The Perfect Mistress

by Victoria Alexander

  If indeed Eleanor wasn’t mad, Julia had no doubt as to whose voice she heard. And if this secret was true, well, she wasn’t entirely sure which was worse.

  To be truly mad or merely haunted.

  * * *

  “And how was your grandmother?” Veronica asked with a smile and sipped her tea.

  Julia had arrived at Fenwick’s a few minutes early and had impatiently waited for her friend. But once Veronica had arrived, Julia couldn’t seem to find the right words. This was not the kind of question one simply blurted out. Of course, it wasn’t the kind of thing that effortlessly slid into the conversation either.

  “Very well actually. She has apparently only been feigning madness all these years, for the most part.” Although there was that one voice. “She did agree to come to London to live with me.”

  “It’s about time.” Veronica shook her head in a chastising manner. “You should have insisted on this long ago. Why, if it was my grandmother—”

  “You have known your grandmother all of your life whereas I have only known mine for a few years. If only …” Julia caught herself. “It scarcely matters. The past is over and done with.”

  “The past is always with us.”

  “In more ways than you know,” Julia said under her breath.

  “Take as an example, oh, I don’t know, your great-grandmother’s past,” Veronica said casually. “That certainly is still with us.”

  Julia stared at her for a moment then laughed. “I should have known you would go directly to Lord Mount-dale.”

  “He is family …” Veronica studied her cautiously. “You’re not angry with me then?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Good.” Veronica heaved a sigh of relief. “I must confess, I felt somewhat torn. Loyalty to you versus loyalty to Charles’s family. Although I really didn’t think one precluded the other as I do want what’s best for everyone.” She paused. “Harrison mentioned he’s willing to increase his offer.”

  “Is he?” Julia asked in an offhand manner and sipped her tea. “And does he still intend to destroy the manuscript?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Then I have nothing to discuss with him.” In truth, his lordship’s desire to destroy Hermione’s manuscript was little more than an excuse to refuse to have anything to do with him. Still, she might come to a point when she had to accept his offer. It was very lucrative after all. If only he wasn’t so infuriating.

  “I see.” Veronica sipped her tea. “Oh, by the way, I have decided to have a small dinner party next week. I do hope you can come.”

  “I should check my calendar,” Julia said in a serious manner then laughed. “If I had one. I daresay if I did, there would be nothing of importance on it.”

  “Then you’ll come?”

  Julia nodded. “I shall be delighted.”

  “You hardly ever accept my invitations, you know. You won’t change your mind?”

  Julia stared at her friend. “No, I assure you I will be there.”

  “Promise?”

  “Whatever is the matter with you?”

  “Promise you will attend my party.”

  “Very well, I promise.” She sighed.

  “Excellent.” Veronica smiled with satisfaction.

  “Now, tell me about this party and why are you so insistent I attend.”

  “You never go anywhere, really. You’ve only been to my parties when I’ve forced you to attend. You never meet anyone new.” Veronica shook her head. “You should get out more.”

  “I never have anywhere to go.”

  “And now you do,” Veronica said simply.

  Julia studied her suspiciously.

  “You needn’t look at me like that. This is just a small gathering really. Just a few … people.”

  Julia raised a brow. “By ‘people,’ do you mean eligible men perhaps? If you intend to throw marriageable men in my path as Portia’s family has been doing—”

  “I wouldn’t think of such a thing.” Veronica’s brows drew together. “Not that it isn’t a good idea, and certainly I will have some eligible men in attendance. I am inviting both you and Portia after all and I do so hate it when the numbers aren’t even.” Veronica drew a deep breath. “And Harrison will be there.”

  “Then perhaps you should redefine ‘people,’” Julia said wryly.

  “He realizes, when he called on you, he might have been a bit of a—”

  “Vile, sanctimonious, beast?” Julia smiled pleasantly.

  “In my family, we prefer ill-mannered boor,” Veronica said loftily then grimaced. “My apologies, Julia. This whole dinner idea was Harrison’s. He knows he behaved badly and he would like another chance to at least prove to you that he is not a—”

  “A beast?”

  “Or a boor.” Veronica studied her. “You will still come, won’t you?”

  “I did promise. Why are you doing this for him? I thought the two of you didn’t get along.”

  “We never have but now he wants to be, well, my brother.” Veronica smiled weakly. “I’ve never had a brother and have always wanted one. When one’s family is as small as mine is … Surely you understand.”

  “Of course,” Julia murmured. “I understand completely. My family is even smaller than yours. I think it’s very nice that you and his lordship have put aside your differences in the spirit of family unity.”

  “We shall see.” Veronica smiled. “I daresay it won’t be easy. We have always clashed. He has never really approved of me. Still, I did sense a change of attitude in him. Odd, really, but surprisingly pleasant all the same.”

  “I suspect he can be pleasant on occasion,” Julia said, although she really suspected nothing of the sort.

  Veronica laughed. “Given your encounter with him, I can’t imagine why you would think that, although he is quite handsome. I know that has always encouraged me to give a man the benefit of the doubt.”

  “There is that.” Julia paused. “May I ask you something about him?”

  “Anything.”

