“Blessed angels, Lady Sandhurst. There now. You’re horriblypale. Do sit down.” Deep furrows of worry lined the housekeeper’s kindly roundface. “You didn’t see anything, did you, my dear?”
Maggie swallowed, feeling ill anew at the thought of LadyBillingsley’s bloodied, lifeless face. “I’m afraid I did.”
“Oh, my poor dear.” Mrs. Keynes patted her hand in anunusual show of caring. “Sit down and I will have some tea brought round foryou. You mustn’t think upon it. Not for another minute. God rest her ladyship’ssoul.”
“God rest her soul,” Maggie murmured, feeling as if she werefar away. Her vision began to blacken. Then, there was the abyss of nothingnessstretching before her, calling her name. She fell headlong into it.
* * * * *
The crashing, thumping and sounds of breaking glass emergingfrom Simon’s study told Maggie exactly where her husband was. It was late.Hours had passed since their return to Denver House and the horrible discoveryof Lady Billingsley’s lifeless body. Maggie hadn’t seen Simon since he had toldher to leave him. A pall had fallen over the entire household, even theservants wandering about with bleak expressions. They had all seemingly been tothe gates of hell and back.
Dinner had been served, but Simon had been nowhere to befound. Maggie had been unable to eat. The pervading silence at the table hadbeen almost unbearable, and the entire time she sat alone with her laden platebefore her, all she could think of was that a woman had killed herself. Thewoman Simon had loved. And Simon hadn’t wanted her comfort. He hadn’t wantedher presence.
It was hurtful, his turning away from her, especially sinceit followed so closely upon the heels of his desperate ride to bring her backto Denver House. She knew he was grieving, that he’d witnessed an unspeakabletragedy, but his defection remained nevertheless troubling.
Her feelings didn’t matter at the moment, she knew, as shehovered near the threshold to his closed study door. Another loud bang could beheard from within, along with a loud curse. She winced and took a deep breath,her hand wavering on the knob. Very likely he still would not wish to see her,but she had waited in vain in her chamber for him to arrive. She hadn’t beenable to wait any longer. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he needed her,whether he wanted to or not.
The door opened soundlessly to reveal a dimly lit scene ofinanimate-object carnage that undoubtedly reflected the tumult of his soul. Shestepped inside and closed the door at her back, mindful of the shards of glassat her feet, perhaps the remnants of a decanter. Then she saw him, his back toher, his head hanging.
“Goddamn it, I told you I don’t want anything for theremainder of the evening,” he all but yelled.
Maggie jumped, stilling to contemplate the wisdom of herinvasion. But it was too late for second thoughts. “Simon, it’s Maggie.”
He turned around at her voice, his face haggard even in thepoor lighting offered by the two gas lamps on the far wall. “What the devil areyou doing here?” he demanded.
Not precisely the welcome she’d been hoping for, but Maggiewas in for a penny, in for a pound. “I’m worried about you. I haven’t seen youin hours.”
“I’m not fit company just now,” he told her, his voice low.He raked a hand through his already askew hair. “You should go.”
At least he hadn’t tossed anything yet, she reasoned. “Icannot leave you like this.”
“You ought to, by God. I don’t trust myself. Damn it, Ikilled Eleanor, Maggie. I killed her.” His voice broke on the last word, a rareshow of real emotion from a man who was often cold unless he was in thebedchamber.
Her heart broke for him just as surely as his voice had. Shehad no choice but to go to him, crossing the chamber to his side before shecould even think twice. She slipped her arms around him and he surprised her byleaning into her, pressing his face into her neck. “You didn’t kill her, Simon.You mustn’t think such an awful thing.”
“I all but pushed her from the window with my own hands.”His tone was tortured. The wetness of his tears slid over her skin.
Dear God, he was holding himself responsible for LadyBillingsley’s awful decision. Little wonder he was falling apart before her.“She chose this end, not you.”
He shook his head, lifting it to look down at her. His handstightened upon her waist with an almost painful grip. “I chose it for her. Ileft her. My God, if I had realized how delicate she was, I never would havegone.”
The implications of his words were painfully clear. He wouldhave allowed Maggie to leave if he’d known Lady Billingsley would kill herself.That stung, much as she knew that he was in a rough state of mind, blaminghimself for something he’d had no power to stop. “She was not well, Simon, orelse she would not have done what she did.” Surely no one would make such afinal decision precipitously. She little knew Lady Billingsley other than thebrief time she had spent at Denver House, but Maggie believed beneath herlovely exterior had been some ugly demons, demons that had nothing at all to dowith Simon.
“I abandoned her when she needed me the most. Christ, I’m myfather.”
His despair hurt her heart even more than what he’d said.“You’re not a bit like him.” He refused to look at her, his eyes a deep,pain-filled moss, staring unseeingly beyond her. “Look at me, Simon.”
“No. You should go, Maggie. You should get the hell awayfrom me,” he snarled, his tone vicious. He caught her arms and pushed her fromhim.
She staggered back, flinching at the raw rage emanating fromhim. She’d seen him at his ugliest before, when he’d discovered he’d bedded hiswife without realizing. But even then, he had not been as he was now,mercurial, filled with fury and pain. Ready to wound.
“I cannot leave you when you’re like this,” she said at last,all but wringing her hands as she watched him give her his back and stalk away.She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was further away from her now than he’dever been, lost in the regrets and sorrows of his heart. He must have lovedLady Billingsley very deeply, more deeply than she had even supposed.
Had it been nothing more than guilt that had prompted him tofollow Maggie? She had to wonder now. Surely he must have felt something forher other than duty. He had said so, had all but confessed he loved her merehours before. That had to mean something yet. After all, he’d certainly neverfelt responsible for her a day in his life before. She shrugged the troublesomethoughts from her mind and followed him across the study, uncertain of what sheought to do yet unwilling to leave him alone.
“You ought to leave me,” he called over his shoulder,stopping in his angry strides only when he reached the paneled walls. “GoodChrist, you ought to have left me a long time ago. I’m a bloody curse.” Hepounded his fists against the wall with so much force she feared he’d injurehimself.
Maggie rushed to his side, not stopping until she was nearenough to entwine her arms about his lean waist. She embraced him as she hadthat long-ago day at Lady Needham’s before she’d known he was the husband who’dabandoned her. This time, it was because he was the man she’d grown to love,and he was in pain. Somehow, nothing mattered—nothing could matter—more thanthat Simon was hurting, lost and confused. He needed her.
