A Mistress for Penndrake

by Tammy L. Bailey

  His rushed words and stiff tone made her flinch. More humiliated now than before, she exhaled and narrowed her gaze on his unsmiling features. “Oh, well, that is very good to know.”

  He glanced away and murmured, “Good,” under his breath before offering his arm again. As they walked, the menacing clouds parted and rolled farther away, revealing a promising blue sky with streaks of white cottony clouds. The marquess, deep in thought or contemplation, led her no more than thirty more paces before he stopped her, his free hand folding over hers.

  “I must ask you one thing, however. Did he…” Lord Wesley trailed off, and Kate knew exactly what sat on the edge of his tongue.

  “If I say I do not believe Mr. Rourke led me into the maze to somehow steal a kiss, I would be either ignorant or delusional.” She paused to see if he recognized the same words he used a few seconds ago. When he quirked an eyebrow, she decided to keep what happened between her and Mr. Rourke to herself. She thought Lord Wesley would drop the conversation regarding her and his cousin.

  She thought wrong.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wesley pressed his fingers into his palm. Rourke would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and so far, he’d made it very clear he wanted Miss Holden.

  “I know my cousin. I understand how his mind works, and it’s never in the best interest of anyone but himself.”

  She smiled. “He might say the same thing about you, my lord.”

  Wesley tightened his fist. He didn’t care what his cousin thought of him. He cared what she thought of him, and it was both dangerous and careless. One thing was certain. He needed to separate himself from his emotions regarding her.

  With a curt bow, he left her to return to his guests. Due to future engagements elsewhere, some of them were starting to depart, leaving Miss Holden, Rourke, and the Garretts at Penndrake. For his sake, Wesley decided to put some distance between him and Miss Holden, calling for his valet to pack enough clothes for a two-day excursion to London to visit his mother.

  Lady Sophia Garrett welcomed the news with mixed excitement. He supposed leaving Penndrake without a master placed her dearest daughter, Claire, as a transient mistress of sorts. This he didn’t care about. What concerned him the most was leaving Miss Holden, and not for the most obvious reasons.

  When he’d announced his departure, she’d blinked at him, her face as indifferent as his father’s at a hazard table. Not that he expected her to run at him and throw her arms around his waist in an effort to plead with him to stay. Well, perhaps a set of pouty lips might have fed his ego nicely. That was not to be had, however. Instead, she showed no emotion until he could bear her dispassion no longer.

  “Do you believe you can survive my absence, Miss Holden?” he teased, reminding her of the numerous times he’d rescued her.

  To his delight, her cherub cheeks puffed outward. He smiled, waiting for the verbal fight that caused her delicate features to redden and her chin to lift at a haughty angle.

  “If you’re asking me if I’d feel deprived of your company, my lord, I—” She paused, letting her answer hang in the air for a moment. “I am determined to survive with or without you.” Despite balling his fist and clenching his teeth in resolute frustration, he finally let go a laugh and shook his head. God, he was going to miss her.

  With his mind too occupied with thoughts of Miss Holden, he didn’t realize he’d reached Town until the carriage turned down Bond Street next to where his mother preferred to live.

  Still in a fog, he knocked on the black door. The next moment, the elderly housekeeper he’d known since childhood, stood in the doorway, her wide violet eyes frozen in surprise.

  “My lord?”

  “Mrs. Jenkins, is my mother home?”

  The woman shook her head, her mop cap shifting under the vigorous exercise. “No, I’m afraid she’s away to Bath with her sister and will not return until next week.”

  Disappointed, Wesley nodded and dropped off his things before seeking out the residence of Mr. and Mrs. Holden.

  He arrived at Cheapside, with evening fast approaching, to a humble two-story building painted white and situated between two similar brick buildings. Wavering candles flickered through the row of sash windows, telling him someone was home.

  He stood upon the short doorstep, staring at the gold-cast lion’s head, the cold knocker between his fingers, and his heart began to beat with schoolboy nervousness. The second he released his hand and began to walk away, the door opened.

