Lord Stanton's Last Mistress

by Lara Temple

  The silence stretched and stretched and stretched and she leapt into that yawning pit.

  ‘I didn’t mean to lie. Well, I didn’t lie. I just... It seemed easier. Safer. Men respect married women. I can see that on the island. I mean, they wouldn’t go into someone else’s house without being invited and it is just that way with women, right? We are considered property, aren’t we? So even with Yannis outside it seemed safer to allow you to think...’

  ‘I see. And for some reason you now think it is safe to tell me the truth?’

  Her heartbeat thundered like a horse down a mountain, far too fast and stumbling over rocks. She didn’t feel safe. She felt terrified. But not of him.

  ‘I don’t know, but I promised myself if you mentioned marriage again I would tell the truth. I don’t enjoy lying, not even by omission.’

  ‘For someone who doesn’t enjoy lying you are very adept at it. Are you quite certain the only reason you didn’t share this minor little detail is because you wished to remain...safe?’

  His anger was as cold and hard as a steel rapier being shoved slowly through her lungs.

  ‘What other reason could there be?’

  ‘Precisely what I am asking myself. Athena. Is that your name or is that a lie as well?’

  ‘That is what the King calls me. The Princess calls me Tina for short.’

  ‘I see how this works. Not a lie, but not quite the truth—rather you offer with one hand while you hide something with the other. You would make a fine cardsharp, or perhaps I should introduce you to Oswald, he would appreciate your skill.’

  ‘Who is Oswald?’

  ‘Leading me off the trail again, Athena? If you wish. Oswald is my uncle and the man who sends me on the errands which have left the trail of scars you were admiring.’

  ‘Was he why you were in Alexandria and why you won’t tell us your name?’

  ‘If you wished to know my name you only had to ask. My name is Alexander, but my friends call me Alex.’

  She knew he was doing precisely what he had accused her of doing—distracting her from her quarry and with an offer empty of any real value, but it worked. Her mind wrapped itself about the sound and colour of his name, her mind filling with its fire. Alex.

  ‘Alex.’

  He breathed in, deep and sharp, and for a moment she surfaced from her internal fog, worrying something had jogged his wound, but as she reached forward instinctively he caught her hand and they froze.

  She waited for him to release her wrist, but his hand slid under hers, raising it. A lock of his hair, touched with gold from the afternoon sun streaming in the narrow castle windows, fell over his brow as he leaned forward. It was like a picture from a book—the gallant knight bowing over a maiden’s hand. Until his lips skimmed over the back of her hand and came to rest just above her knuckles. She had once scalded her hand boiling herbs and it had also taken her a shocked second to realise she was in agony and snatch her hand away. She tried to do so now, but he just tightened his clasp.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Her voice wavered a little and he looked up and she saw danger in his eyes, an intent concentration, like a hawk hovering over a field mouse, wondering whether it was worth the plunge. But his words were almost casual.

  ‘Thanking you. Is showing gratitude not acceptable on Illiakos?’

  ‘Not like that.’

  ‘That’s a pity. Perhaps you should have let the lie lie. You were right your married status was an effective barrier to flirtation. Now there is nothing to stop me from telling you I find myself fantasising about what you look like under that curtain, is there?’

  ‘You would only be disappointed. I am not in the least remarkable.’

  ‘I have had a little experience with women, my dear, and though I don’t know what you look like, believe me when I say that you underestimate yourself. And if I were your brother I wouldn’t make do with that lug Yannis napping on a bench outside the room.’

  The humour that did so much damage to her resolve transformed his eyes from ice to the colour of thunderclouds, but even though his hold softened, she was no longer trying to escape it. His hand encompassed her wrist, his fingers marking her thudding pulse. She knew he couldn’t see her, but she felt he saw right through her, not merely through the veils, but through her skin, to the flow of blood in her veins, to her very thoughts, chaotic and forbidden.

  She tried desperately to regain her advantage as his nurse.

