The Accidental Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  Yet Lily barely noticed the food or the conversation, far too aware of a certain golden-haired gentleman and his watchful gaze.

  The marquis was seated several feet down and opposite, relaxing back in his chair with the graceful assurance of a lion. With candlelight burnishing his hair to a gleaming gold, he reminded her of some ancient god of Nordic myth. Or a warrior perhaps, since she was coming to realize he possessed a wild intensity that belied his veneer of quiet sophistication. Added to that was the fact that he was, without question, the handsomest man in the room. Of course, given his undeniable masculine beauty, he was likely to be the handsomest man in any room.

  And he was looking at her. Again.

  Glancing down at her plate, she struggled to slow the rapid pace of her heartbeat, aware of him as if he were seated only inches away instead of feet. He really ought to stop, Lily thought, silently chiding him as she cut a tiny piece of the roast venison with cherry port sauce and lifted the bite to her lips. Despite the buttery tenderness of the meat, she had difficulty swallowing, knowing if she glanced up she would find those mesmerizing amber eyes still upon her.

  Luckily she didn’t think anyone else in the room had noticed Lord Vessey’s attentions toward her, despite the fact that he’d been playing his little game through the entirety of the meal. Even while he ate his dinner and chatted with the guests to his right and left, he had kept her in his sights, his gaze stroking over her like a sleek, velvety glove. His visual caresses set her body atingle as memories of his talented hands and glorious kisses replayed themselves in her mind.

  Of all the unlikely coincidences, she still couldn’t believe she had encountered him here tonight, particularly when she’d thought never to see him again!

  Shock was the only word to describe her earlier reaction when she’d turned around at Davina’s urging and found him standing before her. She’d very nearly died on the spot. He had been equally surprised, she could tell, his eyes mirroring the astonishment she had felt. At least he had given his promise not to reveal how they had really met, nor the way she had been attired at the time—behavior many would consider scandalous were it to become generally known.

  No, on that score at least, she knew she could relax. Lord Vessey had given his word as a gentleman, and she believed him. But what did he think he was about, gazing at her with such rapt attention? Was he simply “punishing” her for her so-called wild behavior, or was that really desire she saw gleaming in his eyes? And if it was, how should she react?

  Soon the main course was cleared, dessert and coffee served, along with a sweet wine for the ladies and a fortified vintage for the gentlemen. Lily was trying to make polite conversation with the man on her left when she once again caught the marquis’s eye.

  Meeting his gaze directly this time, she watched as he gave her a slow smile. Raising his wineglass, he took a drink, his strong throat working beneath his cravat. Her mouth grew dry, her pulse pounding as his tongue slid out to catch an errant drop of wine—the act leaving his own mouth moist and gleaming as if he’d just indulged in a heated kiss.

  Her nipples hardened beneath the fabric of her bodice.

  Good God, she realized, he’s seducing me without so much as a touch! Dangerous. That’s what he is. Far too dangerous for me.

  Relief swept through her when Davina called for the ladies to withdraw, Lily’s legs shaking slightly as she rose and walked from the room. Entering the drawing room, she accepted a cup of tea, then crossed to take a seat on one of the sofas. As she sipped the gently steaming beverage, she considered the marquis.

  Some men a woman can handle, she mused, and some men a woman cannot. Ethan Andarton was unquestionably one of the latter variety. She might not know him well, but already she could tell he was strong-willed and persistent, the kind of man who would never allow himself to be manipulated or persuaded from his chosen course.

  What she found herself wondering was whether or not his “chosen course” currently included pursuing her. His behavior at dinner would certainly seem to suggest the possibility—the mere recollection of his gaze enough to provoke a full-body flush.

  Her intuition told her to flee.

  Her head told her not to be a silly goose.

  True, he made her tingle in ways and places she’d never realized a woman might crave a man, but it was just as true that she had no intention of doing anything about the attraction. For one, she had no wish to marry. And as for an illicit affair, she knew nothing of such matters, only that it would be in her best interest to steer well clear of such a tangle of complications and intimacies. Nonetheless, she’d never been one to back away from a challenge. So, she decided, whatever Lord Vessey’s game might be, I will match him and win.

