The Mistress Memoirs

by Jillian Hunter

  Lovitt straightened behind her. Brian stood up and his two siblings huddled together. Kate raised her chin, no longer the tepid governess but a person not to be underestimated. “I pity you, sir, if you were raised without gentleness and with no defender.”

  He laughed rudely. “A boy has to learn to defend himself. The earlier the better.”

  “Ah. So you, as a baby, strangled snakes in your crib like Hercules?”

  Brian’s eyes sparkled in embarrassed anger. “I won’t ride a pony again.” He threw his crop over the fence. “Unless I can have a decent horse, I refuse to ride at all.”

  Colin straightened his shoulders, and Kate shivered as his face tightened. “Walk the pony back to her stall and brush her down.”

  Brian stared at him as if he’d gone mad. Kate was tempted to intervene, but something, perhaps the realization that Colin might be right, made her stop.

  “Are you hurt?” she asked Brian in a guarded voice.

  “No,” Colin and Brian answered in unison.

  Kate stepped back, bumping against Lovitt, who had thrown his saddle across the fence at the first sign of tension in the air. He steadied Kate and shot Colin a baleful look.

  “What has he done now?” he demanded under his breath.

  “He’s making Brian brush his pony,” Kate said. “And Brian doesn’t want to.”

  His forehead creased in resolve, Lovitt strode up behind Colin and coughed to get his attention. “Sir?”

  Colin did not turn his head. From what Kate could see, he and Brian were still engaged in a contest of wills. “What do you want?” he finally asked.

  “There’s no problem with Master Lawson, sir. I’ll take care of the pony for him. I always do.”

  “Then that is the problem,” Colin said, vaulting over the fence to approach Brian. “Come on.”

  Lovitt made a move to follow.

  Colin’s voice stopped him in his tracks. “I’m handling this.”

  “Not very well,” Lovitt muttered to Kate. “Who does he think he is?”

  Brian’s father, she thought in rue. If he doesn’t know, the possibility must have crossed his mind.

  “Take the pony to the barn,” Colin said calmly.

  Brian glanced at both Kate and Lovitt for dispensation. Neither of them chose to challenge the tall man who was handing the boy the pony’s reins. Brian squared his shoulders.

  “Etta should be riding it,” Brian said, his face dusty and red.

  “Maybe after you learn to ride, she will,” Colin said, his legs planted apart.

  “Oh, dear,” Kate whispered. “I don’t think we should watch.”

  “Someone has to protect him,” Lovitt said.

  “Which him are you talking about?” Kate inquired.

  “Would you mind leaving?” Colin answered without turning his head. “You are nothing but a distraction.”

  Kate could have smacked the arrogant devil. “It is my job to take care of that boy.”

  “Then I’ll stay to take care of you,” Lovitt said.

  “Take the pony inside,” Colin said again to Brian.

  It looked for a moment as if he’d refuse and put up a fight. Instead, he grabbed the reins and, with a mutinous look, led the pony to the stables.

  “I want a proper horse,” he said over his shoulder to Colin. “And I’ll get one, too.”

  * * *

  Colin stared after him, an unfamiliar pain squeezing his heart. It couldn’t be. The boy not only looked like him, but behaved with the same defiant arrogance that had gotten Colin and his brothers into constant trouble during their youth. Was Brian his son? It was possible, he supposed.

  He needed to know.

  He needed Georgette to explain whether she had been carrying his child when he had left her. She might not have realized it at the time. Was that why she had jumped at the chance to marry old Mr. Lawson? To give Brian a name instead of the label of illegitimacy, which he could never rise above?

  He would wait a while for her to confess before he confronted her. He would not leave this house until he knew.

  Chapter 15

  A week had passed since the self-appointed head groom’s arrival. It was as if the estate had fallen under his power, and Kate was afraid nothing would ever return to normal again. Not that this had ever been the epitome of the typical English home.

