MOLLY WAS IN THE SERVANTS’ HALL WHEN THERE came a ringing from the library. She eagerly answered the summons of the bell, expecting a midday tryst, only to find the master in conversation with his steward and an attractive stranger.
“My lord, the new game laws—” the steward was saying. He broke off as she entered the room and dipped the men a brief curtsy.
“A tea tray, Molly,” requested Lord Ashford.
“Yes, my lord.”
On the way to the kitchen she wondered about the visitor. Who was he? Why was he here? True, her master had many interests, and there were many visitors to Ashford Hall, but usually they were familiar faces.
A mere quarter of an hour later, she carried the tea tray into the library and set it down on the master’s desk. As she fixed his lordship a plate of his favorite tidbits, she covertly gazed at the stranger. Where the master’s looks were all dark and flashing, this stranger’s appearance could only be described as brown. He had short, wavy brown hair, long brown side burns, velvety brown eyes, and his skin was a golden bronze. His clothes appeared well made, though not of the finest quality. His linen was plain, yet clean. Clearly he was not of the gentry, but his manner marked him as well-bred. Molly’s curiosity was aroused, and so, she found to her surprise, was her body.
When she handed the visitor his cup of tea, her fingers brushed against his, sending an unexpected frisson of desire through her. Then he smiled at her, and her heart leaped in her chest. He might not be as sinfully beautiful as her master, but there was something about this stranger that stirred her senses.
By dinnertime her curiosity, if not her body’s hunger, had been satisfied. The servant’s grapevine had told her all she needed to know about the newcomer, including his name, Will Adams. Apparently the master had met him while in Scotland, on the estate where he was an assistant gamekeeper. According to Mrs. Hutchins, he came highly recommended and was to replace Old Jarvis, the gamekeeper, who was being pensioned off due to age. Adams would occupy a room in the servants’ quarters until the repairs to the gamekeeper’s cottage were complete.
Since he was occupied most of the day with his new duties, Molly rarely encountered Mr. Adams before the evening meal. At supper, however, he was always there, smiling at her from across the table. His ready smile was enough to send her stomach somersaulting, but she was careful not to do more than smile back politely. After only a few days, she began to look forward to dinner. When they met on the stairs or in the hall, he was unfailingly polite, but it seemed as though there was something beyond mere courtesy in his behavior toward her. In fact, it wasn’t long before the other servants began to comment on his marked attention to her.
Molly knew that soon one of them would reveal her secret, and then Mr. Adams would want no more to do with her. The thought depressed her more than she would have thought possible.
Late one evening, as she mounted the stairs to retire, Molly was shocked to find Mr. Adams watching her from the shadows at the top of the steps. In the glow of her lantern, his face was dark and sensual.
She nodded to him, and went to brush past, but he stepped in front of her.
“Molly, have I given you cause to dislike me?” he asked.
“No, Mr. Adams,” she replied.
He loomed over her, backing her up against the wall with his sheer presence. “Good, I was afraid I had offended you in some way.” He braced his hand on the wall next to her head, his body uncomfortably close to hers. She could smell the scent of earth and forest that clung to his skin.
He bent his head to hers. “You’re very bonny,” he whispered in her ear, his thick Scottish burr sending shivers up her spine. His soft, warm lips brushed her throat in the sensitive spot just below her ear, and she felt her knees go weak.
“I belong to my master!” she blurted out.
He pulled back, startled by her outburst.
“You cannot mean…” His voice trailed off sadly. “Well, then I can only say that his lordship’s taste in women is as fine as his taste in everything else. Leave it to him to find a diamond among the coal.”
Molly blushed at the compliment. She knew she was pretty—after all, hadn’t the master chosen her for her looks?—but Mr. Adams made her feel beautiful.
“I am heartily sorry to have bothered you,” he said, stepping back to let her pass.
Molly felt like crying. She finished climbing the steps to her garret room. How could she feel so keenly the loss of something she’d never had?
Following their encounter in the hallway, Mr. Adams avoided Molly for a few days. However, on Sunday, she was surprised to find him at her elbow, ready to assist her into the wagon bound for church. She couldn’t help but admire his long, lean form as he mounted his horse for the ride into the village.
