The Mistress Wager

by Sahara Kelly

  Kitty glanced out the window to see grey clouds threatening rain. “In that case, it’s an excellent choice. Thank you.” She smiled at the maid.

  “My pleasure, Miss. Glad to help.” She bobbed a curtsey. “You’ll find breakfast in the small salon, so you go right in and make yourself comfortable. Mr. Deery says you’re to eat, because yesterday was a bit topsy turvy.”

  “Mr. Deery is very kind,” nodded Kitty. “I do have a sharp appetite this morning.” She picked up her shawl. “I don’t suppose there have been any messages yet?”

  “No, Miss,” said the maid. “’Tis early, as you said. But don’t you worry. We’re all praying for your sister.”

  Touched, Kitty swallowed down a gulp of emotion. “I…thank you. Everyone. Please tell them how much I appreciate those thoughts.”

  “I will, Miss. Now you go right on down. Small parlor. Second door on the left.”

  She opened the door and Kitty walked through with a grateful smile, knowing the girl would now clean the room and have it perfect before Kitty returned.

  The scent of food lured her to the small parlor where there was indeed a lovely breakfast ready for the eating. Deery stood next to the silver-domed serving dishes.

  “Good morning, Miss Ridlington.” He bowed. “I trust you slept well in spite of yesterday’s chaos?”

  “I did, Deery, thank you for asking.” She allowed him to seat her at the table.

  “Tea, Miss?”

  Kitty paused. “Oh yes, if that’s all right. I’m not sure if I should wait for Mr. Seton-Mowbray…”

  “No need,” a voice hailed them from the doorway. “I’m here. Tea for me too, please, Deery. And fill plates for both Miss Ridlington and myself. We’re like to starve without sustenance.”

  Deery obeyed, presenting them both with tea and casting a wry look at his master. “The likelihood of your wasting away is remote, sir, I’m glad to say. However, your use of hyperbole is distressing, especially at this hour of the morning.”

  Max grinned. “Extra bacon, you old curmudgeon,” he called as he unfurled his napkin. “And make sure Miss Ridlington gets some of that blackberry jam for her toast.”

  She watched in fascination as a large plate of food appeared in front of her, along with toast and the aforementioned blackberry jam. “Good lord. I won’t be able to move if I eat all this.”

  “I’m not sure you should.”

  “What, eat this or move?”

  Max sipped his tea. “Move. As in leave the house today.”

  She sobered. “You’re serious?”

  “Until we know what’s going on, Kitty, a measure of caution is well-advised. For both of us. I have business in town that I cannot afford to delay or miss, so I’ll be gone for most of the day. But I am taking two armed footmen with me, rather than riding alone.”

  “Well, that makes sense,” she approved.

  Deery bowed to Max. “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  Max shook his head. “This will do. Thank you Deery. We’ll ring if we need anything.”

  “Very good sir.” Deery took himself off.

  Max returned to his conversation. “For my peace of mind, Kitty, I would appreciate your remaining indoors while I’m gone.”

  She looked outside to see rain starting. “Not a hardship, Max. As long as I have permission to use your library…”

  “Kitty, you are my guest…”

  “No, I’m not.” She looked over the table and into his eyes. “I am not your guest, Max. I’m your mistress. I’m not sure why I’m even here, since it is magnifying the scandal by bringing me to your home. I should be in a small house, in an unobtrusive part of town, and you know that.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Yes, I know that. But I choose to have you here. I have no family or wife to offend or scandalize. What I choose to do, and with whom, is my own affair.”

  “I applaud your determination to flout convention.” Kitty tilted her head. “One that I have embraced myself a time or two. However, this situation is a little different, wouldn’t you say?”

  “It’s different in many ways,” he agreed. “One of which is that significant damage was done to two people simply because they were in my carriage.” His expression turned hard. “I intend to find out by whom, and why. But until I do, I have to assume there may be danger to myself, or my family. As of now, you are in my house, and therefore possibly running the same risks.”