  Her confidence faltered a bit, though, when he strode into the room with the rest of the gentlemen nearly an hour later. Yet instead of crossing to her, he continued a discussion with his host, the pair of them apparently involved in some weighty matters given the serious expressions on their faces. Once he’d finished his talk with Lord Coates, he allowed himself to be drawn into conversation with a pair of ladies, who flirted and laughed, making every effort to display their more-than-ample feminine assets to his apparently appreciative eyes.

  More irritated than she cared to admit even to herself, Lily drew her shawl around her shoulders and stood. Turning her back in his direction, she decided she would make her excuses to her hosts and call for her coach.

  “Hello again, Mrs. Smythe,” rumbled a familiar male voice from over her shoulder. “And how have you been enjoying the evening?”

  Turning to face him, she found herself far too close—a faint trace of the bay rum on his neck pleasuring her senses, the subtle rows of white-on-white acanthus leaves that were intricately embroidered on his waistcoat near enough to be easily visible to her eyes.

  Refusing to retreat, she tipped back her head and met his keen gaze. “Quite well, though I am just on my way to say my good-evenings to Davina.”

  “Surely you aren’t leaving? The night is entirely too young for you to depart yet.”

  “Nonetheless, I believe I shall take my leave.”

  “But there is to be music, or so I am given to understand. Both singing and playing.”

  “I assume you heard that from the young ladies with whom you were so recently conversing,” she retorted, her words sounding far more tart than they ought.

  He lifted a brow, amusement curving his sensual mouth. “Actually, our hostess is the one who mentioned tonight’s auditory entertainment, but Miss Chartman and her cousin will no doubt be eager to participate. You must do so as well. And at which talent are you more proficient, ma’am, singing or playing?”

  A delicate guffaw escaped her lips. “Neither, my lord. I am a sad hand at both. Lady Coates and I were in school together years ago and she can attest to my failings in those disciplines. If she has any care for her guests, she will spare them such tortures.”

  “Come now, it cannot be as bad as all that.”

  “No, it is worse.”

  Quite without knowing how, she found herself sharing a mutual smile with him, one that was oddly conspiratorial in nature.

  The merry twinkle that danced in his gaze gradually faded, deepening to something else entirely.

  “Well, I am sure you possess many other exceptional talents,” he drawled, his eyes lowering slowly to her lips.

  Her breasts rose and fell on a quick inhalation, an electrified shiver traveling through her system.

  Mercy, there he goes again, she thought, threatening to turn me into a puddle! Quite likely he employed the technique—one of his exceptional talents—on a regular basis. She imagined women were forever casting themselves at his feet. And how many, she wondered, did he accept?

  “Why do we not take a turn in the garden?” he suggested. “So you can tell me more about yourself.”

  “I thought you wanted to hear the music.”

  “I would rather hear about you.”

>   His words snapped her out of her haze. If there was anything about which she did not want to talk it was herself. Already, he knew far too much for comfort.

  “Thank you, my lord, but I must decline,” she said, fighting to keep her tone light and even. “As I told you before, I really need to leave.”

  “Very well, then, if you insist, madam. But know that I shall see you again and we will have that walk.” He bent closer, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You will not be able to run and hide from me this time. No erroneous dead-end trails for me to follow without success.”

  She bit the corner of her lip and stared in dawning wonder. “Whatever do you mean? Did you follow me that first evening?”

  “One of my footmen did, actually, though I went to your hotel the next morning only minutes after you’d left. I am glad to know you will not be disappearing again.”

  Gracious, he tried to find me! I am in even deeper straits than I had imagined.

  “Good evening, my lord.”

  One corner of his mouth tipped up in a sensual smile. “Good evening, Jack.”

  Chapter Six

  “YOUR PARDON, MADAM, but these just arrived,” Lily’s butler announced from the doorway of her study.

