The Mistress Memoirs

by Jillian Hunter

Chapter 24

  For a moment Colin debated chasing after the apothecary’s boy to give him a few choice words, if not another thump on the head. But he didn’t want Kate to be alone. He wanted to distract her from her humiliation, help her forget the jackass and his bouquet of battered flowers.

  He wanted to convince her that no man in his right mind would let a woman like her go. She was strong and warmhearted, and what did it matter that she worked for a whore? She wasn’t one, though Colin didn’t doubt she would command a fortune if she ever chose—

  He waited for her to return to the house. She couldn’t really have loved the unappreciative sod, or she would not have given Colin the chance to pleasure her. She wouldn’t have come to the loft if she wasn’t concerned about, drawn to, Colin despite herself. But he didn’t know her secret feelings, her dreams.

  He knew nothing about her.

  She knew too much about him, or at least about the selfish pleasure-seeker who had thoughtlessly ruined Georgette’s life.

  He looked up and saw a light behind Kate’s window curtains. How could he console her without revealing that he’d been peeping through the bushes to invade her privacy? How could he make her believe in her own worth, that her sexual appeal was only a small part of it, when he had consistently let his penis do the thinking during the short time he had known her?

  He walked back to the house, amire in his thoughts, and let himself in through the front door. Instead of the usual bevy of household servants fussing over him, he was met by a band of staff members whose cold stares could have turned him to stone.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked carefully, not about to reveal Kate’s secret rejection even to those who loved her. He would protect her pride, dammit.

  No one answered. Not even his staunchest ally, Bledridge, the butler.

  “I know,” Colin said, sighing. “A servant is supposed to enter by the back door. And”—he looked down—“I didn’t scrape off my boots. But—”

  To his amazement the small band swept from him as one and proceeded to file out of the lobby and into the servants’ hall.

  “What did I do now?” he said into the void of silence that enveloped him.

  “As if you didn’t know,” a scathing voice said from the floor above.

  He recognized Georgette standing at the top of the stairs like a queen about to order an execution. He ran up to meet her, two steps at a time. By the hostile look on her face, she must have an idea what latest sin he had committed to turn everyone against him.

  He hadn’t sneaked into Kate’s room early this morning, as he’d often imagined doing. He hadn’t talked to her at length since the rainstorm, and the kitchen help hadn’t caught him staring at her across the table because she had taken her meals upstairs.

  So what had he done?

  “What is it?” he demanded as he reached Georgette’s side.

  “Follow me,” she said in an icy voice. “And please do not speak until we are alone.”

  He heard whispering from above. He glanced at the upper floor and saw three faces watching through the staircase railing. “Where are we going and why?” he asked Georgette.

  “She ought to put you in the dungeon and lose the key like the earl did,” Brian said.

  Georgette scowled up at her children. “Go to bed this instant.”

  “Why should we?” Brian asked.

  “Because you were told to,” Colin said.

  “So?”

  Etta and Charlie gasped, turning to each other in gleeful horror. “You’ve had it now, Brian,” Etta said. “After all Castle did to save you when you ran away in your stupid temper.”

  “I don’t care. He made one of our allies cry. You know the rules. An enemy to one of us is an enemy to all.”

  Colin glowered up at the older boy. “I’ll deal with your insolence tomorrow in the stables,” he said as he reached the second floor.

  Georgette motioned him into the open door to her suite. “You’ll deal with him after I have dealt with you.”

  He looked down into her face. Whatever offense he’d committed had to be serious. She hadn’t brushed out her hair, powdered her face, or rouged her lips. He had to tread carefully before he found an uncluttered spot to stand. The bedchamber looked like a battlefield that had been bombed with fans, stockings, and furbelows.

  “What is it?”

  She walked up to him and slapped him across the face. She didn’t pack enough strength in the blow to break anything. But she’d made a point. He was still a scoundrel in her eyes.

  “What has come over everyone?” He strode to the mirror, catching his foot on a plumed turban, and stared at the welt that covered half his face.

  “As if you didn’t know!”

  He turned, staying clear of her reach. “I don’t know.”

  “She ran into the house crying and locked herself in her room before anyone could ask her what was wrong.”

  Colin lowered his head. Kate hadn’t been crying when she’d run through the garden, and if she hadn’t wanted to explain to Georgette what had happened, then why should he?

  “What the devil does this have to do with me?”

  “I heard a noise below in the garden, and I peeked through the curtains. What do you think I saw?”

  “Grass? Trees? A prowler—”

  She shook her head. “I might not be able to understand great literature, but I do know a few things about love.”

  He folded his arms, keeping her in his view. “What exactly have I done to merit a crack across the chops like that? I accept responsibility for my old sins. But what did I do tonight?”

  She picked a path to the window. “That’s what everyone wants to know. What did you do to my companion to make her cry? I haven’t seen her weep like that since the day I employed her. And she’s had plenty of cause since that day to cry.”

  He tucked away that comment to mull over at another time. Kate knew more of Colin’s embarrassing secrets than any other woman but Georgette. And Georgette had gone out of her way to hide who and what she was.

