Tempting His Mistress

by Samantha Holt

  Had she been a woman of good breeding and wealth, he might have even thought of using her to solve his issue of being wifeless, but with her father dead, she was penniless and nothing would solve the problem of her being a bastard.

  She caught his eye as they readied themselves to set off. Chin lifted, she quickly glanced away. What a damned shame. She really was quite beautiful. When she had gone from being merely attractive to beautiful he could not be sure. Perhaps during their walk when she had been slightly dishevelled or outside his room when her cheeks had been flushed and her breasts rose and fell with every deep breath against her bodice.

  The sound of the horn jolted him from his thoughts—thank the Lord. He was in danger of making a fool of himself if he didn’t force that woman from his mind. They headed across the fields towards the woods to the north of Oakholm Hall. The dogs ran alongside, the occasional howl breeching the hammering of horse hooves. Behind the tips of the trees, the sun attempted to break through the clouds. Though it didn’t look likely to rain, the breeze on his face remained cool and refreshing. Cold enough, he would wager, to remove any of his ridiculous heated thoughts.

  For several hours they hunted. They had become split from the women towards the end—not unusual in the chaos of a hunt—but it made his palms clammy. He took great pains to pause and peer through the trees for them but the woods outside of Oakholm were vast. Ancient tracks laced through the trees and would lead the ladies out of the woods one way or the other but misgiving wove into his body, making his muscles tense and aching.

  Lord Brexley announced his need to return home, and Evan nodded. “But first we should make attempts to find the women,” he added. But eyeing the panting, red-faced earl, he conceded, “Perhaps you could let Lady Stanley know we shall be returning home shortly. It does not take three of us to search.”

  “Indeed. Happy hunting, Hawksley,” Brexley said jovially with only a hint of relief before turning and following the muddy track back to the hall.

  “Harriet shall find her way home,” his brother declared. “She has a way of surviving any situation.”

  “Thomas, you make it sound as if you have tried very hard to test that fact.”

  Thomas laughed. “You think me capable of such things?”

  “No, but then Harriet could drive a man to do many things.”

  Just as Miss Claremont could. Not because he wished to escape her as his brother often likely wanted space from his wife, but because from the time they had been split from the women, he hungered for her presence.

  A foolish notion of riding up behind her, snatching her from her horse and stealing her away to one of the lodges on the outskirts of the estate played in his mind. There he would strip her down without fear of interruption and take all she had to give to be rid of her once and for all. Except, in spite of her birth and her words the previous night, he did not think her a whore, and, no matter what she thought of him, he made no habit of taking innocents.

  “Come then, let us find these women before the heavens open upon us.”

  Evan peered between the leafy canopy and saw that his brother was correct. The clouds had darkened and rain appeared imminent. The thought of Miss Claremont wet did two things—made his stomach churn for fear of her being struck down by a malady and forced images of wet curls and shimmering porcelain skin into his mind.

  “Let us find them and with haste, Thomas. I have no wish to get wet.”

  They took the main path up through the woods until they came out of the other side, but there was still no sign of them.

  “Where the devil are they?” Evan snapped.

  Thomas laughed. “You know what women are like. They probably stopped to gossip and wandered onto one of the lesser used paths.”

  Evan huffed. Unlikely. Harriet would not take the time to gossip with someone of Miss Claremont’s ilk if she could help it. They turned the horses around as a strong breeze kicked up, stirring fallen leaves from the ground.

  “Looks to be heavy rain coming in,” Thomas observed. “Come on, Brother, first one to find the women wins.”

  Thomas set off at a reckless pace and Evan cursed. Being the younger brother, Thomas had never had the same feeling of responsibility he had. He cared little for his welfare and more about gaming and sports. Even his marriage had been a game to him—something to get one up on Evan. Of course, with a five year age gap, his brother had also never shouldered the burden of their parents’ marriage. There were some experiences that came with being the eldest that Evan wished he’d never had to suffer.

