Most likely Joss wouldn’t come back, and she’d continue as she had before. It would be as if nothing had happened. Because in the world’s eyes, nothing had. Nobody would ever know she and Joss had shared this house without the benefit of a chaperone. There would be no local gossip about the naughty housekeeper up at Thorncroft Hall, and what she’d got up to with the London visitor. Even if Joss had left her as innocent as when he’d arrived.
Or almost.
She remained a virtuous woman. Her chastity had been assailed, and she’d emerged triumphant.
Maggie didn’t feel triumphant. She felt bereft and alone. Anger beat back her despair as she fumbled for her handkerchief and blew her nose.
Twenty-five years of spotless propriety, and what did she have to show for it? Her good reputation and respectably preserved virginity didn’t make her any happier.
She’d never imagined resenting the moral strictures she’d always obeyed. But as she sat forlorn in an empty house, when she could be enjoying Joss’s kisses and lying in Joss’s bed, her choice didn’t seem nearly so clear-cut.
Joss had guessed how close she verged to throwing over her principles. He hadn’t left just because he feared for his own restraint. He’d left because he knew that Maggie hovered a kiss away from surrender.
She’d never learned how to dissemble, and he was a perceptive man. He must guess she was falling in love with him. To his credit, he’d done the only thing a man of honor could do. He’d gone.
And to her credit, she’d let him go.
She didn’t feel much like patting herself on the back. Instead she felt like her courage had failed her when she’d most needed it, and as a result, she’d made the greatest mistake of her life.
Oh, she knew the price of following the primrose path. The fishing village in Kent had its share of fallen women and bastard children. And her gentle, loving parents would never understand why she might go against everything they’d taught her to believe.
But love had its own imperatives. And sitting in front of the fire on her own—and facing a life that promised more solitude—she couldn’t help thinking that sin might have its compensations.
***
The lantern revealed an endless fall of white against the blackness. Joss sensed the hillsides crowding closer and closer as he approached the pass. The wind howled about him with an inhuman shriek. Despite the protection of his hat, icy water trickled down the back of his neck. Beneath his booted feet, the road was treacherous with ice. Behind him, Emilia continued to make awkward progress, favoring her lame leg.
“Not far now, girl,” he said, but the gale whipped his words away.
Probably a good thing. They were a damned lie.
He’d thought he was cold the night he stumbled onto Thorncroft Hall, more a matter of good luck than good judgment. It didn’t compare to this icy hell. Yet he couldn’t be much more than a mile away from the hall.
He staggered into a thick snowdrift and only kept his balance by wrenching at Emilia’s rein. He rapidly reached a stage where rational thought failed. One stubborn vow played over and over in his head.
I must leave Maggie. It’s for her own good.
I must leave Maggie. It’s for her own good.
Each grim syllable tolled like a dirge, as he lumbered onto the road that took him back to his real life.
His real life wasn’t this backwater. His real life was business, and London, and his friends and family, and the beautiful, sophisticated women who passed through his bed without leaving a trace on his heart.
It was pure winter madness that right now only one woman’s face lived in his memory. She was a slender redhead who was far too good for him.
Emilia nuzzled his back, and he realized he’d come to a dead stop in the blizzard. Even his thick wits recognized this was the surest way to ensure he never left this valley alive.
He took a swig of his godfather’s brandy and patted his horse’s snowy coat. “I’m sorry I dragged you out into this,” he said through chattering teeth, as he slid the flask back into his pocket. He faced into the strengthening wind, which had veered around to blow straight toward him. “I had no choice.”
But as he trudged ahead, making minuscule progress, he couldn’t help remembering Maggie’s stricken expression when he’d left. He’d nearly turned back at that moment, said to hell with honor. Joss Hale would recognize no law but the law of desire.
Was he out of his mind to struggle out here, when a mile behind him, Maggie waited? Warm. Welcoming. Beautiful.
Innocent. Unprotected. Gallant.
No, he couldn’t ruin her for his own selfish pleasure. He wasn’t such a cad, God blast it.
Joss gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes against the flying snow. He pushed on and with every step, he battled to find some shred of compensation in doing the right thing, when wickedness was, oh, so tempting.