Lord Stanton's Last Mistress

by Lara Temple

  ‘Just you wait. When you fall from those icy heights, you’ll fall hard, King Alexander.’

  ‘You forget, I met the Princess some six years ago and though she was just a child, I hardly think she has grown into anything that might tempt me to change my state of unwedded bliss.’

  Raven frowned.

  ‘I remember now. When you came back to London with that hole in your side, you mentioned a veiled nurse who brought you back from the dead. I always liked that touch of mystery. What was her name? Athena, right? Very romantic.’

  ‘Hardly romantic,’ he answered Ravenscar’s comment as lightly as possible. ‘If wearing those curtains is part of the wedding ceremony on Illiakos that is another incentive to stay away from the Princess. That poor nurse was about as unsuited to be a biddable bride as any I’ve come across.’

  ‘You are hardly an authority on who is suited to be a wife, my friend. You probably think you should marry someone like your stepmother.’

  ‘And why not? Sylvia is sweet, practical and undemanding. What more could one want in a wife? After almost ten years with my mother my father deserved someone who didn’t push him to the edge of insanity. I know you two have become disgustingly smug since you wed, but not everyone wants to be dangled over a ravine on a daily basis.’

  ‘I rather like the sensation,’ Ravenscar mused. ‘Lily is magnificent at both dangling and catching me before I hit the ground. An excellent combination.’

  ‘For you. When I have to finally account for the title I think I will choose someone a little more docile than your Lily and someone rather less subversive than Nell.’

  Hunter laughed. ‘That is assuming the choice is yours, Alex.’

  ‘One always has a choice. That is what distinguishes us from animals. We might have urges, sometimes even powerful ones, I grant you, but in the end we choose how to act upon them. It is as simple as that.’

  Ravenscar considered him over the rim of his glass.

  ‘Simple is never that simple. You might have thoroughly reformed yourself these past five years since what happened with Countess Vidanich, Alex, but you might be surprised to find there are areas outside even your control. Life has a way of turning us down new roads and we only realise we are there when it is too late to turn back.’

  ‘You make it sound like something mystical, Raven.’

  ‘Sometimes if feels like that. For example, I remember thinking at the time that you were rather unusually taken with that little nurse when you described your forced stay on Illiakos. Perhaps that Athena was a priestess in disguise and she cast a spell on you.’

  ‘Very creative, Ravenscar,’ Hunter approved. ‘I’m beginning to hope your veiled temptress will be accompanying the little Princess so you can thank her yourself. In person. That might be even more enjoyable than losing you to a kingdom. You could finally put that little mystery to bed. Literally.’

  Alex shrugged. ‘It is hardly likely the nurse will accompany the King and Princess on a state visit. She is probably married now and with a full brood of children so I will have to remain with my fantasy of what lay beneath those voluminous veils. Now are we going to Cribb’s or are you two under curfew?’

  Ravenscar stood and stretched.

  ‘Careful, Alex, your romantic petticoats are showing. Next you’ll be saying you don’t want to marry because you left your heart under some faceless chit’s veils.’

  ‘My what?’ Alex enquired politely and Hunter laughed.

  ‘You do have one, you know. One day you’ll stumble over it and fall flat on your face.’

  Chapter Two

  Berkshire

  Christina leaned her forehead on the window and watched as the sun speared itself on the trees at the edge of the lawn. Like Ari, she was a little disappointed to leave London for Stanton Hall so soon after their arrival in England, but with each mile into the rolling green hills of Berkshire she had felt the rise of an unfamiliar mix of peace and homesickness. She had never expected to discover she actually missed the green and grey of England. No doubt after a couple of weeks of English autumn she would be pining for the sun, but for now she and Ari could enjoy the quiet of the countryside while the King was engaged in his negotiations.

