My Fair Mistress

by Tracy Anne Warren

  So who was he to be nearly a gentleman and yet not one? It was an intriguing mystery indeed.

  Her curiosity almost got the better of her, questions stacking up like tiny dominoes on her tongue. Abruptly, she shook off the wild impulse to pry.

  This is not a social call, she scolded herself. She’d come to rescue her family from the very brink of disaster—her dear brother and sister, who meant more to her than anything else in this world. She needed to focus on that fact and only that fact.

  “No, thank you,” she said, refusing his offer of a drink. “I should prefer to discuss the reason for my visit here today.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” He walked behind his desk, then gestured a hand toward a chair on the opposite side. “Pray be seated and tell me why you have come.”

  He remained standing while she arranged herself on the seat before he took his own. Silently, he waited for her to begin.

  Her heart thumped, a familiar, half-sick rush of anxiety returning to twist uncomfortably in her stomach. She clutched her reticule and drew a breath, wondering how best to start.

  “I am Lady Julianna Hawthorne,” she stated, her words dwindling to a rapid halt.

  “I believe we’ve established that, my lady.”

  She swallowed, her throat dry. Suddenly she wished she’d taken him up on that drink. Knowing she would lose her nerve if she didn’t get on with it, she compelled herself to speak. “I am told you’ve had business dealings with my brother, Harry Davies, the Earl of Allerton.”

  His face remained impassive. “His lordship and I are acquainted, yes.”

  “I understand he owes you a sum of money, a debt whose repayment is due very shortly.”

  Pendragon inclined his regal head. “As you say.”

  “Which is why I have come…to discuss the loan on Lord Allerton’s behalf.”

  He raised a sardonic brow, censure darkening his gaze. “I take it he can’t pay and has importuned you to plead his case, has he? I had thought your brother possessed a bit more pride and sense than that.”

  A flush rose in her cheeks, further heating her already warm skin. “His pride is very much intact, as are his faculties. Actually, Harry knows nothing of my visit today. If he did, he would be greatly displeased. But I felt compelled to meet with you nonetheless.”

  She paused and lowered her voice to a confidential tone. “My brother is over-young, Mr. Pendragon, only twenty, and still learning how best to manage his affairs. Our father died a little more than a year ago, and I fear Harry wasn’t yet ready to assume the pressures and responsibilities that come with a noble title. But he is a fine young man, a good boy, who simply needs time to find his feet. I can assure you he has every intention of satisfying his obligations.”

  “Then he ought to have used his head instead of foolishly squandering his money. What was it, gaming or women?”

  Her eyes grew wide.

  Pendragon gave a rueful shake of his head. “Both, I see. Allerton’s certainly been a busy boy, has he not? His vices, however, are really none of my affair.”

  “Actually I should think they are, under the circumstances. I cannot defend Harry’s ill-considered behavior, but I can assure you he is extremely sorry for what he has done. I promise you he will do everything in his power to make things right if but given the chance. You seem a reasonable man. Maybe you would be willing to grant him an extension. Another ninety days, perhaps—”

  “Your pardon, my lady, but what good would that do? If Allerton doesn’t have the funds now, there’s little chance he’ll have them three months from now. The outcome will be the same.”

  “But surely everyone deserves a measure of compassion.”

  “Just so, which is why this good city has any number of fine churches and charitable organizations. I, however, run an investment business and am not in the habit of granting imprudent favors.”

  Julianna refused to let herself tremble. Harry is right, she thought, this man has no heart.

  The Dragon relaxed back in his chair. “Now if I might be permitted to ask you a question.”

  “And what, pray tell, is that?”

  “I’m curious to know what your husband thinks of you coming to see me in your brother’s stead. Or is he also unaware of today’s visit?”

  She stiffened. “I am a widow, sir. I make all of my own decisions.”

  “Well, that explains a very great deal.”

  His remark rankled, but she decided to let it pass.

