Should I tell him how I feel or not?
That was the question that seemed to revolve like some steadily spinning planet inside her mind. Far too often these days she found herself dwelling upon the topic, growing silent, then having to cover the lapse with one sort of excuse or another. Sometimes she even dreamed about the question, imagining herself saying the words to Ethan—I love you—then gazing into his handsome face to await a response the phantom Ethan never gave. And therein lay another dilemma.
What if he does not feel the same way about me?
Despite their time together and their undeniable closeness, she wasn’t certain his interest in her went much deeper than friendship. He liked her, of that she had little doubt. But love? Commitment? Family? Would he want those things with her? More confusing, did she want them with him?
When she had staged her death and run away from home, changing her name and her identity in an effort to sever all ties with her past, she had been so sure she would never wish to marry. Marriage was a prison, after all, a cage set to lure women inside, then leave them weeping and regretful once their freedom had been taken away. But lately she found herself questioning that assumption. Her mother had endured two unions that had brought her little more than pain. Yet was her mother’s lot necessarily destined to be her own?
Over the past several weeks, she and Ethan had been virtually living together. They took their meals together. They spent long hours of every day in each other’s company. They went out together in the evenings to attend a party or see a play. At night, they shared a bed, making love with an intensity that never failed to leave her satisfied. And on the occasional night when they did nothing but sleep, they spooned together under the blankets in a blissful contentment, one she’d never imagined she might enjoy. And enjoy Ethan she did—each day at his side a new adventure, each night in his arms an exquisite delight.
But what of the future? Did they even have one together, or was she simply spinning fancies she would be better off crushing in their infancy? To say nothing of her circumstances and the fact that her present life was based on a lie.
How would Ethan take the news, should she decide to share the truth of her past? For such a revelation, once uttered, could never again be recalled. Dare I take the chance? she pondered. Dare I open myself and my life up to such risk? Dare I trust Ethan with everything, including my heart?
Yet ultimately what choice did she have? As much as she wished it might be otherwise, she and Ethan could not continue on with their current arrangement forever. The two of them did not live in a cocoon, tucked away from reality; she knew wild talk and speculation about them was beginning to spread through the Ton. At some point she and Ethan would need to make a decision. Either we must end our affair and stop seeing each other, she thought—her chest constricting with a tightness that verged on pain—or continue on to the next step. And the only possible next step is marriage.
But do I want to be his wife?
The answer that whispered in her head surprised her, the pen rolling from her grasp. I do, she realized, I do want to be his wife. But will he have me?
She’d refused him once, brutally honest in her dismissal of his suit. At the time, they had both been relieved to remain free of the parson’s noose. But what about now? Did Ethan still feel as he had then, or might he, too, have had a change of mind and heart?
Oh, if only I knew!
Withdrawing a handkerchief from her pocket, she dried her suddenly perspiring palms, balling the cloth inside one fist. She would have to tell him, she realized, not only of her feelings, but the truth about herself as well. For good or ill, at least then she would know.
So when? When shall I take the plunge?
She knew she should tell him right away—tonight, in fact. But he was promised for dinner with the Duke of Wyvern, who had just returned to Town, while she had agreed to accompany Davina to a lecture, her friend also having only recently arrived from the country. She could always tell him in bed, she supposed, but she hesitated to do so. What if everything did not go as she hoped? No, she needed a day when they had no other fixed engagements and could stay home.
The Mossgroves were throwing a ball in three days’ time, after which she and Ethan had decided to sleep late and spend the remaining afternoon and evening at home. Following the ball should be perfect, and the extra time between then and now should give her enough leeway to decide how to share the truth with him.
After the Mossgroves’ ball, she thought, that will be the day I tell him.
Her mind made up, she retrieved her pen and began to copy numbers.
