The Accidental Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  And suddenly there she was, standing on the far side of the ballroom, looking lost and alone. She held a hand clutched at the base of her throat as though she could not breathe properly, her face as stark and white as a first winter snow. Even her lips had lost their color.

  Their gazes met and held, a moist sheen of unshed tears making her eyes gleam like glass, anguish and disbelief swimming in their vivid green depths. Abruptly she whirled, hurrying across the room as rapidly as her feet would carry her.

  Damning politeness and not caring how his actions might appear, he started forward, only to be stopped when his mother curled a hand around his arm. “Ethan, where do you think you are going?” she demanded in a low voice. “You cannot abandon your bride. People are staring.”

  He glared down at her, his gaze frigid. “Let them stare. And she isn’t my bride yet, despite your best attempts to make it so. Now release me.”

  She trembled but held her place. “I only did what was best. What needed to be done to secure your happiness.”

  “If you cared a jot about my happiness you would never have interfered. You may well have ruined my life, madam, and right now, I can scarcely stand to look at you.”

  On a soft gasp, she let him go.

  Stalking forward, he cut through the crowd, ignoring the few individuals who were either brave enough or foolish enough to attempt to get in his way. Bolting down the hallway, he sped out the front door and down the steps. For a long moment he thought she was gone, but then he caught a glimpse of lilac satin fluttering in the chill wind. She hadn’t stopped to retrieve her cloak, and as he walked closer he could see that she was shivering, her arms crossed at her waist.

  “Lily, thank heavens you haven’t left! What just happened back there in the ballroom, it is not what you think.”

  Refusing to acknowledge him, she stared straight ahead.

  “You’re freezing. Come back inside where it’s warm and we’ll talk.” He reached out to take her arm.

  “Don’t touch me!” she said, jerking away from his grasp.

  He drew a breath, striving for patience. “I know you’re upset, but if you will just let me explain—”

  She turned on him. “Explain what? That you are secretly engaged, and obviously have been for some while? How long, Ethan? How long have you been using and deceiving me?”

  His shoulders drew back, a muscle ticking near his eye. “I have done neither. Making that announcement tonight was my mother’s idea.”

  “And you, of course, had no part in it,” she said.

  “No, I did not,” he told her, enunciating each word. “Give me a chance—”

  “A chance to what? Concoct more lies and excuses? Well, I, for one, have no wish to listen to them. Now, hadn’t you best hurry back inside before you are missed by your little fiancée?”

  A set of fingers curled at his hip. “We’re going to talk about this.”

  “No, we are not. Go away, Ethan, and…” her voice broke, “…and leave me alone.” Her lower lip trembled as she dashed a hand across one eye. When a hackney rolled to a stop at the curb, she moved toward it.

  He caught her elbow. “Surely you are not planning to ride in that? Let me call for my coach so we can go home and discuss this.”

  “I do not want your coach. In fact, I want nothing further from you. And if by ‘home’ you mean my townhouse, you are no longer welcome there. Go to Andarton House, Ethan. That is where you live.” Yanking out of his hold, she stepped inside the hackney. Seconds later, she slammed the door shut and the vehicle set off.

  “Lily!” he shouted. “Lily come back here!” But even as the words left his mouth, he knew it was too late, the hack hurrying down the street before rounding a corner and disappearing from view.

  Damn and blast, he cursed, smacking a fist against his thigh. He considered following her, ordering the fastest horse available so he could chase her down. After all, she needed to listen to reason, had to be made to understand the truth. But what was the truth now, since, like it or not, he was an engaged man in the eyes of Society? Until he could figure a way free of that entanglement, the best he could offer Lily were his explanations and his word.

  The knowledge that she had so little faith galled him, but he supposed she had just cause considering his mother’s outrageous maneuverings tonight. As much as he longed to storm over to Lily’s townhouse and make her hear him out, he knew she was in no mood to be coerced or cajoled. Perhaps he ought to give her a small bit of time, he decided, a few hours in which to calm down before he approached her again.

  Raking his fingers through his hair, he cursed under his breath. Resigned to what was sure to be a lonely, frustrating night, he strode forward and called for his coach to go home.

  Chapter Nineteen

  LILY THOUGHT SHE would cry, imagining she would burst into a torrent of tears the instant she was alone. But the tears stayed locked inside her, the wound too deep to be relieved by such a simple balm.

  She had no recollection of the journey home, arriving shivering but safe, only to be led inside by a concerned-looking Hodges. Her lady’s maid took her in hand next, leading her upstairs for a dish of hot tea and a change into her warmest woolen nightgown and robe. Susan asked only once if his lordship would be arriving later.

  “No,” Lily said in a flat tone that sounded odd even to her own ears. “His lordship will not be arriving at all.”

  He will never be here again.

  After brushing Lily’s hair and putting away her jewels, Susan murmured good night and let herself out of the room.

  Huddled beneath the covers, Lily tried to sleep, but rest eluded her, the bed far too big and far too empty. Mouser joined her, his purrs soothing in the dark and quiet. Sliding her fingers into his fur, she stroked him, rubbing her cheek against his silky coat, grateful for his comfort.

