Charlotte Featherstone - Temptation & Twilight

Practical, strong Maggie. She knew how to get what she wanted from her charge, and it was not with cajoling. Normally, Lizzy might have indulged her companion’s curiosity, and even solicited her sage advice. But not in this. This matter must never come to light.

Stepping out of the gown, which pooled around her legs, Elizabeth reached for the bedpost she knew was directly before her, and held on. She was growing calm, as she always did in her room, where everything was as it should be. Where she could move about with freedom, knowing she would not trip over something and hurt herself, or worse, destroy some priceless family relic. In her room, she was not disabled. She was not an invalid. She was just plain Elizabeth York.

A thumping sound followed by a little whimper greeted her, and she smiled, closed her eyes and allowed the warm tongue awaiting her to brush against her cheek.

“Little mouse,” she whispered as she buried her face in her spaniel’s soft fur. “Still up?”

Rosie, her pregnant springer spaniel, whimpered as Elizabeth spoke nonsense into her long floppy ears. Adrian had bred her with another springer in the hopes that her offspring might prove as useful as Rosie herself. It was amazing, but true, that Rosie very often acted as Elizabeth’s eyes, guiding her away from furniture and objects in the way. It was Adrian’s hope that he could train the pups to help others like Elizabeth.

“That dog has been waiting for you on the bed for hours now,” Maggie said as she unlaced Elizabeth’s corset. “Poor lamb, she’s as big as a house and couldn’t manage the jump up by herself.”

“So you helped her, even though you think it’s sacrilege for an animal to be on a bed.”

“Or the settees, or that grand leather chair of His Grace’s,” Maggie reminded her. “Aye, I helped her. I couldn’t resist when she looked at me with those sad eyes of hers.”

“She is the most adorable and loving creature, isn’t she?” Elizabeth murmured as she released her hold on the bedpost and snuggled against her beloved pet. “Yes,” she murmured, “I love you, too, sweet.”

“I wouldn’t let her lick my face,” Maggie muttered, and Elizabeth could almost see her lips curled in distaste.

“Well, they’re the only kisses I am liable to receive, so I shall take them,” she teased, but Maggie merely grunted as she pulled the corset from Elizabeth’s breasts and tossed the silk-and-steel garment onto the bed. Her companion liked to claim that Rosie was a nuisance, but Lizzy knew she had a soft spot for the dog, regardless of what she wanted people to believe. Maggie might give the impression of being a commander, but inside, she had a very kind heart and a rather romantic soul. But she’d given it all up to stay and live with Lizzy. More than her lady’s maid and her eyes, she had been a substitute mother, a nurse and was now a treasured friend. Lizzy could not have gained any measure of independence if it had not been for her. People thought it a testament to Lizzy’s own courage and drive that she had accomplished so much despite her blindness, but really, it was because of Maggie’s strength, her untiring nature and unrelenting belief that Lizzy could succeed. She owed much of what she was to her companion, who had been with her since Lizzy was fifteen and Maggie barely eighteen. They could have been sisters, and despite the difference in their social status, got on as if they were family. At some point, Lizzy was going to have to once more bring up the topic of her friend living her own life. The trouble was, Maggie was every bit as stubborn as she, and would hear none of it.

“Now, then, you’re down to your chemise. Why don’t you sit at the dressing table and I’ll brush out your hair?”

With one last nuzzle, Elizabeth left the dog and turned, making her way across the room without assistance. She found her way to the table and slowly lowered herself onto the waiting chair.

“I met a gentleman tonight,” she said, trying to keep her thoughts away from Alynwick and what had transpired between them at the musicale.

“Did you now? Must be a handsome gent for just the mention of him put those roses in your cheeks.”

Smiling, Elizabeth flicked her hair over her shoulders. “I’ve blushed more tonight than I did when it was actually acceptable for me to blush.”

“Nonsense, ‘tis a woman’s right to blush whenever the spirit moves her. Nothing to do with age or steadfast sensibilities.”

“I allow it was rather nice,” she said, recalling how it felt to walk beside a man who was not her brother, or her brother’s friends. “Lady Lucy assures me that he is most handsome—and tanned.”

“Tanned?” Maggie mumbled. She had hairpins in her mouth again, Lizzy could tell. “What proper English gentleman allows his flesh to get tanned?”

“A perfectly improper one, I think,” Elizabeth answered, chuckling when Maggie gasped in surprise.

“And you, an innocent speaking like a coquette!”

How she wished she could see Maggie’s expression. In her heart she knew her companion was not shocked by her frank speaking, but was actually smiling. Maggie was not an old matron. She was in the prime of her life, and must occasionally think of the opposite sex.

“I am nearly thirty, Maggie. Coquettes are young women who flirt and flit about. I am the furthest thing from one.”

“What would you know of improper gentlemen?” Maggie asked, and Elizabeth lowered her sightless gaze to her hands, folded neatly in her lap. Quite a bit, actually, was her first response, but she bit it back, knowing Maggie would be standing behind her, watching her face in the dressing-table mirror.

“Nothing, other than they can be rather enticing, don’t you think?”

“I cannot say,” Maggie scoffed. “Myself, I think I would prefer a nice gentleman to a rogue that made me blush.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You’re a terrible liar, Miss Maggie Farley. You’d throw over a nice ‘gennleman’ any day for a rogue. Do not bother to deny it. I can hear the excitement in your voice. You’re enticed by the very image.”

Maggie tsked. “This is proper talk for two respectable ladies?”

“No, it isn’t, is it? But just once I think it might be all right to be completely unrespectable, don’t you?”

“Indeed, I do not.”

“Oh, Maggie, you will not give an inch, will you?”

“Only an inch, mind,” she allowed as she pulled the brush through Elizabeth’s long, thick hair. “I will admit I hope you invited him to call. I would like to get a glimpse of this tanned improper gentleman. And I shall give you a good accounting of him. Not that I doubt for a second that the mischievous Lady Lucy did not do so!”

Lizzy smiled at the memory of Lucy’s hushed descriptions. “She did indeed. But I would like to see him through your eyes.”

“I confess I am eager to relate my accounting.”

“And you shall. I expect him to call any day.”

The brush was replaced on the table and Maggie’s strong hand gently wrapped around Elizabeth’s upper arm. “Well, then, to bed, Beauty, if your prince is calling.”

“I didn’t say it would be tomorrow.”

“He’d be a fool to let any length of time pass till he next saw you. You are much too beautiful to risk losing. Why, there might have been other gentlemen present who desire to call upon you.”

Just one, and he was the most improper man of all. Alynwick took no notice of the rules of their world. He cared about nothing, no one, other than himself. Elizabeth would not fool herself into believing that the scoundrel wished to call upon her. He observed none of the proprieties. No, what Alynwick had been about was ruining her evening with Lord Sheldon. For what reason, she could not fathom, other than he had always enjoyed making sport of her. And she had allowed it—for a time. What Alynwick did not realize was that she would no longer tolerate his interference in her life, her friendships or indeed, any possible courtships.