Page 42 of Maid for the Marquess

“It is yours now too, Maddie.”

She glanced up at me, her eyes wide and filled with emotion.

“It is still a dream.”

“A good one?” I questioned.

“Yes,” she replied with an emphatic nod. “Very good.”

We came to the brook, and her glee could not be contained. “Alexander!” she gasped, running ahead like a child. “How wonderful!”

I felt a warmth to my chest as I watched her. Such a simple thing. A spot to sit and enjoy the early summer warmth. The sound of water rushing over stones was nice, but to her, it seemed more so.

I felt the swell of sadness, knowing something as easy as a picnic or time spent enjoying a simple pleasure such as this had no doubt been denied to her. I was determined to give her as many of these small gestures of happiness as I could offer.

I set down the basket, spreading out the blanket close to a spot I liked the best. The flat boulders could be leaned against or sat upon, the shade was welcome, and the water was easily seen. All of which I knew would please Maddie.

I strode toward her, wrapping my arm around her waist and drawing her back to my torso. It pleased me greatly when she didn’t startle, but instead laid her hand on my forearm, patting it in a fond gesture.

“Such a treasure,” she murmured.

Unable to resist, I bent and pressed a gentle kiss to her neck, smiling at her shiver. “It is,” I murmured, not even looking at the brook, but instead at her. “A king’s ransom.”

For a moment, I stood behind her, feeling as if I were seeing the vista with different eyes. The way the branches bent in the breeze. How the water skipped and danced over the rocks. The feel of the wind on my face and the sound of the birds chirping happily in the trees.

It felt like a gift. And the gift was because of her.

“Come, Maddie mine. Let us see what the cook has sent us.”

Maddie exclaimed in happiness over the array of foods the basket contained. Small pork pies and cold chicken and beef. Cheese and bread. Jam puffs and biscuits. Fresh fruit. A container of lemonade—something I knew Maddie enjoyed. I spread out the food, offering her a plate I filled with her favorites. She accepted it, spreading the linen napkin over her lap and waiting until I filled my plate before starting to eat. She picked delicately, observing her plate with almost confusion on her face.

“Maddie,” I began as I watched her nibble.

“My—I mean Alexander?”

I smiled at her. “Why do you eat so little? Are you still uncomfortable with me?”

She sighed. “I wasn’t allowed much to eat. He—Father—had strict instructions as to what I was allowed and how much. It was always the end bits, the slightly burnt, or the leftovers.”

“You will have only the best. Always. I want you to eat until you are satisfied. And anytime you want something, ask for it,” I said earnestly, leaning toward her. “I never want you hungry. And if there is something you desire, make it known. The servants want to make you happy. I want you to be happy.”

She blinked, turning her head so I would not see the tears in her eyes.

“Your life is different now. You must cease being afraid, for nothing will harm you. I will not allow it. Do you understand?”

She lifted her glorious gaze to mine. “I do. I will try. I wish to please you.”

“Then eat.” I paused. “And remove your gloves.”

“But people will see. I was never allowed to remove my gloves. Father forbade it.”

“Your father is no longer here and never will be. And if they see, let them. Your scars show you survived something. Do not allow your father’s warped transgressions against you to color your decisions going forward. Besides, I have an idea.”

“An idea?”

“There is a healer in the village. She makes things—potions, ointments—like your friend’s mother did. When I burned my hand last year, it was her salve that gave me relief. Even my physician agrees with her methods. I will take you to see her. Perhaps she can help diminish the scars and dull some of the stiffness they cause.”

I had noticed her grimace a few times when using her hands, and I didn’t like it.