  Hours passed, memories replaying in her mind—Ethan with Amelia Dodd, the two of them sharing supper and dancing. His mother calling everyone together, a wide smile on her face as she made her dreadful announcement.

  Engaged. Ethan and that girl are to be married.

  Just how long has he been planning this? she wondered. Had he pledged his troth to another, even while he was sleeping with her? Or was this arrangement of a far longer duration? One made in his infancy, perhaps, before Amelia Dodd had ever been conceived? Was that why he had thought nothing of it? Why he had not been expecting his mother to announce the engagement tonight?

  And what of his long-ago marriage proposal to me?

  Lies. All of it lies. He’d wanted her in his bed and he’d done what it took to get her there. He’d probably even offered to wed her, knowing how she felt about marriage, confident she would turn him down. Maybe he’d used the ploy to convince her how “honorable” he was, so she would lower her guard.

  And lower her guard she had, opening her heart in a way she had never thought she would for any man. Tucking her fisted hands tight against her breasts, she stared into the darkness.

  When the first rays of dawn light peeked inside the room, she rose to open the curtains. Pulling on a robe, she went to her dressing room to locate an empty hatbox. Container in hand, she returned to the bedroom, crossed to the stand Ethan had been using as a dressing table, and began tossing in items.

  His straight razor went first, then his leather strop. Next landed his shaving brush and soap, his carved ivory comb, and a pair of round, silver-backed hairbrushes with his initials, EEA, engraved upon them. A spare calling-card case—empty of cards—joined the collection, along with his toothbrush, tooth powder, and a watch fob and watch key. A handful of coins clinked their way to the bottom of the box, rattling as she laid a small case containing two jeweled cravat pins on top. A length of sealing wax and a matchbox joined the cache.

  Toiletries finished, she stalked to the highboy and yanked open a drawer. Taking up a stack of neatly laundered cravats, she shoved them into the box. Handkerchiefs, stockings, and a pair of shoe buckles came next
. Three pair of gloves were squashed into a convenient spot, followed by a nightshirt she had never once seen him wear. With the container now overflowing, she set it aside and began tossing clothing onto her bed.

  The bedroom door opened as she was laying down a stack of lightweight woolen drawers.

  “Are you awake, ma’am?” her maid inquired in a soft voice, a floorboard giving a tiny squeak as she stole slowly into the room. “I heard noises and thought I would check…mercy me!”

  Lily flicked a quick glance over her shoulder as she crossed back for an armful of shirts. “Oh, good, I’m glad you are here. You can help me finish packing all of this up. From the look of it, we shall need another box or two at least to do the job.” Closing one drawer, she pulled open another, discovering two coats and three pairs of trousers folded neatly inside. Grabbing them up, she flung them on top of the growing pile of garments littering the bed.

  Staring in plain astonishment, her maid stood unmoving in the center of the room.

  “Boxes, if you please, Susan.”

  Lily’s quiet admonishment produced the desired effect, the girl bobbing a curtsey before springing into action. She returned a short while later bearing a pair of large, rectangular bandboxes well suited for garments.

  During her absence, more items had joined the pile, Lily having added two silk-lined beaver top hats, a pair of evening pumps, and an ebony cane set with a gold handle in the shape of a roaring lion.

  She had once commented to Ethan about this cane, telling him she thought it an excellent symbol for him to carry, since he was her strong, beautiful golden lion. Lips tight, she gave the cane a dismissive shove, then spun and went to scour the room for any items that might have escaped her notice.

  Twenty minutes later, the bed stood empty once again, all of Ethan’s belongings packed away. Even the original overflowing hatbox had been rearranged, since Susan had been unable to fit the lid on top otherwise.

  “What shall I do with his lordship’s things, ma’am?” her maid inquired.

  Lily wanted to tell the girl to fling them out the window, or better yet take them to the Thames and let the river claim them. But then, she need not have seen his clothes and other belongings boxed up had she wished to have them destroyed. Besides, she reasoned, indulging in such overly dramatic behavior would only prove to Ethan how deeply wounded she was by his treachery. She would not give him the satisfaction. The return of his belongings without any fanfare would send a far better, more eloquent message.

  “Have one of the footmen take the dog cart and drive all of this over to Lord Vessey’s townhouse.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And ask Hodges to attend me, if you would.”

  After Susan departed, Lily traded her robe for a dressing gown, moving into her sitting room while two footmen carried the boxes out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

  A brief knock came at the door, her butler standing on the threshold. “You wished to see me, ma’am?”

  Looking across from where she stood at the window, she gave a nod. “I did. I want you to send for a locksmith. Tell him if he can have all the doors reset and re-keyed by this evening, there will be an extra amount added to his wage.”

  The servant’s eyes widened faintly, but to his credit he showed no other reaction to her request. “Of course, ma’am. I shall see to it immediately.”

  Once he’d left, she started toward her bedroom, and that was when she saw it—a leather-bound book resting on the end table near the fireplace. Ethan had been reading the work only two nights ago, relaxed in the accompanying wing chair, a glass of port close at hand.