  She could not argue that point at all; the logic made sense, the topic sent a chill down her spine. She finished her toast, then looked up at him. “I completely understand. It shall be as you wish.”

  He smiled. “Use the library. You might find some interesting reading material.”

  She rose, shaking out her skirts. “Thank you. I will.”

  He rose as well. “I will be back before dinner. Don’t worry.”

  Coming to her side, he took her chin in his hand and tugged her face upward. “Miss me, Kitty. I’ll be thinking of you.”

  “I will,” she answered, her gaze fixed on him. “Be careful.”

  “Of course. I have much to look forward to when I get back.” His grin was wicked and he lowered his face to hers, softly slipping his tongue over her lips. “Open for me.”

  She obeyed, loving how his tongue invaded and caressed, teasing and urging her to reciprocate.

  He groaned, his arm sliding around her and crushing her to his body.

  The kiss lingered, heat licking up inside Kitty as her knees weakened beneath his sensual onslaught. But he broke off, pulling back from her, color rising in his cheeks. “Damn, Kitty. If I had the time, I’d fuck you here and now, skirts up, right here next to the blackberry jam.” He cupped her breast and flicked her nipple hard through her bodice. “Would you like that?”

  Honesty compelled her answer. “Yes, Master,” she whispered, glancing down at the bulge in his breeches. “I’d like that very much.”

  He chuckled. “That’s my good girl. Behave yourself today. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  She smiled in response, happy to have pleased him. “By the way? The jam…it is excellent.”

  “I’m seldom wrong,” he called over his shoulder.

  She sighed as he left, the room suddenly empty and feeling a little colder. “I do hope you’re right about that, Max. I really do.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  London was, as London was wont to do, buzzing with the latest on dits, both of which revolved around the Ridlingtons.

  “Isn’t it terrible,” they whispered “That poor Miller-James. Dead, I heard. Head smashed to smithereens, I heard.”

  “She lured him away,” more whispers, “another dreadful Ridlington. And of course you heard about her sister…well, I never!”

  Max ignored it all. He had earned his fair share of gossip years ago, was now wealthy enough to survive much more than a wave of murmurs behind fans, and knew that within the week there would be another exciting scandal to render this week’s tattle quite stale in nature and barely worth discussing.

  Such was the way of Society. Having the status to rise to the top of the heap, which he had done, he realized he was developing a distaste for it all. His friends—true friends—were few, and mostly kept to themselves. It would seem they all shared a mutual aversion to the Ton.

  Tapping on the door of one such friend, after dismounting in front of a quiet establishment not far from Whitehall, he was relieved to be admitted with a warm welcome from the ancient butler.

  “Morris, you old charmer. Still kicking then?” He delivered his coat and hat to the elderly man with the shock of white hair.

  “Not kicking so much these days, master Max, but his Lordship refuses to let me retire. So here I am, still charming as ever.”

  Max laughed at the dry tones. “And with a much quicker wit than Sir Peregrine, too.”

  Morris bowed at the compliment. “You are too kind, sir. You’ll find Sir Peregrine in the library…”

  “I know
the way. Thank you.”

  Max strolled down the wide corridor leading from the hallway toward the gardens. At the end was a huge arched window, showing little but rain and wet shrubbery at the moment. He stopped at a door a few feet from the end and knocked, smiling at the sharp command to “enter”.

  “What, no brandy?” Max grinned as he took in the tableau of his friend seated by a roaring fire with half a dozen books scattered all over the place.

  “Hullo Max,” Peregrine Hawkesbury turned his head casually. “I might have known you’d turn up today. Doing all kinds of terrible things, my housekeeper tells me.”

  “Yes, yes I am,” agreed Max. “Someone has to provide gossip for the old biddies.” He strolled to the other fireside chair, tossed a book from the seat to the couch, and sat.

  “Oh, was that the Broadbent Treatise on Obsession, by any chance?”

  Max leaned over and looked at the book. “No. It’s the Dibden Fathers’ Discussion of Unholy Manifestations.”

