The Mistress Wager

by Sahara Kelly

  At that moment, a realization dawned for Max Seton-Mowbray, eligible bachelor, leading light of Society, and aloof, dignified gentleman.

  He had finally found the right woman.

  Chapter Eleven

  There was noise.

  Quite a bit of noise, and it was enough to wake Kitty from a sound sleep to find the room still dark, lit only by the glowing embers of the fire.

  Someone was knocking on the door of Max’s chamber, and she had no idea if she should go and see who it was, or wake Max, or slip away to her own room. He took the decision out of her hands by waking, sitting up, rubbing his head hard, then getting out of bed to grab his robe.

  “Stay there,” he ordered.

  Blinking, Kitty said nothing, since he was already half way across the room. But she too left the warmth of their bed, feeling a bit sore and sticky but otherwise none the worse for wear. She wrapped her robe around her bare shoulders and tied it snugly against the chill air.

  In the stillness of the early morning, she could hear Deery’s voice. “Asking for Miss Ridlington, sir. Most insistent he was. An Indian gentleman. Says his name is Dal or something…”

  Kitty’s ears pricked up immediately and she hurried to Max’s side. “Did you say Dal, Deery? And an Indian gentleman?”

  Deery blinked, but ever the good butler, merely nodded. “Yes, Miss. Asking for you, he is.”

  She put her hand on Max’s arm. “He’s a good friend of Hecate’s, Max. Almost like a bodyguard, if you will. If he’s here asking for me, something’s wrong.”

  Max gave a brief nod then turned back to Deery. “Make him comfortable and tell him we will be with him in a few moments.”

  “Of course, sir.” Deery bowed and hurried off.

  “I will be no more than five minutes, I promise.” Kitty rushed to her door. “I don’t know…I’m sorry…”

  “Stop.” He held up a hand. “Dress. Let’s find out what’s going on before anything else.”

  She nodded. He was right. “Five minutes. No more.”

  In fact, it took her less than four, but she had to find her shoes and that took a few moments. Fortunately, the gowns the maids had brought last night were mostly simple day dresses, and one woolen one had only a few fastenings in front of the bodice.

  She was into her chemise and the gown in no time, her stockings pulled up hastily, and her hair secured with two pins. It wouldn’t do for morning, but for this middle-of-the-night whatever it was…

  Hurrying out into the main corridor, she found a woman in a woolen night robe coming toward her.

  “Oh Miss Ridlington, I’m the housekeeper. Mr. Deery wakened me. Is there an emergency? Is it Mr. Max?”

  “No, not Mr. Max,” answered Kitty, a little stunned at being addressed so politely, given her situation and the fact they’d never met. “I believe it may have something to do with my sister. I am just going downstairs to find out.”

  “I’ll dress and join you as soon as possible.”

  Leaving her to return to her room, Kitty managed to find the main stairs and made her way down thanks to the few candles still lighting the treads.

  Max was just taking the last step.

  “Max, wait for me…” She hurried down and followed him across the hall to the library.

  Deery stood outside. “The gentleman is in here, sir. I could not offer him tea without rousing the kitchen staff, and although they’ll be up soon…”

  “No, Deery, you did the right thing. Let’s see what’s happening first, shall we?”

  Unable to restrain herself, Kitty rushed in to the library. “I’m Kitty Ridlington. Are you Mr. Dal, Hecate’s friend?”

  The tall man standing by the fire turned and nodded. He wore deep blue, a long tailored garment that fit well and came high up beneath his neatly trimmed black beard. On his head was a turban with a small gold clip.

  “Indeed I am, Miss Ridlington.” He bowed. “And I apologise for my intrusion into this house where I am not known. But Miss Hecate is in great need.”

  “Where is she? What happened?”

  Max came to her side. “Tell us, man. It must be serious for you to come here at this hour.”

  “It is, sir.” Dal faced them both. “There has been an accident. A carriage accident. Miss Hecate…”

  “Oh God,” breathed Kitty, clutching Max’s arm. “No, please no…”

  “She is alive, Miss Kitty, but barely.” He swallowed then. “The gentleman she was with. He did not survive. Neither did the driver of the carriage.”

