Wages of Sin (Regency Rebelles Book 1)

by Jen Yates

  ‘I'm not a fragile flower, Levi. If I’d wanted the idle, easy life of a lady, I would have been content as Justin’s wife. I chose life with you and I knew what I was choosing. I expect to be a full partner in this adventure. Just like always—’

  His eyes rested on her for a moment, stern and dark and observant. Then they crinkled—lightened in that smile that always melted her bones.

  ‘I can certainly use your help exercising the horses—but only until you are pregnant. And you could be with child now, with how we've been—’

  Liberty laid her hand on his thigh, hard and muscular alongside her own, her fingers kneading and soothing the tension she felt there.

  ‘If I'm pregnant I’ll do everything that is proper to ensure our baby's health. I know—he—or she—was only like a dream when I lost them, but I felt—so empty. It was so unbelievably devastating—especially when I consider if it weren't for that baby, we'd not be here, together, as we've always wanted.’

  As always, the pain of their loss tangled in her chest with the gratitude for what it had gained them.

  ‘Da would’ve said, that was their purpose. He believed everything happens for a reason. Even if Justin had died it was going to be difficult for us to be together.’

  ‘Yes. Over Papa's dead body.’

  She shuddered. It had been over hers actually, in a bizarre sort of way.

  ‘Exactly. So—getting pregnant forced a lot of decisions to be made that would not otherwise have happened. But had you gone full term, the baby's health could well have been compromised—because you came so close to dying—twice. Everything happens for a reason.’

  Sometimes she wondered if that reason was punishment. Didn’t she deserve to be punished? She’d broken her vows to Justin, after all.

  Albeit with his connivance.

  ‘Did your Da never mention the wages of sin?’

  When he didn’t immediately answer she looked up to try and construe his expression. And found a reason to dislike the beard. It hid too much of his face from her.

  ‘Yes, but he didn’t preach, just—philosophized. Good lord, love, you don't feel that losing our baby was a punishment—for—’

  ‘Adultery? I did. At first. But—God is not vengeful. And I’ve decided it behooves us to be the happiest we can be, and make the best of this opportunity the universe has granted us. And I thank that precious wee one for the gift.’

  ‘Thank goodness you reached that point, Lou, cos there's no going back—and you know what I think about the wages of sin? The wages of our sin, if sin you must call it, is the adventure of a lifetime—together.’

  ***

  Chapter 14.

  August 1811. Millstone USA.

  ‘Those are the best loaves of bread I’ve made yet, Sally,’ Liberty sang, dancing about the bright kitchen and waving a tea towel like a victory flag. ‘It's only taken me a year—well, more like eighteen months. I can't wait for Levi's verdict. He always says no one makes bread as good as his Granny Joan. That's a yardstick I yearn to match.’

  ‘To hear Mr. Levi tell it, his Granny Joan was an old woman who'd been cooking for their household all his life—and likely much longer. And she was probably taught from the cradle. Like me, Miz Lou. You—apparently—have had to learn since coming here. Easy to guess you were raised much more genteelly.’

  Liberty stopped her happy dance about the big kitchen table and carefully draped the tea towel over the loaves of bread.

  Sally Carson and Red, her husband, had been the best surprise she’d found waiting for her when they’d arrived at their new home.

  The couple lived in a small cottage across the yard from the main house, had worked for the previous owner and been caretakers of the property until it was sold. Their presence and willingness to remain had been one of the things that had decided Levi to buy the place.

  Sally, likely in her fifties, was a comfortable, motherly woman and Liberty had become genuinely fond of her. She wasn't nosey as such, but occasionally she would gently invite Liberty to confide something of her past and who she was—or had been, as Levi occasionally did. It should have been natural to share confidences as friends.

  Liberty didn't dare.

  No doubt her upper class English upbringing was evident in her accent, regardless she tried to mimic the speech of Sally herself—and those who lived around them.

  ‘I was.’ She could admit that much. ‘But Levi wasn't. And I might have had no housekeeping skills, but thanks to you, Sally, I'm learning. Thank goodness we didn't have to rely on my cooking when we first got here. I could probably manage on my own now if I had to—but I do pray I never have to,’ she swiftly added as a look of uncertainty entered Sally's eyes.

  ‘I think I hear the wagon,’ Sally said.

  ‘Praise be,’ Liberty cried.

  Ripping off her pinafore, she lifted baby Helen from her playpen in the corner of the room and hurried out into the yard between the house and the stables. The big carter's wagon Levi had purchased back in Philadelphia rolled into the yard loaded with an assortment of lumber, animal feeds and other supplies he’d fetched for local farmers on his weekly delivery trip from Princeton.

  As soon as he saw her he secured the horses to a hitching post and strode across to Liberty, his eyes bright but searching as they always were when he'd been away from her—even for a few hours.

  She suspected he often had the need to pinch himself to be certain this happiness they had was real—and enduring. As she did.

  His watchfulness was understandable. In those first months, and especially during her pregnancy with wee Helen, she’d been prone to bouts of painful homesickness, manifesting as days of weepy misery.