All throughout the sermon, Molly couldn’t help but steal glances at Mr. Adams, seated in the pew opposite her. He really was very handsome. She saw that she was not the only young lady in the congregation who cast longing looks in his direction. However, Mr. Adams seemed to take no notice. After the service, many of the same young women thronged around him, but Mr. Adams excused himself and caught up to her.
“Molly, would you do me the honor of walking home with me? I wish to speak with you.”
“That would be most improper, Mr. Adams.” In public, Molly always tried to protect the little reputation she had left.
“Jane and Ralph shall walk with us.” He indicated the couple that stood under a nearby tree. She didn’t know them well. Jane was the daughter of a tenant farmer on the estate; Ralph one of Lord Ashford’s grooms. Molly could tell from the looks that passed between them that they would be poor chaperones, oblivious to anything but each other.
“I’ve already asked Mrs. Hutchins,” Mr. Adams told her, whisking away her next objection.
“What about your horse?”
“Romulus? I will hitch him to the wagon. He’ll be happy to walk home without me.”
He’d obviously planned this ahead of time, and Molly was flattered. “Well, then Mr. Adams, since you seem to have thought of everything, I will walk with you.”
Eagerly, he took her arm and escorted her over to greet the other couple. Leaving her to exchange pleasantries, he tended to his horse, and then the foursome set off toward Ashford Park. The walk was not a long one, and the day was glorious, and Molly soon found herself enjoying the outing. Jane and Ralph were obviously in love, and they spent most of the journey mooning over each other. Mr. Adams kept up a steady stream of conversation, skillfully eliciting opinions from Molly that she didn’t even know she had. Whatever it was he wished to say to her, it must have been of little importance, for he never mentioned it. Instead, he spoke wistfully of his home in Scotland, speaking so eloquently that she could almost see the heather-covered hills. For a man of his station, Molly thought he was extremely well-read.
She soon discovered that, like Jane, he was the child of a tenant farmer, and was the youngest of five siblings.
“How came you to be educated then?”
“The countess was a great disciple of Mrs. Shelley’s. She set up a school for the tenants’ children. Then throughout my apprenticeship, I begged and borrowed what books I could from a generous curate. Now that I am earning my own wages, I vow I shall spend a pound a year on books alone.”
“I would love to be able to read,” Molly admitted. “I know most of my letters, but…”
“I could teach you.”
“Mr. Adams…”
“Will. My friends call me Will.”
She smiled shyly at him. “Will, then. I would like it very much if you would teach me to read.” They agreed to meet the following Sunday to begin her lessons.
Before long, they had reached the turnoff to Ashford Hall. Here, Jane and Ralph begged to take their leave. Ralph would escort Jane home along the lane, while Molly and Will would cut across the park. Molly knew it was improper, but she couldn’t begrudge the young lovers a few moments alone. It was unlikely that anyone would see her with Will, and it wasn’t as though she had any virtue left to guard.
They set off through the light woods that bordered the estate. Will, of course, was quite familiar with the terrain, and guided her expertly through the trees. They came to a clearing, and on the other side Molly could see Ashford Hall, rising majestically to the sky, its gray stone facade tinted pink by the fading light.
“I hadn’t realized it was so late. I must get back,” she exclaimed.
“Molly, I must speak to you. I understand that you are not at liberty to entertain me as a suitor, but perhaps that will change. I am quite attracted to you. Please give me some hope that you feel the same.”
“Will, it is as you say. I am not in a position to feel anything toward you. Now, I really must go.”
“Say that you’ll still meet me on Sunday.”
“I’ll still meet you on Sunday,” she called over her shoulder as she ran for home, leaving him standing there in the twilight.
All week long, Molly couldn’t wait for Sunday, though she wasn’t sure if that was because she was going to see Will, or because she was going to learn how to read. Finally, the Sabbath came.
Once more, the oblivious Jane and Ralph were enlisted as chaperones. Will had secured a picnic lunch, and led them to a small meadow on the edge of the Park’s woodland. After finishing a hearty meal of ham, bread and cheese, washed down with a fine cider, Jane and Ralph decided to go for a stroll through the woods. Molly had no doubts what their “stroll” would entail.
She was content to sit on the blanket Will had provided and look out over the golden meadow while he reclined next to her, his hand propped beneath his head, and finished his cider.
“Are you ready?” he asked her finally.
“Oh, yes.”