  She looked around their shared parlour. It was both large and cosy, a difficult combination but one a clever hand had succeeded in throughout Stanton Hall. Perhaps it was the choice of colours: deep-forest and light-grass greens with muted gold and a great deal of wood. It was like being in an ancient, dignified forest, dappled in sunlight. Most peculiarly it was a forest populated by a series of exquisite wooden figurines, mostly of people and animals. Ari had exclaimed over them with delight when they had arrived and, though Christina hadn’t been quite so vocal, she felt her eyes drawn to them again and again, almost expecting them to begin moving about the room or join the conversation.

  ‘What shall I wear for our dinner with the political emissaries?’ Ariadne looked up from inspecting the fashion plates in a copy of La Belle Assemblée. ‘I think the white-and-silver gauze Papa brought from Athens and the white peacock feathers with the gold clasp? What will you wear, Tina?’

  Christina picked up the figurine on the windowsill, her favourite thus far. It was of a kneeling girl staring into the distance and though it did not show the exquisite skill of the others it continued to draw her, like a child begging to be picked up.

  ‘I shall wear my nightdress and be tucked into bed with a book and very thankful for it. I doubt I shall be invited to any of the formal dinners, Ari. We are no longer in Illiakos. Here in England companions aren’t treated as guests.’

  Ariadne sighed.

  ‘England is much less enjoyable than I thought. First we leave London after only a few days and Lord Stanton and Papa will likely be all about politics and war and now you say they won’t even let me be with you which means I shall have to sit with Lady Albinia, who is interested in nothing but gardens. Well, if you remain in your room then I shall, too, and so I shall tell Papa!’

  As if conjured by his daughter the King walked into the parlour.

  ‘Ready to come and see the gardens, little star?’

  ‘Papa! Tina said she will not be invited to dine with us, is this true?’

  The King turned to Christina.

  ‘What nonsense is this, Athena? I have more important matters to see to here than your English pride. You might not be family by birth or law, but in all other respects that is precisely what you are and you will attend all events Ari does. There are bonds that transcend the accidents of nature. On Illiakos we understand this even if you English are slow to recognise what truly matters. Is Ari not dear as a sister to you?’

  ‘Papa,’ Ari protested, but Christina met his gaze and replied more fiercely than usual.

  ‘You know she is. You know I would do anything for her.’

  ‘Except come to dinner, apparently.’

  She couldn’t help laughing.

  ‘If I must, I shall even do that.’

  ‘Good. Now, what is this, Ari? Hurry and change your dress. But not the blue dress I brought you from Athens, I want you to wear it when Lord Stanton arrives tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, must I waste that lovely dress on a stuffy politician, Papa?’

  ‘You didn’t think him stuffy six years ago, little star. I seem to remember you called him Apollo at the time.’

  The figurine fumbled from Christina’s hands, but she grabbed it before it bounced to the floor, her shocked gasp overshadowed by Ari’s squeal.

  ‘No! Apollo is our host? Why didn’t you tell me, Papa! How exciting. I wonder if he remembers me.’

  ‘I am certain he does, though at the time you were hardly the lovely young woman you are today. Now go and change, Sir Oswald and Lady Albinia are waiting.’

  Ari rushed to her room and Christina sank into a chair. Alex. This made no se
nse.

  ‘But...that is the man your guards almost killed!’

  ‘Nonsense. A misunderstanding. He is a diplomat, he understands that, and Minister Canning assures me he bears no grudge. It was a long time ago, after all.’

  ‘It was only five years ago.’

  ‘Almost six. And much has happened since. Now I am squeezed like a nut between the fists of Russia and Austria as they play the Turks against the Greeks. I prefer to test my fate with the English and their navy. I like the English. My years as a student at Oxford were some of my finest.’

  ‘But he can’t possibly want you to stay here...in his home. You all but kidnapped him and held him prisoner.’

  ‘Only at first. Then when he was better, I treated him well, didn’t I? We played chess. He is one of the best opponents I have met, and his given name is Alexander, apparently. A fine name for a future King of Illiakos. King Alexander, it has a nice sound to it, yes? I think I wouldn’t mind if he married Ariadne.’

