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

by Sahara Kelly

  “I think so,” said Kitty, thinking it over. “It’s a long journey, of course, but if she remains in this healing sleep, perhaps it’s best undertaken now, where she’ll avoid experiencing the pain of having that leg jostled.” Another thought crept into her mind. “Where’s Dal?”

  “Having breakfast with Mrs. Timmins. They seem to have taken quite a shine to each other. Last conversation I caught was Dal talking to her about the fruits of India.”

  “Goodness,” chuckled Kitty. “I would love to have eavesdropped on that one.”

  Max raised a hand and stroked her cheek. “There’s that smile. Keep wearing it today if you can, Kitty. Let us take it an hour at a time…” He drew close, his eyes on her lips.

  Deery knocked at that moment, seconds before Kitty would have leapt at Max and kissed him quite thoroughly. She didn’t know whether to be pleased or angry, but it was a relief to hear the butler confirm that a boy was ready to take a message to Lady Allington.

  As they spoke, both Deery and Max glanced into the hall at the sound of a very loud knocking on the front door.

  “Oh no, what now?” Kitty despaired. “It’s barely noon…”

  “Finish your tea, we’ll take care of it.” Max smiled at her and followed Deery from the room.

  *~~*~~*

  Max himself opened the door, having sent Deery off to see about the travelling carriage.

  A tall, imposing man stood there, with two more men flanking him. The sun was behind them and thus all three were pretty much dark silhouettes for the first few moments.

  “Max Seton-Mowbray?”

  “Yes?”

  A fist came flying out of nowhere and smashed solidly into Max’s chin, knocking him off balance and making him stagger. The second man, blond and slightly more slender, followed up the first punch with one of his own, a fierce right hook to the chest, robbing Max of his breath. He crumpled to the floor, and caught a glimpse of the third man.

  “Jesus Christ, James. What the fuck is this?” Max wiped a little blood from his lip and checked his teeth, judging that staying on the floor was a wise idea. He looked up. Good God. One of them, the blond one, was damn vicar.

  “I’d kick you, but I’m rather fond of these boots and don’t want to dirty ‘em.” James FitzArden looked at him with a measure of distaste.

  “What the devil…” Kitty burst from the parlor. “Max? Max are you hurt?” She ran to him, and leaned down.

  “I’m not sure. I think this band of renegades may be dangerous, Kitty. Stay behind me. Summon Deery.” He cradled his jaw. “God, summon the 10th Hussars.”

  She sighed, taking in the sight of three very familiar faces. “Max, this is my brother Edmund, my brother Simon and I think you know my brother-in-law, James FitzArden.” She helped him stand. “My family.”

  Edmund’s eyes were fire beneath fierce brows that could probably sear kindling from ten feet. “I’m not pleased to meet you, you cad. We heard of last night’s antics. My sister’s ruination lies here at your door, so we’re going to take her away, while we see if we can undo the damage you’ve done.”

  Max curled his lip, trying not to wince as the move actually hurt quite a bit. “I assume you’re anticipating a nunnery for her, Baron…” He flashed a glare at Simon. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Vicar. Striking a man like that in his own front hall.” He rubbed his chest. “Admittedly a powerful punch, for one of your calling, but I suppose the Lord admires brute strength as well as compassion.”

  “I’m not the one who should be ashamed, Seton-Mowbray, and you’ll find little compassion from us.” The eyebrows weren’t as impressive, but the eyes were cold nonetheless. “The shame is all on your shoulders for what you’ve done to an innocent young girl.”

  “Oh for God’s sake.” Kitty strode forward and put her hands on her hips. “That’s quite enough from all of you.” She let her scornful gaze encompass all three of them. “Whatever you heard—it was my doing, do you understand? I’m not a young girl, I make my own choices, and they’re none of your business. And right now, with Hecate lying at death’s door in the salon, still alive only by the grace of God and Max Seton-Mowbray, you all need to stop acting like prize arses.”

  Edmund froze. “Hecate? What’s the matter with Hecate?”

  Simon came to his side. “Kitty. What happened? Where is she?”

