More Than A Mistress

by Ann Lethbridge

  She jumped between the cold sheets and shivered.

  It would have been nice to stay next to Charlie. For them to wake up together. Like husband and wife.

  The faint memory of sitting on her parents’ bed in the early mornings, drinking chocolate like a real grown-up lady slid into her thoughts. They’d been so happy. Before the fever had struck.

  Afterwards, everything had changed. Poor Grandfather had been so sad, so worried about what to do with her.

  She snuggled deeper beneath the sheets and closed her eyes. If only things could have been different. If only she could have been a lady like her mother, as Grandfather had hoped, Charlie might have gone along with her proposal. Betrothed to a marquis. Merry Draycott. What a thing. She couldn’t help but chuckle beneath her breath. She hugged her arms around her body. Imagine meeting such a gorgeous man on the road across the moors.

  The vision of her phaeton, shafts upright in the ditch, brought her upright. Deliberately damaged.

  Her stomach roiled. Her heart raced, rising in her throat to shorten her breathing. Fear.

  Saints above, she’d never sleep now. She couldn’t go back to Charlie, admit her terror. He’d use the knowledge to impose his will.

  Shivering, she got up and lit a candle to keep the dark thoughts at bay. She stared at the flickering flame. Was that why Charlie kept his candles alight when he slept? To keep away evil?

  It would have to be something terrible to trouble such a powerful man.

  Numbers were her escape. She picked up the accounts ledger she’d put aside earlier in the evening. It would either put her to sleep, or she would get her morning’s work done before first light. She must find a way to increase production, or she would have to let employees go.

  Why was everything going wrong now? Were all the naysayers who had wrung their hands in horror at her inheritance of the mill right after all? Was it impossible for a woman to run such a large enterprise as Draycott’s? Should she have abided by her uncle Chepstow’s wishes and put everything in his hands?

  She sighed. Grandfather would have solved the problem in an instant. Look out for t’coppers was his motto. Was that what she was doing wrong? Looking out for the pounds?

  Dash it all, she would not be beaten.

  She opened the ledger at the beginning. The answer had to be here.

  Cold. Alone. Charlie opened his eyes.

  Darkness assaulted his gaze. Silence his ears. A band tightened around his chest, cutting off air. Sweat trickled down his back. His heart thundered. He lay rigid. Still. Suffocating.

  In a bed?

  Why the hell was it dark?

  The candles must have gone out. Darkness had woken him. He threw back the covers and drew back the curtains from the window. It didn’t help.

  He gathered the supply of candles he’d left ready with shaking hands. He brought down the candelabra and struck the flint. A candle flared. He inhaled a deep calming breath.

  He held the flame to the candelabra. Its candles hadn’t burned down, they’d been snuffed. Some time ago by their length.

  He glanced at the rumpled bed. Merry must have doused them when she left.

  Why hadn’t he awoken then? He had slept through her departure. Were the nightmares finally gone?

  He rubbed at his breastbone and stared at the window. A faint trace of grey in the darkness of the room. He wanted to cheer. He felt rested. For the first time in years, energy coursed through his veins at the thought of a new day.

  He’d made love to Merry, wonderful passionate wild love, and fallen asleep. God, he’d lost complete control with her, behaved like a green boy with his first woman.

  She had climaxed deliciously. He hardened, wanting her again.

  It wouldn’t happen.

  Their lovemaking hadn’t changed her decision. The two things were not connected. She wanted him gone. He was to drive away and leave her to face the danger alone. Impossible. Yet what choice did he have…unless he agreed to her suggestion that he pose as her future husband.

  He groaned. If his father ever learned of this new adventure of his, Robert would be outcast forever. But leaving Merry in danger was out of the question. He already had enough guilt to carry. What he’d done to Robert. His failure at Waterloo.

  He would not fail Merry.

  He stilled. Was he once more being reckless, endangering others to satisfy his own ego as his commanding officer had accused?

  He went hot, then cold. Damn it all, what else could he do? If he left and something happened to Merry, he would never forgive himself.

  A knock sounded at the door. He grabbed for his banyan as Brian stepped in, carrying hot water in a jug. ‘Ready for your shave and a bath, my lord?’