  “Where was this?” Max barked the question.

  “Not too far from here,” Dal nodded his head. “A few miles north. I—I came across the wreckage. I was too late to stop it…” His voice shook.

  “Dal, she is alive? Where is she?” Kitty’s voice shook a little as well.

  Dal drew himself together, visibly straightening. “She is in a small cottage maybe two miles further north from here. An elderly couple were awoken by the sound of the crash even though it was more than a mile from their house. The horses…I rode one here. The other…”

  Kitty found tears were falling over her cheeks. “Dal, we must bring Kitty here. How badly is she hurt?” She spun to Max. “Can we do that? Please? I know it’s an imposition but…”

  “Hush. Stop. Of course we can.” Max freed himself from her grip. “I shall make sure it’s all taken care of.”

  He walked quickly to the door where Deery waited.

  Kitty turned back to Dal. “It was a bad crash then?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. Very bad. Miss Hecate must have had her God’s hands wrapped around her to have escaped with her life. She was thrown, you see.”

  Kitty gulped, trying not to imagine fragile Hecate flying from a tumbling carriage. “Who was she with, Dal? Do you know the gentleman’s name?”

  Dal nodded. “I believe so, Ma’am.”

  Max returned at that moment. “My coach will be ready in ten minutes. You and I, Dal, will go and fetch Miss Hecate, while you, Kitty,” he flashed her a quick look, “will help Mrs. Timmins and the staff get a room prepared for her. I have already asked Deery to rouse a footman and send him post haste to the nearest physician.”

  “Thank you, Max.” She leaned against him for a brief moment. “Thank you so much.”

  “Now, Mr. Dal,” said Max. “I’d like the answer to Miss Kitty’s question, if you please. Who was the gentleman with Miss Hecate?”

  “I am simply Dal, sir. No other appellation is necessary.” He stared at Max with an unblinking gaze. “The unfortunate deceased gentleman was Mr. Dancey Miller-James.”

  *~~*~~*

  Max’s heart was thundering as the coach rattled up a bumpy lane twice as fast as it should have.

  The dark man beside him was silent, one hand steadying himself on the side of the carriage, but other than that—no sign of emotion at all.

  “How did you find her, Dal?”

  At Max’s question, Dal turned slightly toward him. “I felt that there would be trouble for her this night.”

  “Er…you felt?”

  Light flashed briefly off the gold pin in the turban as Dal nodded. “It must seem strange, sir. But if you know Miss Hecate well…”

  “I do not, unfortunately. We have met a time or two, but that’s about it.”

  “I see.” The other man looked past Max and out of the window. It was still dark, but there were hints of a brightening now and again, between the hills. “It is not easy to explain, sir. Miss Hecate—she has a gift. There are times when she can see things that others cannot. When she knows things that others do not.” He took a breath. “She has been a friend to my sister and her daughter…they await the return of their father, a soldier with your Wellington. Miss Hecate has spent time teaching all of us better English, especially my dear niece Rihya. In the course of their friendship, I grew to know Miss Hecate and to respect her greatly. Her kindness is boundless, her spirit shines. Her gift is a natural part of her goodness, and som
ething that in my country we would welcome as very special.”

  “But here in England…”

  “Yes, sir. Here in England, were she to allow her gift to become known, she would be reviled by most.”

  Max sighed. “I cannot say I understand, Dal, but from what I’ve heard of her father, Baron Ridlington, she most certainly was reviled by him. A sad thing.”

  “It is sad, sir. I am sorry I cannot explain better, but there are some matters that are of the spirit and defy mere words. All I can tell you is that when I met her at my sister’s earlier today, she was most excited about this evening, and seeing Mr. Miller-James. But I saw a shadow in her eyes, and I asked her to tell me what was wrong. She simply told me this evening had a dark feel to it. Then said I should not worry.”

  “A dark feel?” Max tried to follow the man’s words, but it didn’t seem to make sense.

