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Maggie had crept out of Jude’s bed in the early hours of the morning, while he’d still slept soundly. She’d been tempted to stay. Never had she known such desire as she had last night, and never had she felt such ecstasy from a man’s touch. She’d thought she’d known love with Tobias, but she’d been fooled. When Tobias had disrobed her and touched her body, the pleasure had been solely for him. She’d been happy to please him, but she’d always been relieved when it was over. Last night with her husband, things had been different. She’d participated fully and equally, and she’d never wanted it to end.

But she’d defied Jude’s wishes and broken her word by crawling into his bed disrobed. He’d tasted of brandy. She’d known his resistance was weakened, yet she’d done it anyway. Though he’d been eager and willing last night, she was uncertain as to how he’d feel about her upon waking.

It frightened Maggie to think that Jude would insist on returning to their old arrangement. Perhaps he’d start to lock his door at night. But she would not enter his chamber again lest he ask her to. Whatever he was punishing himself for, he’d have to forgive himself before he could love her. And perhaps, if a child were now growing in her belly, it would help him do so. If not, she’d have to be satisfied with the memory of her one night as a true wife.

Back in her chamber, Maggie slipped between her sheets and attempted to get some sleep. But her large four-poster bed felt cold and empty. She thought of Jude’s warm embrace, his tousled dark hair on the pillow, and the gentle rhythm of his breathing, and her heart ached. He was so close, yet so far.

By the time Maggie’s maid came in with her morning tea, her anticipation about the day ahead had grown. Would Jude join her for breakfast? Her cheeks heated at the thought of facing him. Thinking about the things he’d done to her, the things they’d done to each other, sent her stomach swirling. He was her husband, but at the same time, she hardly knew him. Had she done the right thing by listening to Mrs. Dove-Lyon?

These were her thoughts as she bent over her washbasin to scrub her face, neck, and torso, and as she sat in her dresser while Agnes fixed her hair into a chignon. The maid was a tall, sharp-faced woman who moved stiffly and performed her duties with excellence, but Maggie felt a certain disdain stemming from her. Perhaps she was imagining it. Either way, she lacked Hattie’s warmth. Nonetheless, the woman had been hand-picked by Jude’s housekeeper, so she did not like to complain. However, it made her miss Hattie’s companionship and outspokenness.

Maggie’s nerves increased as she approached the dining room, hoping to see Jude already seated at the table. Her heart sank as she entered the room, only to find it empty, aside from two footmen waiting at the ready. She sat alone at the grand mahogany table to a feast of eggs, kippers, toast, marmalade, and tea. Her appetite was absent.

Still, instead of shunning breakfast, she remained seated, picking at her food in the hope that Jude would make a late appearance. But she waited in vain. The tall, gold-faced grandfather clock in the corner of the room ticked loudly on, and the food on her plate grew cold. She put down her fork and placed a hand hopefully on her stomach. Perhaps everything had not been in vain; perhaps a babe had started its journey to life inside her. The thought brought a smile to her face.

Maggie rose from the table and went into the drawing room, where she intended to resume her reading. There was little else that gave her such pleasure as losing herself in a novel. She settled into her chair, but no sooner had she picked up her book than a footman entered the room, holding a silver tray. He stopped before her and lowered the tray, on which lay a small envelope.

“For me?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, my lady,” the footman replied.

She reached for the note, thinking it was from her husband and hoping it was an invitation to take a walk or ride into Hyde Park. They’d not yet appeared in society together, and she longed for them to start embracing married life properly, especially after last night. But that might be hoping for too much. An explanation as to why he’d missed breakfast and a promise to dine with her later would suffice. Her hopes made what she saw inside the note even more shocking. A single line, seemingly written in a hurry given the way it sloped down the center of the page, read:

He has gone to Dorset to fetch your sister.

The note was unsigned, but that mattered not. She knew it was from Hattie because she recognized the woman’s handwriting. The maid, who’d been educated by a governess as a girl, had helped Maggie many times when she was learning to write.

Maggie dropped the note she’d been holding and watched in disbelief as it fluttered to the floor. Tobias intends to use Lettie to punish me. Oh, Lord, forgive me. What have I done? Seconds ago, she’d been filled with hope for a better future, and then a scribbled line on a small square of paper had changed everything. Lettie. Dear Lettie. She’ll be turning eighteen now. The same age I was when he purchased me from Papa.

Maggie had always written letters home. At first, Hattie had transcribed her words, but after about a year working diligently with her tutor, she’d learned how to do it on her own. She’d never heard back from them, nor had she expected to. No one in her family could read or write. And the only person they knew who could read was the local priest. She doubted Mama would have dared to give him her letters to read. It would bring shame upon her. That is why Maggie never visited home. Tobias had advised her against this.

“Those farming peasants won’t understand,” Tobias had said. “They’ll condemn you as a sinner and shun your family. They’ve improved their lives with the money I give them—fixed their cottage and bought some sheep and chickens. Your papa has even bought himself two horses and a wagon. If people know where the money came from, they’ll despise your parents. That’s how peasants think, I’m afraid. They value work. They don’t understand what a gentleman is or how he lives.”

It had pained Maggie considerably not to see her family again, but she’d known Tobias was right. She knew her good, God-fearing neighbors and friends would shun her if they learned she was a mistress. And she’d vowed never to bring her shame home. But she’d taken comfort in knowing they were well cared for and in believing that she would one day return as a wife and lady, making her family proud. What a fool she’d been, believing Tobias Tidworth.

Maggie swallowed the rising lump in her throat. She’d often thought about how much her siblings must have changed over the years. Lettie, with her snow-white hair and pale-blue eyes, would be a beautiful young woman. But she was shy and wholly innocent. Good heavens, Tobias will destroy her!

Maggie started to tremble at this realization, and tears streamed down her cheeks. There was only one thing to do. She had to go to Dorset and reason with her father. Maggie thought about the banknotes Jude had given her for her stipend. She’d intended to send them to her family, but she’d not done so yet. Now she would use them to satisfy her papa and secure Lettie’s freedom.

But she would not involve Jude. He was already avoiding her, and she could not ask more from him. In truth, she was ashamed of her papa. His drinking and his behavior were abhorrent, and she did not want Jude to be faced with the truth of what he’d married. If he didn’t already regret marrying someone so very far beneath his station, then he certainly would after he met her papa.

She wiped her tears and rang the small silver servants’ bell that sat on the table before her. The butler arrived shortly after. “I must go to Dorset on a family matter at once,” she said. “Where is His Lordship?”

“In his chambers, I believe,” the butler said. “His valet gave orders that he not be disturbed. But I am sure under these circumstances…”

“Do not disturb him,” she said. “When he emerges from his chamber, let him know that I have gone to see my family. I shall return in a few days. He need not worry. Now, tell me, what is the fastest way for me to get to Dorset?” she asked, recalling the long and tiring journey she’d taken with Tobias five years ago.

“Your carriage would be the most comfortable, I think. Your driver will need to stop and change the horses, and at least two nights at an inn will be—”

“I don’t have time for that,” she interjected.

“Dorset is well over 100 miles from London, my lady. But if you are in a great hurry, a post-chaise might prove to be faster. Drivers and horses can be changed at posting inns, allowing you to travel through the night. But that is not advisable for a lady.”

I’m not a lady, Maggie thought, but what she said was, “Yes, that’s what I want. Can you arrange it for an hour’s time?”

“Certainly, my lady, but—”

“Good. Do it. I’ll need my maid sent in now.”