The Mistress Memoirs

by Jillian Hunter

  She laughed in rue. “I have no patience for men who hide in hedges or squander their lives seeking honor.”

  He combed his fingers through her hair. “What other kind of man is there?”

  “I’ve no idea,” she answered. “Nor do I have the curiosity or the freedom to find out.”

  “Would you have married him?” he asked, his voice as rough as gravel.

  She stared up at his face. “We’ll never know, will we?”

  “What did you see in him? What do you want?”

  “I want love, with all the trimmings,” she said, surprising even herself. “And if I can’t have that, then I’m not about to bother with the rest. I’m sorry if you don’t understand. Georgette doesn’t, either. Everything in between doesn’t interest me. I don’t have the time for frivolous pleasures.”

  “The time?”

  “Yes, sir. That is what I said.”

  “You do know that I want you.”

  “What was it that you said about Brian? Something to the effect of ‘He can’t have everything he wants when he wants it.’” She turned. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I live in a world of shadows. Sometimes I despair of the darkness I see—of what the children know. Ours isn’t a perfect life. But there are few options in our place. It is my job to keep them safe.”

  He could have thrown himself at her feet. “And who is to watch over you?”

  “Good night, sir.” She slipped around him with an elusive smile. “Don’t waste your worry on me. I’ll be fine.”

  * * *

  It wasn’t until Kate had reached the top of the staircase that Colin noticed Georgette standing in her doorway.

  He straightened. “How long have you been listening?”

  “Long enough to know that my concerns about you and Kate are justified. You must have been very engrossed in each other not to have seen me.”

  He waited until he was certain that Kate was inside her room. “Splendid. Now you and I are both guilty of eavesdropping. Shall we call it even between us?”

  She walked across the hall toward him. “We’re guilty of more than that. However, Kate isn’t. Do you really intend to pursue her?”

  “I never intended to become involved with her at all.”

  “But you have,” Georgette said, no trace of temper, only resignation in her voice. “Can you let her go?”

  “She isn’t mine to hold or release.”

  “I love her,” she said, “as the younger sister I always wanted. I am a whore, Colin. She is not.”

  He didn’t bother to deny his desire for Kate. He had known it ran deeper than the physical. “I don’t understand her. One moment she is warm to me, inviting. In the next she seems afraid to even look at me. There’s nothing more between her and me than flirtation. I think it was obvious after tonight that her heart had just been broken by that little boy who’s ashamed to defend her to his parents.”

  Her face reflected a bitter darkness. For a harrowing moment he swore she had ripped his chest open and peered inside as if looking for something he doubted she would find.

  “I’m not the same man I was thirteen years ago.”

  “I can see that. You carry far more potential for heartbreak.”

  He exhaled slowly. “No. No, I won’t be here long enough to cause her the pain that I caused you.”

  “But in that brief interval, you might as well seduce her?”

  “That’s a hypocritical warning coming from a woman who makes her living bleeding dry the romantic dreams of foolish men. Help me, Georgette. I don’t understand her. Is she innocent or not?”

  “If she wasn’t, would you consider her fair game?”

  “I don’t consider a desirable woman to be a conquest. But—”

  “—you can’t stop yourself?” She considered him in silence. “Perhaps I should tell you something that will influence your behavior once and for all.”

  “Please do.”

  She walked down the stairs and through a dark corridor to a small settee wedged between a pair of long lead-paned windows, to a place where the wall sconces were never lit and secret confessions encouraged. He followed and sat beside her. “I am breaking her confidence, and she will not forgive me for doing so. I will forgive myself because to keep a grudge is an utter waste of one’s vital energy.”

  “What confidence?”

  “Do you care?”

  He lowered his eyes. “God help me, Georgette. I have never cared so much.”

  She sighed. “I know her heart, Colin. I have entrusted her with not only my scandalous secrets, you being one of them, but with the upbringing of my children. And I promise that if you mistreat her, I will make it my life’s mission to destroy you, as you have made it yours to ruin Mason.”

  “There’s a vast difference between demanding honor and pursuing a woman.” He broke off. “What have you told her to make her afraid of me?”

  “Nothing. She was afraid of love the day she came to my door, and now I am going to betray her and tell you why.”

  “While you’re at it,” he said, “you might as well admit that Brian is my son.”

  “You bastard,” she said, her voice deepening. “Brian is mine.”

  “He is ours, Georgette.”

  Chapter 26

  Kate’s first experience with passion had broken her trust and scarred her body. And from that violation she had emerged as a caring woman, one still vulnerable to abuse.

  Everything began to make sense to Colin, and he wished he could start over from the night he had met her in the garden. No wonder she thought him arrogant. How had he not seen that she occupied the throne of power in the house? Her fear that he would usurp her authority was groundless, though. He questioned whether even his nemesis, Mason Earling, had ever dared to stand against Kate.

  She ruled the roost with a quiet voice, a stern eye, and the most formidable weapon a man would ever have to fight—a pure heart. She was cynical and innocent, self-righteous and unselfish. Sultry one moment, as sour as lemons the next. She fascinated and frustrated his private demons.