  “An accident?” Hurriedly, Sir James FitzArden joined his friends, concern written all over his face.

  “Come and see Hecate first, then we’ll discuss all this,” said Kitty with finality. “And don’t think any of you will slip away without my wrath. If I wasn’t so worried right at this moment, I would verbally flay the lot of you and feed the leavings to the rats.” She spun on her heel and stomped down the hall to the door behind which Hecate rested.

  She stopped them with a hand on Edmund’s chest, since he was closest. “Her injuries, several broken bones in her left leg…have been set by a doctor. Max’s own physician, who was summoned early this morning. At the moment, and in fact ever since they brought her here, she’s been asleep. Or unconscious. Either way, I doubt she will wake for you.”

  With that warning, she opened the door and stepped to one side, letting her family pass by her and into the room to Hecate’s bedside.

  Max dabbed at his lip with a handkerchief, and ignored the ache around the side of his chin. He waited outside the door with Kitty. “Best they see for themselves, I think.” He glanced at the three men who stood in varying attitudes of shock around the couch where Hecate lay unmoving.

  She sighed and lifted a hand to touch his chin. “I’m so sorry, Max. After everything you’ve done today, I would not have had this happen for the world.”

  “Hush,” he shook his head. “I am impressed with the speed that news of London events can travel, assuming your brothers came up from Ridlington. And they’re family, Kitty. We should not have expected them to ignore what happened between us last night.”

  She nodded. “It seems so long ago, at the moment. I’d almost forgotten.”

  “I can understand that.” He grinned, then winced. “Ow. Anyway, I haven’t forgotten. Believe me. And it will be my pleasure to remind you when the dust settles from all this upheaval.” He looked down at her. “Kitty, this terrible event could not have been anticipated. I will not hold you to any agreement between us right now. Hecate is your sister. You must do what is best for you, for her and for your family. If that means leaving and returning to Ridlington with them, I shall do all I can to make the journey a smooth one.” He touched her then, a brief stroke of her shoulder. “This is a decision I cannot make for you. It’s a matter of great import, and I trust you to do what is right.”

  Edmund returned to them. “Is there somewhere we can talk, Mr. Seton-Mowbray?”

  “I think, since I’m suffering the effects of one of the best and most punishing rights I’ve seen in many years, you might as well call me Max.” He turned away. “Follow me. There should be brandy, and I’m quite sure that would hit the spot right now.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kitty sat to one side in the library where the men had gathered. The day already seemed about a year long, and she had to remind herself that sooner or later everyone had to eat something.

  Had she been at Ridlington, or even at Aunt Venetia’s, she would have ordered food, but here she was uncertain of her status. Certainly she’d been welcomed by the staff, but a scandalous mistress had no place acting like the real mistress of the house.

  Aunt Venetia had been informed, of course. She would wait for further news, since there was nothing she could do this morning. Nobody knew that the Ridlington contingent would show up in force, but now they had…well, Edmund might take over.

  So she sat quietly and listened as the men discussed the matter, going over what had happened and how Hecate had been brought to Mowbray House.

  “And no idea how it all occurred?” Simon addressed the question to Max.

  “Not at
this point, no. I’ve sent men to retrieve what’s left of the carriage. I’m deeply troubled, since Harris was a trusted driver for many years, and the carriage almost new.”

  “And the man with Hecate?” Edmund’s voice was harsh. “Who was he?”

  Max glanced at Kitty. “Dancey Miller-James.”

  She sucked in a breath, which Simon heard. “Kitty, you know this man?”

  “Everyone does, Simon. He’s a well-to-do member of the Ton, invited everywhere…in fact, I think he’s related to the Bishop that Tabby knows.”

  Simon snapped his fingers. “That’s why the name sounded familiar.”

  “There’s something else,” she said. “A few days ago—or it might have been weeks, since time seems irrelevant right now—Max warned me about him.”

  Three heads turned to Max.

  Who nodded. “I had heard Miller-James’s attentions toward Miss Hecate were less than honourable. I did my best to convey this to Kitty. In fact, it’s how we met on a more personal level than a dance at a ball.”

