The Mistress Memoirs

by Jillian Hunter

  “Brian and I will go wherever you go.”

  “Then we’ll be on the road early Sunday morning with Heath and Julia. They have offered to let us stay in their town house until we put down roots.”

  She thought of her dream, of her own home, of brothers and sisters for Brian. She had not been back to London since leaving there in shame. What if Earling and Hay escaped? Worse, what if they proved more dangerous when cornered than during the years they had eluded Colin? She wished that this night would never end. Everyone she loved was gathered around her in one place. London had come to mean loss to her. Yet she had to believe it would be different now. She wasn’t returning as a servant, but as Colin’s wife. Please, she prayed. Let the past not repeat itself. Let London offer solace and not pain.

  * * *

  Sunday morning began in chaos. Kate met Colin’s brothers during a rushed breakfast, and both treated her with touching respect. She had said her private farewells the night before to Georgette and to the servants who had been her family. The two women promised to take tea once a week together in London, to outshine each other at the opera, and to start a literary salon in the town house Georgette would purchase from her publishing success.

  But at the last minute, Etta and Charlie vanished and no one on the estate could remember seeing them at breakfast. Heath and Julia, waiting in their carriage, disembarked to join the hunt. Soon the Marquess of Sedgecroft’s senior footman arranged a search, lords, ladies, and servants splitting into innumerable parties to find the missing children.

  “Might they have fallen in the lake?”

  “Are they hiding in the house?”

  “I don’t want to even think it, but could they have been snatched?”

  “From Sedgecroft’s estate?”

  It was Sebastien, accompanied by Brian and four wolfhounds, who found the two miscreants playing in unholy glee a half mile from the house at the ditch that had been built as a defense and for decades had posed a bog-filled menace.

  Etta and Charlie had been racing across the rickety footbridge in the hope it would collapse just as they crossed to the other side. It had not, and they’d scrambled up the muddy incline in complete disregard for safety or hygiene.

  Kate stared at the filthy twosome in a grateful fury. It was a disgrace. The dogs, the children dripping bog mud in the courtyard, the senior footman’s glance branding her a derelict governess, for who else could take the blame if not the person who had raised the little heathens? To underscore her indignity, it seemed as if every guest at the house party had gathered behind her in the courtyard. “How embarrassing,” she whispered, choking not only on the words but on the pungent stench of Lord Philbert’s cigar. “What if the bridge had collapsed? Where do these fiendish ideas come from? Are you possessed of wrathful spirits?”

  Charlie wrinkled his nose. “Sir Colin said last night that he and his brothers and all the cousins did it.”

  “Did it?”

  “Dared the bridge to break.”

  Kate looked at Colin, who only shook his head in mute rebuttal. “Well, I must thank you,” she said in heartfelt gratitude to Sebastien.

  He expelled a sigh. “It was nothing,” he said in a subdued voice. “There are times, I suppose, when the sins of the past work to our benefit. At least I knew where to look.”

  Chapter 45

  Mason had gone numb with shock as he read the announcement in the Morning Chronicle. The news could not be true. Sir Colin Boscastle had married Miss Katherine Walcott in Kent at the Marquess of Sedgecroft’s country estate. The recently wed couple were temporarily staying here in London with relatives before setting up a permanent residence.

  He couldn’t breathe. His breakfast toast rose in his throat. He pictured Georgette’s comely governess, who had been unfailingly polite and kind to him. Had Hay known of this? What did it mean? Hay had already eaten and left for the wharves.

  He read the announcement again. There was no mention of Georgette. What had become of her? The children? He closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he defied Hay and written to her again? He almost wished Boscastle would walk into this room and kill him. Death was preferable to the fear that had become an invisible noose around his neck.

  Even after he hid aboard the ship bound for India tonight, he would not feel safe. He might survive a storm at sea only to be murdered by pirates or one of the mercenaries sailing on the same vessel. If he reached India alive, he would be alone in a foreign land. He had no friends, no connections there.