  It even made sense why, on the night of their initial encounter, he had assumed she was the mistress of the estate. In a practical sense she was. The servants sought her advice before taking action. The children obeyed her, when they obeyed anyone. Georgette consulted Kate before she took a lover.

  Colin felt the invisible strength of her influence. She was quietly intimidating. He could feel her study his every move. Did she realize that he was studying her?

  They had come to an impasse. 7N

  He didn’t know how to proceed. Should he give her time to come around? She seemed to have drawn away from him since he’d found out her secret. He wasn’t sure if she was ashamed or angry, or if she even knew that Georgette had betrayed her.

  He would have to regain her trust.

  He would also have to convince the rest of the household that he wasn’t the reason she had run in from the garden after Stanley’s disastrous visit. Lovitt was the only servant who had openly defected to Colin’s camp, grateful that Colin hadn’t throttled him for sneaking to Ramsey Hay.

  Colin knew this because he had walked into the kitchen yesterday morning in the midst of a conversation about his standing among the servants.

  “He’s got my full support,” Lovitt had asserted, banging his fist down on the table with such force that the spoons played a lively game of leapfrog and hit the floor.

  “He’s got to redeem himself to Kate for whatever he did to upset her,” Cook replied with a dark glare in his direction. “And those were clean spoons, young man.”

  Redeem himself.

  To Kate Walcott. Governess and companion. History no longer unknown.

  She brought out every feral Boscastle battle instinct that flowed through his veins. It wasn’t in his nature to let her go without a fight.

  * * *

  She had barely spoken to him in three days. She took her tea and meals only after everyone else, ch
ildren included, had theirs. Almost daily he invited her to come riding with her charges, but she refused to ride. She watched only out of concern that he might encourage Brian to imitate skills he hadn’t practiced.

  “He has to learn eventually,” Colin said forcefully when she questioned him in the paddock. “If he’d been raised by a proper father, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

  “If his father couldn’t stay long enough to guide—” She trailed off, and Colin pretended not to notice. He knew now that Brian was his son, and so did Kate. But he was still working up the courage to talk with the boy. And he and Georgette had yet to work out a solution that would be best for Brian.

  Kate spoke quietly again. “It wasn’t Mr. Lawson’s fault that he died when the children were young. It wasn’t Mr. Lawson’s fault that Brian grew up to be a rebel who questioned rules.”

  A Boscastle trait that.

  “I’d prefer it if you and the children stayed as close to me as possible, considering the attacks on the manor.”

  She raised her brow. “I’m afraid that would disrupt our reading and history lessons. It’s difficult to compete for their attention when you are forever present to distract them. You are an exciting character, sir, and children crave excitement.”

  He smiled inwardly. It was not the time to tease her when she was beginning to open up to him again. “All three of them should learn to sit a horse.”

  “As governess, I insist that academics come first.”

  “Then perhaps Brian should be sent to a proper university.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He tried not to smile. “What I meant is that growing up in a freethinking environment does not provide the discipline he needs.”

  She frowned. “On the other hand, it does offer the children a variety of experiences that open the eye to the unoriginality of a common life.”

  He glanced at her. Her cheeks glowed with passion. He decided that her cool disdain defied not him as much as it did society. Nor did it fool him for a minute. She knew as well as he did that the children deserved better, but the choices offered them had never been hers to make.

  “How do you think he’ll fare if he’s plucked right from your gentle instruction into university and hasn’t learned how to defend himself from attack?”

  “Attack,” she said, paling. “I can understand that it’s best for him to go to—”

  “—Eton. And, oh, what a charming time he’ll have there. Bullying, overcrowding, food you’d hesitate to throw to hogs. He’ll be beaten until the day comes that he’s big enough to beat other boys.”

  She looked shaken. “I’ve spoken to Madam about fencing instructions. We have been waiting for—”

  “—Mason to come home. Yes, yes, yes. Murderer and epitome of English masculinity. We’re all waiting for the elusive Mr. Earling.”

  She shook her head in what he surmised was a refusal to admit his remark had upset her. Clearly it was one thing for them to engage in a skirmish over Brian’s education or Colin’s sneaking up behind her on the stairs and whispering, “Boo!” while the children went into hysterics. But the subject of a murder plot and its potential consequences was, unsurprisingly, not the fastest method of regaining a woman’s favor.

  It would merely make life easier all the way around if she would simply capitulate, because he swore on his life that she could not resist him any more than he could her.

  “—and furthermore, I think you’re more a rogue now than you were when you ruined Madam.”

  He blinked. “Were you talking to me?”

  “Do you see any other rogues in the vicinity?”

  “No.” But the Coldsteam Guards could have marched by and he wouldn’t have paid much notice. Kate had a talent for taking over his thoughts. And that mouth of hers. Sensual, soft, inviting—until she opened it and toads jumped out.

  Now she was wagging her finger at his chin. “So, your way of not answering a question is to pretend you didn’t hear it?”

  “What question?”

  She went out of her way to avoid him. He did everything he could to make her aware of his presence.