  She’d gone to him and snuggled against his side, asking him to read a few paragraphs to her out loud. He’d done so, his rich voice reciting the story, until her wandering hand distracted him and he’d set the book aside. He’d taken her to bed where they’d made love. Little had she realized that coupling would be their last.

  Grabbing up the book, she spun, intending to catch the footman before he left. But after only three steps, she drew to a halt, unable to continue. Slowly, she raised the book to her breasts and cradled it there, realizing suddenly this was all she had left of Ethan.

  A harsh sob escaped her lips. Her shoulders shaking, she began to cry.

  Ethan tossed back the covers after a sleepless night, rising early to shave and dress. He wanted no breakfast, not even tea, before he strode downstairs to his study. Seated at his desk, he penned a note to Amelia Dodd, asking permission to call upon her as soon as may be. Even if she did not wish to see him, she would grant him an interview. Once there, he would demand to see her alone so that he could convince her to end this farce of an engagement. After his behavior last night—deserting her only moments after the announcement had been made in order to chase after his mistress—his request to be released from his promise should certainly come as no surprise. And given her trembling diffidence in his presence, he assumed she would send him packing with profound relief.

  The Ton was abuzz, of course, but he didn’t care, far too concerned about repairing the damage that had been done to his relationship with Lily. Good lord, he couldn’t get the sight of her face out of his mind—the shock and the horror, the misery gleaming in her eyes. As soon as he’d spoken to Amelia, he would go to Lily to make amends. That way, at least, he would be able to give her the good news that the engagement was off before he begged her forgiveness. Surely once he explained what had happened, she would understand and welcome him back.

  A tap came at the door. He glanced up to find his butler there, a peculiar expression on the man’s usually emotionless face.

  “Yes, what is it, White?” Ethan asked, setting down his pen.

  “Pardon me, my lord, but a footman has arrived with some boxes.”

  He raised a brow. “What sort of boxes?”

  “Bandboxes, my lord. I am given to understand they contain your…um…personal effects. Clothing and such, from…um…your recent habitation in Bloomsbury.”

  Bloomsbury!

  Christ, she has sent back my things.

  Which meant that Lily had decided to cut him out without even granting him a hearing. Though perhaps to her way of thinking their brief conversation last night had already served that purpose.

  His hand curled into a fist, a fresh wave of fury and frustration rising inside him. Silently, he cursed his mother again for her outrageous, high-handed interference. If strangling her would do any good, he would march over to her townhouse right now to do the deed. But violence was useless—though if the time came when he could once more stand to be in the same room with his mother, she would likely find herself on the sharp side of a good tongue-lashing. Still, the nightmare events of last evening had occurred and nothing could change that fact. All that remained was to repair the damage as best he could.

  Standing, he moved past his butler and strode out of the room and down the hall. In the foyer, he found a small hillock of boxes. Lifting the lid off one, he stared down at his belongings, catching a glimpse of his razor and comb, along with a few stray pence and shillings that winked up at him in a kind of taunting derision.

  A muscle ticked near his eye, a growl working its way into his throat. He swallowed the sound as a single, daunting realization set in. Not only is winning Lily back going to be hard, he thought, it’s going to be hell.

  Truer words had never been spoken, Ethan realized later that afternoon as he paced across the Sutleigh townhouse drawing room, Amelia Dodd seated on the nearby sofa, garbed in demure white.

  “What do you mean you won’t break the engagement!”

  Amelia cringed, her pale face growing paler. “Oh, please do not yell at me.”

  “I am not yelling at you,” he blasted back, realizing that perhaps he was bellowing a bit. Closing his eyes for a brief moment, he drew a breath and willed himself to be calm. “My apologies if I raised my voice,” he continued in an even tone. “Miss Dodd…Amelia…I understand that all of this is very dist
ressing for you. Frankly, the situation is distressing for me as well, since neither one of us had agreed to the unexpected announcement that my mother made last night. I assume you were as stunned as I.”

  Her lashes lowered over her eyes, a faintly guilty expression pinching her pretty features. Apparently she had known something about his mother’s plans. Perhaps that was why she had been so nervous in his company last night.

  “Papa said you offered for me months ago,” she explained in a breathless rush. “That last night was a mere formality.”

  “I told your father that I was considering offering for you,” he stated. “But that nothing was settled as of yet. I planned to pay my addresses to you this spring to see if we would suit. Did you not find it odd that I would supposedly consent to an engagement without even speaking to you about the matter first? Without actually proposing to you in person?”

  She said nothing, her chin lowered as she stared at her clasped hands.

  He walked a few steps forward, then back, stopping in front of her. “Amelia, let us speak honestly. What happened last night was a mistake, something my mother, and apparently your father, concocted in order to force us together. I am truly sorry for any embarrassment and pain this debacle has caused you. However, it is not too late to undo the damage.”

  She released a small sigh.

  He seized upon the sound, taking it as encouragement to continue. “You and I are not married yet, and we do not ever need to be. But you must be the one to end things between us. You can break this engagement; you have that prerogative. As a gentleman, I do not.”

  She shook her head. “But we are publicly pledged now.”

  “We do not have to be,” he urged. “Have you not been listening? All you need do is jilt me.”