  “May I help you, sir?” Dressed too well to be a butler, Wesley assumed he was gazing right into the face of Miss Holden’s father. A handsome man with sea-blue eyes and sand-colored hair, he shared only one feature with his daughter—her inquisitive stare.

  “I was just asking after Mr. Holden,” Wesley said, despite knowing with whom he spoke.

  “John, who is it?”

  Wesley cast his gaze to a petite woman who stood behind Mr. Holden, her green eyes sparkling with concern, her rounded cheeks softened with age.

  Mr. Holden turned back, saying only, “Please stay inside, Hannah,” before closing the door behind him. He moved forward, forcing Wesley to step back and down.

  The man raised his finger and said, “I was told I have another month to pay the debts against me, and I will. There is no reason for you to come to my house and alarm my wife.”

  Wesley opened his mouth to object, but Mr. Holden had not finished reprimanding him.

  “Not that it’s any business of yours, but once the union between my daughter and my apprentice, Mr. Leisure, is set, then you will get your money. No sooner. No later.”

  The blood rushed from Wesley’s face. He hadn’t believed the gossip Vivian spewed the night before. Now, he wished he’d paid a little more attention to the woman.

  Angered at Miss Holden’s lack of candidness regarding Mr. Leisure and Edward’s lack of awareness concerning his cousin’s conjugal plans with her father’s apprentice, Wesley nodded his understanding and strode away.

  Despite the urge to rush to her, he wanted to sleep on this new revelation. To return so soon would have her thinking he’d missed her, or worse, coveted those same feelings she spoke of under a great influence of alcohol. He may have said they stood on even ground regarding their feelings for each other, but nothing could be further from the truth.

  For forty-eight hours, he stomped around his mother’s residence, growing increasingly irritable and incensed. He wanted the truth, and he didn’t want to wait another minute longer than necessary to hear Miss Holden tell it to him. Determined to reach Penndrake before midnight, he called for his carriage and seethed in the leather seat all the way back. He could not reach Miss Kate Holden quick enough.

  …

  Kate retired early, drained from listening to her aunt’s endless chatter, Arthur’s tiresome reading, and Lilly and Deidra’s arguing. Upon the fifteenth time of Lady Sophia referring to Claire as the mistress of Penndrake, Kate thought she’d scream.

  Oh yes, she had indeed suggested the union to Lord Wesley himself in a ridiculous stupor. Now, however, the image of the beautiful and selfish pair, wrapped tight in each other’s embrace, made her physically ill and brought about a sadness she’d not felt since Edward left.

  Weary and depressed, she crawled into bed. The curtains to her room spread open to allow the moon’s rays to seep inside and comfort her tangled thoughts. To help her fall asleep, she stared at the crackling fire, the flames waving to her in a hypnotic rhythm. After a few minutes, she drifted into a restless sleep, her mind creating scenes of church bells and laughter, marriage vows and heartbreak. After several versions of her cousin’s wedding dominated her dreams, Kate forced herself awake.

  She needed some air, a place to discern how her feelings for Lord Wesley had gone from distrust to desire.

  Was her heart so weak, so vulnerable to turn from one misfortunate romance to another? She blinked away the haziness of her thoughts and scooted out of bed. Then she g
rabbed her sage green cape and tiptoed to the ground floor and out into the garden. Grateful for the subtle light of dawn, she sat down on the bench where she’d shared her first intimate kiss. A kiss that had changed the course of her convictions.

  “We need to talk.”

  Kate jumped up to find Lord Wesley standing behind her, his black hair disheveled and his features hard-set. She shook her head, afraid she might confess more entrenched and unreciprocated feelings for him. “Can’t this wait until the morning?”

  His looked up to the coloring sky. “It is already morning.”

  After a moment of staring into his serious and obstinate gaze, she surrendered. “Very well.”

  She glanced around, waiting for him to start the conversation.

  “Are you to marry a Mr. Leisure?”

  Stunned by the question and his knowledge of the man, she opened her mouth several times before turning and dropping down onto the hard garden bench. “How?”