  Ready? Yes, indeed. Because he needed to see Merry as soon as possible. Not that he expected the conversation to be easy.

  Chapter Ten

  The account books didn’t look any better now than they had in the early hours of the morning. One thing was obvious—while costs were rising at the mill, income was falling. Clearly, she would have to deal with the other mill owners’ enmity quickly or face ruin.

  Merry raised her gaze from the rows of numbers and stared out of the window. No blue skies today. The moor looked particularly bleak, a wasteland of white patches amid the brown grass.

  A brief knock and the door opened to admit Charlie. He looked wonderful. Refreshed. And, damn him, more handsome than ever.

  An odd feeling of shyness tensed her stomach. Warmth stung her cheeks. He’d think her such a naive fool for blushing after her wantonness in the night. She kept her smile cool. ‘Good morning, my lord. Ready to leave?’

  He grinned. ‘Forgotten my name so soon, my sweet? How are you, Merry? Did you sleep well?’ He strode to the desk, gathered her hands in turn and kissed each palm. ‘You look beautiful.’

  Right, beautiful in her plain brown gown and ragged grey wool shawl. Her working clothes. The man was a flirt. ‘I am well, thank you, Charlie. Is your carriage at the door? I will come and bid you farewell.’

  He wandered around the room, looking at the neat rows of ledgers on the shelves lining one wall, each one neatly dated. ‘So this is where you spend most of your time?’

  ‘Yes.’ She pulled her old shawl closer around her, not because she was cold, but because having him prowling around her office seemed to make the room smaller.

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ he said.

  ‘What?’ Her mouth fell open.

  ‘I’m not leaving while your life is in danger.’

  Why did men always think they were the only ones able to solve problems? ‘I don’t need your help.’

  He sat down in the chair opposite the desk. His jaw set in a stubborn line. ‘Yes. You do.’

  She squeezed her eyes shut. ‘Do you know what they will think if you run around town standing up for me? They will think I am your mistress.’

  His dark eyes gleamed, but his face remained deadly serious. ‘After last night, you are.’

  ‘Well, it won’t matter what you say in that case. They will listen politely and once you leave they will do as they wish. As my…my…’

  ‘Lover,’ he said, raising a brow.

  ‘Very well. As my lover, you will have no influence at all. And my reputation will be ruined into the bargain. I have to deal with these men every day. I need their respect. This will only garner ridicule.’

  He leaned back in the chair, kicked out his legs and folded his arms across his chest. ‘Not if I pose as your fiance.’

  She stared at him. ‘Why? You were vehemently opposed to this idea barely a few hours ago.’

  ‘I won’t leave you to face this alone. It wouldn’t be right.’

  She blushed. ‘You owe me nothing. No. I don’t need your help. Caro and I can manage this for ourselves.’

  He shrugged a shoulder. ‘Your choices are fiance or lover. Either way I will speak to them today.’

  Blackmail. Brass makes t’wheels turn. Only he didn’t la
ck for money, and, unless she was completely deranged, he still wanted her.

  ‘It’s a mickle for a muckle, then,’ she said.

  He stared at her blankly.

  ‘Is’t not plain as the nose on your face? I’ll be your mistress while you play the fiance. ‘Tis a fair bargain and when it is done, there’s no obligation on either side.’

  His eyes flashed. ‘There you are with the outrageous statements in that dialect again. I’m not looking for damned payment. What kind of man do you think I am?’

  She glared at him. ‘What? Is it beneath you to make an honest bargain? Smell too much of the shop?’

  A blank look crossed his face. He took a deep breath. ‘It’s a matter of honour, Merry. Surely you understand?’

  Unfortunately she did. A man who thought his honour was at stake would never give in. Her heartbeat quickened. Her pulse raced. The thought of him remaining here for days, no doubt. The temptation of having him close by.

  Caro would be furious.

  She glared at him. ‘You said you were in Yorkshire on business. I suggest you continue on your way.’

  A dark brow flicked up. ‘Suggest all you want, I am speaking to these men and that is final.’