Will rolled over and got a book out the basket. Then he flopped over on his back and patted the blanket next to him. Molly scooted over next to him.
“Lie down here with me,” he said.
“I don’t think that’s a very good idea.”
“I can hardly teach you to read when you’re up there and I’m down here,” he told her with a grin. Reluctantly, Molly lay down on the blanket next to him, her head resting in the crook of his arm.
“Open the book.”
At first Molly found it hard to concentrate on the letters with his body lying so close to hers, but soon she was absorbed in trying to make out the unfamiliar words. Will was patient and encouraging, and with his help she was finally able to finish a passage. She laid down the book with a great sense of satisfaction.
“Good girl.”
“I couldn’t have done it without your help.”
“I guess I deserve a reward then,” he told her with a gleam in his eye.
Molly could read his intentions, but she couldn’t summon up the strength to object as he rolled over, taking her in his arms, and pressed his lips to hers. Her arms came up around him, pulling him close. She could feel the warmth of his sunkissed skin beneath the linen of his shirt.
For once in her life, Molly longed to be free. Free from guilt, free from care, free from obedience and duty. For just a moment, in Will’s arms, she could taste that freedom. Throwing caution to the winds, she slid her hand down to cup his burgeoning erection. He nudged against her palm. His mouth left hers to nibble down her neck, inflaming her further.
He pulled away, bracing himself on one arm, and looked down at her, his eyes glazed with lust, before once again crushing his mouth to hers. Then he reached up under her skirts to languidly stroke her sex. His fingers flicked over her clit before dipping down to slip gently into her cunny, causing her to moan. She was already hot and wet and panting with need. He withdrew his hand, and slowly licked his fingers as she watched, appalled and yet fascinated.
“I need to be inside you.”
Molly agreed. Her hands went to the waistband of his breeches, unbuttoning the fall, and pushing them low on his hips. His rigid cock sprang into her palm, the tip already wet with his juices. She couldn’t help but make a comparison. Will’s cock was much longer than Lord Ashford’s, though not as thick. She had no doubt it would fill her nicely. As he pushed her skirts up, she spread her legs wider, welcoming the invasion of his cock. She felt its head brush against her clit, then he slid into her smoothly, until he was seated to his ballocks.
Slowly, he drew back, and then sheathed himself once more in her heat. With his hands braced on either side of her head, he held his weight from her, their bodies joined only at the hips. Over and over he stroked into her, until her body grew taut as a bow, aching for release from the glorious torment he was inflicting upon her. Then her muscles tightened and a wave of pleasure flowed over her, dragging Will in its wake, until he too climaxed, calling out her name. She held him tight and wished the moment would never end, but all too soon, the heat of the afternoon sun and the scratchiness of the blanket beneath her reminded Molly of the world around her. Reluctantly, she and Will parted with a kiss, and straightened their clothes. By the time Jane and Ralph returned from their stroll, everything was packed and ready to go.
In the days that followed, she and Will stole every moment they could in shadowed hallways and empty rooms to exchange kisses and furtive embraces, though she knew it couldn’t last. Luckily for her, the master was away on business in London.
She was both regretful and relieved when she found he hadn’t stayed away long.
The master walked into the library, surprising Molly while she stood at the desk, feather duster in hand and an open book in front of her. She had chosen a slim volume with plenty of pictures, but still she was struggling to decipher the letters on the page.
“What are you doing?” he asked, as she turned to face him.
“Sorry, my lord, I was just looking at the book. I…”
He moved over to the desk and picked up the volume. “The Tale of Robin Hood.” He tossed it back onto the desk. “I would have thought it better suited to the nursery.”
She moved to put the book back in its rightful place, when he stopped her with a hand on her wrist. “You may have the book, Molly.”
“My lord?”
“You may have the book. It obviously pleases you, and is of little consequence to me.”
“Oh, thank you, my lord.” Molly was so excited that she threw her arms around his neck. Then, realizing what she’d done, she blushed and jerked back. He caught her around the waist before she could pull away, and kissed her soundly. “If I’d known you would show such enthusiasm, I would have given you a book long ago,” he told her with unusual good humor. Then he kissed her again more forcefully, backing her against the sofa.