  “Yes, sir. Those were her words. After she left, my sister and I spoke and she urged me to watch out for Miss Hecate tonight. So I did. I saw her arrive at this party, and I waited near the carriages. Then I saw her leave with Mr. Miller-James from a side door. They went to a fine carriage and spoke to the driver. There were words I could not hear, but the driver did not seem to want to take them. But finally he agreed, and they drove away. I had arranged for a horse, so I followed, but not knowing the roads I fell too far behind.” He bowed his head. “I shall never forgive myself.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine,” said Max quietly.

  “The driver had passed quickly, I believe. A rock.” He choked back a sob. “The horses…it was a mess. One was down, its front legs gone, the other still harnessed to the wreckage. The sound of those cries…I shall hear it forever in my nightmares. Mr. Miller-James had been crushed by the coach and breathed his last as I bent to him. I was helpless, sir, terribly helpless.”

  “Any man would have been the same, Dal.”

  “I knew Miss Hecate must be somewhere and I called her name. I heard nothing but the wounded horse, so I stood and something made me look toward the woods along the side of the road. There was a fence, but it was broken and a little way off I saw…I saw…” He pulled himself together as best he could. “I saw her hair. So gold. Glowing in the darkness.” He heaved a breath. “I ran to her. She was bloody…a cut on her forehead bleeding a little, but smiled when she saw me. Her leg…sir, her leg was…it is badly broken. I picked her up as gently as I could, but I know the leg must have been agony for her and yet she made no complaint. The farmer managed to free the other horse and I mounted with her in my arms. It must have been so painful. She fainted within moments…which must have been for the best given the damage to her body.”

  “We shall repair it, Dal.” Small comfort, but all Max could say. And he meant those words with every fibre in his body.

  “The old gentleman from the farm had come out to see what was happening. He had a pistol. The horse…it had to be done.” Dal shook his head. “Terrible. Just terrible. A beautiful chestnut…” He clasped his hands together tightly. “The silence afterward. It was almost unbearable.”

  Max knew a sudden chill had rippled over his body at Dal’s words. “Dal, the carriage they took. Can you describe it?”

  Dal glanced at him. “Why yes. It was dark green, with a simple design on the door. It looked new, and the horses were what you might call a matched set. Chestnut brown. You may not have seen it at your door when I arrived. A boy came to take it to your stable for me.”

  “Dear God,” Max fell backward. “That was my carriage.” He gulped. “Harris. Oh my God. Harris.” Stunned, he stared at Dal, unable to put two thoughts together as the magnitude of the disaster and this new—intensely personal—twist percolated through his brain. “There is no way on this good earth Harris would have overturned my carriage. The man’s been with me for decades, and I trust him with my life. This is not right, Dal, not right at all.”

  Lowering his head, Dal pressed his palms together. “My heart aches for your losses, sir. A tragedy indeed.”

  “And one that will not go unnoticed.” Anger grew in Max’s mind, steeling him, clearing his thoughts. “I will find out what happened.” A thought occurred to him. “How did you know to come to Mowbray House? Or that Kitty would be with me?”

  “I did not,” said Dal. “Miss Hecate did.”

  “That is—that makes no sense.” Max frowned. “She could not have known we’d be coming to Mowbray.”

  “When I found her, and began to care for her, she tugged on my shoulder. I neared her face and she whispered your name. ‘Max,’ she said to me. ‘Mowbray House. Find Kitty.’” He looked at Max. “That was how it was every now and again with Miss Hecate. She would know things, sir. Without being told or even before they happened. It was—is part of her gift. And I trusted in that gift. So I came to you.”

  The coach was drawing to a halt in front of a little cottage where lights burned and the front door immediately opened.

  “This is it?” asked Max.

  “Yes, sir. This is where I carried her. She is inside.”

  “Then let’s get her and take her home.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Kitty came out of the small parlor, closing the door behind her with care.

  Max stood there, waiting. “Well? How is she?”

  Kitty took his arm and motioned him away into the hall. “Sssh. She’s still sleeping.”

  He led her into the library and sat her down in one of his large leather chairs. “You need tea or brandy or something. You’re too pale.”