  “Never mind then.” Sir Peregrine closed the book on his lap. “So do tell me what brings you here?”

  “I need your help, Perry.”

  The other man blinked in surprise. “Good God. That’s unusual.” He smirked. “Out of funds, are we?”

  Max rolled his eyes. “No. My financial affairs are in good heart. And will continue to remain so, even with the whole business in Europe turning the stick market into a ride on a three-wheeled phaeton.”

  That led to an animated discussion on Wellington, Napoleon, whether Blucher would be able to lead his Prussians in support of the Duke, and other matters so dearly beloved of gentlemen when with similarly-minded companions.

  Eventually it worked back around to the original statement. “So how can I help you?” asked Peregrine.

  “Tell me what you know of the old Baron Ridlington. The one who died a couple of years ago now. Jack? Jack something?”

  Peregrine looked interested. “Really? That family making an impression?”

  Max raised an eyebrow. “Since I’ve one daughter living at my house at the moment, and the other was nearly killed in my carriage, I do feel it incumbent to learn more of the family…”

  Peregrine nodded. “Point well made.” He leaned back and crossed his legs, staring at the fire. “I don’t think I ever met him, but I know m’father did. Used to pop down to Southampton, meet up with Ridlington and do a spot of fishing I think. On the River Test.” He steepled his fingertips and rested his chin on them while he thought.

  Max remained silent. He knew Perry was a man who liked to think before he spoke. It was a pertinent belief that others would do well to emulate.

  “I never got the feeling m’father actually liked the man. And passing comments I recall from my Cambridge days make me think he was a cold-blooded piece of work. Up in town within a week of his first wife’s death, looking for another one. That sort of thing. Not smart with the financial end of the estate, that’s for sure. In fact, there were several people I know who were ready to bid on the property when he died. Lucky the oldest son was a great deal smarter than his father.”

  “Indeed.” Max took it all in.

  “So I suppose it would be fair to say he was cold, selfish and uncaring of the title and the estate. I can only assume his attitudes also carried over to his children. They were not presented, only mentioned in passing. And very seldom, I might add. Then not at all once the old man fell ill. And few made the connection between Captain Edmund Holbury and Jack Ridlington.” He frowned. “They probably should have. There is an eyebrow similarity, if I’m not mistaken.”

  Max restrained a chuckle as he recalled that fierce set of eyebrows menacing him. “Interesting.” He thought over Perry’s words. “Not a man to care about raising a family of six, I would guess.”

  “True.” Perry shifted in his chair. “The Ridlington Pearls.”

  “Good God, I’d forgotten they were called that silly nickname.”

  “And yet you have one pearl as your mistress…”

  “Nominally, yes.”

  Perry glanced at him, a question in his eyes.

  Max merely shrugged. “Well thank you for that information. It helps.” He stretched out his legs and groaned. “Now if you have any idea who would saw through the spokes of my carriage, I’d be much obliged.”

  Perry’s face froze. “It wasn’t an accident?”

  “No, it wasn’t.” Max was all business. “It was deliberate. One wheel, at least. Couldn’t tell if others were similarly affected. I intend to find out who would do such a thing and why.”

  “So you’re assuming it was meant for you?”

  “How can I assume otherwise? It was my carriage, Perry. Dancey took it without my leave to abscond with Hecate Ridlington. His plan was to seduce her out of her virginity and then leave her once he’d had his fill of her.”

  “That young man was vermin, Max. It amazes me that he is being mourned. I can understand his mistress experiencing extreme grief, but I cannot honestly say the world is lessened by his death.”

  “And I cannot argue that, but he is dead, so our opinions must be moderated.”

  “Agreed, but still. Vermin.” Perry’s voice held a tinge of regret.

  “Which all leaves me with many questions and no answers.” Max looked at his friend. “And no idea where to start.”

  Perry sat up. “Let me make a few inquiries? I have friends in low places.” He grinned. “Some of whom might be willing to part with a tip or two for mere shillings…”

  “That would be help indeed.” A thought came to him. “Do you know who his mistress was, by any chance?”

