The Perfect Mistress

by Victoria Alexander

  There was scarcely anyone about at this hour, although the park was far from empty. There would be riders already on Rotton Row but that was on the opposite side of the park and she never went anywhere near there. This afternoon, the park would be crowded with carriages and pedestrians. But at this time of day one could imagine one was very nearly alone and she relished the solitude. It gave her the opportunity to think, to sort things out in her mind. To calm her soul.

  She’d received a letter from her grandmother yesterday explaining that it was taking longer than expected to pack her things but she did plan on being in London very soon. Julia hoped she hadn’t changed her mind. If necessary, Julia would fetch her herself. She quite looked forward to her grandmother’s arrival and being able to share her life with the older woman. She sighed. Not that she wasn’t already sharing quarters with an older woman, but of course that one was dead.

  She absolutely refused to consider what might happen when Hermione and her daughter were under one roof with her. Perhaps her mother would make an appearance as well? No, that was even more absurd. Her mother’s entire world had consisted of her father and Julia had had little place in it. It was fitting that they had died together in a boating accident as neither one of them could have lived without the other. It was their lack of concern about their daughter that had made her discovery of her grandmother’s existence that much more upsetting. She could have had at least one relation who might have made her a part of their life, rather than an afterthought. She’d often wondered if his large family wasn’t one of the things that had attracted her to William. She snorted to herself. And hadn’t that turned out well.

  Which brought her circle of thought back to her finances. And the memoirs. And Harrison.

  He had sent her flowers yesterday. Yellow roses with a note attached asking to call on her. No doubt to continue his quest to buy the memoirs. Pity, he had no idea roses made her sneeze. Still the gesture was nice enough.

  She had told him she would give his offer consideration and she fully intended to do so. Although, the more she read of the memoirs and, God help her, the more she talked to Hermione, the less inclined she was to sell the book to anyone who intended to destroy it. Regardless of how much they offered. Still, she looked forward to the next encounter with Harrison. She had rather enjoyed sparring with him.

  “Lady Winterset,” a man’s voice called, and she jumped, her thoughts at once returning to Harrison’s comments about ladies walking alone.

  She swiveled toward the voice to see Mr. Cadwallen-der hurrying toward her, a smile on his handsome face. She breathed a small sigh of relief. “Good day, Mr. Cad-wallender.”

  “Good day, Lady Winterset. And a fine morning it is too.” He grinned. “Which could only be made better if you allow me to accompany you.”

  “I must say I’m surprised to see you here this morning. I can’t recall the last time, if ever, I have run into someone I know at this time of day.” She studied him for a moment. “It’s most unusual.”

  “And delightful.” He held out his arm. “Shall we?”

  She smiled and took his arm. “You must admit, our encounter seems something more than mere coincidence.”

  He chuckled. “I confess then, you have caught me.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s not a coincidence. I was hoping to see you.”

  “And you thought you would do so by lingering about the park gate in the early-morning hours?” she said slowly, not sure if she should be concerned or flattered. “On the off chance that I might happen by?”

  “Not exactly.” He grimaced. “I suppose I should tell you everything.”

  “That would be appreciated.”

  “I knew you were in the habit of walking in the park in the morning because … well …” He paused, obviously to collect his courage. “My servants spoke to your servants. I only wanted to know if there was anything you particularly liked, and I learned you liked this.”

  “I see.” She thought for a moment. “And you wanted to know what I like because you wish to assist me in making a decision about publishing the memoirs?”

  “Yes.” He smiled in a sheepish manner. “Well, for the most part. We haven’t spoken for nearly a fortnight and I am eager to proceed as well as impatient.”

  “And?”

  “And?” He looked at her in confusion.

  “You said for the most part, which naturally leads me to assume there is something more.”

  “Indeed there is.” He drew a deep breath. “I do hope I am not overstepping my bounds.”

  She smiled. “That is yet to be determined I think.”

  “Yes, of course.” He cleared his throat. “Lady Winter-set, I believe we have a great deal in common.”

  She raised a brow. “Do we?”

  He nodded. “We do indeed.”

  “And what might that be aside from the fact that I have a book you wish to publish?”

  “Well … you like the theater and so do I.”

  “Everyone likes the theater, Mr. Cadwallender.”

  “Quite right. Let me think.” His brows pulled together then his face brightened. “You like a good book as do I.”

  She cast him a wry glance.”

  “Yes, yes, I know.” He sighed. “Everyone likes a good book.”

  “I’m afraid your servants did not do a very good job of gathering information from my servants.”

  “Apparently not,” he said under his breath.

  “Did they mention that among the things I like are diamonds and emeralds? Oh, I do adore a brilliant emerald,” she said with a heartfelt sigh.

  He stared at her for a moment then realized she wasn’t at all serious. He grinned. “Every woman likes diamonds and emeralds.”

  She laughed. “Indeed they do.”

  “I hope you like surprises as well.”

  “It would depend on the surprise, I suppose.”

  They rounded a corner and, nearly hidden behind a tree, was a small table set for tea and two chairs. A servant stood nearby beside a parked carriage.

