, Justin, for if you will yourself to die I’ll know it’s my fault and how can I ever feel happiness again when I know you willed yourself to die to set me free? That is so wrong.’

  He didn’t move.

  ‘Please, Justin.’

  Slowly his eyes opened and he lay gazing at her.

  ‘Please?’

  He lifted his head from the pillow again and opened his mouth. With the next mouthful he took the spoon from her and waved it at the bowl.

  ‘You want to feed yourself?’

  At his nod, Liberty arranged a cloth on a pillow on his knee and held the bowl steady while he struggled to maneuver the spoon to his mouth.

  ‘Thank you, Justin. You will be able to do things for yourself again, but you have to try. This is wonderful.’

  ‘M—m—ssy.’

  Liberty laughed, relief bubbling in her chest. Please God she would not be the cause of him giving up.

  ‘Mess can be cleaned up. The thing is you did it yourself.’

  Exhausted as he always was after such efforts, she left him to sleep and took the tray back down to the kitchens and then went along to the breakfast room for her own luncheon.

  Longie, Verity and Rose were just leaving as she entered.

  ‘Libby, are we riding today?’

  ‘Not today, Very—’

  ‘Indeed not,’ Papa interjected. ‘Your sister has already been out this morning.’

  ‘Oh.’ Verity’s face fell. ‘Where did you go?’

  Heat burned in her cheeks, but Liberty kept her voice even.

  ‘I just went into the village, Very. Maybe tomorrow. It will depend how Justin is. He actually managed to feed himself a few spoonfuls of stew. Made a mess—like a child learning to eat—but he did it himself.’

  ‘That is good, Libby. It’s a good sign surely, if he’s making an effort,’ said Mama.

  ‘I think so,’ Liberty agreed, settling at the table with her lunch.

  ‘I’ll bring Miss Pearl to see Justin later,’ Verity called as she, Rose and Longie left to return to the school room.

  Leaving Liberty alone with her parents.

  ‘Coleman tells me you’re thinking of buying another horse?’

  ‘Just thinking about it,’ Liberty said, her heart starting to bang in her chest. She hated it when Papa got that hard tone in his voice. ‘Contessa is getting on a bit and I thought to breed from her—and I would like a bigger animal.’

  ‘I’m warning you, Liberty. The first hint of gossip or scandal of any kind and I will banish you to Earnslaw—without your husband—if he cannot be moved. You made vows.’

  Rebellion rose in Liberty’s chest, hot and furious.

  It had ever been so when she was challenged—especially when she felt it to be unfair.

  ‘Yes—I made those vows—because you forced me to—so they are your vows, not mine. You care more about keeping this family free of scandal than you do about me. Does my happiness mean so little to you?’

  Her father’s dark blue eyes blazed down the table at her. It was a measure of how much she’d changed during the months of her marriage that she was no longer intimidated by him.

  ‘It’s not just about you, Liberty. What futures can your sisters look forward to if you sully the family name with the likes of Levi Longfellow?’

  ‘Levi is an upright citizen, an honorable man, and a forward-thinking businessman anyone should be proud to have as a son-in-law.’

  Her gaze down the table was every bit as implacable as Henry’s.

  ‘He is not for you. I know you think Justin’s death will set you free. But you will wed L
evi Longfellow over my dead body.’

  A shudderous sense of premonition slithered down Liberty’s spine. She left the table without a backward glance.

  ***

  3 months later.

  God, she was tired.

  Liberty stared at the sheet of paper on her desk and considered the long rambling epistle she’d already penned to Caroline, the only one to whom she bared the truths of her heart, the frustrations of not being able to ride every day, see Levi every day. Her friend was the repository of all her aggravations with Justin.

  Her patience with him was wearing thin, if only because she was so tired and he had become very demanding of her time. If she wasn't with him he was constantly asking for her.

  He made it clear enough.

  ‘Lib,’ he would say. ‘Lib.’

  A knock on the door of the sitting room preceded Brant wheeling Justin in his bath chair. They'd been out in the garden for—it was supposed to be an hour—and was in fact more like half that.

  ‘I'm sorry, my lady,’ Brant said, ‘but his lordship was not enjoying the garden this morning. He insisted on returning.’

  Justin started huffing and gesticulating, and with an apologetic bow, Brant left the room, which was clearly what Justin had been demanding.

  Was there to be no rest? Not even this precious hour she'd hoped to steal to unburden her soul to Caro?

  It was almost four months since he’d had the stroke and in all that time she'd managed to remain calm and patient no matter how his condition had tried her.

  The strong tether she kept on her natural temper snapped.

  ‘I'm tired, Justin. Am I allowed no time to myself? Can you not see I’m writing? Caroline needs my letters. She needs to know someone from her old life cares about her, knows she's still alive. And I—just need some quiet time.’

  She waved the quill at him even as she realized he'd managed to propel the bath chair right to her side.

  He made a clumsy grab for the quill as it flew through the air in her hand, and made several guttural noises of demand—the tone in his voice undeniable.

  ‘You don't want me to write?’ Liberty demanded, her sense of outrage clear.

  He jabbed a finger at the letter on her desk.