Mistress by Marriage

by Maggie Robinson

  She would ask Garrett’s opinion on the divorce, and show him the annoying communication from Sir William Maclean. Will had always been worse than Edward when it came to propriety. The barrister had been opposed to Edward’s second marriage, and made no bones about it. Caroline hoped if he ever married, justice would finally be served. His wife could bring him before Cupid’s court without mercy. Rob him of all his dry legal language until he blithered like a bedlamite. Imprison him in a cage of lust so he knew for once what it felt like. Caroline would love to sit on the sidelines and watch the great Maclean unmanned.

  Lizzie knocked quietly at the bedroom door. “Mr. Marburn is downstairs, Lady Christie. Shall I show him up?”

  Caroline and Garrett often used her upstairs sitting room to discuss business, but she wanted the formality of the downstairs drawing room today. Then she remembered last night and its extreme informality and felt the heat on her cheeks. Soon there would be no room in her house that would be safe from Edward’s aura.

  She couldn’t very well meet with Garrett in the kitchen, so she might as well stay put. “Yes, Lizzie, please. And bring up the lunch tray in half an hour or so—with whiskey for Mr. Marburn.”

  Lizzie bobbed and did as she was bid. Caroline tucked herself in a corner of her plum sofa and fanned some papers to cool herself off. Her notebooks were stacked neatly on the table, not that Garrett would give her credit for order. He was likely to be very irritated with her indeed.

  He strode into the room, looking every inch the gentleman. His light brown hair was perfectly arranged, the cut of his clothes exquisite. Evidently he felt she looked her best, too. Placing a hand over his heart, he grinned. “Caroline the Divine. How I’ve missed you.”

  She had planned to wait for the topaz or the whiskey to take effect, but decided to get it over with. “I hope I stay in your good graces, Garrett. I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”

  Garrett lifted a groomed eyebrow. “Should I sit or stand ready to flee?”

  She patted the sofa. A mistake. He sat too close and she felt it was not only the topaz which absorbed his attention. “I’ve had a bit of a setback with The Harlot’s Husband. I don’t believe it will be quite ready to publish on the usual schedule.”

  Garrett waved a careless hand. “Let your public wait then. A delay will only serve to make them more eager. Are we talking days or weeks?”

  “You—you’re not upset?”

  “Caroline, darling, the only thing that would upset me would be if you told me you’d found your conscience and refused to write what we both know to be utter drivel.”

  Caroline gave him a little shove, not half so hard as she wanted. “It is not drivel! I’ll have you know I work very hard assuring the quality of my stories!”

  “Yes, yes,” he said dismissively. “Art and all that. It’s sex your public wants, and secrets. Let’s not put pearls on the pig.”

  Caroline was vexed and sat up straight. While she knew she was not writing the great English novel, Garrett’s words stung. He reminded her quite forcibly of Edward at the moment.

  She poked a finger into his chest, which was still too near. “You try churning out a novel a month!”

  He inched backward a fraction. “Caroline, you aren’t trying to increase your advance, are you? Not that you’re not worth every penny. But summer’s upon us. The ton are leaving the city for their boring country estates and sales always drop. You have that husband of yours to support you. Hit the dullard up for extra cash if you’re short.”

  “Oh!” Caroline stamped her foot, managing to clip the tip of Garrett’s boot. “Sorry. No, I’m not short of money. What I am short of is time. Something”—someone—“has come up.”

  “Caroline, I’m a businessman first. I’m not making a fuss that you’re failing your contractual obligation to me. Finish the damn book whenever. But I’ll not give you another penny unless you stop playing games with me and finally let me into your bed.”

  “Oh!” Her foot came down harder. Garrett just laughed.

  “Why are you paying any attention to me at this late date? You know I just like to tease you. A man like me can hope.” He cupped her chin.

  Caroline blinked, but not soon enough. A tear splashed on her powdered cheek.

  “Something’s riled you, and it’s not me.”

  “Yes. No. Oh, Garrett.” She swallowed, feeling very like one of her stupid heroines. “Edward is divorcing me.”

  Garrett’s steady brown eyes met hers. “Good.”