  “Oh, how delightful. I wonder who—” She stopped and glanced at the publisher. “This looks rather familiar, Mr. Cadwallender.”

  “It should.” He chuckled. “There was a similar incident recounted in the portion you’ve allowed me to read of Lady Middlebury’s book.”

  “I see.” Of course, in Hermione’s memoirs, it was not a small tea table in the morning in a public park. It was a decadent dinner with champagne and berries, set under the stars in the private park of a royal duke with musicians playing hidden behind a stone wall. “Is this then the surprise?”

  “Do you like it?” He held his breath. “I know it’s not exactly Lady Middlebury’s adventure but we are in the middle of London and it is morning and—”

  “Mr. Cadwallender,” she interrupted. “Its charm is exceeded only by its unexpected nature. I find it completely delightful.”

  “Good.” He grinned. “Then will you join me for breakfast? Just tea and scones but—”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  He escorted her to the table and assisted her with her chair, then sat down. The servant immediately poured tea then moved a discreet few steps away.

  “I must say the morning air does tend to stimulate the appetite,” he said, slathering clotted cream on a scone.

  She sipped her tea. “Tell me, Mr. Cadwallender, how did you know I would be here this morning?”

  “I didn’t.” He shrugged. “I’ve done this every morning for the last three.”

  She stared. “Have you really?”

  He grinned. “The element of surprise, Lady Winterset, is not easily arranged.”

  “I am most flattered.” She paused. “You could have simply called on me, you know.”

  “I could have and I fully intended to but then I was, oh, inspired.”

  She laughed. “I shall have to thank my great-grandmother for inspiring you.”

  He cast her a quizzical look.<
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  “In my prayers, of course,” she said quickly. “But the more I read of her book, the more real she has become to me.”

  He nodded. “It’s the mark of a good book and an intriguing character.”

  “Oh, she is certainly intriguing,” Julia murmured.

  “Lady Winterset.” He chose his words with care. “When I said we had a great deal in common … well …”

  “Yes?”

  “I should very much like to call on you,” he said, the words coming out in a rush.

  “To discuss the book, of course. You are most welcome at any time.” She shook her head. “And I do apologize for my hesitance in making up my mind. But it does seem a rather substantial decision and I—”

  “That’s not what I mean,” he said quickly. “Oh I do wish to continue to further discuss the memoirs and my plans and all that, but I should very much like to call on you in a more personal manner. That is … well …”

  She stared in disbelief.

  “You are a widow and I am unmarried and I was most impressed, during our first meeting and …” He drew a deep breath. “I think you are the most remarkable woman I have ever met and I should like to call on you with the purpose of hopefully, at some point, engaging your affections.”

  “I …” She shook her head. This was the last thing she had expected and most definitely a surprise. “Mr. Cad-wallender—”

  “Benjamin. My given name is Benjamin and I would be honored if you would call me by my given name.”

  “I couldn’t possibly. That would be most improper.” Still, why not allow him to call on her? He was clever and ambitious and handsome. And he had gone to all this trouble to impress her and re-create, even if on a much smaller scale, one of Hermione’s adventures. Obviously, he was a thoughtful man and very nice as well. Besides, it wasn’t as if she had suitors lined up at the door. She cast him an encouraging smile. “For now, at any rate, but we shall see. And yes, you may call on me.”

  He stared, his smile broadening to a delighted grin on his face. “Excellent. I say, this is good. Very good.”

  She laughed. “I hope you continue to think so.”

  “I cannot imagine ever thinking otherwise,” he said in a most gallant manner.

  “So, Mr. Cadwallender.” She took a bracing sip of tea. “Tell me how your new enterprise is faring.”

  “Better than I had anticipated,” he began, the light of passion in his eyes. “We have already acquired works from several authors. Admittedly, none of them are as well …”

  It wasn’t at all difficult to listen to Mr.—Benjamin go on about his new business. The gentleman’s enthusiasm was contagious and Julia found herself making comments and even suggestions. Now here was a man who obviously valued a woman who had a head on her shoulders. Who knew her own mind and did not need male guidance. Not like another man she could name. Not that she cared, of course.

  Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what it might be like to have someone else, someone most annoying, appreciate her mind as much as her face.

  Harrison strode down the park path, rounded a corner, and pulled up short. What on earth were those people doing, sitting at a table, having breakfast under a tree in the park? How completely absurd. He stared for a moment longer. Good Lord, was that … He stepped behind a conveniently placed tree and peered around it. That was Julia! And who was that man with her? He had asked Veronica, in an offhand manner so that she would not make anything more of the question than it was, if Julia had any suitors and she had said no. Unless Veronica didn’t know. Nonsense. This was exactly the sort of thing Veronica would know. Cadwallender! Who else but the publisher could it be? The gentleman with Julia was exactly as Veronica had described him. And obviously doing his best to charm the memoirs out of Julia. Well, two could play at that game.

  Harrison turned and hurried back to the park gate, stopping the first street urchin he found. He gave the child a coin, instructions, the promise of another coin if he was successful, then sent him into the park. Harrison followed at a cautious distance. This was yet another brilliant idea. It struck him that he had had several since first meeting Julia, but then she was the type of woman with whom one needed to be on one’s toes. The type who required brilliant ideas.