Her legs hit the damask-covered cushion and she sank onto it, while his mouth continued to devour hers. His kisses were different from Will’s—hungrier, more rapacious. Will’s kisses made her feel loved and cherished; the master’s kisses made her feel wanton and wicked. How could two men have such different approaches to the same act? She resolved not to think about Will; it felt too much like betrayal. Truth be told, after a few minutes of heady kisses, she could barely think at all.
The master pulled down the neckline of her dress, exposing her breasts. Her arms came up to twine around his neck, and she nearly hit him with the forgotten duster. He reached up to take the object from her grip, and gave it a curious look. Molly thought he might toss it across the room, but instead he drew the feathers lightly along her throat, tickling her with their silky strands. The duster was made of ostrich feathers mounted on an ivory handle worn smooth with age, and the feathers were as soft as a kitten’s fur. The master ran it over the delicate skin of one exposed breast, then the other, tickling her and leaving a tingling sensation in its wake. He ran it across her nipples, a barely there caress, before lowering his mouth to suckle her. His mouth closed around one nipple, licking and sucking at it until it hardened into a rosy peak, before moving on to the other. All the while, the wispy touch of the duster danced along her neck and shoulders, tickling her skin and causing her to shiver. Just when she thought she could stand no more, the master’s mouth and hands stilled.
He scooted lower on the couch and suddenly threw her skirts over her head, baring her lower body to his gaze. Slowly, he drew her thin muslin drawers down, his fingers stroking along her legs as he went. After discarding her drawers and dropping a kiss on her belly, he nudged one knee between her thighs, then the other, spreading her legs wide. He draped one stocking-clad leg over the back of the sofa, exposing her pussy, which ached to be filled. But he was intent on teasing her further. Taking the duster once more in hand, he played the feathers along the top of one thigh, the soft wisps dancing across her skin. Over and over, he teased her with the feathery touch, until every inch of exposed flesh was prickling and tingling. She stifled a giggle when he played the feathers across the tender skin of her stomach, but when he brushed them across her clit Molly thought she would swoon.
However, that gentle touch was not repeated; instead, Molly felt something smooth and slightly cool rub against her. She shivered, and looked down to find that the master had reversed his grip on the duster, and was rolling the handle against her clit. It was an unusual, but not unpleasant sensation. It grew more pleasant as he drew the smooth, bulbous tip of the handle along the folds of her pussy, then back up, causing a rush of moisture between her legs. Molly sensed what was coming, and so she was not overly surprised when the master slowly began to work the tip of the ivory handle into her pussy.
The feeling was unfamiliar. The ivory was slightly cooler than the warmth of a human body, and unlike a cock, there was no flexibility or give to the hard handle. Still, the sensation she was feeling was pleasurable. Because the handle was thinner than anything she’d felt before, it slid into her waiting cunny easily. It was also longer, she found, when the master began to slowly thrust it in and out of her body. She felt it against the back of her womb as he drove it deep into her pussy. The strokes gradually grew harder and faster, the handle pistoning between her legs, leaving her gasping, until finally she reached the apogee of her pleasure. She cried out as the master thrust the makeshift cock into her one last time, her body convulsing around it.
Slowly, he withdrew it, took a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the handle clean. Then he straightened her clothes and brushed her lips lightly with a kiss.
“Enjoy the book,” he told her as he strode out of the library, leaving her more confused than ever.
All that week, Molly practiced reading from her new book as much as possible, but it wasn’t until Sunday that she got to share it with Will. When she told him it was a gift from the master, although she left out most of the details, Will still grew very upset.
“It’s not fair,” he said jealously. “He gives you a book, and you are in awe. If I could, I would give you everything…books, pretty dresses, a house, children, my name.”
“Surely you don’t mean that, Will.”
“I don’t care if you are ruined, I want to marry you.”
“You do?”
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you, too.” Molly was surprised to hear the words on her lips, but she knew as soon as she said it that it was true. Will was good, and kind, and true, and she loved him. But she also loved her master…how could this be? Still, there was no future with the master. She knew her place in his world and it was not at his side as a wife. Will was her future.
He grabbed her hand, saying, “Come with me. The cottage is mine now. Old Jarvis is pensioned off and gone to live in the village with his daughter.”