  “If you refuse to grant my brother an extension,” she continued, “then I am prepared to offer you an alternate form of payment.” Tugging open the drawstrings of her reticule, she reached inside. “Here is a list of several very fine paintings in my possession. Included among them are an original Tintoretto and an extremely beautiful Caravaggio, old master works of great value.”

  She passed him a sheet of paper, then returned to dig inside her reticule again. “I have also brought several pieces of jewelry. They include a necklace, bracelet, and ear bobs—a matching set given to me by my late husband at the time of our marriage. The sapphires and diamonds are worth at least five thousand pounds. They’re completely mine and in no way entailed to my husband’s estate.”

  Opening the velvet pouch, she drew out the jewels and set them on his desk for display. The gemstones winked and sparkled with vivid life in the candlelight.

  He leaned forward. “Quite lovely.”

  Heartened, she pressed on. “I did some calculations and concede these items do not fully repay my brother’s loan. But if you would agree to accept these valuables now, I will promise to pay you the remaining thousand pounds in cash come the first of April. My quarterly allowance is placed into my account then, you see.”

  Pendragon set aside the list of oil paintings. Steepling his fingers, he rested the tips underneath his chin and regarded the woman on the opposite side of his desk.

  She really is magnificent, he mused, lush and lovely and so full of earnest animation and optimistic hope. What a shame he was going to have to disappoint her yet again.

  How dare Allerton, he thought. What had the careless whelp been thinking to endanger his family’s welfare and reputation in such a manner? Even if the earl was completely ignorant of his sister’s presence here this afternoon, the young lordling deserved nothing less than a sound thrashing for his irresponsible behavior.

  A lady of Julianna Hawthorne’s obvious sweetness and grace should not be discussing business with a man like him. She shouldn’t be discussing business at all. Instead she ought to be home sipping tea with her circle of elegant friends, laughing and trading amusing stories, not be here in a stranger’s study doing her level best to barter her finest jewels to him.

  His jaw tightened. Striving for a pleasant yet firm tone, he proceeded. “These are very fine items, my lady. However, they are of insufficient value to cover your brother’s outstanding obligation.”

  Her pretty lips fell open. His gaze followed, drawn like a firefly to a flame. Unable to prevent himself, he visually traced their shape, finding them full and pink and every bit as enticing as a dish of ripe June strawberries. And soft. Oh, they looked soft enough to put silk to shame.

  Shaking off the sudden rush of desire, he returned to the matter at hand. “The jewelry would need to be appraised,” he said. “Assuming the stones are real—”

  Her eyes flashed with offense.

  “—which I have no doubt they are,” he amended. “I imagine the set would fetch a little over two thousand pounds.”

  “Two thousand, but—”

  “Resale, your ladyship. What a person pays for jewelry in a shop is far more than what the pieces are actually worth. As to the paintings, art, even fine art, is a difficult commodity to trade. It could take months to sell the paintings, and then likely for far less than you have estimated.”

  Her mouth drooped, her lovely brown eyes awash with disappointment.

  For a moment he felt sorry for her, an uncharacteristic urge
rising inside him to grant her the boon she so desperately sought. But as he’d already told her, a few months more would make no difference, not in the end. Experience had taught him that if a man couldn’t pay his shot by the due date, chances were excellent he would never be able to pay it at all. Besides, he reminded himself, a businessman who let his sentiments override his sense soon finds himself playing the fool. And one thing he had never been was a fool.

  “Perhaps I have some other belongings that might make up the difference,” she continued. “I own a very nice set of silver, and there is my husband’s book collection—”

  He held up a hand. “Please, do not continue to put yourself through this turmoil. It’s of no use. Even if all the items you’ve mentioned were worth what you imagined them to be, they still wouldn’t cover your brother’s vowels.”

  “But I don’t understand,” she sputtered. “Of course it should satisfy the debt.”

  “How much do you imagine he owes, then?”

  “A little over ten thousand pounds.”

  He sighed. So the whelp hadn’t been honest with her. Delusions, he mused, were a convenient thing.