  “Your source was reliable?” James asked.

  Max sighed. “It was from the man himself. And no, he was not a gentleman.” He looked at the three of them. “I will not speak ill of the dead, Baron, sirs. So I ask that you keep this information private. It reflects poorly on a man whose death will, I’m sure, be a blow to his family. I would that we show a modicum of respect.”

  “Of course,” said Edmund. “Well put.”

  “I have my moments.”

  “We’ve heard,” said Simon dryly.

  “So.” Kitty judged it time to make herself heard. “What are your thoughts, Edmund? Should Hecate be taken back to Ridlington? Can the household care for her? I know baby Hugh is growing apace, but he’s still little. Tabby can’t move into the Chase, of course. And James, you and Letitia are travelling up and down from London right now.” She blinked. “Where is Letitia, by the way?”

  “At Ridlington right now. She decided to stay there for a few days while I came up to town. Edmund and Simon joined me last night and the plan was for us all to travel back together tomorrow. Just some business details to finalize regarding the parish of Ridlington.” He grinned. “Simon is now officially vicar of a real, documented parish. And Edmund has the official duty to assign the living to whomever he chooses. It’s all settled.”

  Simon glanced at Max. “Our father never bothered to formalize anything worth a damn. We’re trying to close the holes he left in the Ridlington estate.”

  “Good luck to you all on that. Bureaucracy is one of the appalling sins that can turn a sane man into a madman.”

  “Hear, hear,” approved Edmund, raising his glass.

  “Well, congratulations, Simon,” smiled Kitty, giving her brother a hug. “And that does explain how you all arrived on the doorstep full of righteous indignation so damned soon.” She raised a hand as Edmund opened his mouth. “Hecate first, remember?”

  He nodded. “Hecate first. I believe we should take her home to Ridlington. What say you?” He looked around.

  “It makes the most sense,” said Simon. “She’s clearly had the best of care here…” his glance at Max was grateful, “and travelling now, while she is still too ill to notice much, might be best. I’d as soon see her awaken in her room at Ridlington, and thus begin her healing.”

  “Logical,” said James. “Your physician, Edmund. He’s reliable?”

  “Very,” replied Edmund. “And the staff—well, they’re good with gunshot wounds. That’s for certain.”

  Max raised an eyebrow. “You must live an interesting life in the country. Or you’re all quite clumsy with your weapons, which I doubt.”

  “Everyone adores Hecate.” Simon’s statement caught their attention. “There’s not a family within ten miles she’s not touched with her charm or her unique gifts. Once word of her accident gets out, Ridlington will be under siege. Everyone will want to help.” He looked at his brother. “If Elsie Dwyer brings any of her apple pies, you let me know.”

  “Then the decision is made,” concluded Max. “James, do you have a travelling carriage in town?”

  “No,” James shook his head. “It’s at FitzArden Hall. I didn’t need it for this trip.”

  “Then I’ll offer mine as transport. It’s already being prepared, since we had no idea where she might need to go from here.”

  “I daresay Aunt Venetia might like to go with her,” mused Kitty. “She was saying only the other day she’d like to see Ridlington and baby Hugh.”

  “An excellent notion, Kitty, let her know?” nodded Edmund.

  The conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” called Max.

  Deery appeared. “Mr. Dal is here, sir. He tells me you asked to see him as soon as he returned?”

  “Ah, yes indeed. Have him come in, Deery.” He looked at the others. “I asked him to mastermind the collection of the damaged carriage. I will be interested to hear what he has to say.”

  Dal walked in, still—to Kitty’s amazement—looking calm and collected. The man must have been awake for at least twenty-four hours by now, and yet there was not a sign to show he was exhausted.

  “Sirs,” he bowed to the room. “At Mr. Seton-Mowbray’s command, I have brought the wrecked vehicle back here.” He turned to Max. “While I am by no means qualified to make definite statements on such things, I would like permission to relate my findings, if that is appropriate?”