  He joined her, taking a seat so they sat too close to be anything but intimately acquainted. Missing his company, she chose not to move away.

  “That’s not important. What is important is that I’ve received conflicting messages regarding your future as someone’s wife. So, I want to hear it from your lips that this man is to be your husband.”

  She tilted her head, unsure how to answer him. She had a choice: be honest or deflect the question. She chose the latter by standing, a finger raised as a warning to him not to pry any further. “I have said this before, and I will say it again. My life is none of your concern. Surely you must realize this.”

  He stood up, his towering form and brooding face enough to force her to step back a pace. Only he wouldn’t let her. Drawing an arm around her waist, he hauled her hard into him.

  He smelled of autumn air, spice, and leather. It was intoxicating to her senses, drugging her into wanting to stay like this, no matter his intentions, no matter the consequence.

  “Unfortunately, madam, your life is all of my concern. You have your cousin to thank for that.”

  Kate was struck by Lord Wesley’s words. All she knew was Edward had warned her to stay away from the marquess. Yet, this man was doing everything in his power to keep her from leaving.

  “So, I will ask you again, are you and Mr. Leisure to be married?”

  His eyes flashed a warning for her not to defy him on this unusual inquest. She doubted she could fight much longer, so enveloped in his arms, the heat from his body seeping through the thin linen material of her nightgown as if she wore nothing.

  In a low and clear voice, she answered him, “I have no intention of marrying Mr. Leisure.”

  His brows furrowed. “Then, please explain to me why a credible source believes that you are.”

  She wondered about this “credible source.” Had Lord Wesley somehow infiltrated her parents’ lives? Her father was the only person who remained determined to marry her off to the man, despite his wife’s disapproval.

  “It is an arrangement between my father and him. There is no official engagement.” She was perplexed as to why he’d decided to show himself like this. Did he care?

  She waited for him to explain his questions and his actions. He only stood there, the silvery light of the full moon casting an eerie shadow over his left shoulder. After a few quiet moments, he lifted his head and exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath the whole time. Whatever display of curiosity or frustration he exhibited tonight revealed a deeper and more complex web he’d chosen to weave around her, Edward, and his family.

  Although she’d tried to put the pieces together, nothing made sense. Lord Wesley was not only inconsistent in his regard for her, but he was also moody and sometimes sulking. Whatever he sought, she had to keep reminding herself, it was neither good nor respectable.

  “I must leave you now,” he murmured. He stepped back and dipped into a quick and stoic bow before disappearing into the house.

  Fully awake, Kate relented to going back to her bedchamber to wash and dress.

  “Kate, are you in there?”

  Not in the mood to talk to Claire, Kate took her time walking to the door to allow her cousin inside.

  “What is it, Claire?”

  Her cousin bounced by in a white muslin dress accented in pink and a silk ribbon of the same color flapping between her fingertips. She slid onto a velvet stool before a Louis XIV-style dressing table, its shape carved to mimic the curvaceous silhouette of a woman.

  “You must make me look my best today, cousin.”

  Kate didn’t ask any more questions, knowing Claire would reveal the reason why she needed to look her best in due time. With nothing else to do, Kate wrapped the satiny strand of Claire’s honey-blond curls between her fingertips and began to twist them.

  “So, have you been invited?”

  Kate, reluctant to get sucked into Claire’s competitive nature over Lord Wesley, shook her head and feigned disinterest. She neither wanted to know what the invitation was for or who had invited Claire.

  “Well, it does not surprise me,” she said. “But I have. Only this morning there was a note slipped under my door, from his lordship personally,” she shrilled, “inviting me to the Autumn Festival in the nearby village of Easton Chase this afternoon.”

  Kate blinked and held her tongue. What was Lord Wesley up to? Why personally invite Claire and welcome the onslaught of speculations and irreversible rumors? Did he seek to tie himself to the Garretts in spite of what Edward warned, or because of it?