  But Kate—Colin didn’t have any idea who she had been before he’d met her. She had never mentioned her past. No parents. No siblings. She had to have come from somewhere. She had to have learned from someone how to read and write, how to comfort and take care of others, the most important person being the boy he suspected was his son. Who was she? Why was he so drawn to a woman who was such an enigma?

  “What did I do?” he asked again, irritated that he’d been so intent on himself he hadn’t been paying close enough attention to what was happening under his very nose.

  “I’ve forgiven you for the past, Colin, but I won’t allow you to plot designs of an amorous nature against my companion.”

  “Designs—”

  “She went out into the garden alone. As you had a few moments earlier. Less than a half hour afterward, you both returned, separately. Katie came flying upstairs as though her heart had been broken.”

  “That wasn’t my fault. All I did was stand behind a bush and behave with some discretion.”

  “How utterly disgusting! Anyone could have seen you from the windows. Some acts are meant to be private.”

  He blinked. “It wasn’t that kind of behavior. I was hiding so that I wouldn’t embarrass her.”

  “Oh, Colin, don’t expect me to believe that. I’ve known you for too long.”

  “It’s true,” he said in frustration.

  “You didn’t touch her?”

  “No.” Well, not tonight, except in his thoughts. “Your companion is an attractive young woman. Perhaps you should interrogate her.”

  “I’m questioning you, Colin, and I have the strongest sense that you are evading a truthful answer.”

  “Perhaps one of your former clients came to the house and—”

  “My clients know better than that,” she said, turning in a swish of her skirts from the window.

  “It never occurred to you that one of your clients would propos
ition her or seek her company?” Hadn’t anyone else seen Kate’s caller? Had he come to the door?

  “My staff and my children are untouchable.”

  “Well, I’m not one of your clients, and I didn’t make her cry tonight.” But he knew what had, and he could keep a secret as well as anyone else in this house. He turned. “Good night.”

  “Are you finding the stables comfortable, Colin?”

  He paused at the door. “I’ll say one thing for sleeping in the loft. I don’t have to listen to a damn drama unfolding every few hours.”

  “Drama,” she said, scoffing at him. “Listen to the original player.”

  Chapter 25

  Without another word to Georgette, he opened the door and turned to leave. Kate stood before him, smiling in curiosity, not a tear in her eye.

  “Oh, excuse me, madam, sir,” she said brightly. “I didn’t realize you were entertaining.”

  “She isn’t,” Colin said before Georgette could reply.

  Georgette glanced up at him appraisingly. “Castle thought he saw a prowler in the garden.”

  Kate edged into the room between them, a notebook and pen in hand. “I’m afraid that might have been me. I went outside for a breath of air and broke the heel of one of my favorite slippers. I was so upset I ran into the house weeping like one of the children.”

  “A broken heel,” Georgette said slowly. “That isn’t like you at all, Kate.”

  Kate gave a little sniffle. “Maybe I have caught a cold.”

  “Then why aren’t you in bed?” Colin asked.

  “I have a few questions to ask Madam before we retire,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in a way that suggested he was not invited to stay.

  “Well, then, I’ll leave you to your scandals.”

  * * *

  Kate seated herself at the escritoire, purposefully evading Georgette’s stare. “I know it’s late, but I’ve found several chapters that need to be revised. We’ve jumped back and forth in time so often that I’m confused.”

  “What happened tonight?”

  Kate looked up. “When?”

  “When you ran into the house weeping like a fountain.”

  “It was nothing.”

  Georgette pulled a chair up to the desk and clasped Kate’s face in her hands. “Griswold said you had a message, but he couldn’t remember who it was from. All he could recall was that you hurried out into the garden to meet whoever sent it.”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “Who did you meet in the garden?” Georgette asked coolly.

  “Stanley.”

  Georgette gasped in comprehension. “The one who works for the apothecary?”

  Kate smiled at her. “Don’t you ever listen to me, madam?”

  “What did he want? Have we run out of Etta’s tonic? I think I might have taken the last dose.”

  Kate looked down at the desk, suddenly not trusting herself to speak.

  “Wait,” Georgette said, her eyes glassy with realization. “Now I see. You mentioned that you thought he was on the verge of proposing to you.” Georgette put her hand across the papers Kate was pretending to read. “Is that what happened, Kate? He asked you to marry him and you’ve accepted. What about me? Our memoirs? The children? This house will collapse without you. You—you refused him, I hope?”

  Kate shook her head, laughing in reluctant admiration. There was something inspirational about a woman who always put her own needs above others. “He didn’t ask me to marry him.”

  “He didn’t?” In an instant Georgette the Hedonist became Madam the Champion for her beloved companion.

  “Then what is wrong with you? Who made you cry? I’ve never had the sense that you truly cared for him. Are you sure this doesn’t concern Colin? Did that scoundrel embarrass you in any way? Would you like—”

  “No. Don’t do anything. It wasn’t Colin, or Castle. I broke the heel of my slipper. The pink one you gave me.”

  “Do not lie to me, Kate Walcott. Your eyes are rimmed red like a rabbit’s. You look a little unhinged. I’ve never seen you cry over a shoe. I have a closet of them at your disposal.”

