Only a Mistress Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  Tris opened his lips, closed them, then quirked the corner of his mouth in a smile. “I believe she will be able to find something to keep you well occupied.” He rose and bowed. “Good morning.” With a jaunty step, he disappeared out the doorway as Thomas scurried forward to clear the dishes.

  Her life had changed so much in such a short time she kept expecting to wake up on the hard church bench at St. Anne’s. Or worse in her room at The House of Pleasure. But as long as the dream continued, she’d be glad to share whatever she could with the handsome Lord Trevor.

  Chapter 5

  Tris left Lammas House whistling an airy tune. As soon as Mrs. Parker had arrived at dawn, he’d gone home, bathed, changed clothes, and returned to see to Violet’s settling in. Having to replace Gates would be tiresome, but necessary since he’d taken on the new duties regarding his charge. She’d been adapting well so far, better than he’d expected, in fact. The only thing still upsetting her was the faux title of mistress.

  He chuckled at the memory of her face, bright red when he suggested she’d like to be his mistress. Not that he’d mind at all if she did. His cock stirred and he adjusted his breeches. If not for his betrothal…. Well, it was done, or as good as, this afternoon. And of course, Miss Carlton was a gentlewoman. Hopefully she could play her part long enough for him to find her a position or an offer of marriage. Then she could relax and put this whole episode behind her.

  He mounted Lucifer, his bay stallion, and headed him for Dunham House. The Marquess of Dalbury would be very interested in his trip to Madame Vestry’s last night. The horse sped along the streets of Mayfair, bustling this time of morning with smart carriages, ladies shopping, and nursemaids walking with their charges despite the chilly day. Tris breathed deeply, the crisp air enhanced by the earthy scents of dirt and manure, the mélange of London.

  Too soon, however, he pulled his horse to a stop before the imposing townhome belonging to his friend. Whistling again, he tossed the reins to a groom, and strode up the short, wide stairs and knocked. His news about Miss Carlton would draw animated comment, no doubt. The door opened and Grayson greeted him.

  “Lord Trevor. Good morning, my lord.”

  “Good morning, Grayson. Is the marquess stirring yet?” Tris entered the house, untying his cloak and handing it to the butler.

  “I am sorry, my lord, but Lord Dalbury has just ridden out.”

  “The devil you say.” Snatching back his cloak, Tris swirled it around his shoulders in one fluid movement. “Which way was he headed?”

  “Hyde Park, I believe, your lordship,” Grayson called after him as Tris rushed back out the door.

  In a mad dash, he rounded the side of the house to snare his horse, but he was up and on his way before the saddle had cooled. A touch to Lucifer’s side and they set off at a fast trot, restrained by the gathering traffic. The park was mostly deserted as the fashionable hours for carriages or strolling were much later. Thank God for that. Duncan would be easier to spot. Tris stood up in the stirrups for a better vantage point. Only two gentlemen walking fat geldings to his right. Grass and the pale dust of the bridle path greeted him to his left. Where could the man have gotten so quickly?

  About to take off across the manicured lawn, Tris pulled back on the reins and sat. Straight ahead, about halfway down the Serpentine, he spied Duncan going along at a spirited trot. Tris touched Lucifer and the bay leaped forward, as eager as his master to overtake the other horse.

  “Ho, Duncan.” Tris reined Lucifer in as they galloped up beside his friend.

  “Tris! This is a pleasant surprise.” Lord Dalbury pulled up his horse and beamed at him.

  They’d been fast friends since they were boys, attending Winchester for several very harrowing years, followed by a Grand Tour together. A spate of scandals had surrounded Duncan almost a year and a half ago, when their friendship had been tested in the extreme.

  “Not as pleasant as you may think.”

  “Indeed.” Though the marquess sat his horse easily, tension hummed in every line of him. “Have you heard news of that bastard St. Cyr?”

  “Should I have? Didn’t you tell me he’s now claiming to be married to Juliet?”

  “Yes. We are attempting to prove otherwise.” Dalbury straightened his reins meticulously. “Her current husband would like to be sure the child she carries will bear his name.”