The tidy gamekeeper’s cottage lay just off the main drive, with the bulk of Ashford Park beyond it to the north. A small stone wall enclosed a garden desperately in need of tending, and behind the house, Molly could see a henhouse also in need of repairs. Will kept her hand in his, excited as a small child on Christmas morning, and led her through the place, extolling its virtues. The holland covers had already been removed, and Molly could see the worn, yet still sturdy furniture. The house was small, but cozy. There were just four rooms, a parlor and the kitchen downstairs, and two upstairs. It was to the larger of these two bedrooms that Will eventually led her.
“This is where we will lie together as man and wife someday,” he told her, gesturing at the huge featherbed.
“You are already the husband of my heart,” she replied.
“Then lie with me here,” he whispered. He shrugged out of his long, brown greatcoat, before removing her bonnet and her dew-damp redingote, laying them carefully over a chair. He removed his tall, scuffed brown boots, while she slipped off her shoes and stockings. Next, he removed his jacket, waistcoat and shirt, and placed them upon the chair. Clad in only his trousers, he advanced on her, and drawing his hand along her cheek, kissed her softly on the lips. She responded to his kiss with a gentle kiss of her own.
He drew his hands slowly along her shoulders, then spun her about, facing the bed. His hands went to the laces of her bodice, unfastening them, while his lips returned to nuzzle her neck. He slid her dress off her shoulders, then loosened the drawstring of her muslin shift. Meanwhile, his lips never left her neck, licking and nibbling at the sensitive skin there. With a flick of his wrist, her shift billowed to the floor, followed by her undergarments.
She stood naked before him, and she could feel his erection nudging her buttocks as she pressed back against him. His hands came up to fondle her breasts, his fingers plucking at her nipples until they were drawn into hard peaks. One hand slid to her waist, the other to the nape of her neck, where he toyed with her tawny curls, before sending his fingers skittering along her spine.
Gently, but firmly, he bent her at the waist, and pushed her lightly onto the waist-high bed. Molly was surprised, but unalarmed. Her master’s tutelage had taught her to be un-afraid of new and undiscovered pleasures. Her cheek against the counterpane, Molly looked over her shoulder to see her lover unbutton and then discard his trousers and drawers.
In all their hurried and stolen moments, she’d never seen Will fully unclothed before. Gads, but he was beautiful. He was not as broad-shouldered as the master, but was every bit as well-formed. Skin bronzed by the sun lay over the whip-cord muscles of his arms and chest. His stomach was flat and chiseled, his hips narrow, tapering down to long, lean limbs. Even his bare feet were beautiful.
He stepped behind her, and once more ran a finger along her spine, along the seam of her buttocks, and then across her waiting cleft. Molly wiggled against his hand, letting him feel her warmth and wetness. She watched over her shoulder as he reared back and, grabbing his engorged cock, guided it into her slick passage.
His hands went to her hips, pulling her back as he thrust himself deep inside her. Molly sighed with pleasure as Will slid slowly out of her, then thrust back in hard, driving into her cunny. He soon set up a slow, steady rhythm of thrusts that had her moaning and pushing back against his hips, unable to get enough of his long, hard cock.
Her hands clenched the counterpane as she felt her climax drawing close. She could feel the sheen of sweat on Will’s body each time his skin slapped against hers. As he plunged into her warm depths, again and again, she felt herself hovering on the brink. Then, with a warm rush, her muscles clenched tight around his cock, sending Will into an orgasm of his own. He stiffened, cried out and managed to thrust deeply into her one last time, before collapsing against her.
Molly couldn’t move. Will’s cheek was damp against her back, and his weight pressed her into the bed, but she didn’t seem to mind. Finally, he rolled to the side, dragging her with him, burying his face in her neck as they both flopped onto the mattress.
He stroked her damp skin as he snuggled up to her and talked to her of the future. He spoke of the repairs he would make to the cottage, creating a snug home for her, and the laughing children they would raise there…a half dozen at least. Molly knew it was wishful thinking. The future would bring what it would, and in the meantime, they should grab at all the present had to offer.
With that in mind, Molly began to return Will’s caress. She ran her hand across the wide, muscled planes of his chest, making lazy circles around his flat nipples, before dancing her fingers down along his flat stomach to his resurging manhood. She stroked his cock, rubbing her thumb against the sensitive tip until he grew hard in her hand.
