The Mistress Wager: A Risqué Regency Romance (The Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Book 4)

by Sahara Kelly

  “Ah yes.” He noted the group was absent one Dancey Miller-James, and heaved a sigh of relief. “In that case, I declare my intention of seizing this opportunity to offer my arm as support and guidance through the starving throng.” He raised his bent arm, holding it out to her, his expression daring her to accept.

  “How eloquent, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. And yet a simple may I escort you would have worked just as well.” She shot him a somewhat scornful glance. “I’m hungry too.”

  “Good.” He merely grinned as she placed her gloved hand on his sleeve and allowed him to steer them to a couple of empty chairs. “Wait here, don’t let anyone take that seat, and I’ll fetch us a couple of plates.”

  “Don’t forget the lobster patties,” she said as he turned to leave. “I adore them. Miss those and I will never speak to you again.”

  “A terrible threat.” He chuckled. “Lobster patties it is.”

  Adroitly balancing two plates, he returned minutes later, pleased to observe that Miss Ridlington had indeed managed to defend their seats from other guests.

  “Your refreshments, Ma’am.” He bowed, gave her a plate and then took his own seat. “You will note the preponderance of lobster patties.”

  She was surveying the mountain of little pastries with approval. “You certainly took me at my word, sir.”

  He munched appreciatively for a moment. “The thought of being cut from your list of acquaintances struck terror into my soul. By the way,” he munched again. “You’re right about them. They are quite delicious.”

  Both ate appreciatively, the silence between them oddly comfortable as they watched the ebb and flow of people in the room.

  Then Kitty swallowed, and spoke. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” He turned his head and looked at her.

  “Being quite unlike yourself.”

  He blinked. “In what way?”

  She barely restrained a snort. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray. We have crossed paths now more times than I can recall, at a variety of events, over what has to be close to a year or so. In all that time, in all those encounters, you have never revealed any desire to be charming or attentive. In fact, you have mostly appeared to be uninterested, often intimidating, and seldom conversational.” She considered the contents of her plate and carefully selected another treat. “And yet this evening, here you are, waiting on me, fetching me lobster patties, and generally acting in a most unexpected way.” She popped the confection into her mouth and murmured in delight for a moment. “I should add that I am not complaining.” She licked her lips. “But it is quite out of the ordinary.”

  Max had a difficult time pushing aside the results of watching her tongue leave a sheen on those full lips. “Really.”

  “Yes. Really.” She set her plate aside with a sigh. “So I shall repeat myself. Why are you doing this?”

  “Because it gives me pleasure?”

  She shook her head. “No. I’m sure there are many things that give you pleasure. But you had ample chance to explore this particular behavior before now, and you didn’t. So no, I won’t accept that reason.”

  He shrugged. “You have found me out, Miss Ridlington.” He too set his plate on the small table behind them. “I have something of import to discuss with you.”

  “Better,” she nodded.

  He narrowed his eyes. “That is the truth, you know. It is important. And I’m not sure how to begin the conversation.”

  “Well, when you decide, do let me know?” She sighed. “I can’t say I’m averse to missing the second part of the evening’s entertainment. Señor Bonatello must be having an off night.”

  Max wanted to seize her, turn her over his knee and spank the daylights out of her. In fact, his fingers itched to do just that. But his control asserted itself and he merely shifted a little in his chair. “Impertinent, but apt, I suppose,” he drawled. “However, I realize this is neither the time nor the place for the conversation we need to have.”

  “Then what do you suggest?” She gazed at him, her expression of mild interest getting even further under his skin.

  “Drive with me tomorrow morning.”

  “Oh my.” Her gaze grew assessing and she raised an eyebrow. “How easily misconstrued that would be.”

  “Do you care?” He watched the interest replace the indifference in her eyes.

  “As a matter of fact, no. I can’t say I care.” A quick smile lit up her face. “It’s time I did something quite awful, isn’t it?”

