Billionaire: Billionaire Romance: Billionaire Tiger (A Billionaire New Adult Shifter Contemporary Romance)

by Loretta Devine

  “I shall. And I shall seek you out wherever you are.”

  Chapter 6

  Diana knocked on the door of the Rectory. She hadn’t come to see the vicar; she had come to see his wife, Mrs Higgins. Had this woman been alive in ancient Greece she would have been the Oracle. She couldn’t make inquiries anywhere else or someone may ask too many questions. But eight months had passed since he had gone and she was desperate to know more about this enigmatic stranger with a secret.

  “Do come in dear. Would you care to take tea?” said Mrs Higgins showing Diana into the drawing-room

  “Yes please.”

  Mrs Higgins fussed her maid to her task and then sat Diana down plumping up the cushions before sitting on the settee alongside her.

  “Now what can I do for you Diana?”

  “I’m just curious. I’ve come across a man by the name of Richard Devere-Scott, who purports to be the third son of the Duke of Durham. I just wondered if he was indeed genuine.”

  “Oh dear Diana. I hope you and Sir Reginald are not thinking of entertaining this man socially.”

  “Oh! I take it he is not genuine then?” Diana had no doubt that he was indeed genuine, but she still wanted to find out as much about him as possible without raising awkward questions. “Reginald and I were thinking about it. Would that be a problem?”

  “Indeed it would Diana. The Duke disowned him. They say he’s a blackguard who stole his regiment’s silver and sold it.”

  “Oh dear. Then we must certainly avoid him.”

  “Indeed you must Diana. It’s a dreadful shame. He stole the silver and gave the proceeds to his men who were discharged from the army after Waterloo. The government made no provision for them and neither did the regiment. Some had families to feed. I don’t know how you came to cross his path. Fortunately for him the regiment didn’t want the embarrassment, so no charges were laid. They could not countenance one of their captains being dragged through the courts.”

  “He was a Captain in Wellington’s army?”

  “Indeed he was Diana. I’m surprised he’s surfaced again. I understood he had gone to India.”

  “Thank you,” said Diana sipping her tea.

  He would come back to her some day. Her fantasy captain in Wellington’s army was real. He would return for her.

  Diana winced.

  “Are you all right dear?” said Mrs Higgins.

  Diana touched her eight month’s pregnant belly. “Yes, just a kick.”

  END

  Scoundrel's Mistress

  Chapter One

  Diana sat in the dining room finishing her breakfast of toast with a lashing of butter from Home Farm, one of her husband’s tenants on the Eylebourne Hall estate.

  She glanced out of the window across the terrace to the hills in the distance to see what the weather would be like today. It did not bode well. Dark clouds gathered and a couple of rain spots landed on the French windows. Another English summer’s day, she thought as she wrapped a silk shawl around her bare shoulders. She liked the Empire style dress with its low neckline but sometimes the form was unequal to the British weather.

  In the gilt-framed mirror on the opposite wall, she caught a reflection of herself. Her long blond hair was tied up in ringlets and it had taken her and her maid Lucy a good half hour to get right and she felt pleased with the result. Not bad, she thought, for a woman of twenty-five as her English rose visage looked back at her.

  Sir Reginald slurped through his devilled kidneys. As usual the grease slipped down both sides of his flabby face. Diana glanced over at him. A glance was about all she could bear when he ate; any longer would make her sick. To say he ate like a pig would be unfair to the porcine race. He didn’t look well with the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and his complexion had turned ruddier than yesterday. It didn’t seem to affect his appetite.

  She watched as he stopped eating and rubbed his arm.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, just a pain in the arm and I keep getting one in my chest.”

  “You should see a doctor.”

  “I haven’t got time for damned Quacks.” He waded back into his breakfast. She looked away.

  “Good morning Sir, M’lady.”

  Diana looked up from her toast to see Jane, her son’s nurse, carrying the one-year-old Michael into the dining room.

  “Good morning Jane,” said Diana.

