by Darcy Burke
She pressed her lips together, looking doubtful.
“You’re my ‘mistress’ tonight, and it’s not so bad, is it?” Con smiled reassuringly, feeling as though he were putting on the performance of his life. “We can continue on like this. An arrangement in word only. I can’t afford your services and even if I could, that would be a deuced awkward arrangement.”
Her puzzlement deepened. “You think it would be odd for us to—”
“Don’t even say it.” God, please don’t say it. “While I find you very attractive, I feel strangely friendly toward you. I don’t know how it’s been in your experience, but I can’t think that’s a usual sort of arrangement between a man and his paramour. How would we undress in front of each other?”
She looked at him as if he’d gone daft. Earlier when she’d teased him, she’d sent him suggestive looks. Now he was left in no doubt that had been an act. Not that he cared if she’d been playing a role, since they were just friends from now until forever. Platonic, asexual friends.
What was he thinking?
“You should take up the townhouse again,” he continued, as if his mind weren’t racing with all the many ways he was setting himself up for a lifetime of ball-crushing pain. “I assume you can afford it? Then I can see Oliver from time to time, and my mother may, too.”
Elizabeth frowned, considering. “I never thought that you would have people in your life who would take an interest in us. Now, it seems, they are all involved.”
His family was a fixture in his life that he’d taken for granted. He felt a touch of sadness for her lack of close family. What would it be like to be that alone?
“They are,” he said firmly. “They will always be. And they must never know. Mine is the best sort of mother. I can’t tell her I lied to her. I must continue on as if Oliver is truly my child, if only so she will never have a chance to be disappointed in me.”
He had a reasonably good idea why Elizabeth was still regarding him as if he were babbling nonsense. He’d met her parents, after all.
“Your relationship with your family is incomprehensible to me,” she said, confirming his suspicion that she truly didn’t understand why he didn’t want to hurt his mother. “I suppose of the two of us, you are of a healthier mind when it comes to family matters.” She appeared to think it over. He tried not to look too hopeful.
“Very well,” she said at length. “I will set up as your mistress under three conditions. The first is that you keep your word that you won’t try to seduce me. The second is that you allow me to compensate you for your time with Oliver, as if you were his governess or tutor.”
“No,” Con said firmly.
She silenced him with a slashing motion. “No matter how much you argue otherwise, this was a business arrangement intended to last only the time it took you to wrest Oliver back. I won’t be beholden to you for the rest of my life. Which brings me to my third requirement: if you or I should choose to form an attachment with someone else, we will terminate our arrangement amicably.”
“No,” Con said again. She was already thinking of leaving him? But then, he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life attached to a woman he wasn’t allowed to touch intimately, did he? If so, he could be married by now.
“I’m not giving up on Oliver,” he said, “and I don’t want to be any more in your debt.” He didn’t say anything about the “friendly” part of her terms. That had been his own stupid idea.
She laughed low. He felt it all the way to his toes. “Oh, my lord,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “I fear it’s far too late for that.”
Chapter Seven
MEN OFTEN MEANT WELL, at the time. Elizabeth had learned from experience never to trust a protector longer than it took him to make a promise. It was only a matter of course before some shiny, new entertainment cropped up and distracted him. Yet here she was, returning to London with Lord Constantine. She knew better, and still… She’d always been too fanciful for her own good.
There was one logical reason she sat across from him now in the coach. Her father wanted her to silence the gossips. Taking up with Lord Constantine lent credence to her assertion that he was Oliver’s father. A perfectly ordinary arrangement between a man and the paramour with whom he’d sired a bastard could be of no interest to anyone. Society would soon forget her scandal. Wyndham had to be satisfied with that, for even if it wasn’t enough to convince Nicholas, she need only put an end to the ton’s speculation to meet her father’s requirement.
She must hope that after a few weeks of looking silly in the eyes of the ton, Nicholas would give up, too.
There was another, more reckless reason she had come back with him. She could hardly sit still for the butterflies his nearness caused in her belly. He was so handsome, and so protective of her and Oliver without being overbearing about it.