  “Is it? I’ll still have this house, and I suppose he’ll settle some money on me, but—but—” She looked down at the diamonds twinkling on her finger. She would keep wearing them, even after.

  “Good Christ. You still love him.” He stood up, angry. “I’ve never understood why a warm-blooded woman like you fell for such a dry stick. By God, he even looks like a stick, like some sort of mutant tree.”

  “You’re just jealous because he’s taller than you. Edward is a very attractive man.”

  Garrett shot her an incredulous look. “Don’t expect me to notice. I’m not Andrew Rossiter.”

  Caroline shivered. “Unfair,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I ever told you.”

  “Well, I’m not. I could kill them both with my bare hands for hurting you.”

  Despite the seriousness of her situation, Caroline smiled. “You cannot kill a peer of the realm. But I would have no objection to you going a few rounds with Andrew.”

  “A few rounds? Don’t be absurd. I’d flatten him in seconds, bastard to bastard. Caroline, what can I do to help? Do you want me to talk to Christie?”

  “Good Lord, no. He wouldn’t see you at any rate.”

  “I’ve got my ways,” Garrett said darkly. “He needs to be told.”

  “No!” Caroline said, alarmed. “You promised.”

  “That was when you were just an estranged wife. But if he means to divorce you—why, he can’t, can he? He’ll have to prove you were unfaithful.”

  “Andrew will lie if the price is right. There are the letters, too. No one need know they predate my marriage.”

  Garrett sat back down, gripping her hands in his. “Do you want this divorce, Caroline? If you do, you needn’t have anything to do with Rossiter. I can give evidence.”

  The idea had some appeal. She would prefer she never had her name linked to Andrew Rossiter in any way. But Garrett Marburn was too good a friend, and the scandal could affect his business adversely. “Your reputation would be ruined, Garrett.”

  He barked out a laugh. “Aye, illegitimate son that I am. And in trade, even worse. I’m already persona non grata. But people will still buy my newspapers and books, Caroline. They cannot help themselves.” He gave her hands a quick squeeze. “You know as well as I do some people think we’re lovers as it is.”

  She shook her head. “I know you mean well, but I cannot bring you into this any more than you are already. I wanted to warn you Sir William Maclean will probably contact you. Don’t lie for me, Garrett. We’ve done nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Not that I haven’t tried, Caroline. I wonder, does Christie even know what he’s giving up? You’ve never let me touch you, but I know it would be good between us. More than good. You’re light and fire, Caroline, meant for love. For life. For laughter.”

  She did love Garrett, but not in the right way. Caroline pulled her hands free and wiped her face. “You are supposed to cheer me up, not make me blubber.”

  “Well, I thought that was a very pretty speech if I do say so myself, and I expect to read it verbatim, if not in The Harlot’s Husband then in some other volume. What’s the name of the next one? The Duke’s Doxy?” He winked at her.

  “You didn’t mean one word! Oh, you are incorrigible.”

  “Every minute of the day.” He moved his foot before she could stomp it again.

  “There’s something else, too,” said Caroline, remembering. “Edward told me that Lords Pope and Douglass visited him the o
ther day, threatening legal action over my books.”

  Garrett laughed. “Cold Christie must have had a spasm entertaining those two. How I wish I had been there. I’d have set them straight.”

  “I know you have legal representation, and you say we are safe, but—”

  “We are, Caroline. Don’t add that to your list of worries. If it will make you feel any better, I can have one of my men move in to guard you.”

  “Guard me! Surely it won’t come to that. We’re all perfectly safe here on Jane Street.”

  Garrett frowned. “I hope so. You know there was some sort of incident involving Sir Michael Bayard. The watchman was knocked on the head.”

  “There are two watchmen now, and Charlotte’s gone. The house is empty.” Caroline smiled. There was nothing left of her friend but some cupid dust in the garden. There was plenty of essence of angel to protect all the women who lived there.

  A clatter at the door signaled Lizzie was up with lunch. Garrett went to the door and let her in. “Lizzie, my love, you get more beautiful every time I see you. That mobcap is rather criminal, though, covering all that golden hair.” In an instant, he plucked it off her head. Lizzie was openmouthed, the heavy tray preventing her from retaliation.