  Sir Reginald managed a grunt.

  Diana missed having Jane as her Lady’s maid since she promoted her to Nurse. Although unequal in rank, they shared the same sense of humour. Her replacement, Lucy, carried out her duties well, but she didn’t amuse Diana the way Jane had when doing her toilette and caring for her extensive wardrobe.

  Jane had dressed the boy in a blue velvet pair of pants with a matching jacket and a lace-edged white collar. He could have been the subject for a Gainsborough painting had Gainsborough still been alive.

  Diana tickled the boy’s chin and looked into his dark brown eyes that even at his young age seemed to suggest the owner had something special inside. She couldn’t help thinking of his father’s eyes, and remembering how they had made Michael.

  Sir Reginald was too conceited or stupid to realise the boy’s resemblance was not of him. Neither was he aware of her birth control potion that the old gypsy woman supplied to prevent him fathering a child with Diana. He did not know of Richard, the dashing Captain from Wellington’s army for whom Diana abandoned her potion. In fact, Sir Reginald knew very little about what was going on in and around his household. He certainly knew nothing of his wife’s fantasies.

  “Good morning Michael,” said Diana. She stroked his cheek.

  Sir Reginald grunted. He looked over at the boy and Diana. “I hope you are not filling the boy’s head with nonsense again Diana. Sooner he’s packed off to boarding school the better, I say. Make a man of him.”

  “Yes, dear,” said Diana lowering her eyes in pretend submission. Michael would be going to boarding school over her dead body or, the occasional thought had crossed her mind, Sir Reginald’s.

  “I’m going to Chatham, some problems with one of my ships. I could be away for a few days,” said Sir Reginald.

  “What problems?” said Diana trying to keep her tone polite like she was only making conversation.

  “Don’t worry yourself about them. Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Are you sure you are well enough Reginald?”

  “Of course I am. Stop fussing woman.”

  Diana wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle his problems. She didn’t have a complete grasp of his business. He kept his secrets too well in his locked study. She had heard rumours that he was still shipping slaves from West Africa to the Caribbean and the slave states in America. She knew if the Royal Navy caught one of his ships and they could prove his involvement, all she had and all that Michael would inherit, would be lost. They would be paupers and Sir Reginald would be thrown in gaol.

  Chapter Two

  Diana watched her husband from the steps of Eylebourne Hall. He climbed painfully into the pony and trap for the ancient, but reliable. Miller to take him to the Mail Coach for Chatham. Although he was usually morose, there was something about her husband today that worried Diana. It wasn’t the same as when he was off on one of his trips to see his several mistresses. She could tell that Sir Reginald, for all his bluster and arrogance, had worry eating away at him.

  She looked up at the sky. The dark clouds had given way to a blue in places. The threatening rain had bypassed them. The scent of jasmine from a climber by the side of the house filtered into her senses. She thought of Richard far away in India among the fragrances of tropical flowers and spices of which she had heard abounded in that part of the world. Would he be ploughing a dusky maiden? She thought that perhaps he would.

  Her thoughts drifted back to the romp in the straw and in the room over the Pantiles. She wondered whether it was in the straw or in the room that she conceived
Michael. Though she longed to tell Richard that he had a son, she had no way of making contact.

  She took another look at the sky to confirm the change in the weather and then asked Jane to get Michael ready. Diana took Michael’s pram and walked down by the river.

  “What is that bird Michael?” she said pointing. Of course, the boy was far too young to have any vocabulary. “It’s a swan. And that one; it’s a heron,” she said.

  The boy seemed interested as he sat up and looked out across the Kent countryside and river.

  Their walk took up most of the morning as they followed the path along the river. She even managed to catch a glimpse of a kingfisher as it darted like a flash of blue lightning above the gentle flow of the water.

  They passed under the stone bridge dating from the fourteenth century that took the road to Tunbridge Wells across their land. Sir Reginald had tried to have the road diverted, but a petition had been supported in the courts preventing him from achieving his goal. Diana remembered how he flew into a rage when he discovered the verdict.