  “Indeed it is,” said Max. “These gentlemen are Miss Hecate’s family.”

  Dal glanced at Edmund. “She speaks fondly of you all. There is much love amongst you, which strengthens her quite often.”

  “Um, well then.” Edmund’s cheeks coloured.

  “What did you find, Dal?” Max stepped in to cover Edmund’s embarrassment. Kitty wanted to hug him and made a mental note to do so at a more appropriate moment.

  “I found many pieces, sir. The carriage had hit a large rocky bank and much had shattered or splintered.” He took a breath. “As I mentioned, I am not an expert. But I do know the difference between a shattered spoke and sawn through spoke.”

  Silence fell for a few moments, while the impact of this statement registered in the minds of those in the room.

  Max was first to find his voice. “Are you saying one of the spokes on the wheels of my carriage was deliberately sawn through?”

  “Good lord,” said Edmund, rising to his feet. “What on earth…”

  “Yes, sir.” Dal gave Max a brief nodded assent. “I did indeed find the remnants of the wheels. And the spokes were severely damaged. But two retained obvious markings. They had been sawn almost through. Whether more had been similarly affected, I could not say. I can only assume that when the carriage hit a particularly rough piece of road, and at speed, they broke and thus caused the crash.”

  “You have them here?” Simon stepped forward, shock on his face.

  “I do, sir.”

  Simon looked at Max. “I’d like to see them, if that’s all right?”

  “As would we all,” added James.

  Max turned to Dal. “Would you be so kind as to take the Baron and the others to see the damage, Dal? I will have chance to go over everything at my leisure, but they will be leaving shortly.”

  “Of course, sir.” The tall man turned, his turban pristine white, his long robe still almost creaseless. “If you will follow me, gentlemen…”

  Kitty turned to Max as the others left, her heart thundering. “Max,” she gulped. “Is someone trying to kill you?”

  *~~*~~*

  “I would be surprised to find that were the case.”

  She watched Max’s face as he thought about her question. He was giving it due consideration, she guessed, because it was a logical assumption from what they’d been told.

  “I’m quite sure I’ve made a few enemies throughout my life, but to the best of my recollection, I don’t owe anyone money, I’ve never rendered anyone penniless, nor ha
ve I killed anyone.”

  “Seduced any prominent wives lately?” Kitty managed a grin.

  “I don’t seduce wives, Kitty. They try to seduce me.”

  “God, you’re arrogant.”

  He inclined his head in agreement. “Only if you view honesty as arrogance.”

  “In some things, yes. In others, no. But that’s neither here nor there at the moment,” she waved the philosophical discussion aside. “So you can’t think of anyone who might be out to do you harm?”

  He slowly shrugged. “Not a soul.”

  “Any staff difficulties here? Or at any of your other properties?”

  He blinked, and took a moment to think about that possibility. “Not that I’m aware of. I have many servants that have been with the family for years, and I’m sure if there had been trouble, I’d have been informed immediately. We Seton-Mowbrays value good service and we’re not shy about making that known.”

  “Definitely arrogant,” she muttered.

  “I heard that.” He glanced at her. “I don’t have a lot of properties, actually. Besides Mowbray House, there’s a small estate just outside Southampton, that I visit in the summer sometimes. Then there’s Seton’s Folly for the hunting, and the family burden—Oakhall Manor. M’sister likes the place, but it’s always seemed more of a mausoleum to me.”

  “Sister? That would be the lady whose clothes I’ve been borrowing?”

  “Yes, Grace. She doesn’t care for town life. Prefers the quiet of the country. Oakhall is on the south coast, so she has the forests and the ocean near, which seems to make her happy. In the winter she moves closer to London. There’s a small hunting box she inherited, about twenty miles or so from here.”

  Kitty was about to pursue her questioning, when the gentlemen returned.

  Edmund’s face was dark with anger. “He’s right. Dal is accurate when he says the spokes were sawn—at least two, maybe more. Just enough, I would guess a good bump would do it.” His eyes met Max’s. “Someone’s trying to kill you, sir. And they’ve damn near killed my sister instead.”