He pulled her down to him for a kiss, her naked body slanted across his. His palms caressed her backside as he dragged her leg over his, aligning their bodies. “Ride me,” he told her in a husky voice. Molly quickly grasped his meaning and sat up to straddle his body. He reached up to fondle her breasts, rubbing the pads of his thumbs against the sensitive nipples until they were ruched. She took his hard cock in hand and guided it within her aching passage.
Both of them gasped with pleasure as Molly sank down onto the instrument of his desire, seating him deep within her womb. Then she began to ride him, arching her back and grinding her pelvis against his hips. At first her movements were slow and easy, as she reveled in the new sensation; she had never been with the master in this manner. He always dominated her instead. Now, she was in control and enjoying every minute of it.
The best part was the look on Will’s face as she rocked against him. Knowing that he was at her mercy, enjoying himself at her whim, filled her with a sense of power. Will was able to relinquish control to her, and control was something she’d rarely had before. He thought of her as a partner, an equal, and she knew that this was one of the many reasons why she loved him.
She couldn’t deny that another one of the reasons was the pleasure she took in his body, a pleasure that was rising even now. She leaned forward to capture his mouth, bracing her arms on either side of his head, and thrust her hips forward. Will moaned against her lips. She began to rock her hips quickly, her sweat-slick skin gliding across his. He grabbed her hips and thrust upward, and was soon matching her stroke for stroke. Molly felt the approaching flutters of an orgasm and felt Will’s body tense beneath hers. With a grimace, he came, his seed shooting into her in a warm explosion. At that, Molly was undone. Her body convulsed in a spasm of pleasure that left her collapsed, limp and panting against his hard chest.
As they lay there entwined, with Will stroking her hair and murmuring sweet words of love in her ear, Molly was paralyzed with bliss. If only this moment could never end, she thought, but of course all moments must, and all too soon.
The afternoon was drawing to a close by the time they’d gotten properly dressed, and Molly made her way back to the house with a heavy heart. Now that Will was moved into the gamekeeper’s cottage, she knew she would see less of him. But perhaps that would be a good thing. Perhaps then, she wouldn’t feel so guilty about betraying her master with Will, and vice versa. Molly sighed. She knew she was walking a dangerous tightrope, and she could only hope that somehow, someway, she would find a way across. Little did she know that her prayers would soon be answered.
A few days after her last encounter with Will, Molly was in the parlor when she heard a loud commotion from the front hall. Along with several of the other servants, she rushed in to see Will and three of the grooms carrying the master into the house. Lord Ashford was white as a sheet and apparently unconscious.
“What’s going on?” demanded the butler, Mr. Cutter.
“I found him along the stream,” Will said. “I fear he’s badly hurt.”
The butler immediately sent one of the footmen to fetch Dr. Miles, while Will and the other servants, including Plunkett, carried Lord Ashford up the stairs to his bedchamber, with Mrs. Hutchins and Molly close on their heels.
A torturous half hour later, the doctor arrived, only to find that his patient had yet to regain consciousness. Immediately, he asked Will for his particulars of the accident.
“I was walking Remus, my mastiff, alongside the stream as I often do, when I noticed a bay horse limping along. Sure that it belonged to Lord Ashford, I looked for him nearby. Then, my dog caught scent of something. Upon following him, I came to the berm, where I found Lord Ashford lying upon the ground, barely conscious. I’d wager that his horse threw him. I did not stop to check his injuries, just brought him here as quickly as I could.”
After hearing this explanation, the doctor began his examination of the patient. Thankfully, his lordship remained unconscious. Finally, the doctor rose and declared, “His lordship has broken his leg and has a severe concussion. We must address the first injury immediately, as for the second, we can only hope for the best.” He issued instructions to Mrs. Hutchins and Molly to bring hot water and bandages, and he sent one of the footmen to find something to use as splints.
Returning to the room, Molly found it hard to watch as the doctor cut away the master’s boot, revealing swollen, mottled flesh. Then the doctor washed his hands and examined the leg further.
“Good news, there appears to be no breakage of the skin.” The doctor next instructed Will, Plunkett and the footman to hold down his lordship’s body while he set the broken limb. As he tugged on the leg, his lordship came awake, screaming with pain. Molly heard the grinding of bone on bone, and then, thankfully, the master once again passed out. He remained blissfully unaware as the physician finished setting and binding the leg.