  He challenged her to acknowledge him. He might as well have been the ghost Griswold sometimes still thought he was.

  He slept in the loft.

  And he wanted to sleep with her.

  She was warm and affectionate and trusting with the other servants and the children. But if they met each other alone in the course of an errand, she drew into her shell, she shrank from him, and yet in her eyes he swore he saw a lonely plea that he wished he could answer. At least now he understood what had caused her pain. It made a difference. It made him more determined that she would soon be his to protect.

  Chapter 27

  Kate finished her lessons with the children at fifteen minutes past noon every day for their luncheon and play hour. Typically she spent the afternoon with Georgette, who often was too sleepy to talk and asked her to come back in a few hours. On other days Georgette gave her a list of requests for her tea, asked Kate to write letters to old friends or to jot down an episode for her memoirs that she had recalled during the night.

  Kate’s plans for an evening off so that she could put the polishing touches on her play and go through a rehearsal were dashed when Georgette rang for her after supper.

  Kate hastened up the stairs to Madam’s room, ignoring the shrieks of laughter from the candlelit hall below. Given time and opportunity, Sir Colin, the great tyrant, would take over the world. It was an hour past bedtime, but did he care? He wouldn’t have to tend to and teach three irritable children in the morning.

  She knocked at Georgette’s room. “Who is it now and what do you want?” was the encouraging reply.

  She opened the door. She paused for a moment before complaining that Colin was undermining her authority again. Georgette had obviously taken her nightly cordial; she lounged on her couch in her robe, a plate of sweetmeats and piles of unopened letters in her lap. Griswold had just stirred the fire into a frenzy worthy of Hephaestus.

  “Oh, good, Kate, you’re here. Read me these letters from London. I think I’ve been invited—”

  Kate launched into her oration before Georgette could squeeze in another word. “His presence is deplorable. I won’t take another minute of it. Of him.”

  “Madam?” Griswold said cautiously.

  Georgette motioned him toward the door.

  He escaped into the dressing closet, realized his mistake, and exited through the door into the hall. Kate resisted the impulse to fling herself to the floor in frustration and flay her fists and feet. But that would be undignified. Instead, she darted to the corner and swept down a cobweb that one of the chambermaids had missed.

  “What has he done now?” Georgette asked carefully.

  “Nothing.”

  “Ah.”

  “‘Ah’ what?”

  “Bring me the face powder. I could use your nose to find a keg of brandy in a smugglers’ cave.”

  “I demand you put a stop to it.”

  “Maybe you should chew garlic after every meal.”

  “Has that ever worked for you?”

  “I’ve never had reason to try it,” Georgette said, her brows drawn in a frown. “Attracting a gentleman’s interest is my specialty.”

  She curtsied in Georgette’s direction. “Thank you ever so for the absolutely unhelpful advice. With your leave I’ll try again to get the children into their beds.”

  Georgette’s eyes widened. “They’re still up? At this hour? My goodness. Take this plate on your way out, won’t you? And come back as soon as the children are settled. I’m always here to lend an ear.”

  Kate swooped down, took possession of the tray, and checked for burning candles before she left the room. She would have to summon one of the chambermaids to bank that hideous fire and help Georgette to bed. For now she had to lure the children away from their hero Castle and act as the villainess who spoiled all their fun.

  A masterful
voice whispered over her shoulder. “Here. Allow me to take that for you.”

  She would have dropped the platter in fright had he not deftly rescued it from her hands. Her heart pounded double time in her ears. She felt dizzy, looking past him for the children. “Where are they hiding?”

  “Who?” he asked, peering around the dark, silent hall. “Are we under assault again? Has someone broken into the house?”

  “I do not find these bedtime games amusing.”

  The faintest smile appeared on his face. “Are we playing a bedtime game? If so, may I have a moment to put down this platter? Half-eaten food isn’t conducive to creating a romantic mood.”

  “Where did you put the children?” she asked without any pretense of patience.

  “The children? Good heavens, at this hour they’ve gone to bed. I had to take them up to the nursery and awaken Nan to make sure they were tucked in for the night. None of us knew where you had gone. You weren’t walking alone in the garden again, were you?”

  She looked up into his face, catching herself before he could unbalance her again. “How unfair,” she said without thinking, “that you and Georgette were both gifted at birth with such angelic beauty and cunning hearts.”

  His eyes warmed. “Don’t you realize how beautiful you are?”

  “Your tongue forms lies as smoothly as a serpent’s.”

  “Your tongue is sharper than a gypsy dagger.” He hesitated. He gave her the impression that he was waiting for her to make the next move. Georgette was right. She couldn’t avoid him. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” he said with a frown.

  “Not for the blink of an eye.”

  He nodded slowly. “Well, good for you. I wouldn’t trust me, either, in your place.”

  “And another thing,” she said, winding up again like a pocket watch. “Why should we send Brian to school when abuse is a certainty? How is he going to learn the elements of Latin when he’s afraid to walk down the hall?”

  “You’ve been living in your own world too long, Miss Walcott. His spine needs strengthening. Young gentlemen cannot rely on iron-boned corsets for their courage.”