  ‘I will have you know I do not need Yannis to see to my welfare. I can see to it myself, so you had best tread carefully.’

  A glint of mischief sparked in his eyes and his hand tucked hers into his as if it was the most natural thing in the world to sit there, hands clasped.

  ‘Or what?’

  ‘Or...’

  She couldn’t think of anything. Not just a reasonable punishment, but of anything but the surprisingly sweet mischief in his eyes and that sense of rightness in sitting there with him, his fingers caressing the core of her palm and sending shivers of heat up her arm, her body aligning, readying to be his.

  ‘I don’t think I would mind any retribution you could deliver, you know.’ His voice rasped over nerves that were already dancing. The mere thought that he might feel the same attraction was as intoxicating as his touch. He was probably just playing with her as he no doubt played with all the women he claimed to have experienced. But in her mind a common bond of need had snared them both, inescapable.

  ‘I would never wish to hurt you,’ she replied, her own voice just as hoarse at the depth of that truth. The mischief in his eyes doused immediately, the shadows under his cheekbones becoming even more pronounced. When he spoke now his voice scared her, it was deep and raw, as compelling as an edict from the gods.

  ‘Take off the veil. I need to see you.’

  She shook her head—it wasn’t just that he would see plump and drab Christina James, the daughter of an English doctor, but that he would see her thoughts in her eyes as clear as spring water. This was a game to him, but it wasn’t for her. He was clever and watchful and she would not be able to hide her feelings and then she would see not just disappointment but pity.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Damn it, take them off. I won’t do anything, I promise. I just want to see you.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Of course you can. This is madness. Someone like you shouldn’t even be here, locked into a servant’s life. Look, I am almost well enough to leave. Come with me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘There is a whole world outside these walls and those veils. It’s obvious in everything you say that you are fascinated by it. I’m asking you to come discover it with me.’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘Probably. A little. Well, more than a little. But I mean it. I know some of the things I do are dangerous, but I would arrange it so that you are never at risk and if anything happened to me you would have everything you need; you would never have to depend on anyone ever again. If anyone is unsuited to be at someone else’s beck and call all their lives, it is you. All that passion in you will bubble over one day and burn everything in sight. I can show you how to set it free. Take off your veils, Athena.’

  She dragged her hands away and stood, stumbling backwards. Waves of heat and ice rolled through her and her lungs felt as tight as if a boulder was pinning her down.

  ‘Stop it. This is my home! My family!’

  He struggled to his feet, his hand braced against his side, and she felt tears burning on her cheeks at the clashing currents of fear and concern and need.

  ‘You would rather remain a servant here?’ he demanded and she clasped her hands together.

  ‘I am not merely a servant. I would never leave the King and Ari; they are all that matter in my life.’

  He looked away, the heat disappearing in a flash from his mou
th and eyes as if it had never been. Like this he looked more than ever like a statue and it was hard to reconcile this stony façade with the appealing charm and that almost boyish need of just a moment ago. One of them had to be a lie, didn’t it?

  ‘It hardly matters,’ he said after a moment. ‘Fantasy is so much more rewarding than reality, anyway. But if you wish men to respect your boundaries, I suggest you refrain from flirting with them.’

  ‘I don’t flirt.’

  ‘More fantasy, darling. A dangerous one, too. Someone with your temper would do better to face your flaws or one day that meek little handmaiden act will go up in a ball of fire and then all hell will break loose.’

  ‘You don’t know me!’

  His mouth flattened.

  ‘I know your kind.’

  ‘My kind?’

  ‘Yes. Clever, quiet, with everything tucked in tight until it explodes and takes everyone with it without thought of the consequences.’

  The maelstrom of unfamiliar emotions gathered round a single core of fury and she clung to it with savage relief.

  ‘You are arrogant and presumptuous and annoying, and I am tired of sitting here in these horrible veils while you taunt me. I will tell the King you are perfectly able to travel and I hope he puts you on the very first ship off the island.’ She switched to Greek, stalking towards the door. ‘Yannis, open the door, I am coming out!’