  She shook her head at him. “I’m all right. I’ll have some tea later. And if I’m pale, it’s nowhere near as white as Hecate.” She shivered then, a whole body shiver that nearly rattled her teeth.

  “Damn,” muttered Max, grabbing a thick blanket that lay folded on one arm of the large sofa. “You’re either cold or in shock. Most likely both. I’m going to ring for tea right now. And you will drink it, do you understand? That’s an order.”

  Too shaken to argue, Kitty nodded as Max walked to the bell and summoned Deery.

  “What did the doctor say?” Max returned to her side.

  “He said…” she tried to gather her thoughts. “He said it was a very bad break, and it was a good thing she did not wake. He set what bones he could, and he believes she will heal in time. But he did say she will most likely limp for the rest of her life.” Tears stung the back of her eyes. “She is so alive, Max. So bright. To see her like this, so very still…I don’t believe she’s sleeping. I think she is unconscious. The doctor wouldn’t say yea or nay, but tried to reassure me that whatever the cause, sleep is the best thing for her right now.”

  “And he’s correct.” Max knelt down beside the chair, taking Kitty’s hand in his. “She has suffered grievous injuries, Kitty. Her body is, right now—even as we speak, starting the process of healing itself. We have to let it, let her wake when her body is ready, much as you’d like to tell her how glad you are she’s still alive, it will have to wait until she’s ready to hear it.”

  His words sank into her brain, the calm assurances making sense at last.

  She nodded. “You’re right, of course.”

  “Ah, here’s the tea.” Max rose at a knock, and as the door opened, he took a tray from Derry. “Thank you. Just what we need.”

  “Is there anything else we can do, sir?” Derry looked concerned. “We are all praying for the young lady, of course. Should we ready a room, do you think?”

  “No,” Kitty stood. “If we could send a message to Aunt Venetia and ask her to come here, I think that would be the best idea.” She rubbed her forehead for a moment. “Let me think…”

  Max glanced at Deery. “Arrange for the message, Deery. Miss Ridlington will write a note after she’s had a cup of tea.”

  “Very good, sir.” Deery bowed himself out.

  Kitty poured tea, adding milk without consciously realizing it. She drank, and the hot liquid served to wake her from a confused and fogbound s
tate that nearly rivaled her sister’s. “Oh that’s better.” She took a breath. “Thank you, Max. This is all quite far from what you imagined might happen when you won yourself a mistress, isn’t it?”

  A mobile eyebrow flew up. “My dear Kitty, if you think either of those topics is connected in any way in my mind, you will get a far more impressive spanking than the one you received last night. You won’t be able to sit down for a week.”

  She blinked. “I apologize. That was not meant to be insulting.”

  “Good. But understand this. Not one iota of this morning’s events would have been different had you not been here.”

  She lowered her gaze, realizing what she had implied. “I think I already knew that, Max. But I would appreciate your forgiveness for my poorly expressed thanks on behalf of my family and Hecate. Those, I might add, would also be as grateful and sincere were I not a guest here at Mowbray House.”

  Max neared her, took her tea and put it on the table. Then he held out his arms—and she walked straight into them with a sob.

  Embarrassed, but too overwrought to do anything else, Kitty allowed herself the liberty of several minutes of weeping over Max’s waistcoat. After which she accepted the proffered handkerchief, wiped her eyes, blew her nose and retrieved her tea. “Thank you.” She sipped. “All better now.”

  He smiled. “You sound like a child with a skinned knee who’s been given a biscuit to make it better.”

  “Sometimes a hug works just as well. Not to mention a handkerchief.”

  He nodded. “Right then. Now that we’re thinking clearly, perhaps we should plan a little further than your Aunt Venetia. I will ready my travelling carriage. It hasn’t been used for a while, so it’ll be a couple of hours…I’m going to presume Hecate would be best served if at home in Ridlington?”

  “I think so,” said Kitty, thinking it over. “It’s a long journey, of course, but if she remains in this healing sleep, perhaps it’s best undertaken now, where she’ll avoid experiencing the pain of having that leg jostled.” Another thought crept into her mind. “Where’s Dal?”