  Julia hesitated then plunged ahead. “Is it true that he was conceived out of wedlock?”

  Veronica’s hand stilled, her teacup halfway to her lips. “What?”

  Julia held her breath.

  Veronica’s eyes widened. “Where on earth did you hear that?”

  Julia shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters.” Veronica set her cup down hard and stared at her friend. “With Harrison’s concern about scandal, if this were to get out—”

  “It won’t. You have my promise on that. And my information comes from a very discrete source.”

  “Regardless”—Veronica shook her head—“Harrison doesn’t know.”

  “Good Lord.” Julia gasped. “Then it’s true?”

  Veronica paused then blew out a long breath. “Yes, Charles told me years ago. Harrison’s father was quite the rake in his day. Only age has slowed his amorous pursuits. He is still most charming and I can only imagine what he was like in his younger years. Charles thought, and I must say I agree, that was why his mother was always overly concerned with even so much as a hint of scandal.”

  “A trait she instilled in Lord Mountdale.”

  “Exactly.” Veronica nodded. “No one knows about this. Charles told me his mother married Harrison’s father and they went off to Italy for nearly two years I think, long enough for them to return with Harrison without anyone so much as suspecting the truth.” She met her friend’s gaze directly. “But how on earth did you find out? If Harrison knew, it would devastate—” She sucked in a hard breath. “Dear Lord! Is it in the memoirs?”

  Julia shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “Then how …”

  “If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

  Veronica studied her. “Tell me anyway.”

  “It sounds, well, mad.”

  “There are worse things than sounding mad.”

  “Indeed there
are.” Julia drew a deep breath. “Ever since I began reading her memoirs, Hermione, my great-grandmother, has been appearing to me in what I thought were dreams. She sits on the foot of my bed and discusses her life. It’s been most disturbing.”

  Veronica nodded. “And explains why you have looked so tired of late.”

  “Yes. At any rate last night, she appeared …” How did one say something like this?

  “And?”

  “Well …”

  “Go on,” Veronica said impatiently.

  “Last night …” Julia mustered her courage. “Last night she said she wasn’t a dream but a ghost.”

  Shock colored Veronica’s face.

  “Needless to say, I didn’t believe her.”

  “Who would?”

  “So I asked her to prove it.” Julia shrugged. “Which led her to tell me this secret that no one knew.”

  Veronica stared.

  “Well, say something.”

  Veronica shook her head. “I have no idea what to say.”

  “It was bad enough when she was a dream. Now …”

  “Now …” Veronica picked up her tea and took a sip, her hand trembling slightly. It was most disconcerting. Veronica was never shaken but apparently the idea that her friend was seeing ghosts was enough to upset even her.

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “I don’t think there’s anything you can do.” Veronica chose her words with care. “Given the veracity of the information she revealed to you, something you would have no way of knowing, apparently the only thing you can do is accept it. It’s really rather exciting in its own way.” Veronica shook her head. “You, my dear friend, are being haunted.”

  Julia rubbed her hand over her forehead. “So it would appear.”

  “Tell me one thing.” Veronica leaned forward and lowered her voice. “Is she as amusing in person as her writing?”

  “More so really.” Julia’s gaze met hers, Veronica’s usual sense of amusement sparkling again in her eyes. At once the absurdity of the discussion struck her and she choked back a laugh. “This is not funny.”

  Veronica chuckled. “Oh, but it is.” Veronica tried and failed to adopt a somber expression. “I’ve never met anyone who has seen a real ghost before.”

  “‘Real’ being a relative term.”

  “Do you think I could meet her?” Veronica glanced around the tearoom. “Can you get her to appear here?”

  “She doesn’t do parlor tricks.” Julia met her friend’s gaze and the two women burst into laughter.

  “That would be most undignified.” Veronica giggled. “Is she transparent? Can you see through her?”

  “She appears as solid as you or I.” Julia shrugged. “Solid, as well, being relative.” She paused. “Do you believe me then?”

  “You know what is the best-kept secret I have ever known. That in itself would make me believe you.”

  “You don’t think I’m mad?”

  “Not in the least.” Veronica took her friend’s hand. “You are the most down-to-earth, sensible, rational person I know. Now if Portia had said something like this—”

  Julia laughed.

  Veronica sobered. “What does she want? From what I have read about this sort of thing, ghosts usually have a purpose.”

  “I have no idea. Up until last night, I thought she was nothing more than a dream.”

  “You need to ask her then.”

  “I shall. Now that I know she’s”—Julia nearly choked on the word—“real.”

  “Relatively speaking.”

  “You have no idea what a relief it is to share this with someone.” As hard as she had tried today, she could not put the idea of Hermione’s ghost out of her head. Now, it was as if a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

  “I can well imagine.”

  “But do promise me you won’t say anything to anyone.”

  “Absolutely not.” Indignation sounded in Veronica’s voice. “I would never reveal your confidences to anyone. Other people are not nearly as accepting as I am about things of this nature.”

  Julia arched a brow. “Things of this nature?”

  “I have no idea what else to call it.” She thought for a moment. “But I certainly wouldn’t mention this to Portia if I were you. One never knows how she might react, and she’s never been very good about keeping secrets.”