  ‘Wait!’

  But she was already through the door, shoving a surprised Yannis aside. She stripped off the veils and left them in a heap in the corridor.

  * * *

  It took two more days for Alex to be dispatched. She knew the King had visited him, a chessboard under his arm, and once he even took Princess Ariadne, who came back bouncing with delight at how funny Apollo was.

  Though she held firm in her resolve not to see him again, she couldn’t prevent her disappointment that he never sent for her. His offer, offhand though it had been, burned like a lanced boil on her soul, but whether she hoped for it to be repeated or not, there was nothing but silence. Clearly he had had his fun, but now that he was to be on his way she was no longer instrumental. It was all for the better, she told herself, but it took every ounce of her resolve not to go and tell him precisely what she thought of his ingratitude and his stupidity and his insensitivity, just so she could see him one last time.

  The day he was escorted down to the King’s own frigate to be transported to Venice, she and Ariadne watched the procession from the Princess’s rooms. The dismal winter weather had burst into a benediction of sunshine in a transition typical of the Mediterranean, transforming the bay into a crystalline sparkle of sapphires and emeralds. Even leaning on a cane he stood almost a head taller than the men around him, the sun striking his hair with silver and gold as he boarded the white-sailed vessel.

  ‘Apollo is taking the sun with him.’ Ariadne sighed, her chin propped on her arms.

  Christina’s heart squeezed and shrivelled. Ariadne’s words were soppily sentimental, but that was precisely what it felt like. Ridiculous, she told herself. Just like the agony columns—absurd, mawkish, silly, stupid. Pathetic. Perhaps if she threw enough insults at this pain it would shrivel as well.

  The next day the rainclouds returned and life went on.

  Chapter One

  London—1822

  ‘You cannot be serious!’ Alex, Lord Stanton, paused with his glass halfway to his lips.

  ‘I am always serious,’ Sir Oswald Sinclair replied.

  ‘That is the gospel truth.’ Lord Hunter raised his own glass with a complicit grin at Alex and Lord Ravenscar, but Alex was in no mood to appreciate his friend’s sense of humour.

  ‘Hell, Uncle. The man had me shot and imprisoned. I still have a nasty scar to show for it. I have no intention whatsoever of inviting them to Stanton Hall, negotiations or no negotiations.’

  Sir Oswald’s expression rarely changed. Rather he used his quizzing glass as a way to communicate human emotion. It went up now, a faint but definite rebuke.

  ‘While you are indeed heir to the Marquessate and the Stanton estate, your father is still Marquess of Wentworth and as such he decides who is welcome at Stanton Hall and he and your delightful stepmother have expressed their willingness to allow me to bring guests to the hall for a few weeks while they are away.’

  ‘Don’t split hairs with me, Uncle. Why the devil can’t the discussions be held in London? And if not in London, why at Stanton?’

  ‘Because he asked. You might have put aside your past as agent for the War Office these five years for a more respectable post in the Foreign Office, but surely you are still aware how important it is that we secure Illiakos as a naval base in the Mediterranean.’

  ‘I am fully aware of its importance. The last thing we need is another bone of contention between the Turks and Greeks setting off the squabbling between Russia and Austria. I just spent a week with Razumov and Von Haas convincing them it is in everyone’s best interests to allow the English to take this particular piece off the board—for a price, of course. Just because I no longer run dubious errands for you around the world doesn’t mean I have become witless, Uncle.’

  ‘I am well aware of that, Alexander. But it might interest you to hear that Lucas sent word from Russia that though Count Nesselrode is on board and has convinced the Tsar of its wisdom, not all the powers in Russia are happy with this move since it might weaken the Greek position should they proceed with their resistance to Turkish rule. I prefer to have the King and his daughter where I...where we can control their surroundings and ensure they remain focused on the prize. We all want the same thing in the end.’