  ‘You wouldn’t mind...’

  Christina waited out the sensation of still being on board the ship that had carried them to England. She should be used to the King by now, but sometimes he still took her breath away. Or perhaps that was the realisation of where they were. Or rather, whom they would see tomorrow. Oh, no, she couldn’t do it. Not again. She should insist on leaving to visit her cousins. They might not want her to come, but surely they wouldn’t turn her away?

  ‘Perhaps while you are occupied here I should visit my family for a few days.’

  ‘Nonsense. It is not at all convenient that you leave when Ari needs you most, Athena. This behaviour is not like you. Are you unwell?’

  The combination of solicitude and the reminder of her duty crumbled her resistance.

  ‘I am well, your Majesty, but...’

  ‘Good.’ He clapped his hands together in satisfaction. ‘We are done here. Go and make certain my little star is in a good mood. She must make an excellent impression. My enquiries tell me Lord Stanton has had the most exquisite of women and his palate is no doubt jaded, so Ariadne must be polished to the finest shine if she is to capture and hold his attention. She is beautiful, yes, but she is still a little rough despite all your efforts to make her the perfect English girl. You should have tried harder.’

  ‘I...’ She almost let loose her frustration when she saw the expectant mischief in his eyes. He might be fifty, but sometimes he was no better than a little boy.

  ‘I shall endeavour to do so, your Majesty.’

  He sighed.

  ‘One day you will lose your temper with me, Athena.’

  ‘I shall endeavour not to do so, your Majesty.’

  ‘A pity. I think it would do you a world of good. Meanwhile you are looking a little off colour. Why don’t you find yourself a book in that monstrous library you were admiring earlier? Reading always cheers you and you heard what Lady Albinia said, once Lord Stanton arrives, the library and the state room will be in use for the negotiations so take advantage of it being empty while you can. Ari and I will make your excuses. But now go and tell her if she isn’t downstairs in twenty minutes I will...well, do something or other.’

  He strode out but Christina didn’t immediately go to do his bidding; she needed time to recover from his unwitting blow.

  Lord Stanton. Alexander.

  Alex.

  What a fool she was. Almost six years had passed. One would think that was enough time for a foolish infatuation to fade, but her thudding pulse was proof the memory of those weeks was still alive inside her.

  She couldn’t face him...

  Of course you can, you silly girl. He won’t even recognise you. Why should he? He was delirious half the time and the rest of it those ridiculous veils covered you like a tent. Besides, you were just a girl and he was as handsome as a god and as charming as a devil. Of course you thought you were in love with him. But you are older now and quite a bit wiser.

  Perhaps this will even do you good, you will see an Englishman all starched and trapped in cravats and waistcoats and bowing and scraping to the King like all the other officials come to pay court. It would be different now.

  It had to be different. She didn’t want to have to nurse her way through another bruised heart in silence.

  Chapter Three

  Alex held his bay purebloods steady as he turned his curricle through the gates of Stanton Hall. It was usually at this point in the drive from London that his conflicted emotions reached their peak. He loved London and the excitement of his work at the Foreign Office, but there was something about coming to Berkshire and to his own wing at the Hall that calmed him, in particular when his father wasn’t in residence. It wasn’t that he disliked his sire and he certainly cared for Sylvia, his stepmother, and had a real and deep love for his two half-sisters, Anne and Olivia, but when they were away he revelled in having the Hall to himself. Then he could lower his guard and forget about duties and policies, Stantons and Sinclairs. Almost.

  This particular return, however, was overshadowed by the unwelcome guests awaiting him.

  ‘Have my uncle and guests arrived yet, Watkins?’ he asked his butler as he came downstairs after changing out of his driving clothes.

  ‘Yes, my lord. You were not expected until tomorrow and Count Razumov and Graf Von Haas and their entourages recently arrived and are resting in their rooms, but I believe his Majesty and the Princess and her companion, Miss James, have gone with Sir Oswald and Lady Albinia to inspect the gardens. Apparently his Majesty also has an interest in horticulture.’