  What did Georgette think of him? Would she ever truly understand that he had loved her since they were children?

  * * *

  Heath Boscastle and his wife resided in a modest town house on St. James’ Street. It was a quiet place, a little too quiet for Kate’s liking. She missed Georgette and the children. Of course, she had Brian, and they had Colin to themselves.

  Well, not entirely. Her husband spent their first day closed up in the study with Lord Heath and various gentlemen. Many of Heath’s friends, Julia confided, worked for the Home Office to prevent subversive activities against the government.

  “I should have remembered my history,” Kate said as the two ladies shopped on Bond Street the next afternoon. “There are always plots and intrigues hatching to overthrow the Crown.”

  “Not to mention the spies employed by a famous duchess—one of whom is Sebastien’s wife.”

  Kate hurried toward their parked carriage. “A duchess—spying?”

  “Not the type of spying you’d imagine. Her Grace employs ladies of the court, servants, and street vendors to spy for her.”

  “Who are they spying on? Criminals and jewel thieves?”

  “They’ve snared a few, but not on purpose. They spy on other women in society. Who is sleeping with whose husband? What color gown is a countess planning to wear at a ball to steal the show, and how much did she pay to have it made?”

  “Intrigues of the highest importance,” Kate said with a laugh.

  “Do not underestimate the intensity of female rivalry in the beau monde. I believe Sebastien’s wife has a dear friend in the duchess.”

  “You aren’t speaking of the Duchess of Wellington?” Kate asked, stopping for the footman to release the carriage steps.

  “I might be.” Julia climbed up with a laugh. “What secret passions do you bring to the family?”

  She was about to say, “Writing and putting on amateur plays,” when Colin’s low voice from inside the carriage answered for her, “Her passion is me. It’s really because of her that I’m rejoining the pack.”

  He half rose, drawing her down beside him. His eyes flickered over her with the possessive heat that had become familiar, even if it still unbalanced her. But she sensed a wariness behind the warmth; in fact, the moment she turned to talk to him, he stared past her to the street, frowning as if he expected another passenger to join them.

  She glanced around and saw a gentleman strolling by, doffing his hat casually to the occupants of the carriage. “That was Sir Daniel Mallory,” Julia said in surprise. “Is that coincidence, Colin, or has Heath asked him for help?”

  He took Kate’s hand; his firm clasp felt protective. “Sir Daniel Mallory is a former Runner who works primarily for private individuals,” he said to Kate. “Yes, Heath thought it wouldn’t hurt for him to act as a guard until Mason is found.”

  Julia frowned. “Wouldn’t it be wiser to put his experience to use helping with the search?”

  Colin blew out a sigh. “Perhaps. If we had not been dealing with men who believe shooting at innocent woman and children is justified.” He drew the crumpled edition of the Morning Chronicle out from his long-tailed coat. “And if this announcement had not been published for all of London’s social enlightenment.”

  “Your wedding announcement?” Julia guessed.

  “I’m afraid so.” He squeezed Kate’s hand. “Under normal circumstances I would not have wished to keep our marriage secret for a single hour. But of course
news travels.”

  “Perhaps I should take Brian elsewhere,” Kate said thoughtfully.

  “I hope that won’t be necessary,” Colin said, and although Kate knew he meant to reassure her, she felt only a foreboding. “But I would feel better if you both stayed close to the house until we are sure there is no danger to you.”

  Chapter 46

  Kate wanted to go for a walk. Everyone in Lord Heath’s house that night betrayed some sign of restless tension. No one had exchanged more than a polite word or two at supper. Even Heath’s massively built footman, Hamm, so cheerful the day Kate had met him, stood now by the window of the drawing room like a gigantic shadow of gloom.

  Kate lost at cards against Julia so many times that they quit by silent accord in the middle of the last game.

  Sir Gabriel had arrived after supper with two of Colin’s Boscastle cousins, Lords Devon and Drake. The three men promised to take Brian riding in the park the following day.