  ‘Not quite in the same way. So, my delightful Sinclair cousins still work for you?’

  Oswald’s mouth almost bowed into a smile.

  ‘They haven’t yet wearied of me as you did.’

  ‘I don’t think “wearied” is the right choice of word. Grew up might be closer to the mark.’

  ‘Ah, but that had nothing to do with me,’ Oswald replied and Alex’s lungs constricted with remembered shame and self-contempt. Trust his uncle to go for the jugular without the slightest effort.

  ‘No. That had nothing to do with you,’ he admitted and his uncle had the grace to show a glimmer of remorse, but before he could speak, Lord Ravenscar intervened.

  ‘His daughter? There’s a princess in there, too?’

  Hunter’s brow rose. ‘Shall I tell Lily you were asking?’

  Ravenscar grinned and raised his glass. ‘I’d back Lily against any princess, or a queen for that matter. I was thinking of our stubbornly unwed friend here and his annoying tendency to look down upon us married mortals. It’s about time he fell off his high horse. Maybe a princess will do it. Have you met her, Sir Oswald? Is she pretty?’

  ‘I met her yesterday at their hotel. She is very pretty.’

  ‘There. It’s as good as done. Damned if I start calling you your Majesty, though.’

  ‘To Prince Alexander.’ Hunter raised a toast. ‘You will make a fine despot.’

  Alex shook his head at his friends’ nonsense, but their attempt to dispel the tension Oswald’s comment introduced was welcome. There was no point in arguing, after all.

  ‘Why don’t you just tell me what is expected of me since it is apparently already arranged?’

  ‘Good. I will travel down with them from London to Berkshire tomorrow and see them settled. We will expect you the next day.’

  ‘Will you?’

  ‘Don’t scowl, Alexander. I am impervious to shows of temper. I am well aware you are otherwise occupied with Canning on the business of the Congress over the next couple of days, so I offered to escort the King and Princess to Stanton myself until you can join us. It will be an opportunity to keep our Russian and Austrian friends under my eye.’

  The same eye was c
urrently grotesquely magnified by the quizzing glass and Alex knew he had lost. It was damnable, but his uncle could always get his way without the slightest show of effort or emotion.

  ‘Lucky them. Very well, I will come as soon as Canning is done with me. But I draw the line at courting princesses.’

  ‘A pity. The island is most strategically located for our navy and a marriage would be more effective than a treaty. Never mind. I will bid you gentlemen good evening.’

  Alex cursed and sat down in his armchair as the door closed.

  ‘One day I will walk out of a battle of wills with him the victor.’

  ‘I doubt it,’ Hunter said. ‘He’s a true cold fish, that man. You just act like one. Or at least you have for the past five years.’

  ‘Better a cold fish than a landed one like you two old married men.’

  Ravenscar propped his boots on the grate and sighed.

  ‘Here we go again. Another smug lecture from the bachelor. We had best see him hitched soon, Hunter. Either that or take him round back and show him a thing or two.’

  ‘You could probably use the exercise, Raven,’ Alex taunted. ‘When was the last time you went to Jackson’s?’

  ‘Oh, we get plenty of exercise, Alex.’ Hunter grinned. ‘And not merely at Jackson’s.’

  Ravenscar laughed. ‘Careful, Hunter, you’re embarrassing him.’

  ‘It’s a pity neither Nell nor Lily have sisters.’

  ‘Damn it, Hunter. If you dare take up matchmaking...’

  Hunter raised his hands in surrender.

  ‘I’m not such a fool. Besides, I would rather watch you fail on your own. Perhaps we should put a wager on it, Raven? Think the Princess will do the trick?’

  ‘Don’t waste your blunt, Raven. When I do marry it will be to a biddable female who understands the rules just so I can finally put a stop to your crowing and my father’s unveiled hints. Until then I intend to continue to enjoy being the only one in the Wild Hunt Club who hasn’t been leg shackled and domesticated.’