  ‘Oh, God help me.’

  ‘Indeed, my lord. I presume you will join them outside?’

  ‘Not for the prospect of world peace, Watkins. I have work to do. They will manage without me until dinner.’

  He entered the library, a generously proportioned room overlooking the lawns and lake. He had his own study on the other side of the house, but he liked the combination of space and leather-bound warmth the library offered, with its deep, cushioned and curtained window seats overlooking the lake.

  Halfway to his desk he noticed a pair of pale yellow kid shoes on the carpeted floor by the curtains drawn over the far window seat. There was nothing peculiar about them except their very presence in the library when his sisters were away. He moved towards them but stopped when the curtains twitched and two stockinged feet peeped out below, moving slowly towards the discarded footwear, like a cat trying to escape detection. He remained silent, watching with appreciation the elegant line of foot and ankle, the slim calf, and with regret the appearance of the hem of a muslin skirt as the feet finally encountered the shoes and slid into them, sneaking back just as stealthily behind the curtains.

  ‘I’m afraid it is a bit late for concealment,’ he said, trying not to laugh. He had no wish to embarrass anyone, especially not if this was the Princess. ‘I am Lord Stanton. Will you please come out so we may introduce ourselves?’

  There was a moment’s silence and then the curtain was pushed aside. A young woman stood up, shaking out her skirts, her finger still held between the pages of a book.

  She was clearly embarrassed, her cheeks hot with colour, but she was just as clearly not the Princess. The Princess had been a child with black hair and brown eyes, not hair the shade of dark mahogany and eyes of a peculiar teal blue. His uncle had also claimed the Princess was exceedingly pretty and he was a stickler for accuracy. The woman facing him didn’t evoke the overused epithet ‘pretty’, but her features had a compelling harmony and her large, wide-set eyes were like staring into the distant shadowing of the ocean, the kind that fuelled travellers’ anticipation and fear. Then reality returned and he recalled Watkins’s words—this must be the Princess’s English companion.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she said, her voice low. ‘When I am reading, I forget myself. I hadn’t even realised I had taken off my shoes unt
il I heard someone moving in the room.’

  The silence stretched as he tried to focus on her words, but they faded away from him, like a vaguely familiar foreign language. All that reminiscing with Hunter and Raven was clearly having some ill effects on him—for a moment he had been dragged back in time to a very different room. He struggled to regain his footing.

  ‘There is no need to apologise. You are more than welcome to use the library, Miss...’ He groped for the memory of the name Watkins had mentioned. ‘Miss James?’

  She smiled and her face transformed for a moment, solemnity disappearing under the weight of embarrassed amusement, quickly checked. It was a powerful transformation, like sun breaking through clouds above a stormy sea. He might have to reassess his initial impression—she might not be a beauty, but there was something about her features that went beyond classical features and made it difficult to look away.

  ‘I apologise, Lord Stanton. We were told you weren’t expected until tomorrow. I wouldn’t have come to the library if I had known you were arriving sooner.’

  ‘And why is that?’ he asked, moving closer. Surely if this was the girl who had nursed him she would say something, show some sign of recognition. But her eyes showed only embarrassment as she hugged the book to her.

  ‘Lady Albinia said the library is your domain when you are at the Hall. I meant to take a book upstairs with me, but then I saw the window seat and forgot. I don’t think I could have conjured a more perfect place.’

  He glanced at the window seat, at the cushions arranged into a little nest in the corner, still bearing the outline of her body. She turned and began arranging the cushions, plumping them back into shape, her skirts falling forward to accentuate the soft curves of her hips and behind. There was nothing intentionally provocative about her actions, any more than the surreptitious manoeuvre with her shoes had been calculated, but his body wasn’t in the least concerned with intentions. It was focused on actions and on curves and was heading deep into unrealisable potential when she finally finished and turned, her cheeks flushed and the apology still in her eyes.