His eyes never wavered from the horizon beyond the plate window. His right fingertips drummed against his thigh. He appeared impatient to be home, yet she was coming to realize he was one of the most indulgent people she’d ever met. Whatever she asked of him, he gladly did. Mayhap it was because he had nowhere else to be. No other responsibilities.
She forced herself to look away, because in his direction lay danger. They’d been traveling two days. London was near. She, too, could hardly wait to be home. He’d been frighteningly astute in that matter. She did want to be in London. Ever since she’d left Shropshire, London had been the place she felt best. The enormous city provided enough nooks and crannies for a woman of any reputation to carve herself a home. Not that Elizabeth wanted to blend in completely; then she might disappear altogether.
Laughably, for a short time her plan had been exactly that. Disappear. She’d let Celeste, her best friend and the only person she’d known to turn to when she’d learned she was with child, convince her that the best refuge for an unwed mother was the obscurity of the countryside. Elizabeth had allowed herself to be led to Devon even though she’d never taken to that idea. At the time, it had seemed she had no other choice.
She’d leapt at the first chance to return to London after Oliver’s birth. Nicholas had been her excuse then. Now it was Con. In truth, London was just as much a lure as either man. As her carriage approached the city walls now, she knew with absolute certainty that she would never be happy secluding herself away from the bustle of Town. Not permanently.
When the carriage pulled up before her rented townhouse, Lord Constantine alighted as soon as the steps were lowered. He turned and helped her from the vehicle then went up the stone steps ahead of her. The knocker clacked against the door in three sure raps.
Elizabeth went to the second carriage to see to Oliver. She had to step around Lord Constantine’s horse, tied to the rear of her carriage, to do so. The way his saddlebag was tucked askew amongst her trunks and his nag was tethered to her coach, it was as if he’d become a part of them overnight.
By the time she looked back, the door stood open and Con was no longer in sight.
She entered some moments later with her retinue. Con stood in the foyer with Rand. Her butler nodded several times at whatever Con was saying, then replied, “Aye, my lord,” and nodded some more.
Elizabeth didn’t like it one bit. She shifted Oliver into a more comfortable position and approached the men. “What’s going on?”
Rand traded a speaking glance with Lord Constantine. Her suspicion grew. Had they become friendly in the few seconds she’d been out of sight?
Her man waited for Con to give his assent, causing no small amount of annoyance in her. Then Rand spoke. “Lord Constantine is advising me on what I should do in the event Captain Finn attempts to gain entry. He wanted me to know he is but a runner away.”
“With any luck, it won’t be necessary to call for me or the constabulary.” Con placed a hand at the small of her back. Despite her irritation with him for usurping her command, she could feel each fingertip through the many layers of clothing covering her skin. Her nipp
les tightened. But none of that foolishness compared to the flip-flop her heart executed when he looked at her and Oliver then. Goodness, the man should tread the boards. His painted-on expression was the image of husbandly pride.
Oh, no. She was not going to let that Look affect her.
He rubbed her back gently, as if to offer comfort. “I simply want to be sure you’re safe even when I’m not available to show Finn the bottom of my boot. Rand has orders to send for me at the first sign of trouble.” His arm slid more firmly around her waist. He smelled like a man who’d been traveling for two days. Musky and heady and wonderful.
Oh, no.
His fingers smoothed idly at her waist. “I’ve also let him know we’ve formed an attachment again. That should ensure he also allows me entrance, whenever the mood strikes me.” He grinned at her, perhaps enjoying the exasperated look she cast him. “I shall try to come often.”
Those words should not have sent a quiver through her belly. Oh, goodness, but she couldn’t deny they did, especially when coupled with his rakish smile. She couldn’t be falling for him already. They weren’t going to consummate this, even if his last words had been brimming with innuendo. His show was all for the benefit of her butler, and any other staff who happened to be eavesdropping.
