Karen Robards - Forbidden Love

"Oh, yes, of course you can speak frankly to me," he said, giving up the battle for the moment. What he needed most now was time alone to recover his balance. "Run to your bed, like a good girl, and we'll sort this whole thing out tomorrow."

"All right." She smiled at him. "Good night, my lord."

"Good night," Justin answered automatically.

Megan was just reaching out to touch the door handle when a sharp rap sounded on the door. She and Justin both started.

"Wait!" Justin called out imperiously, consternation plain in his eyes as he met Megan's. She was chewing nervously on her lower lip as she backed quickly away from the door.

"I've only come to put a warming pan in your bed, my lord." Mrs. Donovan's voice sounded from the other side of the door. "The sheets get dreadful musty!"

"Just a minute, Mrs. Donovan!" Justin responded. He was tempted to tell her to forget the warming pan that he didn't need it, but he was afraid that she might think there was something strange in that. After all, the night would be cold.

"Get under the bed," he whispered to Megan, coming swiftly to her side. She looked up at him, surprised, and then started to giggle.

"Hush!" he warned her, pushing her, one arm over to the side of the bed. "It won't do for her to find you here. Now get under there, and for God's sake be quiet until I tell you to come out."

"Worried about your reputation, my lord?" she whispered saucily, but when Justin glared at her without answering, she did as she was told. He waited just long enough to make sure that no part of her showed before crossing to sit before the fire. When he was settled, he told Mrs. Donovan to come in.

She threw him a quick look before moving to the bed to pull back the covers and push the warming pan between the sheets. From her silence, Justin gathered that she was very much on her dignity; probably she thought he held her to blame for Megan's wild behavior at the so-called birthday party. Justin would have set her mind at rest if Megan hadn't been under the bed. He was afraid that she might pop out like a jack-in-the-box and cause all three of them no end of embarrassment.

Mrs. Donovan plumped the pillows then turned away from the bed. "If that's all you require, my lord?" she asked, eager to please. Justin nodded, wanting to be rid of her, but she wasn't ready to go.

"Was there anything wrong with the meal, my lord?" she asked, glancing at the untouched supper tray.

Justin sighed inwardly, knowing that of all things, she prided herself on her cooking. And, as he thought with some longing, it was indeed something to be proud of. He had no doubt the dinner was delicious.

"No, not at all, Mrs. Donovan," he said hastily. "I just felt a trifle unwell, that's all. All that traveling, you know."

Her face softened. A bad traveler herself, he had picked on the one excuse she understood. "You should have said something, my lord," she reproached him, moving closer to stare at him with motherly concern. "I would have prepared you one of my own special purges. Nothing like it for setting a queasy stomach to rights again."

"That's not necessary, Mrs. Donovan." Justin tried to keep her from seeing his shudder. Once, as a young boy, he had been visiting Maam's Cross Court and had eaten too many green apples. Mrs. Donovan had dosed him with one of her famous purges, and the cure had been far worse than the ailment. Not even for the sake of his ward's reputation would he suffer through that again.

"Very well, my lord, if you say so." From her tone, Mrs. Donovan would have dearly loved to argue with him, if she had dared. "With your permission, then, I'll take the tray back downstairs. When a body's sick, he doesn’t want to smell food!"

She barely waited for Justin's faint assent before snatching up the tray and heading for the door. Justin watched his dinner disappear with a feeling of inevitability. Going hungry to his bed would put the cap on a miserable day, he thought bleakly as the door closed behind the housekeeper.

She had barely gone before Megan was scrambling out from under the bed. The minx was covered with dust-apparently the maids didn't consider it necessary to sweep under his bed and grinning from ear to ear. Justin regarded her with a jaundiced eye, not bothering to get to his feet.

"I hope you're happy," he said morosely. "You just cost me my dinner."

"I'm sorry." The grin vanished; she sounded genuinely contrite as she crossed the room to stand looking down at him worriedly. "If you're really hungry, I can raid the kitchen for you later. I used to do it all the time at school."

"I think I can live without eating for one night. Now get along to your own bed. Scoot!"

"Are you sure? I'm really very good at it, you know!"

"I'm sure!" Justin's voice was firm. "Now get going before Mrs. Donovan decides to come back with one of her purges. And if she does, I swear I'll strangle you!"

Megan, who had experienced Mrs. Donovan's purges herself, giggled at the image of her lordly guardian being forced to swallow a sickening draught while Mrs. Donovan looked on. Justin glared at her and then grinned reluctantly. Her laugh was infectious.

"Get out of here!" he ordered, standing up. Megan, still chuckling, went to the door. "And for God's sake, don't let anyone see you!"

"I won't," she promised, smiling at him over her shoulder. Then, with one hand on the knob, she turned back to face him, saying, "I didn't mean it, you know!"

"Mean what?" Justin asked.

"I don't hate you, my lord," she said softly, and before Justin could reply she whisked herself away.

Megan was humming tunelessly to herself as she came downstairs the next morning. The rain had stopped during the night, and the soft September sunlight matched her mood. She felt as if she'd been reborn, as if the person she'd been last night had been replaced by someone altogether different. Justin had come for her at last, making her feel as though he had some personal interest in her for the first time in all the years he had served as her guardian. It seemed as if she had spent her life in an ever-changing procession of schools.

She had craved Justin's attention; for the smallest sign that he cared about her. It hadn't happened. Gradually, she had learned to resent and fear him. His word, it seemed, was law, and must be obeyed absolutely whether she liked it or not. Her letters to Justin, written dutifully once a week under the watchful eyes of her teachers, were answered just as dutifully by Charles Stanton. Her sole contact with Justin was for a few minutes perhaps twice a year. As a little girl, she had been sick to her stomach for days before one of Justin's visits, hoping against hope that this time, this time, he would unbend a little, perhaps smile at her with more than the bare civility that was all he ever showed her. Perhaps he might even take her out for a macaroon and an ice as all the other fathers did when they visited their daughters.

But it never happened, and Megan had finally brought herself to accept the fact that it never would. She had told herself rather fiercely that she should be grateful to him for troubling himself about her at all, when she had no real claim on him. The other girls, with smug schoolgirl superiority, assured her that, if Justin hadn't made her his ward, she would be lucky to work for one of them as a maid. Megan had blackened more than one eye in defense of her background, and had, in consequence, been disciplined for her unladylike behavior.

Over the years, she had built Justin up into a combination of ogre and savior, while still convincing herself that one day, when she was a grown-up lady, he would be proud of her and tell her so. Comforting herself with this fantasy, she nevertheless deeply resented her guardian's neglect. It was this resentment, coupled with her natural high spirits, which was constantly getting her into so much trouble at school.