  “Would driving with me be that bad?”

  She thought for a moment. “If you left your footman behind, it might be. Especially if we were seen returning to the Park. As if from a longer drive…”

  “From my home, for example…” He led her on, feeding the demon he sensed lay within her. He had his own demons; he felt qualified to judge hers.

  “Quite, quite scandalous.”

  “And that would be to your liking?”

  She straightened. “I’m rather tired of the mundane, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. I have no expectations, and I’m much older than an Almacks debutante. I am not husband-hunting, since I intend never to marry. My family is settling into new lives, my brother has his own coterie of acquaintances, and my sister…well, Hecate is unique. I am…ornamental, I suppose. That’s all. So yes, I’m ready to be a little bit more than the delightful Miss Ridlington. I believe it might be entertaining were I to be known as the scandalous Miss Ridlington.”

  “Then I hope you’ll allow me to assist you in achieving that goal, Ma’am.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Seton-Mowbray.” Her smile was one he hadn’t seen before; a blend of enthusiasm and wickedness, lighting up her features into something remarkable. His body responded with a sharp bold of lust, rattling him from toes to eyebrows.

  He swallowed. “Call me Max.”

  Chapter Two

  At five o’clock the following morning, Kitty wondered what the devil had gotten into her last night. It was still dark, bitterly cold, and here she was sliding into clothes suited for a drive in the Park. She must have gone mad, she thought. The remarks she’d made to Max…well they had turned into a personal declaration of her dissatisfaction with her life.

  How shallow she must seem to him. She had so much—a loving aunt who spared no expense, a beautiful room in a beautiful London home—and yet she wasn’t happy. Or fulfilled.

  Hecate seemed to have found her niche, helping others less fortunate. Her attention was on her Indian friends, making sure they had what they needed, helping them adjust to life in England, and spending quite a bit of time with the young daughter, a child who was not adapting well to the climate or the people. She told Kitty about them, and Kitty understood Hecate’s need to help.

  But it was Hecate’s business, not Kitty’s.

  Doing good works was laudable, and Kitty was proud of her sister. But she couldn’t emulate her, she knew. All her life, Kitty had been driven toward something, a goal she couldn’t define. London seemed the best change to find that goal, and she’d achieved much in the time she’d spent there.

  But being a welcomed guest, honored and feted, even recognized by the Prince himself on a couple of occasions…it was all quite lovely.

  But it hadn’t fired anything within Kitty. It hadn’t touched that empty part within her.

  As she wrapped a soft wool scarf around her neck and fastened it with a pretty blue brooch, she remembered the feeling that had swept over her last night as she discussed this highly improper outing with Max.

  There was something in his eyes that pulled at her. The chance to be outrageous lit a tiny fire within her, and his encouragement fanned the little flame. Did he know something about her she didn’t know herself? Could he have the answers to her most private questions? Ones such as who am I? Am I lost? Is there a place for me in this world?

  Pulling her warmest cloak from the cupboard, she swirled it around her shoulders and latched the frog fastenings to secure it.

  A pair of glov
es completed the ensemble, and she spared a brief glance in the mirror to make sure everything was as it should be.

  Her clothing was faultless, but she paused. For some odd reason, her face looked a little different this morning. She might almost describe it as alive, which was not the right word, since she certainly didn’t appear dead the rest of the time. But there was something, an expression perhaps, or was it her eyes? She couldn’t put her finger on it, but it was there, all the same.

  Max. Perhaps it was Max, the prospect of seeing him, and the scandalous little adventure that lay ahead.

  The clock struck the quarter-hour, and she turned to leave her room. It wouldn’t do to keep him waiting, of a certainty.

  Silently she slipped downstairs, surprising a maid who was cleaning out the hearth in the hall. Kitty held a finger to her lips, and the maid grinned back and nodded, as the front door eased open with nary a squeak. The cold air almost took Kitty’s breath away, but then she observed an elegant and spotless carriage drawing up to the curb, with two beautiful horses snorting steam into the dawn.