  Setting down the quill pen she’d been using to write Davina a thank-you note for last night’s dinner party, she motioned the servant forward, her eyes widening at the sight of a massive arrangement of flowers held inside a white porcelain vase.

  “Mercy, who could have sent those?” she wondered aloud.

  Yet as soon as the words left her mouth she knew the answer.

  Lord Vessey.

  Heavens, he’s sent me flowers. And not just any flowers—lilies!

  Each creamy white, saucer-sized flower bore a delicate pink center, their heavenly fragrance filling the room like an open bottle of the finest French perfume. She drew in a deep breath, unable to keep herself from savoring the magnificent scent.

  “There is a card,” her butler volunteered, placing the huge mass of flowers—three dozen at least—atop a nearby table. Plucking free the small paper square, he brought the card to her and offered it with a bow.

  She hesitated before reaching out to take it. “Thank you, Hodges. That will be all.”

  Waiting until the servant withdrew, she gazed at the card and the bold yet elegant script written thereon.

  For the fairest Lily of them all.

  Until we meet again.

  Vessey

  A gentle sigh escaped her lips, her insides turning to the consistency of warm taffy as she gazed at the flowers.

  How lovely they are, she mused, the buttery-yellow walls of the study a perfect complement to their beauty.

  Rising to her feet, she crossed the room and stretched out a hand to stroke a single, velvety petal, noticing the stamens had been thoughtfully removed so there would be no pollen left to scatter. As before, the flowers’ sweet fragrance drifted upward to delight her senses.

  Clearly, Lord Vessey was not a man to waste time or hide his interest behind a series of false lures and half-veiled persuasions. Whatever this attraction was between them, he wanted to pursue it—to pursue her.

  A quiver resonated deep within her at the knowledge.

  Gracious, even his posies turn me soft and gooey! she thought. Perhaps I would be wise to withdraw from the field rather than risk further temptation. For in spite of her emboldened decision last evening to meet and match him at his own game, she wasn’t certain of the strength of her willpower—not where the marquis was concerned.

  Before she had time to change her mind, she rang the servant’s bell.

  Hodges appeared less than a minute later. “Yes, ma’am, how may I be of service?”

  Casting a last soulful glance at the flowers, she forced herself to turn her back on them. “If you would be so good, please see to it those are returned to their sender.”

  The middle-aged butler arched a brow but said nothing to appease his obvious curiosity. “Of course, Mrs. Smythe. Whatever you wish.”

  Crossing her arms, she watched out of the corner of her eye as he strode across the room to take the huge bouquet in hand. Turning, he started toward the door.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed as he neared the threshold.

  The servant stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. “Yes, madam?”

  Hurrying forward on the toes of her thin leather slippers, she came to a halt, then extended a hand to carefully slide a single flower free from its fellows.

  “I wish to keep one,” she said, realizing the defense was as much for herself as for her butler.

  A half-smile hovered over his lips. “Very good, ma’am.”

  Clutching the single lily in one hand and Vessey’s card in the other, she watched the servant depart. When he had gone, she lifted the flower to her nose, closed her eyes, and inhaled.

  “Oh, I am so glad you decided to join us!” Lady Julianna Pendragon declared when Ethan entered the breakfast room two weeks later. “Rafe should be here shortly. He had some pressing matter of business that could not wait, not even for his usual morning cup of coffee.”

  Mid-May sunshine flooded into the space, bringing with it an atmosphere of light and cheer. The garden visible beyond the glass double doors was a virtual rainbow of color; fat, red-breasted robins hopping over the verdant grass in search of their own breakfast of worms.

  Ethan paid scant attention to nature’s bounty, however, as he bent to dust a friendly kiss across Julianna’s smooth cheek. “I am glad too. With Rafe absent, we’ll be able to steal a bit more time for ourselves,” he teased with a wink. “May I say how radiant you look, even more so than usual. Carrying that newest little one must agree with you.”