  “Some fast widow or other.” Perry closed his eyes for a moment. “Wait…I have it. Weston. Lady Dorothea Weston.”

  “Good Lord.” Max was surprised. “Didn’t she just bury husband number two? Or was it three?”

  His friend nodded. “Apparently she marries old and fucks young, if you’ll pardon the blunt assessment. Although I’m pretty sure I overheard comments about her deep affection for Miller-James. There were whispers she was lining him up for husband number four.”

  “Is she still accepted in society?”

  “Oh yes,” sighed Perry. “She has the wealth to gain admittance anywhere. Pity her character isn’t as impressive as her bank account.”

  “Agreed. All of which is most depressing and reminds me of why I eased myself away from the Ton. However, it doesn’t help with my current lines of investigation.” Max shrugged.

  “I have a few friends in high places. Neighbors, almost, you could say.” He looked amused. “I might invite one or two over for that brandy I’ve been saving. If anyone has a finger on what’s happening beneath the London scene, it’s them.”

  Max, who knew there were more than a few Government departments operating under conditions of utter secrecy, nodded. “Any and all information will be gratefully received, Perry. And should you be required to deplete that brandy, I shall endeavour to replace it with one of equal value. Or better.”

  Perry laughed. “I knew there was a good reason we’re friends.”

  *~~*~~*

  It had been a long day for Kitty.

  She had explored Mowbray House, finding it a tidy and well-organized home, though lacking in what she might well have called the “feminine” touch. There were more leather chairs than upholstered ones, but since it was a man’s estate, she acknowledged that the man himself was permitted his choice of furnishings.

  The gardens might be interesting, but the inclement weather kept her indoors. Indeed, she was glad of the fires the efficient servants kept burning in the main rooms downstairs.

  The library turned out to be a wonderland of books, and for the first time in many years, Kitty was able to browse, select, put back and then finally decide on some reading material. She’d formed the habit at Ridlington, having little else to occupy her time between her lessons. Friends were not an option for the Ridlington children, since their father’s attitude towa
rd the local gentry was not conducive to more than one visit.

  She knew Letitia was a frequent visitor, and Hecate was known to wander with armfuls of books from a young age. Governesses and tutors came and went—no illiterate offspring for Baron Ridlington—but the books were permanent fixtures, and became friends for lonely children.

  Deep into a delightful novel by “A Lady”, Kitty had been startled by a knock at the door.

  “A message, Miss Ridlington.” Deery came in with a note on a tray. “I knew you’d want it immediately. It is from your brother.”

  She sprang from her snug corner of the couch and hurried to him. “You’re absolutely right, Deery. Thank you.”

  With shaking hands, she eased away the seal and read the short note, a smile bursting through.

  “Is it good news about your sister, Miss?”

  “It is, Deery. Oh it is.” She wanted to dance and hug the man. He seemed to sense it, and stepped back a little. “They arrived safely at home, and Hecate is none the worse. She has actually woken for a few minutes, consumed a little broth, and is now settled with them.”

  Kitty let her arms fall to her sides, the letter clasped in one of them. She closed her eyes and gave a brief prayer of thanks.

  “Here, now, Miss, don’t you faint.” Deery sounded quite worried.

  She opened her eyes again. “I won’t. I promise. I am just so relieved that it quite took my breath away.”

  “’Tis good news indeed, I’m happy to say. All of us have been hoping for the best. Such a lovely young lady and such a terrible accident. In a Seton-Mowbray vehicle…it is intolerable.” Deery shook his head.

  Kitty half-sat on the back of the couch. “Deery,” she said, drawing his attention. “I have to ask. Why are you all so kind to me?”

  “Whatever do you mean, Miss?”

  She bit her lip, trying to find the best way to ask the question. “I’m sure it is no secret as to why I am here, or how this situation came to pass. I would have expected disapproval, some condemnation perhaps? And yet I have received nothing but kindness and polite deference. Everyone has been helpful and pleasant.” She frowned. “I don’t understand it.”