“Indeed.” Her expression was pensive, slightly wounded. Shehad never appeared more beautiful to him, and the realization startled him. “Ibelieve you were conversing with Lady Billingsley. In your chamber.”
Bloody, bloody hell. He wanted to lie, but he could not.“She availed herself of my chamber whilst I was sleeping.”
“And you did not see fit to summarily dismiss her?”
Of course he should have done. Not as a husband, for Godknew that husbands and wives alike strayed when and where they would, but asher lover. He’d sworn to be true to her for an entire month. Although he hadnot made love to Eleanor, he had certainly not been true to Maggie. Hisemotions were too conflicted. He knew this in his black heart. “I did not,” headmitted, knowing as he said the words that they very well could cost him morethan he was willing to pay—everything he’d managed to find over the lastfortnight, the tentative happiness he’d only begun to believe could bepossible.
Everything was too dear a price to pay, damn it. He wantedMaggie in his bed, but the devil of it was that he wasn’t entirely certain thatEleanor was gone from his heart. And the whiskey rattling about in his troubledmind wasn’t giving him a bit of clarity.
“Did you bed her?” she asked, her voice breaking.
“Christ no,” he assured her. At least he had possessed ashred of honor, rarity though it was. “I may be an utter bastard, but even Ihave morals when I need them.”
“You wanted to, didn’t you?”
Her blunt question shocked him, as much because she haddared to ask it as because it shook him. The plain truth of it was that if he’dwanted Eleanor, he would have taken her. At least, he would have in the past.His unfettered time with Maggie had changed him, he thought, and for thebetter.
“You still love her,” Maggie said then without waiting forhis response, her voice devoid of inflection save a slight tremor that he knewmeant she was on the verge of tears.
Did he? Christ, he didn’t know any longer, and the alcoholwas muddling his already confused mind. All he knew was that he was hopelesslyensnared in Maggie’s violet eyes, their light filled with an accusatory glow. Hehad disappointed her. And that hurt him, smote him more than any other blow inhis life. He was an utter failure. There it was, laid out before him. He hadlived almost thirty years and yet this young scrap of American idealism hadbrought him low.
He was not worthy of her. He wasn’t worthy to kiss her hem.
“I have not made a secret of my feelings for Eleanor,” heforced himself to say. But the truth was that the love he’d sought, the familyhe’d been missing, now seemed more elusive than ever. Eleanor loved him. Shewanted him. But he no longer knew who he loved or what he wanted. Life was acruel, deuced beast.
“I will not stand in your way,” Maggie murmured. Her beautytook on a fragile quality for the first time, her pale complexion fading intoan ashen tinge. Her lips thinned. Even her elaborate upswept curls seemed tosag in defeat. “You must live your life as you see fit.”
She was giving him freedom, he realized, the sort of freedomhe’d once dreamt of owning. Even during his days of being her husband, longbefore he’d come to know her, the guilt had been at the edge of his conscience.Nagging him. Eating him alive. And now, she was telling him to pursue the womanhe had loved. He should be thrilled. Overjoyed. Overcome with elation.
Instead, he felt only hollow. Was Eleanor the woman hewanted? What of Maggie, the sweet wife he’d grown to care for over the last fewweeks? She had inspired him, shown him new facets of life, brought him passionand joy. She had been giving and wonderful to him when he had only ever beencruel and oppressive to her. The truth of it was that she deserved so muchbetter than a bollixed-up horse’s arse like him.
“What of you?” he asked, hoping that she would not releasehim so easily.
He dared to think she might fight for him with that fierceAmerican spirit of hers. That she might want him despite all his flaws andpeculiarities. But she turned her back, taking a deep breath that bespokeemotions too raw to let loose.
“I expect I will find my way. I always have.” She exhaledand turned to face him, her expression bearing a false cheeriness. “Perhaps Iwill write again. You’ve made me see that perhaps I ought not to have given upmy dreams, and for that I will be forever grateful.”
She spoke as if she expected never to see him again, and thevery thought of her disappearing from his life assailed him with a foreignsense of fear. “What do you mean, find your way?”
“Oh, it is merely a figure of speech,” she hastened toassure him. “You needn’t fear that I will be underfoot. I can always go toLondon or to stay with friends.”
“No,” he bit out, perhaps faster than he ought to have. “Youmust stay here at Denver Hall. Why would you leave?”
He wanted her to stay. At least, he thought he did. He’dnever felt so adrift in his life. He was a boat, bobbing upon the sea, no landin sight. Jesus, he didn’t even have a compass to tell him which direction heought to take.
“Of course,” she said with equal brightness. “I would neverleave if you didn’t wish it of me. Surely you must know that, Simon.”
Feeling relieved, he nodded. “Very good, my dear.” But whenhe would have closed the distance between them and taken her in his arms, shewas already fleeing the room. He watched her go, helpless to stop her.
* * * * *
Maggie was reading in the comfort of the drawing room,trying to distract herself from the awful knot growing inside her stomach. Shehad sought out Simon in the hopes that he would tell her something that wouldgive her reason to stay. She had hoped he would tell her that he didn’t give adamn for Lady Billingsley, unlikely though she knew it was. But he had beenconflicted as ever, his eyes bloodshot and his hair mussed. That he appeared tobe in as much turmoil as she was left her little comfort. Even if he did carefor her, he still had feelings for his old lover.
She feared she would have to leave Denver House. There wasno earthly way she could remain, watching Simon fall back into LadyBillingsley’s arms. She could go to London, she supposed, or perhaps seek outher dear friend Victoria. The solitary life would be hers once more. She triedto tell herself it was for the best, but she couldn’t quite muster thestrength.
It hardly seemed fair that she would have discovered herfeelings for her husband only to have the one woman who had kept them apartreemerge, determined to raze the fragile truce they’d built. As if on cue, herunwanted guest sauntered into the room, disrupting her peace.
Dear heavens, was there never a time when she could avoidthe dreadful woman? She was everywhere. At dinner, in the drawing room,giggling too loudly at Simon’s sallies, standing too near to him whenever shecould, staring at him as if he were nude before her. She had only been atDenver House a day, and already it was one day too many. Maggie loathed her.With great reluctance, she looked up from the pages of Anthony Trollope intowhich she’d been attempting to escape.