The air was draped in an almost wintry chill as Ethan reached out a hand to help Lily step down from his carriage three nights later. He took in the scene, noise and excitement whirling like snowflakes around the entrance to Lord and Lady Mossgrove’s townhouse, satin- and velvet-clad guests making their way inside to participate in the festivities. Light burst from every door and window, the scent of melting candle wax, wine, and perfume mingling with the honeyed aroma that emanated from the large vases of hothouse roses arranged throughout the house.
Less than ten minutes after their arrival, an acquaintance approached, a young lord with whom he occasionally talked politics. The other man made an effort to be pleasant, pausing first to offer Lily a gracious compliment on her very becoming lilac satin gown before moving on to a discussion of Parliament’s latest legislative actions. Obviously he was hoping to encourage Ethan’s support on an issue of importance to him. When Davina Coates arrived, Ethan traded smiles with Lily as she excused herself to visit with her friend. He would see her again soon enough, he knew.
After hearing out the budding politician without making any unwanted promises, Ethan strode in Lily’s direction. As he walked, however, he found himself stopping often to exchange a few words with friends and trade greetings with acquaintances. Nearly an hour passed before he managed to locate Lily again. She was dancing, he discovered, looking utterly vivacious as she whirled in the arms of one of her old admirers. Restraining the urge to cut in and give the gossipmongers additional grist, he contented himself by simply observing.
He had no cause to be jealous, especially considering her response to their lovemaking last night. His blood warmed even now to remember the breathless little gasps and ragged moans she’d made as he’d brought her to completion over and over again. They’d both been exhausted and indescribably satiated before he’d let sleep claim them. And this morning when she awakened, a smile had been riding her sultry lips as though begging for another kiss. Before rising to dress, he’d given in to temptation one last time, claiming her mouth—and a bit more—much to their mutual satisfaction.
Later, however, she’d seemed strangely nervous, worrying the tip of her fingernail between her teeth when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He’d nearly asked her if anything was amiss, but then he’d glanced at the clock and known he must leave immediately if he didn’t wish to be late for a nuncheon date with his mother.
As though the thought of his mother had brought her to his side, he watched the dowager marchioness cross to him. He schooled his features to mask his surprise, since he hadn’t realized she planned to attend tonight’s entertainment.
“Ethan dear,” she said, leaning up to brush a kiss across his cheek. Dutifully, he bent down to receive her touch. “I knew I would find you eventually,” she continued. “Such a crowd there is here tonight! Lady Mossgrove must be delighted at the attendance, particularly considering the time of year.”
“People are always in want of a party, no matter what season it may be,” he murmured. “You should have told me, Mama, that you planned to attend tonight. I would have greeted you earlier.”
Perhaps she had not wanted to meet Lily, he thought, nor be put to the difficulty of refusing to share the carriage had he decided to ask her to accompany them. And mayhap he was expecting too much, since Lily was his mistress and men did not generally effect introductions between their
paramour and their mother. But Lily was a lady, not a common courtesan, and if all went as he hoped, one day she would be his wife. But until that time arrived, he supposed matters might go more smoothly if he did not push the two women together. Mama would likely think him insensitive, and Lily might be made uncomfortable, even embarrassed, especially if Mama was less than warm to her.
“I was not certain I planned to attend this evening,” she said, continuing their conversation. “But then the most delightful thing happened. Only look who has come unexpectedly to Town.”
Turning to the side, she motioned a hand to usher forward two people he hadn’t noticed standing in the crush. The Earl of Sutleigh he knew immediately, and at the older man’s side was a slender nymph of a girl, her cheeks even paler than her ashen blond curls.
Amelia Dodd. Lord above, what is she doing here now?
A scowl lowered across his forehead.
“Is this not a wonderful surprise, Ethan?” his mother declared. “Lord Sutleigh and Lady Amelia arrived only yesterday and called upon me this afternoon, not many minutes after you had gone. I convinced them to come to the ball tonight so you might be reacquainted.”
Forcing his frown lines to ease, he set a pleasant expression on his face and executed a respectful bow. “My lord. Lady Amelia. How good to see you both.”