  Julianna laughed, her dark eyes and beautiful face alive with unconcealed happiness. “He does, or should I say she, since I am hoping for a girl this time. Whichever sex, I cannot complain of feeling ill in even the slightest way, no queasiness or fatigue. Were it not for this,” she said, laying a palm across her slightly rounded belly, “I would hardly know I am with child.”

  Ethan smiled and took a seat.

  Ever the polite hostess and being familiar with his tastes, Julianna lifted a Sèvres teapot from the center of the linen-lined table and poured him a cup.

  “My sister claims the second baby is always easier,” he observed. “I am pleased it is proving so for you. And how is young master Campbell?”

  “He is wonderful,” she replied, refilling her own teacup before replacing the pot in its cozy. “Although testing his nurse’s patience lately, ever since he learned to run. When he gets going, catching him can be the very devil. Last night, he would not settle down until Rafe came in. Of course, Cam is such a skilled negotiator at only fourteen months that he managed to wheedle an extra bedtime story out of his papa. He lasted a single page, then fell fast asleep.”

  Her mouth curved in a tender smile of remembrance. “But enough about me and mine; how are you?”

  Hmm, he considered, how am I? I would be better if a certain widow weren’t doing her best to elude me, and making a damned fine job of it, too.

  Over the past two weeks, he’d expected to encounter Lily Smythe at one Ton function or another. Yet despite his efforts to seek her out, she had so far managed to avoid any of the events to which he was also invited. Assuming she was going out in the evenings—and he rather expected that to be the case—then Lily was obviously confining herself to small dinner parties and symposiums and such for ladies only.

  Were it not for her rejection of the bouquet he’d sent, he might have put her elusiveness down to a circumstance of unfortunate coincidence. But he rather suspected her actions to be deliberate.

  Since procuring her direction from Lady Coates on the evening of her party, he’d toyed with the idea of calling upon Lily at her townhouse. Given his brief acquaintance with her, though—at least in a public forum—he decided it might be wiser to find another method of wooing the mysterious widow Smythe.


  Generally, he didn’t indulge in chasing after women, especially ones who seemed reluctant to be caught. As a rule, he found women eager for his attentions, providing him with a more than ample selection from which to choose. Unfortunately, though, at the present time he had no desire for any of those women, his thoughts focused squarely upon one.

  By now, he supposed he ought to have banished memories of his passionate encounter with Lily. Yet those few minutes of contact had remained lodged like an aphrodisiac in his senses, leaving him hot and hungry for more. Meeting her unexpectedly at the Coateses’ had done nothing but increase his appetite.

  At its base, he knew one thing for certain: he wanted Lily Smythe in his bed.

  And by God, he thought, I mean to have her. Now all I need to do is convince her that’s what she wants, too.

  “So, tell me,” Julianna inquired, intruding into his thoughts, “what feminine hearts have you been breaking lately?”

  He paused, keenly aware of how close to his thoughts she had unwittingly come. “Alas none, dear lady,” he said, recovering quickly enough to send her a flirtatious smile. “Not with your own heart already spoken for, that is.”

  “That’s right, she is spoken for,” Rafe Pendragon announced in a growl as he strode into the breakfast room, “and I’ll thank you to remember it. No poaching, even if you are one of my best friends.”

  Ethan smiled and sipped his tea, knowing himself safe from Rafe’s wrath. Of course, the situation would have been completely different had his words been even remotely serious. Rafe, as he well knew, would tear apart any man who attempted a dalliance with his wife. Not that Julianna was interested; she had eyes for no one but her husband.

  Walking up to Julianna’s chair, Rafe leaned over and gave her a quick but infinitely loving and tender kiss on the lips. Straightening, he nodded a friendly hello to Ethan before taking his own seat at the table.

  A servant entered the room carrying a tall silver pot. Crossing to Rafe, he poured steaming coffee into the baron’s china cup. Another footman followed, bearing a platter heaped with eggs, bacon, kippers, and kidneys. A silver holder laden with golden squares of toast was next placed onto the table, along with a basket of assorted muffins and crumpets. A bowl of freshly sliced fruit came last.