  He meant it. This man was as stubborn as she was. And if he succeeded, she would be beholden to him. Every good turn deserves a reward. Asking him to tie his name to hers deserved a far greater reward than one night in her bed.

  ‘And you won’t accept payment.’

  A muscle flickered in his jaw. Anger. Pride. Well, she had her pride, too.

  ‘But you won’t turn me away if I come to your bed of my own free will.’

  He closed his eyes briefly as if he battled demons of his own.

  She half-expected him to back down. The other half waited desperately for his answer. Because if he rejected this offer, she would know he despised her indeed and his offer of help was out of the question.

  A long sigh escaped him. ‘No, I would not turn you away if you came to me of your own free will. I’m damned well not made of stone.’

  She let go a breath of her own. She’d actually been holding it while she waited for his answer. ‘Then we have a bargain.’

  Dear God, what would Caro say? She’d be angry, and disappointed, but she’d have to admit, eventually, it was the best solution. She’d have to forgive her, eventually.

  Her insides trembled. He was staying. He would be hers tonight and tomorrow and into the future. The pen dropped from fingers weak at the thought of nights in his arms.

  He leaned forwards, elbows on his knees, gazing at her intently. ‘Now that is settled, let us start with who you think might have tried to damage your carriage.’

  Merry could quite happily drown in those dark brown eyes.

  Concentrate, Merry. She shook her head. ‘I’ve gone over and over it in my mind. I know some of the mill owners and clothiers hate dealing with a woman, but they were Grandfather’s good friends. I can’t believe any of them would do me harm.’

  ‘Businessmen are notoriously ruthless,’ he said reasonably.

  She rose to her feet. ‘But they are not murderers. I won’t believe it. I’ve known these men all my life.’

  He held out a hand. She walked around the desk and took it, feeling its strength. He enclosed her hand in warmth. ‘You can’t let soft emotions cloud your thinking.’

  ‘I’m not one of your sentimental women who doesn’t know about harsh realities.’ She pulled at her hand. He gave it a tug and somehow she ended up sitting on his knee, enfolded in his arm, resting against his chest. It was so easy to lean against him.

  He placed a warm hand on her thigh. His heat scorched her leg through the wool. ‘Merry, listen to me. Someone tried to kill you, no matter how you look at it.’

  ‘But why? I’ve done no one any harm.’

  A finger toyed with the fine hairs at her nape. A shiver ran through her, not cold, searing hot. Her insides turned to liquid.

  His voice was a gentle murmur when he spoke as if he, too, felt the rise of passion. ‘Let us think it through together. What is the reason behind their dislike of the asylum you established? It is not unusual for towns to help those less fortunate. Indeed, every parish is obliged to help their poor.’

  ‘It might be their wives egging them on. Because of the kind of women we sought to help.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said.

  ‘What do you mean, “Ah!”?’ Indignant, she pulled away.

  He hauled her back against his chest. His chuckle vibrated against her shoulder. ‘Nothing like an angry woman to move a man to action.’

  His hand caressed the underside of her breast. Oh, heaven help her, was that his…his erection against her thigh? Desire flooded through her. She turned her face up. His dark eyes were glimmering with light, yet his expression contained concern. For her. As if he cared.

  The door burst open.

  Merry tried to jump to her feet. She found herself restrained as she looked into the startled face of her manager. ‘Mr Prentice?’

  The short stocky man reared back as his pale blue eyes took in the scene. His ruddy face flushed a deeper shade.

  ‘Miss Draycott,’ he gasped, shock writ large on his face.

  Merry winced. More grist for the gossip mill. She pried Charlie’s hand free and stood up. ‘Mr Prentice, let me introduce you to the Marquis of Tonbridge, my betrothed. My lord, this is Albert Prentice, my manager.’

  Charlie rose easily to his feet. He stuck out a hand. ‘Prentice,’ he said easily, with just the right amount of friendliness and condescension that would put the man at ease without being effusive.

  Prentice’s eyes goggled. His jaw worked, then somehow he managed to take Charlie’s hand and bow. ‘My lord. A pleasure.’ He turned his eyes to Merry. ‘I’m sorry for interrupting. I wasn’t expecting…’

  ‘I am glad to see you. I hope you had no trouble on the roads?’