  Diana and Michael came back along a sunken country lane alive with the smell of wild garlic. She picked a few wild flowers and some garlic.

  As she came into sight of Eylebourne Hall and looked out across the landscape designed by a pupil of Capability Brown, she could see three coaches in the drive, and soldiers.

  She gripped Michael’s pram and hurried to the scene.

  She drew nearer; her worst fears were realised when she could see her visitors more closely. Two Royal Naval officers and a group of red-coated Royal Marines stood in a line on the drive. Squire Craggs, the local magistrate in his grey frock coat that wouldn’t close around his ample middle and a top hat on his head above his mutton chop whiskers and port nose, stood on the house steps.

  Between the Squire and the front door stood Mrs Marshall, the housekeeper cook in her white apron and grey dress holding a rolling pin in her plump hand. Next to her Miller held a pitchfork and Jane carried nothing but a worried expression. They all had their arms folded across their chests and looked like they were barring entry.

  Diana arrived with her heart pounding.

  “What on earth is happening Squire Craggs?”

  “Diana my dear. These gentlemen are from the Royal Navy. It seems your husband has been running slaves from West Africa to the Americas against the law. One of his ships was intercepted off the African coast and I’m afraid there is enough evidence to prove Sir Reginald is involved.”

  “Where is he?” she said ushering Michael to the side and waving to Jane to come and look after him.

  “In Maidstone gaol.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  A naval officer stepped forward. “Lieutenant Phillips, Royal Navy, M’lady.” He doffed his bicorn hat.

  She looked him up and down as he stood before her in his embroidered blue coat with gold epaulettes and white facings over his white breeches, white stockings and buckled black shoes. He stretched a good six feet tall with broad shoulders. His blond hair showed below his powdered wig and his face was not unpleasant. He clearly had breeding and an aristocratic arrogance that came from having wealth.

  And she could also tell what most women can tell when a man speaks to them. He found her attractive. She made a mental note of that in case the situation required her to use her femininity to protect her position and that of her son.

  “I said what is your business here, sir?” Her eyes flirted with him.

  “M’lady, I have the misfortune to be in command of this detachment to find evidence of illegal slave trading. The magistrate has given us permission to search the house, but I am afraid your retainers are blocking the way and I am trying to negotiate without having to resort to force.”

  “Is that correct Squire? You have authorised the trespass on my property?”

  “Diana, it isn’t trespass. Please, don’t make this unsavoury affair any more problematic than it is already.”

  Diana looked up at Jane, Miller and Mrs Marshall still standing on the steps guarding the door. She felt a warmth of gratitude to her servants. They had stout hearts but weak bodies and would be flicked out of the way like a fly off sugar if the Lieutenant decided to enter by force.

  “Please, Miller, Mrs Marshall. Let them enter.”

  They stood to the side. Diana saw that Mrs Marshall’s hands shook and Miller’s knees were knocking, but their courage was intact.

  “Jane, please take Michael to the nursery. Mrs Marshall, please have someone bring tea to the drawing room.”

  Diana entered her house wondering how all this would end. She invited the Squire, Lieutenant Phillips and the second officer who on closer inspection she saw was a Midshipman, from the insignia on his collar and around thirteen years old, to follow her.

  The Royal Marines remained outside at attention under the watchful eye of a large sergeant.

  She led them into the drawing-room where Sir Reginald’s forebears looked down from ghastly portraits onto the scene unfolding below

  “How do you propose to carry out this search Lieutenant?” said Diana. “Do you intend to have those rough soldiers go through my belongings including my personal clothing?” She put the emphasis on ‘personal clothing’ hoping to transmit the thought to his mind of her underwear. To Diana, it was clear that if Sir Reginald was in serious trouble then so was she. She would need to steer the naval officer off course if she could.

  “No Diana,” said the Squire. “We are looking for something specific. It will save a lot of time if you were to help us and save you a lot of distress.”