But when Con leaned over and trailed a fingertip across Oliver’s cheek, then pulled a face that made her baby chortle, her heart melted into a puddle of want.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Con’s blue eyes caught hers. “Please don’t wait up.”
“I won’t,” she replied, a bit breathless. If only he knew she was unlikely to sleep ever again.
“Oliver, my boy,” he touched his fingertip to the baby’s nose, “take care of your mother.” Then he bowed gracefully to their small audience of attendants standing in the foyer. “It’s been a pleasure traveling with you. Until we meet again.” He swept his beaver hat onto his head and strode through the front door toward his horse, untethered and staged at the ready, leaving her staff agape.
Well. If that wasn’t one of the most charming men she’d ever met. She should know better than to dally with rakes like him.
She did know better.
Her staff came out of their daze and burst into motion. An undercurrent of excitement threaded through the house. A tide so swift and strong, Elizabeth couldn’t ignore its pull. When Nicholas had been her protector, her apartments had always seemed suffocating. At any moment he might arrive and make demands, and there had been no way to anticipate him. He came only when the mood struck him and stayed only as long as it took to draw her into bed. This was an altogether different feeling. Her maids ran about dusting tabletops that already gleamed and airing rooms that smelled sweet—it would seem the current state of the house wasn’t good enough for dashing Lord Constantine. They whispered to each other, sly smiles pasted on their faces, and even Rand strutted as if he’d been knighted by the king himself.
Con had an easy way about him that made others feel as if they mattered. She was disappointed in herself to know she was already pining for his return. It was too much like her old self, the one who’d become enamored of a man she didn’t truly know. She’d thought her defenses better built up than this.
Later that afternoon, her lady’s maid, Nelly, entered the nursery. She kept her voice low so as not to wake Oliver, but she sounded excited nonetheless. “Madam, Lord and Lady Trestin are here to see you. Mr. Rand put them in the drawing room. Do you want me to fetch Mrs. Dalton to see to Master Oliver?”
Elizabeth rose to her feet and went to the cradle. Oliver still slept. She made a shooing motion at her maid. “Run to the kitchens and ask Sally for a tea tray. And yes, please, wake Mrs. Dalton from her nap. Go on, now. Lady Trestin mustn’t be kept waiting.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Nelly bobbed before ducking into the hall.
Elizabeth tugged at the sleeves of her spencer and smoothed her hair from her face. She touched her bare fingers around her collar feeling for spittle and, finding none, went into the hallway. She needn’t be too neat for Lady Trestin. In spite of her fine new title, Lady Trestin was still the same woman who’d been Elizabeth’s best friend for years, Celeste Gray. An infamous former courtesan now married to a rather staid—and deliciously handsome—viscount.
Elizabeth paused just outside of the nursery door, as there was no sign of Mrs. Dalton yet. Her eagerness to see Celeste and Lord Trestin, the seemingly straitlaced man who’d stolen her friend away, overshadowed her unwanted response to Con that had plagued her all morning.
The effect was but momentary, however, as no sooner had she prided herself on not thinking about Con than he sprang into her thoughts again. She paced the carpet runner padding the hallway and tried not to think about her pledge made to Celeste just weeks earlier, when she’d dared to dream of one day being in this very situation.
…if I should meet a man who sets my belly fluttering while treating me as respectfully as your Lord Trestin does, I shall marry him without delay.
Surely no one had been more surprised by Trestin’s proposal of marriage to Celeste than Celeste herself. Their wedding had been the second happiest day of Elizabeth’s life, after the birth of her son. But she’d had to wonder, would a man like Lord Trestin ever want her?
Mrs. Dalton finally rounded the corner. The right side of her face was wrinkled from her pillow but she looked more rested than she’d appeared after overseeing the unpacking of the carriages. “Is he asleep?” she asked, pushing her hairpins into place.
Elizabeth walked toward her, in the direction of the main stair. She nodded, then called over her shoulder, “For another few minutes, at least.”
She smiled to herself as she went down to the first floor. Maybe there wouldn’t ever be a man who adored her. It seemed very likely that her father’s love would always be out of reach. But this was her life now, trading her son’s status with his nursemaid. Maybe this was her version of happily ever after.