  “I’ll take the whiskey back downstairs if you don’t give it back this instant.”

  Garrett swept the tray out of her hands. “Indeed you will not. Caroline, you don’t insist your maid wear that ridiculous headgear, do you? Bad enough the poor girl’s all in black with an apron concealing her luscious curves.”

  “Garrett!”

  “Mr. Marburn!”

  “Ah, the outrage. I’m a man. I have eyes.” He set the tray down on the small dining table. “And I’ve a powerful thirst.” He poured two fingers from the decanter into the glass. “To the ladies of Jane Street. May the future be bright for you both.” He tossed back the liquor as Lizzie fled the room.

  Caroline came to the table and distributed the plates and cutlery. “It’s one thing to tease me, Garrett, but don’t be so cavalier with Lizzie. She’s had a hard year.”

  Garrett popped an olive into his mouth. “Who says I’m being cavalier? I find her very fetching. She’s wasted as your maid.”

  “She can’t go back to being a whore. Pope made sure of that.”

  “Who said anything about her being a whore?”

  Caroline put her fork down. “Garrett,” she said carefully, “what are your intentions toward my maid?”

  Garrett speared a chunk of chicken and waved it across the table. “My intentions? Are you the girl’s mother?”

  “She was brutally beaten. Her back is a mess and her spirits worse. Don’t toy with her.”

  “Caroline, I don’t know if I ever told you. My mother was a Jane. Lived in Number Ten under my father’s protection. I have no objection to her former profession. I’m that rare thing—a true son of a whore. And I remember when your Lizzie was Eliza Reynolds, one of the most beautiful girls on the stage. Couldn’t dance well, but didn’t need to.”

  “That was years ago. There were men before Pope, you know.”

  Garrett shook his head. “You must decide whether you’re championing Lizzie or championing me. Leave it, Caroline.”

  Caroline took a sip of wine. Could it be she was jealous? No, not at all. She didn’t want Garrett for herself, like some sort of trained lapdog who danced for his treat. He was her best friend at present, not a potential lover. But Garrett and Lizzie? She took another sip and choked. My word, it all sounded like a possible plot for a book—The Bastard’s Battered Beauty. It was too perfect for words. She might be able to get her digs in again against the wretched Randolph Pope. But no. Garrett wouldn’t publish such a thing, although perhaps he could live it.

  “What do you think of Queen Caroline coming home?” she asked, changing the subject as requested. If anyone knew the latest on dit, it would be the man at her luncheon table. As Garrett ate and gestured, Caroline drifted off, plotting the next romance, one she had every intention of orchestrating from the ground up.

  “Hell and damnation!” Edward tossed the missive into the farthest corner of his study and set his eyeglasses on their tray. According to a friend in high places who knew the secret machinations of their monarch, it seemed he would be condemned to stay in town all summer to haggle over the marital situation of his king and his unlucky wife. A Bill of Pain and Penalties was being prepared, a completely apt name as far as Edward was concerned. There would be untold pain and penalties for him. He could, of course, send the children to the country for their planned holiday with his sister, but he was doomed to sit in the heat and misery to discuss the cold and miserable state of George IV’s marriage. Queen Caroline was already parading all over London, and every peer, bishop, and judge would be required to attend the trial, which could go on indefinitely. Interminably.

  Odd that two Carolines were the key to his discomfort. In the few days he’d returned to Caro’s bed, he had been unable to wean himself from wanting her with an intensity that was somewhat frightening. He’d looked forward to escaping to Christie Park to contemplate his newly single state. Now his days would be tied up in the stuffy confines of an annex to the House of Lords, and his nights—

  Caro would know his plans had changed. The whole of England was privy to the Queen Consort’s and George’s difficulty, and this latest step of the king’s to remove the boil that was his wife from his backside was sure to attract the interest of all his subjects. Everyone knew they had been mismatched and unfaithful to each other for years, yet even after the ‘Delicate Investigation’ fourteen years ago, George had been unsuccessful in untethering himself from his German cousin.

