The Harlot Countess (Wicked Deceptions #2)(41)
The duke raised an eyebrow. “Plenty. Shall I pour you a dram?”
God, yes. “Please.” Maybe the whisky would wash the bitterness and anger out of her mouth.
“Me as well,” Julia put in. “I’d say we could all use a strong drink about now.”
Seconds later, Colton placed a crystal glass in Maggie’s hands, then gave one to his wife. Maggie watched him lean in and whisper something to the duchess that made Julia turn a deep scarlet. It was obvious the two were very much in love, and Maggie felt a sharp pang of envy. Her marriage had been devoid of any feeling, a strict business arrangement with nothing but responsibility and duty. What must it be like to share your life with someone who worships the very ground you walk on? she wondered, lifting the whisky to her lips.
As expected, the first swallow burned like the fires of hell. Maggie gasped, waited for her lungs to draw air once more. She’d had some experience with strong spirits, though she never could claim much tolerance for this particular one.
Dimly, she heard Julia coughing and the duke laughing, so Maggie assumed her friend’s experience hadn’t been much different than her own.
“Gad, how can you men drink such vile stuff?” the duchess rasped.
Once Maggie caught her breath, a pleasant warmth spread throughout her belly. Everything inside her relaxed. Loosened. Like a watch spring wound too tightly, her entire body . . . unfurled.
The second taste went down easier.
Colton raised his own glass in appreciation. “You hardly blinked on the first swallow. My admiration, madam.”
“Must be my Irish blood,” Maggie said with a rueful smile. “At least it’s useful for something.”
She hadn’t finished half her glass when Madame returned. The abbess explained that Simon planned to take the girl to Barrett House and would need transport since he’d traveled there in the duke’s carriage. Maggie immediately offered to take them. Not that she particularly cared to spend any amount of time with Simon. She’d much prefer never to see him again, in fact, but overseeing the girl’s care took precedence over any hurt feelings.
Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d never had hurt feelings before.
In moments, the two women had reaffixed dominoes and pulled cloak hoods over their heads. The back hall stood empty, so the duke led their small party to the mews.
Both carriages stood waiting, the cattle blowing clouds of impatient breath in the frigid air. Colton handed Maggie up first, had a quick word with her coachman, and then both he and Julia disappeared into his carriage. Maggie huddled against the squabs, the warming brick at her feet, as she watched the duke’s carriage lumber off.
At last, Simon appeared, hatless, his greatcoat wrapped around a large bundle in his arms. Maggie straightened as her coachman hopped down and pulled open the door. Simon maneuvered the entrance neatly, not even putting the girl down to step up and in. He settled on the seat, the girl resting on his lap protectively, and the door closed. She rapped twice on the roof and the carriage set off.
Maggie couldn’t see the girl’s face under the heavy wool of his coat. “Is she awake?” she whispered.
“No,” he answered. “She’s passed out, from the pain of moving her, I assume.”
“I want to help.”
“No. I will take her to Barrett House and then see you home.”
The dim lamplight outlined the hard set of his jaw. He clearly did not want her along, but that was too bad. Nothing would keep Maggie away. She lifted her chin, not avoiding his piercing blue gaze.
At length, he blew out a breath. “I know better than to argue when you’ve got that particular look on your face. So come to Barrett House, if you wish. You may assist once she’s inside and made comfortable. I’ve already sent for my physician to be roused out of bed.”
A hundred questions burned her tongue, but Simon turned to the window, all but ignoring her. She bit the eager words back, forced herself to wait. Before daybreak, she’d have her answers—both about the girl and the reason for his involvement.
He hadn’t expected to find her asleep.
Simon had maintained a respectable distance all evening while Maggie, his housekeeper, and his physician all tended to Cora’s injuries. When they finished, Simon spoke at length with his physician regarding the girl’s care. Thankfully, Madame Hartley’s bonesetter had done an excellent job on Cora’s arm. Dr. Gilchrist believed the girl would regain full use of it with no ill effects other than a slight stiffness in poor weather. The physician was concerned, however, about internal bleeding. He’d given Maggie and Simon’s housekeeper signs to watch for.
After Dr. Gilchrist quit the house, Simon returned to his study for a brandy.
He needed to gather his wits. Maggie was here. In the house. Just the idea of it made his cock half hard. God, he wanted her in his bed. Wanted her ink-colored hair to fan over his pillows, her pale, creamy limbs gracing his sheets. The picture caused his skin to prickle, need making him restless and randy.
Which was hardly appropriate, considering the reason for her presence in his house. He shouldn’t be lusting after the woman, shouldn’t be thinking of all the ways he wanted to pleasure her despite all that had transpired tonight. She wasn’t here for him, he reminded himself.
So he’d kept to his study, drinking. Cowardly, but better to avoid her than do something he’d regret.