Only a Mistress Will Do

by Jenna Jaxon

  “Do you know why Lord Manning needs to meet with us both?” If he needed Tris’s presence it could scarcely be about the wedding. She slumped in the chair. The nuptials were likely galloping apace.

  “I’ve no idea, Miss Carlton. I thought you might be able to shed some light on the subject.” He stared down his nose at her, then sauntered to the sideboard. “I hope he makes haste, for I must leave immediately for Wiltshire.”

  Violet drew a deep breath, stung by his reference to Lord Downing’s estate. He was leaving to go pay court to his betrothed. Wretched woman. No, she shouldn’t blame the girl. It was her own folly to have fallen in love with a married man. She would need to work long and hard to quell her feelings for Tris. For now, best to focus on Lord Manning’s visit.

  Both summonses were a puzzle. What reason could Lord Manning have for wanting to speak to them together? Perhaps he couldn’t get the special license immediately and they would need to wait for the banns to be read. She would need to continue at Lammas House under Tris’s protection. A plausible and very agreeable excuse for this assemblage. Tris would have nominative control over her while she resided here. Perhaps she’d even see him once in a while when he came to check on things. On her. Her heart thumped noisily in her chest.

  Of course, Lord Manning would likely have her and Susan retire to a respectable inn until the reading of the banns could be completed. Nothing could be simpler. So again, why summon Tris?

  He raised the decanter, let it hover a moment over the glass, then set it back down on the sideboard. “I am sure there is no impediment to procuring the special license. Manning may simply wish to gift you with a wardrobe more suitable to your coming station.”

  Violet’s cheeks burned and she jerked her head downward, staring at her lap. He masked his anger at her leaving with a reproof for leaving behind the clothes he’d bought her. Well, she had been angry too. Angry enough to want to keep nothing from him whatsoever. “I doubt that is the case, although perhaps he wishes for me to have a special gown made for the wedding.” She shrugged. “But then why summon you here?”

  “Why indeed?” He grasped the neck of the decanter, squeezing somewhat harder than absolutely necessary. His knuckles showed white as bones.

  She would have dearly loved a drink at this moment. Sparring with him in this manner kept her on edge, to be sure, however, she’d appreciate a moment to just relax in his presence. “Let me ring for tea.” Violet pulled the bell mechanically, needing to do something. She couldn’t simply sit here in the parlor with its genteel furnishings and do nothing but ring the bell. Nor could she continue to look at her lap.

  “Yes, Miss Carlton?” Susan appeared, fixing Tris with a gimlet eye that took no quarter.

  “Bring tea please, Susan. My special blend.” A wink at the maid as she prayed the girl understood to add a healthy dollop of brandy to the beverage.

  “Right away, miss.” Raised eyebrows, but no other indication Susan had understood the signal.

  Violet turned back to Tristan, who hovered just behind her. “Please be seated, Lord Trevor. You make me nervous hanging about so.”

  “Far be it from me to discommode a lady.” He smirked, but came around the end of the sofa, drink in hand, and sat in the Queen Anne companion chair. His face, set in harsh lines, had laid grooves about his mouth. So forbidding he scarcely seemed her Tris at all.

  Because he was not her Tris and never had been. Asking him to sit had been a mistake. They had nothing to say to one another save for the one subject that kept them silent. If she brought it out in the open, would it break this hideous stalemate between them? Like ripping a bandage off a wound to make it bleed—and begin to heal.

  Gathering her courage, she faced him again although she could not bring herself to look directly into his eyes. “Tris.”

  He tensed, his hand frozen with the glass before his mouth. His dark gaze shot straight to her face. “Yes?”

  “I am sorry—”

  “Lord Manning, miss,” Thomas announced the earl.

  Violet jumped as the servant made a hasty retreat.

  Manning strode into the room and headed directly for the fireplace. “Bitter cold out this morning.” With a shiver, he held his hands out to the well-laid blaze. “The wind chilled me to the bone just coming from the carriage.” He looked up from the flames and stopped, his gaze flitting from her face to Tris’s.