  Tris whistled. “Quite a little contretemps, I’d say.”

  “If only we could find the blighter and prove his marriage invalid, we’d all rest a deal easier.” Restless fingers on the reins, lips pursed, Duncan studied the bright lake.

  “And here I come with less than welcome news on another front.” Tristan settled uneasily in his saddle. His friend needed no more worries this morning it seemed.

  “Have you managed to finally lose your substantial wealth at Charbury’s?” The marquess flashed a quick grin. Tris’s exploits at the most disreputable gaming hell in London were a constant source of amusement to his friend.

  “Sadly no.” Tris glanced around, a sudden need for caution filling him. “James Carlton.”

  A mask of indifference slammed down on Duncan’s face. “An unsavory name from the past. What unwelcome news might a long-dead corpse have to offer?”

  “I bought his sister at Madame Vestry’s last night.”

  “The devil you say.” The scars on Duncan’s left cheek stood out vividly as his skin paled.

  “Yes. My reaction was a bit more colorful.” Tris clenched his teeth. The memory of what he’d almost done still sickened him.

  Hoof beats approaching on his right drew his attention. A rider in gray bore down on them.

  “We are about to have company.” Tris frowned at the unfamiliar figure.

  “No worries.” Duncan assumed a wry smile. “Here’s my brother-in-law now, Tris. At least the one I claim. Lord Trevor, I make known Mr. Amiable Morley.”

  The tall, straight figure nodded pleasantly.

  Military bearing, if he didn’t miss his guess. Tris returned the nod. Morley. The name had a familiar sound.

  The man cut his eyes toward Duncan. “I didn’t know you were riding this morning.”

  “Weather’s too good to stay inside, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Indeed. Although it seems few have had the same thought.” Something about the easy way Morley sat his horse stirred an echo from the past.

  “I say, were you related to Pax Morley, by any chance?”

  “My elder brother.”

  “Ah, you are the prodigal.” He remembered tales of the younger brother running away to join the military. “Army, wasn’t it? In the colonies?”

  “Yes. Until I heard news of my brother in April. You knew him?” Morley’s jaw tightened.

  “Quite well, in fact. My condolences. Devilishly sorry.” Pax had been something of a hero to Tris. “Great fellow, Pax. One of my older sisters was mad for him for a while until her current husband leaped in and offered for her. Must have been almost ten years ago. Awful shame.” Damn, but the good did die young.

  “Want to come back to lunch, Tris?” Dalbury asked. “It’s early, but you may make your bow to the ladies and entertain them for a bit. They will want to hear about your prospective bride.”

  “Congratulations are in order then, Lord Trevor?” A smile broke out on Morley’s face.

  “Yes. I have just offered for Miss Dora Harper, Lord Downing’s youngest daughter. It will be announced in a day or two.” Tris gripped the reins, although the horse had been placidly standing the whole time. His mind filled not with the sweet oval face of his betrothed, but with the arresting one of Miss Carlton. Unsure if he’d revealed too much, he looked away.

  “Thanks, Duncan. I believe I will renew my acquaintance with both lovely ladies. Has your wife not managed to skewer you yet?” Tris laughed and all three started their horses toward the south entrance to the park. Best put Miss Harper and Miss Carlton out of his
mind.

  The southern gate was within sight when Morley’s head snapped up. A rider galloped toward them as if the demons of hell were on his heels. Blue and gold was the livery of Dalbury’s household. Had something gone amiss at Dunham House?

  Before the man could get closer, Morley spurred his horse and bounded away toward the newcomer.

  “What’s the stir this early?” Tris gazed after the man, who had shot down the pathway, engaged the servant, then kicked his horse into a gallop and headed for the gate.

  “S’blood. It must be Juliet. Nothing else could make him push for that kind of speed.” Duncan clutched his reins and squeezed his knees against his horse for all he was worth. The animal leaped forward, leaving Tris coughing at the dust he kicked up.

  A touched of his heel and Lucifer sped after the others. What else would happen before noon? He really didn’t want to contemplate that question at all.