  She was a Davencourt, assailed occasionally with her father's tendency to obsessions, although thankfully, that was tempered with a healthy dose of her mother's sensitivity.

  It was no wonder that sometimes she didn't understand her own emotions.

  Endlessly patient, and calm like his own mother, Levi also had the steady philosophical bent of Arthur Longfellow. He was considerate, strong and supporting.

  He missed home too but he was better at accepting and giving thanks for what they now had instead of looking back and thinking how different things would have been if Papa had allowed them to marry in the first place.

  ‘You made good time today.’

  She gave him a genuinely bright smile and saw his face relax, his mouth widen in that full sexy grin that warmed her to her core.

  ‘There’s a new chap working at the feed store. He had everything ready for me. A really good man. Could be something to do with his name being Levi.’

  Lou’s eyes opened wide.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. I told him it was the first time I’d met anyone else with my name and he said it’s not uncommon here in America. It’s damned uncommon in England, I told him.’

  ‘Why did Longie name you Levi? Did you ever ask her?’

  ‘She said she read it in a book and just liked it because it was different.’

  He shrugged and handed her the leather satchel he wore like a bandolier across his shoulder.

  ‘We've got mail.’ She gazed up into the deep blue of his eyes.

  She knew he meant letters from home. That would be the source of the suppressed excitement she felt emanating from him.

  Another horse and cart turned into their long driveway from the road.

  ‘That's Galbraith. I'll have to unload this lot because his lumber is on the bottom.’

  He made a grimace at her, leant in and kissed his daughter noisily, making her chuckle and grab for his nose. Then planting one hard, quick kiss on Liberty's mouth, he turned back to the wagon.

  ‘I'll be in as soon as I can.’

  Biting her lip to hold back her protest, she returned to the house, Helen wriggling on her hip and the canvas satchel clutched under her other arm.

  No matter how hungry she was for news from home, she’d not open the letters unti
l she and Levi could read them together.

  ***

  Other local farmers had followed Galbraith into the yard to pick up supplies Levi had brought back for them. By the time it was all unloaded and accounted for, the horses unharnessed, brushed down and turned out in the paddock, it was dark, which was often the case on delivery days.

  As always, he washed up in the scullery then entered the cozy kitchen where Lou would be waiting for him, their child rocking sleepily in her arms and the smells of dinner in the oven making his belly rumble.

  And tonight there were letters from home.

  But no matter how anxious she was to know what Longie had written, she’d not have opened the mail. She’d be waiting for him.

  He took the sleepy baby from her and carried the sweet cuddly bundle with silky strawberry blonde hair and dark blue eyes into the bedroom and laid her in the cot.

  When he came back Lou had dished up their dinner of pork chops, roast vegetables, and applesauce and gravy.

  Resting on the end of the table was a perfect loaf of crusty bread just awaiting the knife.

  ‘Yours?’ he asked, tapping the golden crust with the knife blade.

  ‘Mm hmm.’

  Her eyes glowed like the emeralds he wished he could afford to give her.

  He cut a thick crust off the end, slathered it with homemade butter and bit into it. Closing his eyes he savored the taste of home.

  ‘Just like Granny Joan made,’ he declared softly, knowing exactly what Lou was hoping for.

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Truly.’

  With a sigh of contentment she started in on the meal on her plate.

  He knew she was just as aware as he was of the thick packet lying on the table, unopened. It had become a tradition. They didn't read their letters from Longie until they’d eaten dinner and could relax and truly feel this fragile connection with whom they were and where they’d come from—and the anticipation of news.

  And the worry.

  Seated side by side on the big kitchen settle, Levi ripped open the packet. His mother had taken to writing what amounted to a diary and in that way kept them well apprised of life as it carried on in Stannesford without them.

  Granny Joan was fading day by day and rarely left her big chair by the fire. To keep the household running his Mama had employed Susie Maitland, daughter of the general store keeper and she had high hopes of Philip doing the sensible thing and marrying the girl. It appeared they were quite taken with one another.

  Lady Charity was a great strength to them all up at the Hall, running the household and managing Lady Verity who, it seemed, had become quite difficult.

  Lady Helena and Lord Henry were more reclusive than ever—which was generally thought to be caused by their grief over Liberty’s death and the difficulty of dealing with Verity, who still insisted her sister was not dead—and would be coming back.

  Each item of news was wondered over, and discussed thoroughly before moving on.

  The most altering news of all came in the very last page Longie had written before posting the missive.

  Lord Justin died in his sleep sometime last night. It was apparently a very peaceful death. There is a strange atmosphere at the Hall, almost as if they are not sure how to go on. His passing is a relief, I am sure, for in lots of ways, the household had come to revolve around him and his needs. His family did not deem it necessary to remove him to Earnslaw, or indeed to visit except on very rare occasions.

  He liked me taking the girls to visit him with him. They would chatter happily with him, and Lady Verity in particular, seemed to have a sixth sense for what he was trying to say. And he always enjoyed me reading your letters and hearing about the life you have made for yourself in America—

  ***

  Levi’s voice faded into silence as he read the words they’d waited so long to hear.

  Justin was dead.