  Kate knew why.

  It was because Colin, Lord Heath, and Sir Daniel Mallory were sequestered in Heath’s study, plotting what they meant to do tonight.

  Kate glanced up and saw Brian standing in the doorway. “Do you want to play a hand?”

  “With you two?” He grimaced, glancing at the footman, who, Kate guessed, had sent him a sympathetic look. “I’d rather go out to the garden.”

  “Is it all right, do you think?” she whispered to Julia.

  “I’d imagine,” Julia said in an undertone. “You can peek out at him from the kitchen window if it makes you feel better. But I wouldn’t let him catch you.”

  Kate nodded as if she agreed, but when Julia picked up a magazine, she looked at the clock on the mantel and decided he could have five minutes alone before she checked. It would give her another excuse to walk by Lord Heath’s study. She and Julia had surmised that the three men had agreed to take action tonight, which could only mean they had located Mason and his solicitor. Kate knew that blood would be spilled before morning. Whose she would not dare to speculate.

  Kate lasted three minutes before she eased out of her chair and edged to the door. The behemoth footman didn’t say a word. Julia merely smiled, continuing to look through her magazine. “I’ll only peek once from the kitchen window,” Kate promised. “Brian won’t even see me.”

  * * *

  Colin turned his head, his concentration disturbed by light footsteps in the hall. His wife, he thought, forcing her tempting image from his mind. After tonight, God willing, he would have no greater aim in life than to indulge her and train up his son. Perhaps even the breach between him and Sebastien could be mended.

  Heath’s voice drew him back to the present. “So you are confident that Hay’s plan is to leave England in the next day or two?”

  Sir Daniel frowned. He had not removed his coat, nor had he taken his hand once from the walking stick that rested against his armchair. “Hay has leased cheap lodgings under an assumed name in Piccadilly. He withdrew all his funds from the bank yesterday morning. Quite a tidy sum, although most of the firm’s creditors have gone unpaid for months.”

  “May I review the invoices and account books that you have acquired?” Heath asked, his brow drawn.

  “By all means,” Sir Daniel said. “I don’t have them with me. I can send my assistant to bring them to you within the hour.”

  Heath shook his head. “I won’t have time for reading tonight.”

  “There is an answer in those accounts,” Colin said, closing his eyes for a moment. “But I don’t know what it is.”

  Heath stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Why are there creditors Hay feels comfortable dismissing while others he keeps current?” He stood. The flame of the single candle danced to and fro across the maps of Egypt that covered the wall. “Where is Earling at this moment?”

  Sir Daniel’s hand closed around the handle of his cane. “Hidden inside Hay’s rooms, one assumes. The housekeeper next door said she has seen him peering like a prisoner through the window on several occasions.”

  Heath looked across his desk at Colin. “If we wait until the morning, there is a chance he will elude you again. I suggest that we act shortly after the lights are extinguished in his lodgings. Agreed, gentlemen?”

  Sir Daniel nodded.

  Colin answered, “Yes, although I have to confess that I would go there now if you had not tempered my urgency.”

  Heath smiled gravely. “I’d feel more at ease if our wives and Brian were staying at Grayson’s Park Lane house. If I am not out of place, I suggest that we inform your brothers of our plan and allow them to participate. And, I think, the police should know that there might be a spot of trouble in Piccadilly tonight.”

  Chapter 47

  Mason had taken a hackney to St. James’ Street and hidden in a public house until it was dark. If Hay realized Mason had escaped his “protective” captivity, thus jeopardizing their plans to flee, he would desert Mason in an instant.

  But if Colin Boscastle spotted Mason loitering on the street behind his cousin’s garden, Mason would be dead before he could utter a word in his defense.

  He gripped the small package in his hand. He could have sent it to Georgette, but she and her younger children appeared to have fallen off the earth. She had to be inside the town house. Where else could she have found enough funds when to all appearances he had left her without the support he promised?