  Cautiously she closed the front door and hurried down the steps, hoping to keep her aplomb, but smiling all the same. “Good morning, Mr.…er…Max. What lovely horses.” She accepted his hand and allowed him to pull her up to the seat beside him.

  “I’m glad they find favor,” he answered. “I’m not sure they were too keen on leaving their snug stables at such an early hour, but I explained it was for a scandalous outing. That changed their minds.”

  He clicked the reins and they were off, the hoofbeats ringing loudly in the silent street.

  “I’m charmed.” Kitty tucked her cloak around her knees. “Please relay my thanks to them when you have a chance.”

  He grinned and turned down a lane. “Since it is so early, and the cold is such that I doubt we’d find pleasure from just driving aimlessly for a couple of hours, I have taken the liberty of ordering a breakfast for us at my house.”

  She flashed him a quick glance. “Oh?”

  “Yes.”

  “You realize such a visit would really set tongues wagging…”

  “Is that not what you desire?” His voice was rich, edged with something dangerous.

  She’d love to explore her desires with him, she realized, but decided such a course of action was out of the question. It wasn’t like her to let her mind wander down such paths. But there was that damned something about this man that pierced her reserve and went straight to places she shouldn’t be thinking about.

  “Well, yes.” She squared her shoulders. “Might as well be hung for a sheep as a lamb.”

  “Apt, I suppose.” He chuckled. “However, I trust our breakfast will not result in anyone on the gallows.”

  She watched the passing homes grow fewer and the trees and fields encroach on the scenery. “Are you not concerned, sir? After all, you are one of the most eligible bachelors, ’tis said. Might you not be touched by such a scandalous breakfast?”

  He shook his head. “I’m above reproach, Miss Kitty. Did you not know that?”

  “So I will be pilloried, but you will be praised?”

  “I know. Completely unfair, but there it is. The strange and absurd world we inhabit.”

  “There are times I don’t like it very much.”

  “I seldom like it at all.” Max slowed the horses, and Kitty gazed over their ears at an elegant mansion. “This is yours?” She blinked. “It’s so close to town but…”

  “Quite rural? Yes. I have discovered I prefer the sound of the country over the rancorous din of the city. Society would think that statement quite heinous, I know. But I’ve also discovered I don’t really care what anyone thinks…” He steered the carriage adroitly to the bottom of the front steps.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the horses’ breaths, the slight rattle of their tack and the creak of the carriage springs as Max alighted. Then a bird woke up as the sky lightened, and his song was liquid joy to her ears. “Six months ago, Max, I would have thought you—well, not heinous, but perhaps a little insane. Now? I find myself in total agreement.”

  His hand, warm as toast, covered hers on her knee and brought her out of her reverie. She looked down, just able to make out his features in the growing dawn light. His expression was serious, intense, as he surveyed her features as if cataloging them. She moved, allowing him to lift her to the ground.

  “Welcome to my home, Kitty.” He nodded at the stable lad who had appeared to walk the horses away. “Let’s have breakfast. We have things to talk about, you and I.”

  Kitty found she rather liked the sound of that, so she tucked her arm in his and allowed him to lead her up the steps and into Mowbray House.

  *~~*~~*

  Max was pleased to note nary a flicker of an eyebrow on the part of his faithful butler as he opened the door to his master and their guest. “Good morning, sir. Madam.”

  “Hello, Deery. Breakfast ready?”

  They passed over their coats and Max noticed Kitty blink when she heard his butler’s name. His lips quirked, but he let it pass.

  “In the small drawing room, sir. The fire has been lit, so I believe you’ll find it comfortable.”

  “Excellent.” He offered his arm to Kitty. “Shall we?”

  “Indeed.” She smiled at Deery. “Thank you.”

  “Miss,” he bowed, not a fold of his clothes out of place, or any movement that might indicate the strangeness of her visit or the unusual hour.