  “His debt is triple that amount.”

  “Triple?” Her voice quavered.

  “Yes. He owes roughly thirty thousand pounds.”

  The blood drained from her cheeks, leaving them parchment pale. “Good God,” she whispered.

  “Perhaps you’d care for that sherry now?”

  When she said nothing further, he rose to his feet. Soon after, he returned bearing a small glass filled with a translucent amber liquid.

  “Here,” he coaxed, holding out the drink. “I’d advise you to take a sip or two.”

  But she made no move to accept. In a sweep of lashes, her gaze lifted to meet his own. “Do you know that Harry will lose his estate if he defaults? That he will have no choice but to sell a home that has been in our family for over a hundred and fifty years?”

  Rafe forced aside any inkling of compassion. In his profession, he’d long ago learned to do without such tender emotions. “Yes, I am familiar with the property. Allerton used it as collateral when he secured the loan. To be frank, your ancestors were remiss not to have entailed the estate. Given that, it seems surprising the property wasn’t lost or sold off many years past.”

  Visibly, she struggled for control, her breath moving rapidly in and out, causing her ample breasts to rise and fall beneath the rich silk of her bodice and the delicate lace fichu tucked above.

  He couldn’t help but watch.

  What a fine example of womanhood she is, he thought. Her lush body seemed perfectly designed to make a man want to tumble her into his lap and play love games. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense—far too brown for a traditional English beauty—yet she was stunning all the same. Deeply dark, her hair gleamed with a lustrous hue, as fine and satiny as the polished mahogany wood of his desk. Her eyes complemented her, their color an unusual shade of coffee containing tiny flecks that sparkled like gold dust. And her skin…ah, her skin, smooth and translucent as a summer peach, and no doubt every inch as tasty. He wondered if she had French blood in her veins, or maybe Italian, her look exotic and nothing short of intoxicating.

  A real sigh escaped her lips, the sound shattering his heated thoughts.

  Realizing he still held her drink in his hand, he set it down before her with an unintentional snap. Carefully, he worked to erase any hint of his former musings from his expression. Only then did he speak.

  “Hard as it may be for you to accept, the financial arrangement between Lord Allerton and myself is binding and will stand as written. Now, my lady, I believe you should go. I shall see you to the door, since I am sure Hannibal is busy somewhere belowstairs.”

  Reaching for the small black velvet pouch that lay on his desk, he began to slip her jewelry inside, signaling once more that their interview was at an end.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed.

  He paused, sapphires and diamonds dangling from his fingers. “Yes?”

  “I can’t leave things like this,” she said, her panic plain. “I came to help my brother, to save my family. I cannot go away empty-handed. Surely there must be some other arrangement we could make? Surely there must be something I can offer you, something of mine you want?”

  Repressing a sigh, he slid the last of the gemstones into the pouch and tightened the strings. Silently, he set the sack before her.

  Over the past several minutes, Rafe thought, he’d done his best to be attentive and polite, striving to help her see that her pleas and exhortations, no matter how prettily done, would not sway him to her cause. He could only admire her for her steadfast tenacity, but now she really did need to admit defeat. Lady Hawthorne, however well meaning, should go home and let her thoughtless puppy of a brother swallow a dose of his own medicine.

  Rafe decided then and there to give her a shove in the right direction. He’d tried reasonable persuasion, cool argument, even a splash of cold reality. Perhaps a more fundamental approach was needed, something cruel enough to wound her, appalling enough to send her fleeing out his door.

  “Something of yours I want?” he drawled darkly.

  Appearing to be in no discernible hurry, he rested his hip against the edge of his desk, his large body looming suddenly above her own tiny frame. Pinning her with a bold look, he gave free rein to all the lustful desire he’d been feeling since the moment she’d strolled into his study. Blood running hot, he let his emotions gleam openly in his eyes.

