by Jen Yates
‘I can't imagine there’d be any man who’d dare ridicule you for it.’ Her fingers tested the resilience of his biceps. ‘You'd pick him up like a sack of grain and toss him into the horse trough.’
‘I don't write for anyone's perusal but my own.’
The words growled up from his chest, born of the lifelong habit of concealing the whimsy he couldn't always suppress.
‘Not even for me?’
Denying Lou he’d never managed.
Getting out of the bed, he crossed to an old scarred desk and extracted a black leather journal from the drawer. Returning, he held it out to her and watched with an amused smile as she dragged her eyes from his nakedness to the book.
For a moment he wasn’t sure whether she’d reach for the book—or him.
‘Thank you,’ she said, finally taking it from him and opening it to discover it filled with his neat, flowing script.
***
Chapter 11.
Bizarre.
Returning to a house he’d practically grown up in was beyond bizarre.
This room had been the summer morning room though they’d not often ventured there as children. But he remembered it—and the delicate, ethereal Lady Stannesford reclining on the chaise. He’d always been afraid to approach too close in case somehow in his clumsiness he broke something.
The room had been rearranged to accommodate the invalid who was propped among a nest of pillows, one side of his face grotesquely warped. The familiar feeling of being rudely healthy, too big and robust for the elegance of his surroundings, assailed Levi.
Bizarre.
He was here at the request of his lover’s husband, a man whom he’d cuckolded, a man who should rightly hate his guts.
Bloody nervous was what he was. Regardless what Liberty had said about her husband's motives in asking him to visit, he couldn't feel comfortable.
The man's eyes were closed.
‘Justin. Levi is here.’
The wrinkled lids fluttered. Grey eyes disconcertingly alive in the grotesque face, raked him from head to toe.
The man made some strange guttural sounds and Liberty introduced them, as naturally as if this had been a normal situation.
Anything less normal he couldn’t imagine.
‘Come sit here, Levi.’
She indicated a chair pulled close to the side of the bed and Levi pulled it back a little and perched on the very edge of it.
To his astonishment Justin reached out and clasped his hand with boney fingers. He had a surprisingly strong grip and he was trying to say something.
‘Did you enjoy Levi's stories?’ Libby asked him.
The fingers convulsed on Levi's hand and was accompanied by more garbled sounds.
‘Yes,’ Liberty answered for him, ‘he especially liked the one about the knight, Mordred.’
Justin made more noises, obviously trying to make Liberty say more.
‘Because he recognized the princess with the auburn hair was me. He approved—and of Mordred’s prowess with the sword.’
Justin strove to say more and when Liberty couldn't translate his meaning he took up the piece of charcoal and began writing on a piece of paper.
‘U RITE WEL.’
Emotion unraveled unaccountably from deep in Levi’s gut. He hadn't expected to be moved by the man who’d stolen Liberty from him.
***
Having Levi and Justin in the same room was strange and she was seeing a side to both she’d never seen before.
A deference in Levi he’d probably never had.
Not even her father had managed to blur Levi's innate belief in himself and his value as a human being—regardless of class or status. But with this sick old man who’d taken everything Levi had wanted, he was deferential, considerate, and even shy.
Justin on the other hand, behaved as if he had no idea she’d betrayed her vows to him with Levi, as if such things no longer mattered to him.
Perhaps they didn't.
Justin was laboriously writing, the longest sentence he’d written yet.
What did he want to say? His eyes looked fierce and she knew from experience not to interrupt his concentration.
What was Levi thinking? Was apprehension still skittering up his spine as it was up hers?
Justin finally thrust the paper at Levi. He took it and studied it for a moment, then fixed the old man with his deep blue gaze.
‘True,’ he said, ‘but the fight would be rather uneven now.’
Was that a glimmer of a smile in Justin’s eyes?
He took the paper back and wrote again.
Levi read it, gave the old man a smile and his hand. For several seconds they just held hands and seemed to speak with their eyes.
Liberty was dying to know what Justin had written, but Levi folded the paper and slipped it into his jacket pocket, patting it as if to say he’d keep it safe.
‘When the time is right I’ll do everything in my power to take care of Liberty. Thank you for inviting me to visit. Thank you for taking good care of her. She tells me you have been everything exceptional—that you've tried to give her every happiness. Thank you. I’ll leave you now.’
With a small salute, he slipped back out the window through which he’d entered and Liberty still didn't know what Justin had written.
‘Good man.’
The words were clear enough, as Justin closed his eyes, satisfied and relaxed.
Liberty sat until he slept, then doused the lamp and slipped upstairs to her room.
Once she was sure the house was quiet she went back downstairs and slipped out through Justin’s window.
She was desperate to know what Justin had written, she told herself.
***
Levi was waiting for her.
‘I knew you’d come. He was nothing like I imagined. The meeting was nothing like I imagined. I feel bad now for taking advantage of his incapacity.’
‘So you're going to send me home?’ she asked, giving him an arched smile.
He grinned wickedly down at her.
‘Eventually.’
Grabbing her hand, he pulled her upstairs.