  “Portia would be the last person I would tell.” Julia shuddered. “I can’t even imagine what she might say.”

  “I can.” Veronica grinned. “Are you sure you can’t get—you call her Hermione?”

  “Lady Middlebury is too formal and Great-Grandmother”—Julia shuddered—“doesn’t seem right, given the intimate nature of her memoirs.”

  “I can see that. I do have a request though.”

  “Oh?” Caution edged Julia’s voice.

  “Do ask if she might make an appearance at my dinner party. We can seat her next to Harrison.” Veronica grinned. “A ghost would be so much better than a violinist.”

  … should never judge a gentleman simply on appearance alone. I have met any number of gentlemen whose faces could easily melt even the most steadfast female heart, but beneath the visage, there was little of note to commend them.

  I remember one of the most magnificent men it has ever been my pleasure to cast my eyes upon, a distant relative of one of the Scandinavian royal families. His hair was the color of palest wheat, his eyes as blue as the summer sky, and his smile promised all sorts of carnal delights. He was tall with nicely broad shoulders. I have always been nearly as fond of broad shoulders as I am of a well-chiseled masculine derrière. It is my considered opinion that a man should look every bit as delicious walking away as he does upon his approach.

  My recollection is that he might have been a lesser baron with a given name of Leif or Gunnar or Odell. Unfortunately, the moment he opened that seductive mouth, one realized this was a creature to whom God had given the gift of incredible beauty but bestowed little else. It was deeply disappointing.

  The most important qualities to look for in a man are not a handsome face or how he looks without a shred of clothing, although that is always commendable. A man needs intelligence and a modicum of humility. Not a great deal as involvement with an arrogant man is much more interesting than with a man who is overly unassuming. An arrogant man knows his own worth, and if he is clever as well, knows yours.

  Furthermore, there is little more attractive in a man than an astute sense of the absurd. A man who can laugh at the amusing moments in life as well as laugh at his own foibles, is a man to be treasured. There is nothing as delightful or as seductive as a man you can laugh with. As for Leif—Gunnar—Odell, well, my adventure with him …

  from The Perfect Mistress,

  the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury

  Chapter Six

  Julia handed her wrap to the footman who greeted her in the entry of Veronica’s grand house. For a moment she regretted refusing Portia’s offer of transportation, but Portia was nearly always late and Julia much preferred to arrive at an event at the appointed time. Even so, right now, it would have been nice to have someone by her side. It wasn’t as if she’d never been to a party alone before. Certainly during her first year of mourning she had refused most invitations although she had been to a few gatherings at Veronica’s in the past year or so. Still, those occasions were rare and nothing quite as elegant as this evening.

  She moved to the entry of Veronica’s parlor and paused, it was absurd to be at all nervous. At least she was well rested tonight. Hermione had not made an appearance since she’d revealed Lord Mountdale’s secret. Julia wasn’t sure if her absence was good or very, very bad.

  She glanced around the parlor. Small gathering, indeed. She heard more guests arriving behind her and there were probably as many as twenty people here already. Not that the room seemed crowded. Veronica’s parlor was at least three times the size of her own, maybe four. It must be nice to be able to ente
rtain in a grand manner in a grand house without concern as to the undue extravagance of such entertainment. Julia pushed the unworthy thought aside. She wasn’t jealous of her friend’s financial solvency really, and she certainly wouldn’t wish her own monetary problems on anyone. Still, she sighed to herself, it would be nice.

  Veronica caught her eye from across the room and started toward her, skirting around guests, stopping for a word here or to cast a smile there. Most of the gentlemen stood, many of the ladies were seated, and it did look to be a lively crowd. This might be an enjoyable evening after all.

  “Julia, my dear.” Veronica took her hands. “You look lovely.”

  Julia smiled her thanks. Portia had insisted on loaning her a gown as most of Julia’s were deemed to be out of style and not nearly elegant enough.

  “I am so glad you came.”

  “I had little choice,” she said wryly. “You did make me promise.”

  “Indeed I did and I shall do so every time I host a party from this day forward. I have been sadly remiss in my responsibilities as your friend in allowing you to hide away like a hermit.” She tucked Julia’s hand into her elbow and led her around the room, stopping at the various clusters of guests to make introductions and exchange pleasantries.

  Julia knew a moment of discomfort when Veronica introduced her to the Marquess of Kingsbury, Lord Mount-dale’s father. Not that the elderly gentleman wasn’t most pleasant and charming, but because she had read of his dubious adventure with Hermione. Much to her relief, he didn’t mention her great-grandmother or the memoirs and Julia wondered if he knew about them, although surely his son or Veronica had mentioned them.

  “You are going to have a delightful evening,” Veronica said as they continued.

  Julia raised a brow. “Am I?”

  “I am certain of it.”

  “Then I gather Lord Mountdale sent his regrets.”

  “You are a silly goose.” Veronica nodded at a point across the room. Lord Mountdale stood speaking with another gentleman, nearly as tall, almost as dashing. “Of course he’s here. And he’s requested to be your partner for dinner.”