  The boy approached the table and spoke to Julia’s companion. If Harrison was wrong and this wasn’t Cad-wallender, then there was no harm done. After a few moments the gentleman nodded and dismissed the boy. He hurried back toward Harrison with a broad grin on his face. Harrison’s smile matched the child’s. He gave him the promised coin and sent him on his way. Cadwallender rose to his feet reluctantly and started off. Harrison picked up his pace and approached the table.

  “Good day, Lady Winterset.” He took the chair Cad-wallender had vacated and sat down. “Breakfast in the park? What a charming idea.”

  “Lord Mountdale.” Julia’s eyes widened in surprise. “What on earth are you doing here?”

  “Why, I was just taking a morning walk.” He drew an exaggerated breath. “You were right, you know. It’s most invigorating.”

  Her brows drew together in suspicion. “You said you rode in the park in the morning.”

  “Usually I do but after our talk the other night, I decided to walk instead.” He glanced at the tea offerings. “And imagine my surprise to find tea and scones. Do you think your companion would mind? I do love scones.”

  “Mr. Cadwallender was called away to his office. A matter of some urgency apparently.” She shrugged. “Do help yourself.”

  “Excellent.” He selected a scone, broke off a piece, and took a bite. “Very good.”

  She studied him curiously. “I must say your appearance is most unexpected.”

  “As is yours.” He swallowed the mouthful of scone, noting with satisfaction that it was somewhat dry. “I never considered that I might find you having a tryst with a suitor in the park in the morning. Rather early for that sort of thing, don’t you think?”

  “It was not a tryst.” She huffed. “Indeed, I was as surprised to see Mr. Cadwallender as you were to see me.”

  He smiled in a noncommittal manner although it was all he could do to hold back a satisfied grin. He glanced at a nearby servant, obviously Cadwallender’s, who was too well trained to allow more than a hint of his confusion to show in his eyes as to why the publisher had been replaced. “A fresh cup if you please.”

  The servant hesitated. “Of course, my lord.”

  He fetched a cup from a nearby carriage and placed it on the table.

  Julia raised a brow. “Would you like me to pour?”

  “That would be most appreciated. I’m not good at pouring tea. Excellent at pouring brandy however. I rarely spill a drop.”

  “Because pouring tea is something a woman is better suited to?” she said, and filled his cup. If he didn’t want hot tea in his lap he’d best watch his words.

  Still, he couldn’t seem to help himself. He met her gaze. “Without question.”

  “You are most annoying, my lord.” She set down the teapot and picked up her cup. “I don’t believe for a moment that this meeting is a mere coincidence.”

  “There’s nothing mere about it. I think it’s smashing.”

  “Are you trying to be charming again?”

  “Yes, indeed.” He flashed her a confident smile. “Am I succeeding?”

  She tried and failed to hide the smile in her eyes. “As I said, you are the most annoying man I have ever met.”

  “Excellent. Then my stock in your eyes has risen.”

  She shook her head in confusion. “What?”

  “A moment ago, I was merely annoying.”

  “Most annoying,” she said pointedly.

  “Ah, but now I am the most annoying man you have ever met.” He sipped his tea. “I think that’s progress.”

  “To what end?”

  “We have agreed to be friends. Surely you can forgive annoying in a friend. After all, Veronica is annoying and you are her friend.
”

  “Veronica is not annoying.”

  He snorted.

  She bit back a smile. “She can be a bit opinionated.”

  “Only a bit?”

  “She’s intelligent and she sees no need to hide her intelligence.” She studied him curiously. “You don’t like intelligent women, do you?”

  It was a trap as surely as anything he’d ever seen. He choose his words with care. “I admit intelligence is not something I seek in a woman. Although I do appreciate it”—he caught her gaze and smiled—“in a friend.”

  “Then, as my friend, do tell me.” She leaned forward and gazed into his eyes, as if to judge the truth of his words. “Is our meeting in the park this morning mere chance or were you looking for me in hopes of continuing your crusade?”

  He gasped and clasped his hand over his heart. “You wound me, Lady Winterset. To think that you attribute such ulterior motives to something as innocent as a carefree walk in the park.”

  “And?”

  “And I admit when I set out this morning,” or yesterday morning, “I was not opposed to the idea of crossing your path.”

  “I see.”

  “Besides, you did not respond to my note.”

  “I intended to do so today.”

  “However, my intention was not to advance my cause.” Even as he said the words he realized they were more or less true. “But to advance our friendship.”

  She stared at him for a long moment as if trying to determine his sincerity. At last she shrugged. “Very well.” She rose to her feet and he stood at once. “Now, if you will excuse me, I shall be on my way.”

  “Allow me to escort you home,” he said in as gallant a manner as he could muster.

  “There’s no need. My house is but a few blocks from here. No more than a ten-minute walk.”

  “Then surely you will allow a friend to accompany you for a mere ten minutes.” He held out his arm and she reluctantly took it. “Especially as it does not appear your companion is returning.”