  Violet turned her head sharply, afraid her face would reveal more than she cared to tell the earl.

  “So what brings you here, Manning?” Tris rose and sauntered toward the younger man. “And more particularly, why was I summoned?” He sipped his brandy, although his gaze narrowed keenly on the earl. “I am leaving town as soon as this business is concluded.”

  Rubbing his hands, Manning nodded toward the sideboard. “May I?”

  “Of course.” Tris swept his hand outward, in a broad circle that took in the whole room before coming to rest at Violet. “What is mine is yours.”

  “Hardly.” Manning chuckled. “Still, many thanks. This should warm me up nicely.” He poured a tumbler half full and took a gulp. A shudder ran through him as the fiery liquid hit. Then his shoulders relaxed.

  “Good morning, my lord.” Uncomfortably aware of Tris’s gaze on her, Violet rose and nodded to the earl. “I received your note, but couldn’t help wondering if you’d encountered a difficulty with the wedding plans.” She strove to keep eagerness out of her voice, though it was devilishly hard to do.

  Manning stared at her for a moment, then swirled the remaining brandy in the glass. “You are very perceptive, Miss Carlton. That is indeed the reason for my visit. I have discovered an impediment to our plans.”

  “Impediment?” The word raised a hope in Violet’s heart.

  “Impediment?” Tris set his glass down with a dull thud. “You have found a blood connection between your family and Miss Carlton’s?”

  “No. At least, I have not heard of such.” Gazing at the tumbler in his hand, Manning rubbed his thumb across the cut-crystal stars. “Rather I have found when I asked Miss Carlton to marry me I was unaware I was not free to do so.” He up-ended the glass, gulping the brandy until he’d drained it.

  “Not free?” Tris’s brows lowered almost to his nose. “What the devil do you mean, Manning?”

  “I mean that for reasons I discovered only last night, I must withdraw my offer of marriage to Miss Carlton.” Quietly, he placed his glass precisely in the center of the white linen runner covering the sideboard.

  Violet clutched her chest, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. Salvation.

  “I have obligations that prohibit me from marrying Miss Carlton.” The earl drew himself up, squaring off with Tris. “This is the reason I summoned you here, Trevor. You have been acting as Miss Carlton’s protector and as such it is your right, should you wish, to challenge me for this insult.”

  Chapter 20

  “No!” Violet’s heart leaped like a wild thing. “There will be no such challenge offered on my behalf.” Dear God, from salvation to damnation in the blink of an eye.

  “The devil there won’t.” Tristan’s eyes flashed indigo blue and narrowed as he turned that piercing gaze on Lord Manning. “You wish to withdraw from the betrothal with Miss Carlton? Then name your seconds, my lord.”

  “I forbid it, Tris.”

  “I will not brook this insult, Violet.” The blood had drained from Tris’s face.

  “I’ll not have either of you killed in a stupid duel.” If she had to bash him over the head with a brick, she would not allow him to jeopardize his life in such a manner.

  “He offered to marry you and you accepted that offer.” Tris paced briskly toward the window and back. “You have a legitimate and legal claim on him. He cannot make a proposal one day and renege on it the next. It’s simply not done.”

  “But is has been done. By me.” Manning’s raised voice overpowered them both. “Despite any other
feelings I may have, I cannot marry Miss Carlton.”

  “Then you will meet me, Lord Manning.” Tris squeezed his hands into fists. “I will have satisfaction for this smirch on her honor.”

  “Tris, there is no dishonor in this.” Violet pressed her hands to her cheeks. Would the stubborn man get himself killed just to prove a point to her? “Can you tell us why you want to break the engagement, my lord?”

  With a heavy sigh, Manning ran a hand over his face. Dark smudges beneath his eyes gave him a haunted look. He appeared to have slept even worse than she had.

  “I am not at liberty to divulge that information, Miss Carlton. Suffice it to say the situation is dire enough I must take this deplorable action as the lesser of two evils. Would to God I did not have to make such a choice, but it cannot be helped.”

