More Than A Mistress

by Ann Lethbridge

  They stepped into the entrance hall.

  ‘Tonbridge,’ Digby said, removing his hat. ‘I knew it was you who passed us in the village. The stupid fool at the gate tried to tell us you were absent.’

  ‘My lord,’ Allison said, stepping into the vestibule and making an elegant curtsy. ‘And my cousin. How delightfully unexpected.’ Her smile was sweet. Her eyes glittered like glass. Lady Allison was furious.

  Merry couldn’t move. She couldn’t speak. Her throat simply didn’t have enough moisture to utter a word. She looked helplessly at Charlie, who seemed equally shocked.

  She swallowed hard. ‘Good morning, Digby. Allison.’

  Allison raised a brow. ‘I hardly know what to say. Although, perhaps we shouldn’t be surprised, should we, Digby? We do sometimes hear of your exploits.’

  Merry felt herself flush at the poison-laced words. She drew herself up to her full height. ‘You should not believe all you hear.’

  ‘I should hope not,’ Allison said, batting her eyelashes at Charlie. Her heart-shaped face looked particularly pretty beneath the brim of a green velvet bonnet with its dashing ostrich feather dyed to match.

  ‘When we saw your curricle haring through the village, Tonbridge, we came to make sure you hadn’t forgotten our invitation,’ Digby said. He glanced at Merry and winced. ‘If you are free, that is?’

  In other words, Merry wasn’t invited. Good thing, too. There was no way she would ever enter her cousins’ house. Not for a thousand pounds, or if she was starving in the street.

  A faint look of embarrassment crossed Charlie’s face and then his jaw hardened as if he’d come to an unpleasant decision. He faced his visitors and squared his shoulders.

  ‘We weren’t expecting callers this morning,’ he said, rather pointedly, Merry thought with a flash of glee. ‘However, since you are here, and are now practically family, you might as well be the first to hear the news.’ He gestured to Merry, calling her back to his side. ‘Miss Draycott has done me the great honour of accepting my offer of marriage.’

  Allison gasped. Digby’s jaw dropped.

  As did Merry’s. Her heart stumbled strangely. Her head felt oddly light. Trembles shook every bone in her body, fear and hope mingling. Hesitantly she walked back down the stairs to stand beside him. He pulled her close and gave her hand a squeeze. His smile, when he looked at her, didn’t reflect in his eyes.

  A blade twisted in her chest. He was keeping to his side of their bargain. Nothing more. And she should be grateful, not feeling hurt.

  Lord Digby recovered first. ‘Congratulations, old man. Father will be pleased. Finally, he’ll be able to boast a duke in the family.’

  A flush appeared on Allison’s cheeks. Of course. She’d hoped to be the one to catch the ducal heir. That was why they’d hurried over here at the news of Charlie’s arrival.

  Merry found herself smiling. ‘By gum, Purtefoys is going up in t’world.’

  Allison narrowed her gaze on the hand tucked beneath Charlie’s arm. No ring. Not that there need be one, but it was unusual for a family like the Mountfords not to provide the heir’s future bride with a promise ring. ‘A sudden decision, I assume,’ she said with a sneer.

  Charlie must also have seen her gaze, because he covered Merry’s hand with his. ‘I am the luckiest man alive.’

  ‘When is the wedding?’ Digby asked, still having trouble controlling his jaw.

  ‘We haven’t yet set a date,’ Merry said, before Charlie made up another monumental lie that would have to be explained away.

  ‘The sooner the better,’ he said, giving her a wolfish grin that made her heart lurch and her insides clench. So inappropriate.

  More heat scalded her face. She tried to tug her hand free, but found it held fast.

  Allison’s head tilted to one side. ‘Did you two lovebirds travel here alone?’ A wealth of suspicion tainted the sugary-sweet voice.

  ‘Certainly not,’ Charlie said. He seemed to have recovered his wits very nicely and Merry was quite happy to have him respond to her cousin’s barbed words. ‘Miss Draycott is accompanied by her companion, Mrs Falkner.’