Sutleigh thrust out a gloved palm, which he accepted for a firm handshake. The girl meanwhile sent him a quick, skittering glance before returning her gaze to her white evening slippers.
Good heavens, he thought, she looks petrified. Surely she is not scared of me? But apparently she is. And to think I once planned to wed this child.
Tomorrow, he decided, he would speak with Lord Sutleigh about ending the proposed engagement. Even if he had never met Lily, Ethan knew he and this frail waif would never have suited each other. More relieved by his narrow escape than he cared to admit, he did his best to be gracious over the next several minutes, going out of his way to be kind to the nearly mute Miss Dodd.
He was attempting to extricate himself from the pair, hoping to finally reunite with Lily, when his mother said something that stopped him in his tracks. “Ethan, why do you not take Lady Amelia in to supper? I am sure you two young people would have a lovely time conversing without her father and me there to listen to every word.”
Amelia’s pale blue eyes darted up, grew huge as plates, then fell once more upon her toes, her hands clasped tightly at her waist.
Ethan shot his mother a narrowed look, but recovered his manners with no more than a second’s hesitation. “Why, of course. I would be honored.” Having been neatly maneuvered, he did as politeness required and extended his arm.
Obviously trapped as well, Amelia laid her little palm on his sleeve, her trembling noticeable even through the cloth.
A couple of hours, he assured himself, and I can go home with Lily. A couple of hours and this girl and I can be quit of each other for good.
Who is that chit with Ethan? Lily wondered from across the room. And why is he taking her in to supper? The child looked barely old enough to be out of the schoolroom, let alone socializing with a man of Ethan’s age and reputation. And if Lily did not misread the situation, the girl appeared half-terrified to boot. A cousin perhaps, she speculated, noticing the middle-aged couple strolling just behind Ethan and the child, the older woman quite obviously Ethan’s mother.
The family resemblance between the two of them was plain to see. The shape of their eyes was the same, as was the graceful sweep of their noses, one nearly a match for the other, size and gender being the only distinctions. Yes, she mused, that elegant older lady is Ethan’s mama. He had made no effort to introduce her to his mother, she noted, though given her current relationship with Ethan, she admitted such a meeting might prove awkward. And yet if all went well tomorrow, perhaps that situation would soon change.
A small fist squeezed inside her chest, anxiety battling with anticipation. Tomorrow she planned to tell him everything. Though maybe if I can work up the nerve, I should tell him tonight that I love him and wish us never to be parted.
Does he love me? Surely he does. After all, how could a man make the kind of intense, tender love Ethan made to her if his heart was not engaged? How could he spend his days and nights at her side, sharing the very fabric of their lives, if he harbored no genuine attachment to her?
And once she knew for certain that he did love her, then she would reveal the truth about how she had come to London and why she had become war widow Lily Smythe. He would be angry at first, she assumed, but after he’d had a chance to consider the untenable nature of her circumstances at home, he would understand why she had acted as she had.
At least I hope he will.
Letting her gaze drift over him as he and the girl waited to enter the supper room, emotion swelled inside her like a cresting wave. Life would surely be easier if I did not, but heavens, I do love him!
“P-pardon me, Mrs. Smythe, but I was wondering if I might have the honor of escorting you in to supper?”
The question shattered her thoughts. Glancing up, she discovered Lord Ottwell at her side, an optimistic expression on his pleasant face. Having expected Ethan to take her in, she had already turned down two other gentlemen who had offered to share the supper interval with her. But since Ethan was apparently otherwise occupied—she scowled again, wondering at the identity of the girl—she supposed she would do well to accept Lord Ottwell. At least he wasn’t a bad sort, neither a lecher nor a bore, and since no carriage-driving would be involved at the supper table, she supposed she would be safe enough.
Giving him a gracious smile, she nodded and took his arm. “Thank you, my lord, that would be most welcome.”