  “And what of the injury to Miss Carlton’s reputation?” Tris stalked over to her, towering above her like an oak shielding an acorn.

  Manning shrugged. “At the moment there is none.”

  “Of course there is.” Tris’s voice boomed in her ear. “You are jilting her. The whole ton will know. She will never be able to marry.”

  “They won’t know unless you tell them.”

  “Here you are, miss.” The conversation stopped as Susan bustled in with the tea tray. “I’ve made it just the way you like. Nice and strong.” She cut her eyes toward Violet with a subtle nod of her head and a raising of the eyebrows.

  Bless Susan.

  Tension thrummed through Tris so strongly she could feel the vibrations. She needed to dismiss the maid quickly or he might combust right before their eyes.

  “Thank you, Susan. That will be all.” Violet raised her chin. The girl would expect all the details as soon as the guests left and she would absolutely have them.

  She gave a hurried curtsey and left.

  No sooner had she closed the door than Tris erupted. “No one knows about the betrothal?”

  The earl shook his head. “Who would know? I’ve told no one. Have you?”

  “No.”

  “And if I release you from your obligation, there will be no stain on either of us.” Violet took Manning’s hand, startling him and drawing his attention away from the still bristling Tristan. “Much as I am grateful for your gallant offer, my lord, I believe it would be a mistake to press the issue if you have a responsibility elsewhere.” The relief in his eyes confirmed this was the right decision. He was an honorable man who would not have made nor retracted the offer capriciously. Something unexpected had forced him to this decision. She would let him go and be grateful. “I wish you nothing but well.”

  “Violet, do you know what you’re doing?” Tris suddenly loomed over her.

  He wanted to intimidate her, which made her angry. Still, she hastily dropped the earl’s hand. Best not antagonize him when she suspected she would get her way in this.

  Grasping her arm, he drew her behind the sofa. “Your circumstances have not changed,” he whispered fiercely. “Unless you have employment of which I am unaware, or another offer of marriage.” He peered into her face, his bright eyes blistering her soul.

  “No, I have neither of those things,” she said, willing him to understand. “However, I know I cannot in good conscience hold Lord Manning if he has a prior claim on his name. Especially, as I suspect, if the reputation of another lady lies in the balance. Perhaps she will fare even worse than I if he doesn’t come to her rescue.” She squeezed his arm and murmured, “Please, I truly do not wish to marry the earl.”

  A long moment of silence before he laid his hand over hers then nodded and in a normal voice said, “Then against my better judgment, I will agree to break the betrothal.”

  Violet smiled until he pulled her chin up to meet his gaze, a stern cast to his face.

  “On certain conditions, Miss Carlton, which I believe Lord Manning will insist upon as well.” He glanced to the earl.

  “Name them, Lord Trevor.” Manning strode over to stand beside her.

  “First and foremost, you will give your solemn oath you will never, under any circumstances, return to The House of Pleasure or any other such establishment.” The intensity of his glare made her drop her gaze and step back for fear his anger would scorch her.

  Lord Manning’s countenance was almost as stern.

  A chill oozed down her spine. Both men were quite angry at her, with just cause she must admit. With a sigh, she clasped her hands and addressed both men. “I know it was folly to return to Madame Vestry’s.” Heat rushed into her cheeks, still she continued. “I should not have let my anger at Lord Trevor lead me to such a rash and dangerous action. For this I do apologize to you both.”

  The easing of Lord Manning’s features seemed to indicate he accepted her contrition.

  Tris’s face, however, remained unmoved, as though Michelangelo himself had carved the visage.

  “I give you my solemn oath,” she began in a small voice, “on pain of hellfire and eternal damnation I will never seek out employment, succor, or sanctuary in The House of Pleasure or any other such establishment.” The sound of a door closing echoed in her mind. Of course, she never wanted to darken Madame Vestry’s door again. But the question remained what was to become of her?

  After staring at her a moment longer, as if searching her soul for confirmation of her words, Tris nodded.