  ‘Perhaps we should introduce ourselves to the lady,’ Lady Allison said with a sweet smile that dripped acid. ‘Invite her to our party. You will both come, won’t you? It will be a wonderful way to celebrate your approaching nuptials, which seem to have been a well-kept secret until now.’

  They were done for. Allison knew they weren’t betrothed. The Purtefoys, with their close connections to the duke, would have been the first to know.

  Before she could refuse the invitation, Charlie smiled. ‘It isn’t public knowledge, I’m afraid. We haven’t yet spoken to His Grace.’

  The look of triumph on Allison’s face was a sight to behold. ‘Oh, I see.’ She surreptitiously nudged Digby in the ribs. ‘We really ought to make the acquaintance of your companion before we go.’

  ‘Mrs Falkner is indisposed at the moment,’ Merry said. ‘The doctor fears scarlet fever.’

  Charlie made a sound like choking, then coughed.

  ‘Scarlet fever?’ Allison’s voice rose. ‘Why did you not say so at once? It is very dangerous. Why, my aunt died of it in less than three days.’ Allison’s pretty face changed to sly. ‘How very inconvenient of your chaperon to be ill right at this moment.’

  The aunt she spoke of so cavalierly was Merry’s mother. Merry wanted to bash her over the head with her green parasol.

  The last time she’d done so, she’d been expelled from school. Although it was not the reason given. The hours spent with Jeremy in the garden shed had provided the excuse they needed to make her persona non grata, courtesy of Allison. The girl had a knack of making herself look like a saint.

  ‘We do not yet know for sure,’ Merry said.

  Charlie had a strange look in his eye. ‘Perhaps you would like to join us for tea,’ he said. ‘If Mrs Falkner has a debilitating condition, I am certain we will not be going out in company.’

  Digby looked as if he might agree, but Allison grabbed his arm. ‘No, no. We wouldn’t dream of putting you out with illness in the house. Good day to you both.’

  She turned and trotted down the steps. Her brother had little option but to follow. At the bottom, they climbed quickly aboard their brougham.

  Like a long-married couple, Charlie and Merry stood on the front steps watching them depart. It seemed odd. And somehow right. And completely impossible.

  ‘It seems we stirred the mud at the bottom of the pond,’ Merry said, half-laughing.

  The grim expression on Charlie’s face said he couldn’t agree more, but not in a good way.

  She let him escort her to the drawing room without saying a word. What was he fretting about? The betrothal could be dealt with right away. The sooner they ended this terrible farce, the better. Dash it. If Caro hadn’t fallen ill, they would have been on their way before the Purtefoys arrived on the doorstep.

  She sank on to the sofa and looked up at his distant expression, his tight shoulders. He looked as if he carried the weight of the world. ‘How did your family business fare?’ she asked in what she hoped were calm accents.

  A faint bitter smile curved his lips. ‘Everything was fine.’

  A lie.

  ‘Right now we have a more pressing problem,’ he said.

  Their betrothal no doubt. Merry Draycott solved her own problems. ‘Simple. One of us will cry off, now, today, and I will return home. It would have been better if you had said nothing at all about our supposed engagement to the Purtefoys just now, but the damage can be soon undone.’

  He looked taken aback. ‘What other explanation could I have given for your presence in my house?’

  ‘Do you think they didn’t draw their own conclusions? And besides, our agreement was for Broadoaks. For the mill owners in Skepton. People who don’t move in your circles. Now the news will be all over London. You will be a laughing stock.’

  He frowned. ‘I hardly think so.’ He s
at down beside her and took her hand in his. He gazed into her eyes with a smile she could only describe as puzzled. ‘The thing is, Merry, I find myself unwilling to let you go without assuring myself of your safety.’

  A bubble of something light and warm filled her chest. She felt as if she might float away. And beneath it was an odd sort of longing. The bond between them seemed stronger than ever, despite his absence. No doubt about it, she’d missed him dreadfully.

  He dipped his head for a kiss. She fought the insidious longing in her body. Fought the desire to melt into him, to surrender to the drug of his kiss. Fought the lonely ache in her heart. Her hand pressed against his chest to push him away; instead, it crept up around his neck and she kissed him back with the passion he aroused.