His own smile widened, then he led her forward. After a short silence, he cleared his throat. “I…um…see that Lord Vessey has taken Miss Dodd in tonight.”
She stiffened briefly, willing her muscles to relax. So that is her name, is it? Lily mused. Miss Dodd!
“Though perhaps I should not have said,” he continued.
“No,” she forced herself to reply. “That is entirely all right. You know the young lady, then?”
“Oh no, not personally. But I am slightly acquainted with her father, the Earl of Sutleigh. He and Vessey both have extensive holdings in Suffolk. Their families are old friends, I believe.”
Old friends, are they, and not cousins? Perhaps the girl was only visiting Town and Ethan was being kind in order to please his mother. That would account for the child’s nervous demeanor at least.
Walking into the crowded supper room, her gaze flew straight toward Ethan where he sat alone with Miss Dodd. Her free hand curled into a fist at her side. Making her fingers relax, she allowed Lord Ottwell to lead her to an unoccupied table and assist her into a chair.
“I shall procure plates for us both and be back in a thrice,” he declared.
Forgetting him almost as soon as he’d departed, she glanced again at Ethan, then away. Releasing a sigh, she realized this was going to be a very long evening.
Lord save me, Ethan thought, will this night never end?
He’d just spent the last hour enduring young Miss Dodd’s nearly silent company, the girl barely able to say much above “thank you,” “no, thank you,” and “yes, the quail is excellent.”
Now that the meal was finished, manners required that he escort Amelia to her father. Once that duty was done, he would then be free to seek out Lily. He could only imagine what she must be thinking. Hopefully she wasn’t too angry. Regardless, he promised himself he would make things up to her once they were alone.
Locating Lord Sutleigh should have been a simple matter, but he found himself and Lady Amelia waylaid by more than one acquaintance who wished to chat. The strains of the first country dance were fading into silence by the time he spotted the earl. The older man was easily visible now, standing on the ballroom steps so that he was a full head above the crowd. At his side stood the dowager marchioness
. Ethan frowned and wondered what the two of them were doing there.
Just then, his mother lifted her hands to call for silence. “Everyone,” she said in a carrying voice, “your attention and a moment of your time, if you please.”
At once, the entire room grew quiet, all eyes turning in her direction.
“This evening is a very special occasion,” she began, “one a mother only enjoys a very few times in her life, if she is so blessed.”
What is she saying? Ethan wondered, his pulse beginning to beat at an increased pace.
“As some of you may know, the Earl of Sutleigh and I have long been friends. His late wife was my dearest companion and confidante before she was taken from us at far too young an age.”
A buzzing started between his ears, air harder to draw into his lungs.
“Yet from the day she and I became mothers, we knew one thing—that our families were one day destined to be joined.”
Bloody hell, she isn’t, Ethan thought. She couldn’t. I have to stop her. Now!
Yet even as he shook off Amelia’s hand so he could race forward, his mother continued to speak.
“Which is why it is my great joy and delight,” the dowager said, “to announce the engagement of my son, Ethan, to my friend, the Earl of Sutleigh’s beautiful young daughter, Amelia.”
Gasps resounded throughout the room. If his mother had taken one of the carving knives from the supper table and stabbed the blade through his chest, he could not have been more shocked. Or felt more furious.
“Felicitations to my son and my future daughter!” The dowager and the earl smiled widely, raising their hands to clap. “Oh, and the official notice will be in the Morning Post tomorrow,” she called as a final parting shot.
A true fait accompli, he thought, grinding his teeth together so hard it was a wonder his jaw didn’t crack. His mother, it would appear, had thought of everything to catch him neatly in her trap.
A rash of comments and congratulations broke out around him, people coming forward to shake his hand and pat him on the back. Nearby, Amelia was receiving similar attention, looking a bit like a feather caught up in a windstorm. But he didn’t care about her; his thoughts were all for Lily. Turning his head, he scanned the crowd for her, the words of the people around him coalescing into a dull, garbled hum.
The Accidental Mistress Page 24