  But she had dedicated herself to protecting the children, and someone had to reestablish their everyday routine. The burden, as usual, would fall on her shoulders, and she vowed that “Castle” would not stand in her way—which, to her frustration, he did. He seemed to be present whenever she turned.

  The evening before last she had sneaked into the garden for a short walk, and he had followed her, reminding her that she had violated her curfew. A few hours later, after the household had retired for the night, she heard a noise outside her room and cracked open the door to make sure one of the children hadn’t escaped the nursery.

  But there stood Castle, blithely explaining that he was patrolling the hall for her own protection.

  He made it impossible for her to ignore him. With the exception of Brian, the children adored him, and where her charges wandered, there she must follow. They begged to watch him exercise the horses, and when he did, she found herself staring at him from the kitchen window, transfixed by his grace and patience. She couldn’t help noticing his light touch with the mare he had hidden in the smithy on the night of his arrival. One tug of the reins, a few low words whispered in her ear, and the horse obeyed, trusting his mastery. Contrary to what Kate had initially believed, he wasn’t a man who lived for immediate pleasure—even if she might be a woman who secretly wanted him to kiss her again.

  “What did we do without him?” one of the maids whispered over Kate’s shoulder.

  Kate sighed. “We went about our work. We didn’t stand about gaping like carps half the day.”

  “Don’t you like him, miss?”

  “I’d like him better if he didn’t distract the children from their lessons.”

  Or distract her.

  “Brian! Etta! Charlie!” she called from the window. “It’s time to come inside and rehearse your lines for the play.”

  She saw the children, the little traitors, gaze up at Colin as if he could counteract Kate’s order. Instead, he slid off his horse, handed the reins to a sour-faced Lovitt, and herded the three children through the kitchen door. The thought crossed her mind that Colin would make a good father and that, despite his errant ways, he was a good man.

  His blue eyes roved over her with his typical impudence. “Do I have a part in your play?”

  “I’m sorry, Castle,” she said insincerely. “I wrote it before you arrived.”

  He leaned his hip against the butcher block, apparently not about to concede defeat. “Why don’t I help you with the scenery?”

  “Because I—because you—you have mud all over your boots, that’s why.” And because when he looked at her with that impudent expression, she could not think clearly.

  He looked down. “Heaven forbid. I must have stepped in something.”

  “Please go outside, sir.”

  She could feel the other servants watching, waiting to see who would win this battle. Kate steeled herself for a confrontation. But to her surprise, he merely blew her a kiss and backed out into the garden.

  “Well, I never,” Cook said. “Isn’t he the bold one?”

  “He’s got more sauce than a Christmas goose,” Charlie said, his mouth full of the biscuit he had pinched from the table.

  Cook lifted her brow. “He’s got his eye on Miss Kate—that’s what I think.”

  “Oh, really.” Kate glanced at one of the grinning housemaids. “Take the children upstairs now, please, and ask Nan to change their clothes.”

  “Trust me, Kate,” Cook said the instant the children left. “There’s something about that man. He’s not afraid of animals or amorous women.”

  “Well, then,” Kate said, mildly
incensed, “that wouldn’t affect me, would it? I’m not an animal. And I am not, by any flight of the imagination, an ‘amorous woman.’”

  Cook set down the scallions she was about to chop. “Perhaps it’s time you changed.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  “Begging is common, dear, and you were raised to better. Yes. You were brought up to marry a squire, a vicar, or a schoolteacher, so I imagine a groom is a come-down in expectations. But let’s see how he ends up working out and how long he lasts. Mr. Earling might take a liking to him.”

  “I doubt that will happen,” Kate said. She had managed not to worry about the moment when Colin would confront Mason, and now that the time was drawing nearer, she felt sick with anxiety. Wasn’t it enough that she maintained a semblance of normal life in what one could consider a seraglio? But if a duel took place—well, she supposed it was a blessing that the children had never witnessed any prior acts of violence.