  Flicking the reins, Evan sought to catch up with Thomas. The trees grew close together on the lesser used paths and hawthorns threatened to tear at him. Surely the women would not have been foolish enough to come down this track?

  Thomas pushed along as if he barely felt the protruding branches. Evan shouted at him to slow down, but he doubted his brother heard him. As the forest floor took a sharp dip down, Evan’s heart jumped into his throat and he slowed his mount to a trot. But Thomas barrelled forwards, either unaware or uncaring that the sharp slope could send him tumbling. He made it down but a large branch protruded and before Evan could shout a warning, Thomas’s face collided with it and he went tumbling from him horse.

  “Damnation!” Evan pulled his horse to a stop and jumped off. His horse made no move, but Thomas’s had already righted itself and dashed deeper into the woods.

  He came to his brother’s crumpled body and turned him over. Blood seeped from a gash across his head and though his eyes were open, he appeared dazed.

  “What the devil were you thinking?” Evan demanded as he tried to urge his brother to sit.

  Thomas didn’t respond and when Evan shifted him, blood spilled down his face. Using the sleeve of his jacket, Evan dabbed the wound. It was deep and would likely leave a scar—if he got him back to the hall before he lost any more blood.

  “Is everything well?”

  Evan snapped his head around to see Miss Claremont atop her horse. Her eyes rounded when she spotted Thomas on the floor and she dismounted to come to his side.

  “What happened?”

  “We were looking for you and Harriet,” he barked. “Where the devil were you?”

  Miss Claremont knelt and pushed Evan’s hands aside to look at his wound. She paled but seemed to recover herself before meeting his gaze head on. “Lady Richdale feared it would rain so we decided to turn back some time ago. However, she dropped her hat so I went in search of it.”

  “Miss Claremont, I didn’t take you for a fool. Is Harriet at the hall?”

  “I assume so. She took the main path back. And I am no fool. Searching for her hat was preferable to...” Her cheeks coloured. “Well, it does not matter. Let us see to your brother.”

  A sense of begrudging admiration warmed Evan’s chest. Miss Claremont, it seemed, already had the measure of his sister-in-law and chose to gallivant about the woods rather than spend time with her. There was something in her independent spirit that was to be admired. Evan had never been fond of women who preferred to cling to a man’s arm and await their every decision.

  Miss Claremont lifted Thomas’s head into her lap and drew a handkerchief out from her riding habit to press against the gash. “There now, Lord Richdale,” she soothed as his brother grumbled. She brushed a gloved hand over his brother’s cheek, and Evan clenched his teeth.

  Thomas still appeared unaware of what was happening. His eyes drooped shut and Evan thought it a little like when he had seen men punched out in the boxing halls. His brother must have taken a hard hit indeed.

  A drip of water trailing down his neck made him glance up and another splattered on his face. “Miss Claremont, it’s going to rain. You should head back to the hall and send for help.”

  “We cannot leave your brother out here in the rain and anyway, I’m not entirely sure I know my way back from here.”

  “I wasn’t intending to leave him alone,” he muttered.

  “I know t
hat, my lord.” She put a hand to his arm and he swore his heart stopped for a moment. “Don’t fear for him. It’s just a gash and he must have hit his head hard. Let us get him on the horse.”

  Together they lifted Thomas up, and with a grunt Evan put him over the saddle. His brother had been indulging in a few too many pastries he concluded with a scowl. Miss Claremont eyed Thomas.

  “What is it?” he snapped, keen to get moving as the pitter patter on the trees signalled the rain had started to fall with relish. The trees offered a little protection but there was still a way to travel before they reached the hall. They would all be soaked by the time they returned.

  “He shall lose more blood like that.” She nodded to him. “Why do you not lead the horses and I shall keep pressure on the wound?”

  Evan opened his mouth to protest—he didn’t like the notion of her walking the rest of the way—but closed it when he realised she was right. With the way Thomas was slumped across the saddle, blood would drip freely from the wound.