  A new movement was afoot to be rid of Caroline of Brunswick once and for all. When she returned from abroad, the fragile deal that had been forged splintered apart. Edward supposed he should consider himself lucky. His Caroline had never been quite as indiscreet—nor as demanding—as George’s unwanted wife.

  Would Caro still expect him to provide her with a new schedule once she learned he wasn’t going to leave for the country after all? Could he even stick to a schedule, when every conscious minute of the day included thoughts of her? Resuming his marital rights had only reminded him how empty and dull his life had been without Caro in it. He had been well and truly hoisted on his own petard.

  How ironic that all his future days were to be tied up in the dissolution of a marriage not his own. What it would do to advance his own plight he had no idea. If the government was to rehash the scandal about Queen Caroline and her Italian secretary for the foreseeable future—shades of Mary Queen of Scots!—there might not be opportunity to shoehorn in his own petition.

  Edward let out an uncharacteristic growl. It was followed some seconds later by a gentle knock on his study door.

  He was not in the mood to deal with anything but his own self-pity. “Go away!”

  “It’s only me, Papa. I promise I won’t bother you long.”

  Damn. Only Little Alice, as if there were anything only about her. Edward pinched the space between his brows. At the rate all this was going, he’d wear his skin away. “Come in, then.”

  His daughter peeked around the door. Two dark braids framed her long face, the childish hairstyle at odds with her great height. “Are you angry about something, Papa?”

  “Nothing you’ve done.” He’d never liked either of the damn Georges, not that he’d utter such treason. A Christie would never be such a cretin. “Come in, sit. Li—Allie, what may I do for you this fine day?”

  “It’s raining again, Papa.”

  “I meant—it’s just a turn of phrase, Allie. It’s not necessary for the sun to be shining to be considered a fine day.”

  His daughter looked on solemnly, no doubt thinking he certainly was a cretin. “I should like to make an appointment with you to discuss a very serious matter.”

  “Good heavens. If it’s so serious, we must deal with it now.” He ignored the shooting
pain that pierced his skull. His daughter needed him, and he could not fail her.

  “I know you’ve said eavesdroppers get just what they deserve.” She twisted her slender fingers, embarrassed.

  “I eavesdropped—quite by accident—and overheard Neddie and Jack talk about something disgusting.”

  Oh, God. Surely she wasn’t going to ask about the birds and the bees. Beth or her governess should have that subject in hand, should they not? He kept his mouth firmly closed, but nodded.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she continued. “A Christie wouldn’t do such a thing, bring such shame upon the family.”

  Ah. Ned must have bragged about his drunken, debauched night, rubbing Jack’s nose in the fact that he breached Jane Street’s defenses. “Young men are often very foolish, Allie, most especially your elder brother. You must pay no mind to what they do or say.”

  “You’re not young, Papa, you’re old!”

  The pain cleaved his head in two. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Neddie said you’re going to divorce Caroline. We’ll be in all the newspapers. And I’ll never get married, not that anyone will ever want me anyway.”

  There were simply too many ideas to respond to, but he seized upon the one that gave him the most concern. “Allie! You’re not to say such things. You are a lovely girl and will grow into a lovely woman.”

  “Pooh. You have to say that. You’re my father. But don’t change the subject. What about Caroline?”

  “You are too young to understand. You never liked her anyway. I should think you’d be delighted that I’m seeking to formally end my ties with her.”

  “ ‘What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder.’ It’s in the Bible, you know.” Her lips pursed primly.

  “A great many things are in the Bible. There is, as I recall, an entire passage dedicated as to how a father can sell his daughter into slavery,” he teased.

  “That has to do with a betrothal contract, I believe.”

  Maybe Allie could become an Anglican nun. He cleared his throat. “I am aware this is indeed a serious matter. It is not a decision I’ve come to lightly. Caroline and I have been separated for five years. She—I—we made a mistake after too brief an acquaintance, which is why it is so important to not jump into things. When it comes time, I will not expect you to marry at the end of your first season. You should be courted long enough so you are comfortable with your intended. Know his character, his tastes and opinions.”