  Beginning with her exquisite face, he raked her with his gaze, roaming slowly, appraisingly, over her neck and onto her breasts. He lingered for a few long, pointed moments before traveling onward to rove across her belly and thighs, and downward all the way to her feet. Then he started the process again, upward this time, returning for a last slow, voracious caress.

  Her lips parted, color blazing on her face.

  “Madam,” he said, his voice a low murmur of danger and sensuality, “I have told you already that your belongings are of no worth to me. There is only one thing from you I want, and that would be to strip you naked and take you to my bed. So unless you’re willing to offer yourself to me in exchange for your brother’s debt, we have nothing further to discuss.”

  She gasped, her body visibly shivering. He waited, expecting her to leap up, grab her possessions, and run screaming from his house.

  Instead she sat, silent and utterly still, only her cheeks displaying her inner turmoil, her skin flushing alternately pink, then pale, then pink again.

  Finally she drew a shaky breath and raised her chin. “If I agree,” she murmured, “what would be your terms?”

  Chapter Two

  RAFE BLINKED AND nearly lost his balance, catching himself a split second before his hip slipped off the desk.

  Did she say what I think she said? No, he assured himself after a moment, I must have imagined it.

  “My terms?” he said slowly, waiting.

  Instead of shooting him a horrified glare, she twisted her fingers together and gazed down at her lap.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “What would you want?” Her cheeks flamed hot as a July sun at her own question. “I mean, I know what you’d want, but when would you…umm…where would you…would it be just one time? Heavens, you wouldn’t want it now, would you?”

  As if she’d laid a hand between his legs, raw need sprang to life, his arousal stiff and strong. His imagination went wild, conjuring all sorts of heated sexual scenarios. For a moment, he pictured himself dragging Julianna from her chair and laying her across the wide, solid expanse of his desk. After kissing her half-senseless, his own thoughts scorched to a sensual haze, he would lift her skirts and…

  Realizing he’d better find a sturdy seat before he unmanned himself and actually did land ass-first on the floor, he carefully straightened and retreated to the safety of his desk chair.

  Sinking back against the comfortable leather, he used the moment to regai
n his sense of control. To say she had surprised him was an understatement, especially considering he was not a man who often found himself caught off guard.

  Is she truly contemplating my audacious suggestion?

  When he’d issued it, he’d never expected her to take his proposition seriously. He’d assumed such bold talk would frighten her away, making her hurry home like any ordinary woman would have done.

  But then no ordinary woman would have come to his home in the first place, nor sat bravely pleading her brother’s case in spite of an almost certain refusal. Julianna Hawthorne was most decidedly out of the common way, yet a lady through and through from the tips of her manicured fingernails to the ends of her dainty toes. And as such, she ought to be tossing his base declaration back in his face, not giving it additional thought.

  She ought to be offended. Why wasn’t she offended? Why wasn’t she telling him he was a loathsome, contemptible swine?

  And why wasn’t he doing what he knew he ought by climbing to his feet and hustling her out the door? Shifting uneasily in his chair, he knew exactly why.

  Narrowing his eyes, he surveyed her. Just how far would she take this? He decided to test the waters.

  “No, not today,” he stated. “As to the frequency, I hardly think one time would be sufficient.” Drawing a breath, he continued, making sure to keep his voice deliberately matter-of-fact. “The best bang in the world isn’t worth thirty thousand pounds. No madam, our association would need to be of a much longer duration, should we agree.”

  Now she will leave, he thought. Now, she will gather up her cloak and her dignity and return to her fancy, insular world, where ladies did not find themselves importuned by baseborn financiers like himself.

  Lips firming, she squeezed her fingers together so tightly it was a wonder she didn’t snap one off. “H-How long then?”

  How long? she’d asked. How long indeed, to pay off a debt of such magnitude? How long to take and keep her as his mistress while he slaked his desire for her? How many days, weeks, and months would it take for him to sate himself with her rare, unusual beauty before her allure began to pale? Before he grew bored, as he inevitably would, and craved her no longer?