  She glanced up to find Cook scrutinizing her like a broody hen. “Things can change, Kate. You never know. I’ve a sense that there’s more to Castle than meets the eye.”

  “What meets the eye is more than enough,” Kate retorted, uncorking a bottle of vinegar. “Oh, this is foul. Enough of this nonsense, anyway. What we should be discussing is the shopping list for the supper party.”

  “You aren’t going into the village after what happened in the garden?” one of the scullery maids said in apprehension.

  “We can’t starve because a few ruffians don’t approve of us. I won’t go alone. I never do.”

  “Take Castle with you, then,” Cook said.

  “Lovitt and Griswold can accompany me as they always do.”

  Cook snorted. “Lovitt and Griswold aren’t a quarter of the man Mr. Castle is.”

  “I heard that,” an offended voice said from the kitchen door, where Lovitt stood, his brows drawn together in displeasure.

  Kate shook her head. “Cook didn’t mean it, Lovitt.”

  “Yes, I did,” Cook said.

  Kate went to the door, taking the young man’s arm to placate him. “Would you like a cup of tea to settle you down?”

  “No. I’d like to stick the new help in a well to drown.”

  “Lovitt!”

  Cook turned white. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, lad. I got carried away.”

  He slapped his gloves on the table.

  “Mr. Earling led me to believe that I would be given that position when he came home. It’s an outrage, Mrs. Lawson making a total stranger the head groom. He’s taken over the whole house.”

  “That’s an exaggeration, Lovitt,” Cook said, pouring him a huge mug of tea. “He’s a novelty, that’s all, and if the master made you a promise, then all will be well when he returns. Sit down, my pet. We all need to be appreciated from time to time.”

  “He’s gonna bring trouble on this house,” Lovitt said, looking straight at Kate. “I feel it in my bones.”

  Chapter 16

  Kate spent the rest of the morning rehearsing her play in the salon with the children and servants. It was tradition to give everyone a part in her amateur productions, but Colin had arrived too late to be written in, and in all honesty, she wouldn’t know whether to cast him as hero or villain.

  It seemed that he wasn’t sure, either. She had sent the children upstairs to wash for dinner. The servants had returned to their regular chores, which left her with a welcome moment of quiet reflection. She stared absently at the tangled blond wig that had fallen on the steps to the stage.

  “Rapunzel?” Colin asked, reaching down an instant before she did.

  Startled, she recovered the wig that he was examining with unconcealed amusement. “No. Helen of Troy.”

  “Troy?” he said in a puzzled voice, peering over her shoulder to one of two tall pillars on the stage, against which rested a rickety ladder. “Isn’t that meant to be a tower?

  “No. It’s a column.”

  “I see.” He stared down at the wig, which she was nervously combing through with her fingers. “I assume that you’re playing Helen.”

  She looked up with a laugh of disbelief. “The most beautiful woman in the world? That would take some imagination.”

  “Not for me.” His gaze drifted over her face to the décolletage of her gown as if searching for her heart. “It isn’t dark at all in here.”

  She frowned, felt her blood quicken at the deep rasp of his voice. “What does that mean?” she asked in hesitation.

  “It means I couldn’t possibly mistake you for anyone else.”

  Her throat closed. She was certain now he had found her heart because it beat through her body with an intoxicating anticipation. She went still as he placed his hand at her hip. Mesmerized, she made no objection as he pulled her toward him. “And?” she asked faintly.

  His innocent smile belied the dark intentions in his eyes. “And when I kiss you, this time, I will know full well who you are because—”

  “I warned you—”

  “I warned you, too. It’s obvious that neither one of us is good at taking advice. Here you are again in my arms, and you know who I am.”

  “I know what you are—an undisciplined—”

  His kiss silenced her voice but aroused such a clamor of raw feeling inside her that she couldn’t begin to fight. What had happened to her principles? Had she forgotten how to breathe? He teased his tongue between her lips, a slow penetration that disarmed and pierced to the deepest part of her. The hard warmth of his body offered a refuge that felt too wonderful to refuse, even as her inner voice whispered that once she accepted his shelter, she would never be allowed to escape.