  He certainly upheld the Seton-Mowbray tradition of unflappability.

  He was also completely accurate, since the room into which Max led Kitty was quite snug in spite of the cold pre-dawn air outside.

  She grinned at him. “Deery?”

  He sighed. “Yes. Harcourt Milton Deery. And his name has been the source of more amusement than you can possibly imagine for as long as I can remember. The jests never end.”

  “It could have been worse, I suppose.” She pursed her lips. “Sweetie? Or Precious?”

  He shook his head. “Yes, those kinds of jests. And worse.”

  “But he seems magnificently…butlerish…in spite of it…?”

  “He is, and always has been, the best butler I’ve ever met. So regardless of his name, I shall not hear a word against him.”

  “And you won’t. Not from me, anyway.” She glanced around her. “How lovely.” She smiled at the soft shades of yellow and green covering the walls and matched the carpet beneath her feet.

  “My mother’s doing. This was one of her favorite rooms in the winter.”

  “I can see why.” Kitty wandered to the arched windows and gazed out on the gardens, shadowed still as darkness lingered.

  “Come, let’s eat before it gets cold.” Max walked to a small sideboard and lifted lids, sniffing and grabbing a rasher of bacon with a guilty grin.

  “All right.” Kitty joined him and filled her plate, taking it to the table set not far from the fireplace. “You must enjoy rising each morning if this is how you break your fast.” She shook out a napkin and neatly placed it on her knees.

  “Sometimes,” he answered, matching her movements.

  They fell silent as food was consumed, the occasional snap and pop from the burning logs a counterpoint to the ring of cutlery on china.

  Reaching for the small pot of homemade marmalade, Kitty broke the silence. “I recall your mentioning you had something you wished to discuss with me, sir.” She calmly buttered her toast and spread the golden stuff from edge to edge.

  “So your memory is working…”

  She shot him a curious glance as she bit into the toast.

  “You forgot to call me Max,” he reminded her.

  Mouth full, she merely rolled her eyes and chewed.

  “However, I’ll forgive you this once.” He took a sip of tea. “Yes, Kitty. I do have a matter we must discuss.” He paused, gathering his thoughts. “It is a matter of family, and in the ordinary way of things, I would not even mentio
n it.”

  She dabbed her lips with her napkin. “In that case, I’m forced to ask why are you mentioning it? I know nothing of your family…Max. But if there’s anything I can do to help, well of course you need only to ask.”

  He inclined his head. “A generous offer. But you mistake my point. It’s not my family, Kitty. It’s yours.”

  She straightened in her chair and he couldn’t miss the lift of that determined chin. “Oh really?”

  That was a dare if ever he heard one. Come on then, I dare you to say something terrible about my family. The words could have been written in fire across her forehead.

  “Please understand I am speaking as someone who wishes only good things for your family. And for your sister in particular.”

  One eyebrow lifted. “Max, forgive me if I appear slightly befuddled. You are not known as a man who wishes good things for anyone in particular. So why you should mention that in relation to my sister I have no idea.” She blinked. “By the way, which sister? I have two and one sister-in-law.”

  He nodded. “You are correct. As a rule, I never interfere in anyone else’s business, and expect that philosophy to be returned by others not interfering in mine.”

  “So what has changed?”

  Max moved his empty plate to one side and placed both hands on the table, interlacing his fingers as he considered his next words. “I have come into possession of some information which directly relates to your sister Hecate.” He watched her closely.

  Her expression didn’t change. “Well if it has to do with her unusual…her…her slightly out of the ordinary ability to—er—sense things, shall we say, then it’s not news at all. We all know that about her.”

  Max blinked. “Oh? No, it’s not about that, but at some point I would like to hear more about it…”

  She frowned and waved her hand, as if brushing his comment aside. “In that case, what is it that has brought us to this table today?”

  “I…well, please understand that this information is direct from the source…”