  * * * *

  “If I’d found them together, I’d have shot the bastard without a second thought.” Duncan poured a tumbler of brandy and handed it to Tris. “Morley showed considerable restraint in my opinion.”

  The quiet of Duncan’s study was a blessed relief after the morning’s excitement.

  They’d reached the house to find it in an uproar. Viscount St. Cyr, claiming to be Juliet’s husband, had boldly entered and attempted to seduce her. Morley had discovered them and threatened to put a bullet in the viscount’s brain. After he fled, Juliet had fainted. Tris and Duncan had arrived just as she regained consciousness.

  “If anything good has come of St. Cyr’s treachery today, I suspect it’s a reconciliation between Juliet and Morley.” Hovering near the polished sideboard, Duncan downed three fingers of the fiery amber liquid and poured another. A familiar tic appeared in his right eye, which meant the marquess was damn well angry at someone.

  “A reconciliation? Morley and Juliet have been estranged?” The scene Tris had just witnessed upstairs had hardly seemed between two people disinterested in one another. He’d hurried from the room, afraid the couple would forget themselves and indulge in a passionate moment before witnesses. “I’d never believe it.”

  “Oh, Morley’s been the disenchanted one, to be sure.” A moment of drumming of his fingers on the sideboard then Duncan set the decanter down and stoppered it. “I won’t bore you with the details, but suffice it to say, Juliet’s been damned unpleasant company for the past month. I’m just glad it’s over.” He eyed Tris and took a pull at the brandy. “You came to tell me about Carlton’s sister.”

  Avoiding his friend’s scrutiny, Tris took a gulp and set the tumbler on a nearby table. “Yes. Hell of shock, that. I’d no more idea Carlton had a family than the man in the moon. And to find the woman had been reduced to employment in a brothel made me damned uncomfortable.”

  “No business of ours.” Duncan shrugged. “The code puts no onus on us to inquire about a combatant’s associations. One would hope going into a duel a gentleman, even one acting as a second, had put his affairs in order in case the worst happened.”

  “It would seem not in the case of Mr. Carlton. He appears to have been undisciplined in all respects.” Tris ground his teeth. The man should have known what might happen to his sister in the case of his demise. Of course, seconds rarely dueled these days. Still, he should have accounted for all contingencies.

  Duncan stared over his glass. “Did you find out before or after you bedded her?”

  “During.”

  “Gads.” That seemed to shake the marquess. “Had she been there long?”

  Tris gripped the glass, then chuckled. “I was to have been her first customer.”

  “What?” The scowl that darkened Duncan’s face said he didn’t find it a laughing matter. “You went to deflower a virgin?”

  Throwing up a hand to ward off the recriminations that would surely follow, Tris stepped back, hoping to avoid a disagreement. Bad enough guilt over his part in this debacle nagged at him. He didn’t need his friend castigating him as well. “Amorina has always looked out for the type of girl I like. This one, she said, was ‘something special,’ and a virgin.” He could see the note this instant, the sweeping loops of Vestry’s beautiful handwriting creating a brand across his mind. “She intimated I might hone my skills with this girl, as I was soon to marry.”

  “That indeed sounds like some of Amorina’s machinations.” Duncan gestured to a leather chair in front of the great mahogany desk, then took his seat in the tall chair behind it. “So you took her at her word?”

  “It may sound callous, but I did.” Tris dropped into the chair, suddenly disgusted with himself. “The idea made sense at the time. I’d done it before, but it had been a while. I didn’t want Miss Harper hurt or frightened any more than necessary on our wedding night. So I thought since the woman was willing, it would be to both our advantages. You’ve heard what some women go through with men who fancy a virgin. I’d at least have tried to be gentle the first time.”

  “Wait.” Duncan leaned across the desk, his head cocked. “You sound as if it didn’t happen. You said she told you who she was while you were—”

  “I stopped. Before I ruined her completely.”

  “Indeed.” A smirk on his lips, Duncan leaned back in the tall leather chair. “I commend you on your control.”

  “She was crying, damn it.” Her sobs still echoed in his mind. “And I thought...I thought she might have been brought there like your wife was.”