  ‘I…no. I came along just as they were removing your carriage from the ditch. For a moment I thought… Jed said you had an accident. Are you all right?’

  She saw Charlie narrow his eyes, watching Prentice’s reaction. Good Lord, the man suspected her manager.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Merry said quickly. ‘Luckily his lordship arrived in time to rescue me.’ She shot him a look. ‘Although I had things well in hand.’

  Prentice’s gaze swivelled to Charlie. ‘I didn’t know you were expecting company.’

  ‘No reason why you should, is there, old fellow?’ Charlie asked.

  Merry’s gaze flew to his face. His expression was dark. Stern. Questioning.

  ‘Mr Prentice is my trusted adviser in all aspects of Draycott’s,’ she said quickly. ‘I wasn’t sure his lordship would come so early in the New Year, Mr Prentice, but negotiations regarding our betrothal have been under way for some time.’

  Prentice swallowed and tugged at his neckcloth. ‘Oh, aye.’

  ‘You have no cause for concern, Mr Prentice,’ Merry said firmly. ‘Nothing at Draycott’s will change.’

  ‘Except my assistance with Miss Draycott’s problems,’ Charlie said in rather a dangerous-sounding voice. It was almost as if he mistrusted the man. Dash it. She wouldn’t have him upsetting her manager.

  She smiled at the young man. ‘Albert, Lord Tonbridge is going to help with our plans for the Skepton Asylum. He and I are going to speak to the other mill owners. Who do you think we should approach first?’

  Prentice twisted his hat in his hand; expressions chased across his face: chagrin, worry, doubt. He forced a smile. ‘Mr Broadoaks would be best, Miss Draycott.’ He took a deep breath. ‘All t’other owners listen to him.’

  ‘Is he married?’ Charlie asked.

  ‘Aye. Got four sons and three daughters, too.’

  Charlie gave her a significant look. ‘I suppose the sons are out of leading strings?’

  ‘Aye. Two of them already help their Pa at t’mill.’

  ‘Benjamin Broadoaks was Grandfather’s best fri
end,’ Merry added. ‘He has been the most receptive to my ideas. He will help us.’

  Prentice looked unconvinced. ‘Shall I speak to him?’

  ‘No,’ Charlie said, before Merry could answer. ‘Mr Broadoaks will receive a visit from me.’

  Merry bridled at the tone of command. ‘From us,’ she said. ‘Mr Prentice, I have here a list of instructions for the mill. I think it will reduce production costs appreciably. Would you see to it, please?’

  Prentice ran his eye down the notes she had made. ‘It might help,’ he said. ‘I’ll take it right away.’ He hesitated. ‘You are sure you were not harmed yesterday?’ His gaze darted to Charlie. ‘You were lucky out there on the moors with a snowstorm coming on.’

  ‘Very lucky,’ Charlie said.

  ‘I am fine, Mr Prentice. Thank you for your concern. Please give my regards to your mother.’

  A muscle in Prentice’s jaw flickered at the obvious dismissal. ‘Mother will be most glad to know of your kind wishes, Miss Draycott.’ He bowed and went out, closing the door behind him.

  ‘Shifty-eyed bastard,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t like the look of him.’

  Merry blinked.

  ‘Bursting in here as if he had the right,’ he continued.

  ‘He’s a friend and an employee.’

  Charlie rose to his feet. ‘You may think of him as a friend, but do not be surprised if he has other designs.’

  Had she been too friendly? Let the young man jump to conclusions? ‘Nonsense,’ she muttered. Dash it. Yet another problem to resolve. She couldn’t afford Prentice going off in a huff.

  ‘Time to visit Mr Broadoaks,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Not without me.’

  He grinned. ‘Now why would I miss an opportunity to drive a lovely young woman out in my curricle?’

  She wrinkled her nose. ‘I have a better idea. We’ll take the closed carriage. More private. And warmer.’

  He smiled. ‘Why, my dear Merry, you are a naughty puss.’

  She hadn’t been expelled from school for misbehaving with a gardener’s boy without learning a thing or two about taking chances when they came along. She cast him a sideways glance. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’