  A shocking pain sliced through Liberty’s heart as the words sank in.

  Her mind took her back to his bedside. Justin demanding she tell him of Levi, demanding she go to Levi, demanding to meet Levi.

  Justin wanting for her the happiness he’d wanted for himself, the happiness marriage to him had denied her.

  Only vaguely was she aware of Levi going to his knees at her side, his large hands clasped about both of hers.

  ‘At last, Lou! At last we can be married.’ He pressed his lips, hot and fervent, to the back of her hands in an odd courtly gesture. ‘Liberty Lou, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?’

  Golden sparks of mischievous delight danced in the deep navy blue of his eyes, giving rise to the fleeting thought their life had become so busy there’d been little time for any sort of mischief.

  And mischievous was the last thing she was feeling at this moment.

  Stricken would better describe it—or volcanic. Before she could mentally decide which, her body took control.

  Erupting from the settle, she rushed across the room to hang over the sink as if she might be sick—and she was going to vomit for sure, vomit words that flew uncensored from her mouth.

  ‘How could you? Justin is dead now we can get married? Is that all you can think? That gentle, honorable man had to die so we could marry, and the world is a poorer place for his passing. He loved me, gave me everything I wished for, even you in the end, and what did I give him? I abandoned him. And you—oh!’

  Her heart ached for Justin, yearned for everything that was Levi, and was likely to burst in her chest with the intensity of those two very different loves warring within her.

  And the tearing guilt.

  Her legs took her across to their bedroom door. Ripping it open and slamming it again behind her, she threw herself on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, sobs rising up in her throat and choking her.

  How could he?

  ‘Justin is dead. Will you marry me?’

  ‘The King is dead. Long live the King?’

  It was all so wrong, so not how they’d always dreamed this moment would be, but she was caught in the grip of a grief she hadn’t seen coming and was powerless to control.

  Oh God, if only she had been with him.

  She wanted to go home.

  ***

  ‘Lord Justin died—’

  The three words resounded in his brain like a clarion. Finally, he could make Lou his.

  Legally.

  Bind her to him, and him to her, in every way available to them.

  She'd erupted in stricken horror—as if he’d suggested she commit murder.

  Was marriage not what they'd been dreaming of all their adult life? As far as he was concerned, that was the essence of the moment.

  The slamming of the bedroom door felt as if she’d thrust a blunt spade through his heart.

  Staggering as if mortally wounded, Levi left the house and headed out to the stables.

  It was instinctive to seek the familiar scents and sounds of the place he’d always felt most comfortable. He could lie back on the straw in an empty stall with a horse blanket—and think himself at home in Stannesford, tease himself with dreaming he could cross the yard to the mill house and the comfort of his mother's presence and Granny Joan’s hot scones and bramble jelly—and that this might be a night Lou would dare visit him in the loft—so they could dream and pretend.

  Fuck Lou!

  Going on his knee to her was the pinnacle of his every dream. They should have been in bed together, him buried so deep in her welcoming body they’d both forget they were ever separate beings.

  And she'd reacted like—like—oh fuck—

  —like she needed to grieve.

  You’re an insensitive ass, Longfellow.

  Pushing himself up out of the straw, he went back in doors and into the bedroom. Lou was curled up in their bed. He undressed and crawled in behind her, wrapping her sleeping body in his arms.

  Her days were full, as were his, and once her head touched the pillow there was little that kept her from sl
eep. The pillow was wet.

  Reining in his longing to make Lou his wife, he willed his eyes to close and for sleep to overtake him.

  He'd learned patience from the expert.

  ‘All things come to those who wait,’ his Da had often said.

  But as day followed day and Lou stayed locked away from him, Levi felt a darkness growing within himself that felt a lot like despair.

  A month passed and there were days when Levi felt Justin had taken Lou with him—or at least, taken her mind. She'd retreated to some internal world where he’d not been able to follow.

  She'd always felt things deeply, but something about Justin’s death had stolen the light from her eyes and the bloom from her skin. There were hints in the shadows beneath her eyes and the hollows in her cheeks of the fragile wraith he’d carried off the ship when they arrived in Philadelphia.

  Once he'd realized what she needed, he’d tried not to intrude. Had let her grieve.

  But as the days slipped by and she became more withdrawn and silent, he knew something had to change and it was likely up to him to change it.

  Sally watched them with concern in her eyes and even Red was moved to tell Levi he would ‘listen and say naught’ if Levi needed to talk to someone.

  Moved more than he liked to admit that they had someone here in America who actually cared about them and their affairs, he told Red they'd had news from home that Liberty was not handling very well and he had decided it was time she had something else to think about but was at a loss—even as to how to get her communicating with him again.

  Sally cornered him in the stables the next day and showed him what he had to do.

  He felt like a prisoner released from a dark dungeon, given a glimpse of light.

  Hope.

  ‘Come with me to Princeton today, Lou—so we can pick out a carpet for Helen’s room—and a bed. She won't be able to stay in that cot forever.’

  Lou was curled in a ball, with her back to him, which was pretty much how she'd slept since they got the letter telling them of Justin’s death.