At the top of the stairs he took her cloak and laid it carefully over the chair away from the wood shavings around the wood vice.
Then she was in his arms and every doubt and castigation was silenced.
‘This is still foolhardy, Lou. I can’t imagine your father being impressed with the idea you have your husband’s permission.’
She would not think about Papa when she was with Levi.
‘Just love me—but first, what did Justin write?’
Drawing back, he laughed down at her.
‘I knew that’d be playing on your mind—and I knew it’d guarantee me another visit from you,’ he finished triumphantly.
Pulling it from his pocket he opened it on the table by the lamp.
‘ONCE ID CHALNGE DUEL,’ Liberty read out.
‘Really? And you said—’
‘That the fight would be uneven now, and then he wrote this.’
He pointed to the second line.
‘I CNCEDE, I LOVE HER TOO. TAK CARE HER.’
‘Is that all you wanted? To know what was in the note?’
She smacked his chest and then began tugging at his shirt tails.
***
As the chill of winter settled over the land there was no more suggestion Justin should endure the long journey home to Earnslaw.
In November, Gareth and Astoria visited, staying two nights and cheering Justin somewhat by telling him of the news from home. The inclement weather was their excuse for the short stay, wanting to be back at Earnslaw before the winter freeze really set in, as all the weather sages were predicting.
Although she was grateful for Justin’s sake they'd stirred themselves to come at all, Liberty was intensely relieved to watch the carriage roll back down the drive two days later. Astoria had treated everyone like a servant. Liberty was no exception.
Wh
en the woman told her surely she had something else she wanted to do while they talked with Justin, she smiled sweetly and said, ‘Not really. Justin is happiest when I'm close by.’
Then she glanced at her husband and found a cunning little twinkle in his eyes.
‘Lib’s chair,’ he articulated, clearly enough, that Astoria, who had ensconced herself in the chair closest to where Justin sat surrounded by cushions in the big rocker before the fire, got up and shifted, her face one black frown.
Justin had kept Liberty close for the duration of their visit.
When Gareth suggested his father should return to Earnslaw, Justin said abruptly, ‘Lib happy here.’
And to Liberty’s astonishment, when appealed to, her father stated it as his opinion the long journey in these freezing temperatures would be inadvisable for his friend’s health.
Then Charity came home from school, grown up and impressing Liberty with her willingness to help and even spend time sitting with Justin and reading to him.
Christmas and the New Year had come and gone, temperatures freezing and everyone huddled indoors for warmth.
It had nevertheless been a busy time and it was not until a morning two weeks into January that Liberty realized she’d missed her courses. Twice now. Her breasts were painful, but she hadn't been sick, even once. And she was sure that was also a sign that had been mentioned in huddled conversations after lights out at school.
As it was, it was a wonder Goldie hadn't noticed her mistress had missed her courses.
Oh God, what am I to do? She rolled over and buried her face in the pillow.
Even if Justin were to die now it would be totally scandalous if she eloped with Levi. And how could they run away? Where could they go when he had the stables and the horses? They’d have to live here in Stannesford—and be shunned by all no doubt, because of their sinful behavior.
And dammit, she'd come to care for Justin, enough to not want to shame him. As for Papa, his reaction didn't bear thinking about.
‘I've brought your chocolate, my lady, and a jug of hot water for your wash. What would you like to wear today?’
Goldie’s cheerful morning voice only made her dig deeper beneath the bed clothes. The horror she'd felt as the realization hit her was probably still etched like a mask on her face. She wasn't sure if she could ever erase it.
She was so wicked and it was all her own fault. She’d gone to Levi, insisted he make love to her, even when he’d tried to resist her and said they should wait.
She'd been her usual, headstrong self, determined to have her own desires gratified.
Too late now to wish she'd been a better person, a better daughter, a better wife.
Too late to wish she'd made more considered choices.
Too late—
‘My lady?’
‘All right, Goldie. Just leave it there. I'll get up in a minute.’
‘I'll put out the plain cambric for this morning, my lady.’
‘Thank you, Goldie. And a clean pinafore. They are very useful for protecting my gowns while dealing with my husband.’
As soon as Goldie moved through to her dressing room, Liberty sat up and reached for the hot chocolate. The rich sweet smell wafted to her nose, and she knew she was in trouble.
Leaping up, she placed the saucer over the cup so she couldn't smell it and crossed to the window, throwing it open and gulping in gasps of fresh air.
If she'd had the slightest doubt before that moment she had none now. She was carrying Levi’s child.
Mama would be so disappointed in her eldest daughter. She'd selfishly ruined the future for her sisters and brother, sullied the name of Davencourt Papa had been at such pains to protect.
‘My lady? Do you not want your chocolate?’
‘No thank you, Goldie. I'll just take a cup of tea with Justin.’
She knew by the time she left Goldie tidying the room, that her maid was concerned. But the panic bubbling all through her being had scrambled her thought processes.
How was she going to tell Levi?