  She gasped in air, unaware she’d been holding her breath. “You said ‘certain conditions’ my lord. Are there any others?”

  “Only that you promise to consult me before making any decisions about accepting either a position or marriage.” Turning from her, Tris raised his glass toward Manning. “Another one, my lord? I assume you will be hastening off into the cold to attend your next damsel in distress?”

  “Hmm.” Manning grunted as he headed to the sideboard where he armed himself with a fresh glass. “I do have my affairs to put in order directly, still I wish to assure Miss Carlton I will do everything within my power to assist her in securing a respectable and permanent position.”

  Tris poured a healthy amount into both their glasses. “That should keep you from freezing during your travels.”

  “Indeed.” Eying the glass, the earl shrugged and took a sip. “You are preparing against the cold as well? I recall you said you were leaving town?”

  “Yes, for Lord Downing’s estate in Wiltshire. I’m expected there day after tomorrow.” The shadows of the shrubbery were lengthening along the garden wall. Where had the day gone? “I’d hoped to leave today, but I fear it’s simply too late. If I leave early tomorrow morning, I’ll be there in time for dinner. Excellent roads to Devizes.”

  “You should have good weather as well.” Manning drained his glass. “I am off. Do not fear, Miss Carlton.” He turned to Violet with a smile. “I shall not let my other duties make me neglect your cause.”

  “I would never believe that, my lord.” She followed him to the door. “I cannot thank you enough, Lord Manning, for coming to my rescue last night. I will make the most of this chance to start again.”

  “I am sure you will, Miss Carlton.” With a deferential touch, he raised her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles.

  A warmth lingered there momentarily then was gone.

  “Should you need anything further, especially while Lord Trevor is from town, please send to me at once.” The earl made a deep bow and strode out of the room.

  “When…” Violet turned toward Tris and stopped, unable to move or speak.

  Tristan leaned against the mantelpiece, his forehead pressed against his arm, staring intently into the fire. His hair, clubbed back in a neat queue earlier, now swung free.

  “What…what happened to you?” She waved her hand toward him, moonstruck at the sheer beauty of him in the flickering firelight. His eyes glittered, staring out of the chiseled planes of his face where a faint stubble was beginning to show. The blue jacket molded to his shoulders and arms, proclaiming th
eir rugged strength. But his hair, burnished chestnut in the light, hung loose, scattered wildly over his shoulders, as it had been Christmas night. The only other time she’d seen it so. She stared, unable to remember how to breathe.

  “This?” He brushed the hair back over his shoulder. “The band that bound it back broke. My valet will have another. Why?”

  “It just surprised me, is all.” Violet made herself sit and pour more tea. It was cold but she didn’t care. The brandy steadied her nerves and warmed her nicely. “So you will be gone for a week or more?”

  “Most likely more. Lord Downing will want to discuss the Yorkshire property he’s settling on his daughter. There will be a series of entertainments when the betrothal is officially announced. I may not return to town until the end of the month.”

  “Oh.” Keeping her eyes carefully on her tea cup, Violet now wished for brandy alone. She was back to where she had been at the beginning of this wretched affair, without the hope of a happy ending for her. “Is there anything you wish for me to do in your absence? I suppose I will be at home the entire time, but if you can think of something, I will be happy to attempt it.” Time would hang heavy on her hands with only her music and perhaps some embroidery to keep her occupied. “I cannot attend social functions without an escort, of course, but I wondered if you would allow me to call on Miss Forsythe? Or Miss Tate. I could perhaps renew my acquaintance with Lord Donningham.”

  Tris cocked his head and frowned deeply. “Susan told me you had relinquished all hopes of Donningham.”

  “I may have to reconsider that stand.” She stared down at her lap rather than meet his eyes. “I must have somewhere to go, Tris. I cannot stay here forever. And I need to find a life I can live without you. If Lord Donningham will take me as I am, then I will accept him.” It seemed the most direct route to a decent existence. Donningham appeared a kind man. At least, he would have no ties to the marquess and that horrible memory. “I could do worse.” Much worse.