“Who will be responsible for his care?” Dr. Miles asked, as he prepared to leave. Molly and Plunkett both stepped forward.
“You must wake him every hour,” the doctor said. “You must not give him anything for the pain, until we have determined that the blow to his head has not damaged his faculties. Once he is able to stay awake for several hours at a time, you may give him some of this.” He handed a small vial to Molly. “A drop, as needed, will suffice. I will return tomorrow to check on his lordship.”
Molly spent a harrowing night tending to the master. However, it was well worth it; by the next morning he was seemingly out of danger and quite lucid. When the doctor arrived to examine him, Lord Ashford was able to relate the details of the accident more fully.
“I was riding my horse down by the stream. When Jupiter went to jump the berm, he landed awkwardly and fell, crushing my leg beneath him. I must have hit my head on a rock and passed out then, because I don’t remember anything else until Adams came to rescue me. I remember him hoisting me up, then blackness, until I woke up this morning.”
“It’s a good sign that you remember the accident,” the doctor said. “A clear memory is one indicator that there should be no lasting effect from your blow to the head. However, should you have any trouble with your memory or vision, or any dizzy spells, you must send for me immediately. As for your leg, you must let it heal for at least a month. I will come once a week to look in on you.”
After the doctor departed, Lord Ashford called for Adams. At his behest, Molly escorted Will into the master’s room, where Lord Ashford lay recuperating.
“Adams,” his lordship said. “It seems I owe you my life.”
“Nay,” said Will, “nothing so serious as that. Someone else would have found you, had I not.”
“Still, I am in your debt. How can I ever repay you?”
“Molly,” Will blurted out, surprising her and, from the look on his face, the master, as well. “I would have Molly to be my wife.”
The master looked over at her where she sat next to his bed, her head bowed, so as not to reveal her turmoil at this unexpected development.
“May I speak freely, my lord?” Will asked.
His lordship nodded.
Will continued, “I know that she is your paramour, and I do not care. The fact is, my lord, that even if you love her, you can never marry her. I do love her, and can marry her. I can give her a respectable home and children, and will do so gladly if you will give me your blessing.”
“You speak the truth,” said his lordship, quietly. “What say you, Molly?”
“You are my lord and master,” she replied, “and I shall defer to your wishes, but I must confess that I am not opposed to Mr. Adams’ suit.”
Thankfully, the master did not appear to be too distressed by her confession, or too curious about the sudden romance between her and Will. Instead he looked thoughtful. Finally, he spoke. “I do give my consent, but on two conditions. First, you may not marry until I am able to attend the wedding, and second, you must swear to take good care of her.”
“I swear,” Will promised. “Thank you, my lord. You have made me the happiest of men. I shall go immediately to the vicar and ask him to post the banns.” Nodding to his lordship, Will strode from the room, leaving Molly alone with her master.
After a long silence, Lord Ashford spoke. “You care for him,” he said.
She nodded. “I have not known him long, but he is a good man.”
The master was silent a moment longer, then he said quietly, “In all this time, I have never asked if you care for me.”
For the first time in her experience, he sounded uncertain, and vulnerable.
“My lord…” she began.
“Anthony.”
“What?”
“My given name is Anthony. I have never heard it from your lips. I would do so, before I lose you forever.”
Molly’s heart thudded in her chest. If she had ever doubted that he cared for her, her doubts were now erased. Tears burned her eyes.
“Anthony,” she said softly, her voice thick with unshed tears. “I think that I have loved you from the moment I saw you.” Only now did Molly truly understand what Mrs. Hutchins had told her those many months ago. The love she felt for Will was not the love she felt for Lord Ashford, but both were real and true.
This seemed to satisfy the master, since he gave her a sad smile and nodded, before dismissing her. As she left the room, Molly looked back with love on the lips that had so often kissed hers, the arms that had held her, the body that she’d so often felt pressed against hers. She would never forget his lordship—or the passion he’d taught her. She would take that gift, along with her precious book, into her marriage.
Four weeks later, on the day of her wedding, his lordship gave her another gift, a purse containing five hundred pounds. Then he watched, along with all the servants and half the village, as Molly stood before the vicar and pledged her vows to Will, promising to love, cherish and obey him for all time, as her husband, her lord and the master of her heart.