  Unfair. Unwise.

  “Sweet,” he whispered as his mouth seduced hers, sought and found the vulnerability that she had hidden away for years.

  She recognized in his eyes a shadow, the playfulness deepening into desperate hunger. His—or hers? She felt his hand coaxing her into the core of his body. She swayed, molded herself to the thickness that pressed against her skirts. Pale sunlight poured in through the windows. How indecent of her to submit to him without the cover of darkness to conceal her desire.

  “Even sweeter still,” he said against her mouth. “Put your hand around my neck.”

  She obeyed because she could not trust her balance. Why did his kisses provoke excitement when another man’s had filled her with panic? How could a look, a few words between them, flare into an intimacy more potent than any force she had ever known?

  Her body didn’t care why. It invited his decadent touch, encouraged this dangerous exhilaration. He lowered his head and kissed her throat. She shivered, breathless for endless moments before she realized that his other hand had stroked a path to her breast. Her nipples ached against her corset at his caress. It was more than she could endure. If it did not end now, she would be lost.

  He knew. He lifted his head, still holding her as she recaptured her control. She felt bereft, aware of a hollowness in her belly, a wanting she wished he had never unbound. Slowly she let her hand slide from his neck. Her body throbbed in complaint as he loosened his grasp.

  Still, they stood together, silent, unmoving, until she dredged up the nerve to lift her face to his again.

  His beauty hurt her eyes. His sensuality endangered her heart. It was perfectly clear that sooner or later he meant to possess her and that she could not trust herself in his presence.

  “Now we know,” he said, his voice laced with rue.

  She sighed. It took all her effort not to crumple on the steps. “What do we know? Each other? Have you mistaken intimacy for something more?”

  “No.” His eyes, so dark moments before, glinted with humor. “We know that we like kissing each other.”

  Her heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm. “Did I say that?”

  He lifted his hand and traced her bottom lip with his knuckle. “You melted the moment I touched you. You clung to me when I could have taken shameless advantage of your r
esponse. You could have broken free anytime during our kiss. It is not as if I had you chained to my side.”

  “That is true, sir. But perhaps instead of pointing out my weaknesses, you might do better to question your own resolve.”

  He frowned. “I chose to kiss you. It was an act of free will.”

  “Was it?” she asked daringly, the chance to retaliate too delicious to resist.

  His brows flew up. “Are you admitting that you enticed me?”

  She turned, staring at the stage.

  “I didn’t admit anything of the kind.”

  He laughed helplessly. “All right. Then what are you telling me?”

  She smiled at him over her shoulder. “That you might want to ask yourself how dallying with a governess will help you achieve a goal that has eluded you for thirteen years. If you are determined to seek justice, I doubt that you will find it in a kiss.”

  * * *

  He watched her step down from the stage and walk calmly from the salon, not quite certain what had just happened. She had called him undisciplined. Did she have any notion of the willpower he had exerted to limit his craving for her to a mere kiss? He could have seduced her on the spot if he’d set his mind to it.

  He had assumed she was innocent. She had implied otherwise.

  Now he wasn’t sure what to think.

  She kissed like a virgin. Yet she had a mouth on her like an untamed shrew. He wanted her. That was torture enough. Had he underestimated her or overestimated himself? Had she issued him a challenge? If so, it pained him to realize that her parting words had hit their target.

  He had come to this house with a clear mind; he had a plan to enact. He couldn’t afford to lose his edge over a woman he had no right to pursue.

  How in God’s name could he hope to trap a murderer when thoughts of romancing Miss Kate Walcott replaced those of his long-awaited revenge?

  Chapter 17

  “Madam, it’s time to start the day, or what’s left of it,” Kate said as she entered Georgette’s room that same afternoon and placed a tray of buttered toast and steaming coffee in a silver pot on the bedside table.