  “Fine.” Kate sat up straighter, her elbow poised on the desk. “I shall tell you the truth. Stanley did not propose marriage to me tonight. He proposed that I become his mistress after he weds the well-bred young lady his parents have chosen for him.”

  “The pig!” Georgette laid her hand over Kate’s. “As if I’d allow you to sell yourself to a mere apprentice!”

  Kate had to smile. “I don’t intend to sell myself to anybody.”

  Georgette lifted her hand away, clearly relieved. “I wish I could say that I’m sorry, but I know it’s for the best.”

  “So do I,” Kate said ruefully.

  “Did he attempt—”

  “I took care of him, madam. With your shoe.”

  “Oh, dear. I was afraid when Colin came in right after you that he had caused some of his old mischief. All of us in the house did.”

  Kate stared at her. “He came in right after I did?”

  “Yes. We all assumed that he had done something to upset you.”

  “He was in the garden?” Kate asked slowly.

  “Nightly patrol, and all that.”

  “Oh.” Kate swallowed. She and Stanley had not heard the cat in the hedge. The rustling had been made by a larger predator. Which meant that Colin had listened to all or a good part of her debasing rejection.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To my room.”

  “Not to cry?”

  Kate smiled. “Oh, no. I’ve a few lines to study for the play.”

  * * *

  She left the room, so engrossed in thought she was startled by the firm hand that reached out of the shadows to draw her against the wall. “Kate. Shh. It’s only me.”

  “You,” she whispered, turning her face from his. “I’m quite disgusted with you for eavesdropping in the bushes. If you make fun of me, I swear you’ll be sorry.”

  “I wouldn’t dare. I witnessed how dangerous a shoe can become in your hands.”

  “That’s exactly what I meant, you busybody. Let me go.”

  “Not yet.”

  He turned, stepping into her until she stood pinned between the wall and his hard torso. At her left stood a long table on which were displayed a collection of Chinese figurines. She saw him follow her gaze in concern.

  “Kate, are you all right?”

  She shrank against the wall. She wanted to escape, to hide, to become invisible, to busy herself until she was too tired to think. Colin did not remind her in the least of Lord Overton, but this scenario did.

  “Kate, don’t shy away from me. Please. I won’t touch you or do anything that you don’t like. Give me a moment. Trust me?”

  She wanted to. Of all the men she’d met, he was the one she wanted to trust, and yet she knew she could not. “Why did you have to hear everything?” she said. “Stanley was right. You’re wrong. I’m not as innocent as you think.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “How do you know?” she said, defiance in her eyes.

  “You showed me last night. I’m a threat to your innocence.”

  “My heart hasn’t been innocent for a long time.”

  “Neither has mine.”

  She stared up into his drawn face. “You saw what I did to him. Was that something a well-behaved woman would do?”

  His eyes darkened in contemplation. “My female cousins did that sort of thing all the time when we teased them. I have to admit, though, in all my years I have never seen a slipper put to better use. He’ll have a hard time explaining the mark on his head to his parents.”

  “I was mortified,” she said in a lost voice. “I didn’t know I still had that much anger left inside me.”

  “Left inside you from what, Kate?” he asked cautiously.

  “From—it must have been from the night we were attacked in
the garden.”

  “I’m not convinced,” he said, catching the hand she raised to push him away. “I noticed that you weren’t wearing any slippers when you left Georgette’s room. Unless—should I check you for hairpins or other concealed weapons?”

  “You impudent—”

  His mouth came down on hers, stealing her unspoken words, her breath. She reached back clumsily for balance, knocking over one of the figurines on the table beside her. Breaking their kiss, Colin reached down to clasp the porcelain lady from her fall. “I’ve got her,” he said. “She’s safe now.”

  She laced her free arm around his neck, whispering, “No, she isn’t.”

  She stroked her hand through the hair at his nape. She caressed his shoulder, the muscles of his back, until he lifted his head and looked into her eyes with a black desire that made her forget she had sworn she would never forgive or talk to him again.

  His smile was strained. “I think that’s enough. You’re entering dangerous territory—for a virgin.”

  A heady feeling of freedom swept through her. “You’re showing remarkable restraint—for a Visigoth.”

  “I’m not going to tup you up against the wall in a hallway for your first time. Perhaps once we are better acquainted. You see, I really don’t know anything about you. I don’t know when or where you were born.”

  “Perhaps I don’t want you to know.”

  “But you know so much about me,” he said wryly. “Is that fair?”

  “Nothing in life is fair, sir.”

  “Now you sound like a whore, and I do not like it.”

  “What is it to you?”

  “You are not one.”

  “Who’s to say?”

  “I am.”

  She traced her fingertips across his lips. He closed his eyes momentarily, his expression indefinable.

  “May I go now, sir?” she whispered.

  “No.” He opened his eyes to stare at her. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

  “Why not?” she whispered, shrugging her pale shoulder. “If you heard anything of our conversation, then you know that what he said is true. No proper gentleman would want me as his wife.”

  “I have no patience for hypocrites,” he said quietly.