As she hurried down the stairs to Justin’s rooms, she knew she couldn't tell Levi. It would ruin everything he’d worked for, everything he’d planned for them.
She couldn't tell Justin either. That would be too cruel.
And yet, she could not discount that Justin in his perceptive way, would guess. Perhaps she could fob him off with the lie, that she had her courses.
But he didn't notice anything amiss for he was grumpy and obviously had not had a restful night. Brant, who slept on a cot in the adjoining room at nights reported Justin had been uncomfortable and had twice got him up to help him turn over and get untangled from the sheets.
Tending to him and talking him into a better frame of mind kept her mind busy, but as the day progressed her panic mounted.
Along with the guilt. She was a terrible daughter, sister, wife. She’d failed at all those things. And nothing could change that.
One couldn’t change one’s mind about being pregnant.
God, she wanted Levi, wanted to crawl into his arms and have him tell her everything would be all right, have him hold her and make the reality of her situation disappear. Just his touch would do that—and she could not, would not, go to him.
He’d been the one preaching caution, trying to take care of her, pulling out and not spending within her body, even though she’d begged him to just love her and damn the consequences.
Their reckless childhood pranks should have taught her consequences were inevitable, consequences must be faced, and consequences were rarely pleasant.
The smell of food made her nauseous, so she decided not to eat. Avoiding meals by saying she was eating with Justin got her through the next three days but the lack of sustenance began to take its toll. Justin began to question her, but Goldie kept her counsel after Liberty snapped and told her there was nothing wrong and to just do her job.
Mama and Nanette she avoided as much as she could and made a supreme effort to appear bright and cheerful when in their company.
It was getting harder and harder.
If she once lost her concentration, and couldn't control the nausea that threatened each morning, someone was going to guess.
What was she going to do?
‘You—look—ill,’ Justin accused that night as she settled him.
‘I'm just tired,’ she said shortly.
He said no more but his eyes followed her. She snuffed the candle so they could no longer see each other.
‘Goodnight, Justin,’ she said, and hurried from the room.
‘Goodnight, Brant,’ she called as she passed through the ante-room. ‘Hopefully you’ll have a better night tonight.’
‘Thank you, my lady. Goodnight.’
Verity was sitting in her bed with Miss Pearl in her lap when Liberty entered her room.
‘What are you doing here?’ Liberty asked, aware there was a sharp edge to her voice and powerless to soften it.
Verity was too knowing, too demanding, and to her distress she found her well of caring and compassion was all used up and any reserves she might’ve called on were gone.
‘I'm so tired, Very. Please just go to bed—now.’
‘You're no fun anymore,’ Verity declared, and flounced off the bed.
‘Goodnight, Very,’ Liberty said, hugging her little sister tightly for a moment. ‘Sorry, but I'm tired—just so tired.’
And if you don't go right now, I'm going to dissolve into a fountain and probably won't be able to stop it. Verity was the last person she could risk ferreting out what was wrong.
Her little sister might only be thirteen, but she had a disconcerting way of knowing and seeing things others could only guess at.
‘Night, Libby.’
As soon as she was gone, Liberty fell on the bed and buried her face in the pillow. Sobs welled up in her throat and every fiber of her being yearned for Levi.
Not eating was starting to affect her ability to think.
Thank God she was now alone and could let the ugly, pointless tears flow. Was helpless to hold them in any longer.
The door opened following the briefest of knocks. Fury and horror warred in her chest.
‘Verity, I told you to go to bed.’
‘Lib? What’s wrong?’
Not Verity.
Charity.
Hell!
The mattress depressed beside her and a soothing hand began rubbing gently up and down her back.
‘Nothing can be so bad you have to make yourself ill over it,’ Charity advised in her common-sense way. ‘Lib?’
‘It is, Char. It’s worse than bad—and I don’t know what to do.’
The last few words were a wail as Liberty threw herself into her sister’s lap and welcomed the clasp of her arms about her shoulders.
She had to tell someone, and since Caroline wasn’t here, Charity was the closest she had to a confidant.
They’d always had their differences.
Charity had an abrasive edge and a tendency to feel slighted or overlooked, because she was the only dark-haired one of the Davencourt brood, the one most like their Papa in temperament. But since she’d returned from school, Charity had shown a maturity and consideration for others that had never been her strong point before.
Her younger sister had grown up into a compassionate young woman and Liberty had been deeply moved by her willingness to spend time with Justin and to relieve Liberty—whenever Justin would allow her out of his sight.
There was no way she could continue as she had been—she knew that.
For with every day that passed, the disaster—the scandal—facing her, loomed ever larger and more inevitable on the horizon.
With each day she eschewed food to avert being ill and exposing her ‘malady’ to Goldie and thereby, her parents, she lost a little of her grasp on reality, on sanity.
‘What, Lib? What’s worse than bad? I thought you seemed resigned to marriage to Justin, had even come to care for him—a little. You’re very patient with him, quite—tender, I thought.’
Liberty sat up, crossed her legs on the bed and wiped her face with the enveloping pinafore she wore over her gowns through the day, then began twisting wads of the material in her lap.