  Now he waited, debating whether he had the courage to knock at Lord Heath’s door and put an end to it all. He doubted anyone in the Boscastle family would believe him, but in the end it was only Georgette’s opinion that mattered.

  He drew behind a parked carriage at the clanking of keys, a woman’s voice calling out softly. She was a housemaid, to judge by her cap and apron, and she darted across the street to be caught up in the arms of a burly night watchman.

  In dread Mason approached the gate, which she’d propped open with a broomstick. And then he saw the boy’s face staring through the opening, into the street, directly at him.

  “No, Brian. No. I’m not here to hurt you. I have something for your mother. Just take it and run inside. If you can summon any mercy for me, do not tell anyone but her that you saw me tonight. I did not kill Sir Colin’s father. On my honor. Please take this to your mother and you will never hear from me again.”

  * * *

  Kate took one look through the kitchen window and went flying to the door. The scullery maid dropped a plate in the small tub and called after her in alarm. “Lady Boscastle, are you all right?”

  “There’s someone at the gate!” Kate said hurriedly over her shoulder.

  The scullery maid ran after her to the door. “It’s only the housemaid, my lady, meeting that night watchman again. She’ll lose her post for this. She’s been cautioned. Shall I fetch a footman or Lord Heath?”

  Kate didn’t answer, although she’d absorbed the maid’s explanation. Heaven knew she couldn’t blame Brian for adolescent curiosity. She slowed to a walk. But when she saw him open the gate, the broomstick as a stopper, as he stepped out into the street, she went into a panic. What could he be thinking?

  “Brian,” she said, breathless, staring up and down the gaslit street and noting nothing out of the ordinary except a small carriage on the corner, the door open. “Brian?”

  “I’m right here, Kate,” he said in a faint voice she had to strain to hear. “I was stupid again. I only meant to look outside.”

  She turned, looking into Mason Earling’s anguished face.

  “I didn’t mean any harm. I just came here to leave something for Georgette. Hay is holding Brian in the carriage with a gun to his chest. I’ve no doubt he’s corrupt enough to use it. You’ll have to come with us. I’m more sorry than I can tell you.”

  Chapter 48

  The small carriage sped through the gaslit streets, nearly all unfamiliar to Kate. Her first experience in London should have taught her never to return. She stared at Brian,
glancing only once at the gun Hay held in his hand.

  “It’s my fault,” Brian said, his blue eyes awash in self-recrimination.

  “It is not,” Kate said, swallowing painfully. “I would have been tempted to step outside the gate, too, at your age.

  Mason’s face twisted into a mask of agony. “He wouldn’t have left the garden if I hadn’t been followed here by my gaoler. I would have killed myself before threatening a child’s life. I only—”

  Hay’s voice cut him off like a knife. “I would deposit all three of you at the closest church if I hadn’t already made other arrangements.”

  Arrangements.

  Kate fought to keep her voice steady as she regarded Hay. “Why? You paid those villagers to harass us—they could have burned down the house or shot one of the children. Did you want Georgette dead so desperately that it didn’t matter that you might kill others instead?”

  He stared at her in contempt. “I don’t give a damn if the whore lives or dies as long as she isn’t spending my money.”

  “Your money?” Mason said.

  Hay did not acknowledge him. “It was the elderly footman who stood to ruin me. He knew that Mason had poured the wine that killed Joshua Boscastle. I was never sure if he remembered seeing me bring the bottle to Nathan’s house the night before.”

  “You did it,” Mason said in disgust. “Yet for years you let my father and then me take the blame.”

  “Your father knew what I had put in the wine.”

  “And he asked me to pour it?” Mason said incredulously. “He used me as an instrument of evil and made it appear to be a privilege. Why?”

  “Do you think either of us wanted a murder on our hands?”

  “My father will stop you,” Brian said.

  Kate glanced at him in warning.

  “Your father,” Hay said, “cannot stop a crew of sailors who will do anything for a price.”