  “Then pray tell me Squire why you have brought an army to my door?”

  “We need Sir Reginald’s ledgers and his paperwork regarding his shipping business.”

  Mrs Marshall came in with a silver tray that held a china teapot and several cups. She placed it on an occasional table and left but not without giving the Lieutenant a hard stare.

  “Shall we take tea first?” said Diana pouring out four cups while the options ran through her sharp brain.

  She handed one cup to the Midshipman, who seemed too tongue tied to say thank-you. Diana felt sorry for him. In her opinion, he ought to be at home with his mother.

  She handed a cup to the Lieutenant careful to bend slightly forward so he could catch a glimpse of her décolletage.

  “Please follow me,” she said when they had finished their tea.

  The Squire, the Lieutenant and the Midshipman followed her along the wood-paneled corridor of Eylebourne Hall to Sir Reginald’s study. She tried the door but found it locked as she expected.

  “I was afraid so. He keeps this door locked.” She looked over her shoulder to see Mrs Marshall hovering. “I don’t have a key. Do you or any of the maids have a key?”

  “No, M’lady. You knows the master won’t allow anyone in there unless he’s there too. The maids clean while he watches,” said Mrs Marshall.

  “Yes, I’m afraid I knew that really. I hoped… never mind. Well, Lieutenant, what you want may be inside that room but I’m afraid I can’t open the door. Perhaps you could return tomorrow when it is more convenient and I have had the opportunity to summon a locksmith.”

  “I’m afraid that will not be possible M’lady. I think it would be easier to enter by the windows than this door. Could you show us on the outside which room it is, M’lady. I would be much obliged and in your debt,” said the Lieutenant making a slight bow.

  “I’m afraid that will not be possible, sir. The room does not have windows. Sir Reginald had them bricked up. He said it was because of the window tax.”

  “That is most unfortunate, M’lady.”

  She could see the Lieutenant had an overt interest in her bosom and his tight breeches gave away what was going through his mind. She began to calculate her options. They would find enough evidence to incriminate Sir Reginald. Of that she had little doubt. This would mean the lands and all his assets would be sequestered to pay for fines. Sir Reginal
d would be ruined and may even spend the rest of his days in gaol.

  The life she lived in a gilded cage would soon be over and she needed a protector when the bailiffs came to seize the house, land and property. Diana, from experience, knew there was a dearth of suitable gentlemen in the district. The Lieutenant looked a likely enough candidate to fill that role until she could find someone more suitable. Or until Richard returned from India if indeed he ever did return. She didn’t feel any guilt at her sudden lurch into her mercenary self-preservation. Life in the landed gentry of Regency England had forced her to adapt and accept the ways of this society. And to act fast.

  “I’m afraid we shall have to break down the door M’lady,” said the Lieutenant.

  The Squire had wandered back along the corridor to look at a painting. The Midshipman had taken up a position so he could see the door and the men outside.

  They were both out of earshot.

  “Yes, you look like a man who will break down barriers until you get what you want,” she said looking him in the eye and allowing an enigmatic smile to cross her lips. Then she made a point of taking an overt look at the bulge in his breeches. She could hardly believe she was doing it. Since Richard had ploughed her, most of her inhibitions had vanished though she had not had the opportunity to see how far she was willing to go with other suitable men if only she could find one.

  He showed no embarrassment. “Indeed, M’lady,” he smiled and then strode along the corridor to the front door.

  A few minutes later he returned with the large sergeant and an even bigger Royal Marine.

  “M’lady, I beg your forgiveness but I have to to do my duty.” The Lieutenant bowed to her again and then turned to his sergeant. “Open that door.”

  The sergeant gave it a massive kick with the heel of his boot, but it remained intact. He turned to the larger man. “You have a go.”

  The big man took a deep breath, lifted his enormous foot and booted the door. The lock didn’t break, but a panel did. He kicked again and knocked a hole through.