As inconceivable as it had once seemed. Not so long ago, she’d sat for hours every afternoon while her hair was arranged, and refused to leave her apartments unless she was turned out more fashionably than any mere lady. Those were the days when she and Celeste had ruled London’s demimonde. She wouldn’t go back to that for all of the finery and flattery in the world.
She left the main stair and hurried to the drawing room. Celeste was speaking in low tones to her husband, a raven-haired man with a fine form and probing gaze. Celeste’s dove-gray walking dress trimmed in purple velvet set off her auburn hair and made her seem a proper lady, giving Elizabeth pause. Was it her red curls arranged artfully beneath a pretty poke bonnet, or her handsome husband beside her that made it hard to imagine Celeste had ever been a courtesan?
“Elizabeth! You’re looking lovely again. I’m so glad for it.” Celeste reached for Elizabeth’s hands. She smiled prettily, her green eyes glowing, and squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers.
“Much improved,” Trestin agreed, causing Elizabeth’s lips to turn up. His factual statement must be taken as truth, for he wasn’t the type to dole out generous compliments.
“Thank you, my lord,” Elizabeth replied cheekily, for she knew he loathed her addressing him as such. Celeste tapped her arm as if she’d been naughty and Elizabeth chuckled.
Trestin didn’t smile outright, for he was a starchy sort of gentleman, but his light, almost golden eyes looked on her with a soft sort of fondness. He’d been protective of her when she’d last seen him in Devon, after Nicholas had taken her baby and she’d fled London. Trestin had cared for her as gently as if she were one of his younger sisters, and she’d always be indebted to him for it.
Celeste tugged Elizabeth to the sofa and pulled her down to sit. Then she folded her hands in her lap regarded Elizabeth with unabashed interest. “You were successful? Captain Finn has restored Oliver to you?”
Elizabeth almost cackled with delight to be able to say, “Yes! The plan worked marvelously. Finn turned him over with har
dly a peep of protest.” She didn’t add that Nicholas had then gone on to realize he’d been duped and was now stalking her, or that her father was issuing threats of a civil suit. She’d almost lost her friendship with Celeste over her desperation to have Oliver back in her arms. She deserved a moment of vindication.
“I’m so glad, dearest,” Celeste said at last. “Will you be returning to Brixcombe, then?”
Elizabeth should have expected the question. Instead, she hadn’t considered doing so even for a moment, and so had no polite refusal prepared. “My home is in London.” She waved one hand as if to indicate the city looming beyond the four walls of the drawing room. “I shouldn’t mind coming to visit you, when Oliver is older.”
Celeste’s brows drew together. She seemed to be considering her words carefully. “I’d hoped you’d come back with us.”
She would have wanted that. She’d never trusted Elizabeth to be a good mother. But surely she must realize by now that Elizabeth was both capable of caring for her own child and absolutely determined to do so. “I’m set up very well here, though I do thank you for thinking of us,” Elizabeth replied sweetly. Then she added, “I think even you would approve of Oliver’s arrangements.”
Celeste winced, as if she highly doubted that would be the case. Then she smiled demurely. “Of course.”
Elizabeth wasn’t fooled. Celeste was regrouping. If anyone else were gifting Elizabeth a beatific smile while simultaneously thinking up the best way to undermine her argument, she would have cut them to the quick. Since it was Celeste, she feigned nonchalance by gifting Lord Trestin a bright smile and patting at the arrangement of her skirts.
Celeste had a tendency to act like Elizabeth’s older sister, rather than her friend. It was sweet, in an exasperating sort of way.
“It would seem,” Celeste said, her soft smile faltering, “that you’ve benefitted from your own resilience once again.” Before Elizabeth could do more than raise her eyebrow at this left-handed compliment, her friend continued, “We caught wind of the scandal all the way in Devon. I suppose that’s not surprising, given Lord Constantine’s family seat is there.”