  He snatched the reins of her horse and brought it over to his own, then took the other set. With a huff, he urged the horses on at a slow pace while Miss Claremont kept her handkerchief to his brother’s head.

  Damn Thomas. If Miss Claremont fell sick, there would be hell to pay. Already water dripped from the brim of his hat and he doubted her riding habit offered as much protection as his Norfolk jacket.

  “Not far now,” he announced when the trees widened out and the main track became apparent. He glanced over his shoulder and noted her damp curls. That silly little hat offered little protection. Indeed her skin did shimmer with damp but her pale skin had a ghoulish look to it and her lips were tightly pursed as if she was fighting a bout of tremors. “Perhaps you should ride on?” he suggested.

  “I cannot get any wetter, Lord Hawksley,” she declared. “Besides, you cannot direct the horse and tend to your brother’s wounds. We shall have to continue our journey together.”

  “Stubborn chit,” he muttered.

  “My lord?”

  “Nothing, Miss Claremont. I just hope you don’t ail after getting so wet. Lady Stanley would have my head.”

  “Yes, she probably would, but I never get sick, my lord.”

  “Never? I don’t think that is possible. Even I get sick.”

  “And I suppose illness should only favour women and poor people, is that it?”

  “You know full well that is not what I meant.” He eyed her over his shoulder and noted her teasing smile. “But you are a slight thing and I am a...”

  “Strapping, virile man?” she finished.

  His muscles tightened at her words. He longed to prove to her just how virile he could be. “I would boast nothing of the sort, Miss Claremont.”

  “But others would?”

  “You would have to ask them.”

  Evan groaned inwardly. What was it about this woman that enticed him into conversing with her? If it could be called conversing. It seemed as though they were taking part in some merry dance of words, throwing them back and forth and circling one another with them. Would anything that ever came out of her mouth be straightforward?

  And now they were speaking of his conquests. At least he thought they were. Miss Claremont had such a way of tangling him up and muddling his thoughts that at times, the words left his tongue before he had a chance to consider them.

  Once they reached the open fields and Oakholm Hall was in sight, Evan stopped the horses so they could check on Thomas. The bleeding had stopped, but he barely responded to either of them when they tried to rouse him.

  “He shall be fine,” Miss Claremont assured him, teeth chattering.

  Truth be told, he was more concerned about her than his brother. Thomas had a hard head and after some rest would probably wake up with nothing more than a headache. He certainly didn’t want this stubborn woman’s death weighing on his soul. Knowing her, she would die just to spite him rather than admit to feeling cold or unwell.

  Knowing her? What an odd thought. He did not wish to get to know her nor did he believe one day’s acquaintance was enough to get the full measure of a person.

  The heavy rain and her tightly clenched lips prevented any more conversation. Grass scented the air as they followed the dip in the hill down to the hall. From their prospect, the ornamental gardens were tucked behind the house, offering an unobstructed view of the red house against the green Hampshire hills. The setting was not unlike that of his home, Hawksley Manor, but his family home had been built in the Palladian style some hundred years ago. He preferred the pale columns and simpler style to the ornamented architecture of Oakholm.

  A servant greeted them at the door and rushed inside for help before Evan could demand aid. Several of the footmen lifted his brother from the horse and took him up to his bedroom. Lady Stanley and Harriet rushed into the hall, a whirl of concern and anxious questions.

  Evan paused to talk to his sister-in-law, whose cries were growing hysterical. He suspected her hysterics were to gain attention and he eyed her severely.

  “Harriet, you shall do him no good in such a state. It’s nothing a sleep and a brandy cannot fix. If you had not decided to leave the hunt and abandon poor Miss Claremont, we might not have had to search for you and end up in this situation,” he said sharply.

  Harriet gaped at him in silence.

  “My lord, I don’t believe you can blame Lady Harriet for your brother’s misfortune,” Miss Claremont interjected so he turned his scowl on her.