  Still, no matter his plans, Kate couldn’t shake the jealousy of her cousin’s invitation. The lady, beautiful and from a rich family, offered more than Kate’s modest upbringing. The second Kate remembered what little she had to bring to a marriage, her heart was broken, again. Although she wondered if a crack had not developed from her and Lord Wesley’s relationship already. Oh, she must take care.

  “Then have a delightful time,” Kate said, stepping to the side to leave Claire to admire herself in the mirror.

  “Sincerely, Kate?”

  Unable to neither confirm or deny, Kate remained as silent and still as a hunted rabbit.

  “Hmmm. Yes, well, it doesn’t matter. For him to choose you over me would be foolish. I am worth far more and don’t pretend to be less than I am.”

  Claire stood and brushed out of the room, an off-pitch whistle echoing behind her.

  Kate, deflated and miserable, descended the staircase. She followed the hum of voices, wanting nothing more than to disappear back upstairs. Coward.

  At always the opportune moment, she tripped over her slippers, announcing herself just inside the arched doorway. Arthur and Lord Wesley turned and rose from their seats, the latter’s gaze now diverted to some invisible object in front of him. Arthur, on the other hand, ambled over to greet her.

  “Miss Holden, do allow me.”

  Still miffed over what happened in the maze, she ignored him and escorted herself to the rosewood sideboard, its top laden with silver serving dishes and jugs of lemonade.

  Having lost her appetite soon after her and Claire’s conversation, Kate chose very little to fill her plate. Quiet and reflective, she selected a seat beside Lilly and did her best not to glance even once at Lord Wesley.

  The attempt proved futile as she assessed his attire under her thick lashes. Dressed in a tan waistcoat and dark-brown tailcoat, he represented to his audience a man of rank and grandeur, with such little effort.

  Arthur, still handsome yet foppishly so, with his hair combed forward to mimic the latest style. No matter his age, he represented a most unimposing figure.

  They’d all settled into their seats, Kate lifting her spoon from the thick porridge when Arthur dove into a loud conversation regarding the Autumn Festival.

  “Did you hear, Miss Holden? Lord Wesley is escorting us all to Easton Chase this afternoon. It shall be grand, indeed, and I would most like for you to go as my companion.”

  Kate sliced a curious glance tow
ard Lord Wesley, whose reaction to Arthur’s enthusiastic offer caused a muscle in his jaw to twitch. With his head bent toward his plate, he raised his gaze to hers, his intense stare making it hard to look away.

  She squirmed under his devoted attention until she remembered Claire’s declaration earlier. He’d personally taken it upon himself to invite Claire, yet left Kate out. Her head began to spin. One moment he was acting like a jealous fool, the next indifferent.

  Angered and confused by him, she turned toward Arthur and nodded. “That is very kind of you, sir. Thank you.”

  Not a second inched by before Kate received her first opposition to the idea, from Lord Wesley of all people. “Don’t you think it best you stay here? It may be cramped in the carriage.”

  He accentuated the last few words, Kate knew, remembering her cursed affliction of closed in spaces.

  More stubborn than scared, she wished to forget the numerous moments of weakness and start anew, determined more than ever to retrieve the letters, show them to her aunt, and leave this place before becoming even more rooted. This, however, meant she needed to be where Lord Wesley stood. For, she had no doubt, he had the very things she sought somewhere on his person.

  “It is gracious of you, my lord, to be so concerned, but I assure you, I look forward to the trip.”

  She smiled at him, a gesture he did not return. Injured by his obvious disdain for her having to go along, Kate sniffed and turned toward Arthur. She met his fervent gaze, the same one she remembered as a very young and naive girl.

  She never thought for one moment he intended to pick up where they left off, despite the ridiculous display in the labyrinth. She did believe, however, with a great amount of certainty, that he took interest in her only as a competition.

  Through breakfast and then beside the carriage, she had little occasion to breathe before Arthur demonstrated an ardent pursuit so exaggerated, she found herself giggling at how absurd he appeared to everyone. Well, perhaps not everyone. Lord Wesley’s clenched jaw and fisted hands showed he was less than amused. Good.