  “Christ.” Duncan half rose out of his chair, his face pale. “Was that what happened to her?”

  Tris waved him back. “No. She assured me she was there of her own free will, but only because she had no other means of making a living. It happens, even to gently born women.” Thoughts of what almost happened to Miss Carlton made Tris gulp the contents of his glass. “I’m relieved my sisters are all well married. Miss Carlton’s plight has touched a deep chord in me.”

  “Did you give her money? Is there anything I can do?” Duncan opened a drawer and took out a bag of coins.

  “I got her out of there as quickly and anonymously as I could. She’s currently at the Weldon Street house.”

  “With Serena?” The marquess looked scandalized.

  “She’s gone.” Tris waved her away. His last mistress had been an amusing distraction at best.

  “What happened to her?”

  “I sent her home with a large settlement last week.” He stared at Duncan, who had his stern face on. “I’d planned to give up my mistresses once I was married and Serena’s family needed her. Her mother had taken ill. It seemed a good time.”

  Rubbing a hand over his face, his friend asked, “So what do you intend to do with Miss Carlton? She cannot stay at Weldon Street indefinitely. It will become known no matter how careful you are.”

  “After what I did last night I should marry her.” Tris dropped his gaze to his lap.

  “Not a good idea, even if it were possible.” An edge had crept into his friend’s voice.

  That hadn’t been unexpected. Still, Tris studied his hands, placed carefully on the chair arms, avoiding his friend’s gaze.

  “You do see the danger, Tristan.” The tone sharpened. “She could bring all the ugliness of the scandal down on our heads again with only a word or two in the right places.”

  “I suppose I see that.” He fixed his stare on the marquess. “You offered to help her, however. Do you have a position somewhere, anywhere we could be assured of her continued welfare? A companion to Juliet, perhaps?” That possibility had lurked in the back of his mind when he’d decided to approach Duncan with the information about Miss Carlton.

  “Good God, no.” Duncan shot up and headed to the decanter once more. “You have run mad. We are the last people who should employ her.” He stopped and looked at Tris. “You haven’t told her what happened the day her brother died, have you?”

  “It didn’t seem necessary as we were putting ou
r clothes back on.” Tris rose and took the tumbler to the sideboard, waving away Duncan’s offer of another. He needed some wits left for his next interview. “Very well, I’ll find her a position far from London. She’s bright and forthright. She’d make an excellent companion.” To him or to any other gentleman. “Or she could be a governess. She also professed to me that she can sew a fine seam.” He shrugged and prepared to leave. He damn well couldn’t be late.

  “As long as she stays far away from us. She still could marry, you know. She’d have no dowry, but there are men who don’t seek marriage just for wealth.” Duncan contemplated the swirling contents of his glass.

  “Then I need to somehow get her back into society.” He grimaced. He’d thought those tedious days were done. “Not much going on at the moment, although I suspect there will be a spate of Christmas parties and balls shortly.” His sister always gave one such ball the week before Christmas Day. Perhaps he should confide in Theodora, at least about Miss Carlton, while leaving details of exactly how he met her pleasantly hazy. It might serve.

  “Be careful, Tris.” Duncan gripped his shoulder. “Send her as far away as possible.”

  The warning sent a frisson of alarm through him and he shrugged off Duncan’s hand. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He gathered the cloak he’d dropped on a chair near the door.

  “Off again? I’d thought you were staying to luncheon.” Duncan beamed with one of the few true smiles he’d seen today. “Cook is so ecstatic to have Katarina breeding, she makes twice the quantity we’d ever need. Twice what Morley’s old regiment could eat in a day, much less at a single sitting.”

  “Thank you, but I am engaged.” The irony of his words struck him as funny, though he hardly felt like laughing. “Indeed, the very reason I’m rushing off. I’m for Lord Downing’s to sign the settlement agreements for Miss Harper. Adding the estate in northern Yorkshire to my family’s holdings has been an uphill battle, but I will seal the deal at last.” Then why did he feel so despondent at the prospect?