  But it was lost on her and she ignored it to pat Harriet’s arm. “I think you should rest for a while. Maybe take a moment in the drawing room. You’ve had a shock.”

  Harriet nodded eagerly, her blonde curls bobbing. “Yes, you are absolutely right, Miss Claremont.”

  “After all, you can be no help to your husband in your...” she paused as if searching for the right word, “concerned state,” she finished diplomatically.

  He smothered a smirk. The woman knew how to charm better than a politician. For someone who had spent little time in society, she had dealing with overdramatic women down to an art. He had to wonder if she had turned that charm on him at some point—which might explain his fascination with her—but as far as he could recall, she hadn’t checked her tongue once with him.

  Lady Stanley sent a messenger to fetch the doctor before accompanying Harriet into the drawing room at Miss Claremont’s suggestion.

  As he took the first step upstairs to sit at his brother’s bedside, it became clear Miss Claremont intended to accompany him. “You needn’t help any longer, Miss Claremont. You are soaked through and have done enough.”

  “Nonsense. A little rain will not kill me and your brother could do with a woman’s touch.”

  Evan didn’t point out Thomas had several servants—male and female—attending to him. Her lifted, stubborn little chin told him arguing was fruitless. “Very well then, but will you not change?”

  “When the doctor arrives I shall change. I don’t see you dashing to your room to change.”

  “I am not wearing a useless hat and dress,” he muttered as they hastened upstairs.

  His brother lay out on the red and gold bedding and appeared to be awake. Evan blew out a breath. In spite of his belief Thomas would come to no harm, he would have hated to have been proved wrong.

  Miss Claremont unbuttoned her jacket, slipped it off and hung it over a chair. Evan found himself transfixed by the sight of her curves under the cambric shirt. The ruffles hid much of her but with her tightly cinched skirt, he had a fine idea as to what lay beneath. She removed her hat too, patted her hair and caught his eye, colouring as she did so. Her hands shot to her side and she glanced around the room.

  “Why are the curtains closed?” she asked.

  “The lord complained, my lady,” one of the women replied.

  “Let him complain. The doctor will not be able to see a thing in this light.”

  The curtains were thrown open and Miss Clar
emont came to his brother’s side. Evan only seemed capable of watching her commanding manner and admiring her efficiency. She took the cloth and bowl from a servant and cleaned Thomas’s face with such gentleness he might have forgotten she was barking orders only a moment ago.

  Not for the first time, he mourned her lack of connections. Miss Claremont, it seemed, was quite a woman and surely suited for something much better than being a penniless, illegitimate woman.

  “Can I do something?” he asked, feeling at a loss stood to one side.

  She smiled—a gentle, understanding smile—and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. With damp curls framing her face and the way the smile softened her eyes, he forgot that her hair was unremarkable or that she was only merely pretty. In that moment, she could have been Helen of Troy and he would give up anything to see more of those smiles.

  “Stop pacing,” she said softly, “and try to get some sense out of your brother. He should not be allowed to fall asleep before the doctor gets here.”

  He nodded curtly, and her smile dropped when he came to her side. He lamented the loss of such a smile. So far she had only deigned to bestow him with teasing or bitter smiles. What he would not give to see more genuine ones from her.

  Inwardly, he shook himself. Pretty smiles were easy enough to come by. What was he thinking? As he leaned over to study his brother, he became aware of the stiffening of her shoulders. Evan fought a smirk. His close proximity affected her.

  “Evan?” his brother peered up at him, and Miss Claremont removed the cloth.

  “Yes, Thomas. I’m here.” He noted Thomas’s wound was no longer bleeding but it was deep. “You’ve been a damned fool.”

  “My head hurts like the devil,” he complained, his words slurred. “Could do with a drink.”

  “You shall have a drink soon enough. First you must be seen to by the doctor.” Evan turned to Miss Claremont. “Do you know how far away the doctor lives?”