  Long moments passed. His tongue swept her mouth. Her body pressed close to his hard length, loving the strength and the power against her soft pliant curves.

  He broke the kiss and held her by the shoulders. His smile was just a little smug.

  All she could think of was getting him in her bed.

  ‘Why on earth did they have to show up right at this moment?’ He rubbed his chin. ‘It would serve them right for barging in if we did get married.’

  What would it be like to be married to a man like Charlie? The heir to a dukedom. A man who moved in the first circles of society—the kind of society that looked on the Merry Draycotts of the world with scorn.

  The thought chilled her to the bone.

  He wasn’t serious, though. He couldn’t be. He was just angry at her cousins’ intrusion. She struck at his shoulder with her fist. ‘You gormless lump. I can’t marry you.’

  ‘There you go, hiding again.’

  She pushed him away. ‘You have no idea what you are talking about.’ One thing she knew for certain: for him, marrying her would be a disaster.

  Rueful regret filled his eyes. ‘I certainly can’t force you if you don’t want it.’

  Not want it? How could she explain what she didn’t want were all the trappings that went with the dukedom. Just the thought of it made her shudder. ‘All I want is to go home.’

  He pressed his lips together and drew away. ‘As you have said before. I wrote to a friend of mine. A soldier stationed at York. I asked him to recommend a couple of good men no longer employed by the military who will guard you until we get to the bottom of these attacks.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t want to be surrounded by guards. People will think I’m afraid.’

  ‘You should be afraid.’ He held up a hand. ‘Don’t argue. Wait until we see who he suggests. It will make it easier for me, Merry, if you go along with me in this.’

  This is what it would be like if she married him. He would control her life. But it was because he cared. She let go a breath. What harm would it do, to put up with a couple of retired soldiers underfoot for a while? They probably needed employment. At the moment, her desire to have speech with Jane was a more pressing issue, because Charlie’s hints that he thought Caro responsible for the attacks still worried her.

  If Charlie discovered Caro was to blame, she feared for her friend’s life. Charlie would have no problem having her incarcerated, whereas Merry would prefer to give her friend enough money to send her away.

  Not that she believed Caro was guilty of such a betrayal. She didn’t. She just had to know for sure. If Caro was involved, then Jane must be, too, and Merry needed to talk to her—before Charlie found her himself.

  She let her shoulders sag in defeat. ‘Very well. I will leave my decision until we have your friend’s reply. In the meantime, I would like to go to the village.’

  He frowned.

  ‘Caro is ill. The doctor suggested willow-bark tea, but there is none to be had here at Durn.’

  ‘I’ll send one of the footmen.’

  The blasted man had an answer for everything. She shuffled her feet. ‘She also has need of other things. Female things. She brought very little with her, we left in such a rush, and Beth tells me she is too proud to ask. I would like to make her a gift.’

  He started to look uncomfortable. ‘Give the footman a list.’

  She gave a disappointed shrug. ‘I can, I suppose. It would not be the same, though. Such intimate apparel needs a woman’s touch. I hoped you would come with me. I should not have troubled you with such a trivial request, you must be tired after your journey.’ She rose to leave.

  ‘Merry, no,’ he said, stopping her mid-stride. ‘I’m sorry for being such a dreadful host. I will be happy to drive you to the village.’

  Now she felt terrible. But the die was cast. ‘Thank you.’

  In a few swift strides, he drew close and captured her face in his hands. He gazed down into her eyes with a frown, as if seeking assurance. Then he kissed her gently, briefly, on the lips. ‘I was rough on you earlier.’

  ‘I was a shrew.’

  They laughed at the same moment. He stroked her cheek. ‘May I make it up to you properly later?’ he whispered, his dark gaze hot. Again he brushed her lips with his mouth.

  She felt worse than ever. Heartsick at playing off such wiles, when he was being so sweet, and the thought of one last night in his arms made her weak. ‘I shall look forward to it.’

  He gave her a swift kiss. ‘Enough of this or we will not be going anywhere.’

  ‘Shall I ask Logan to have the carriage brought around?’

  ‘Please. Ask for the closed carriage. For safety.’

  She hurried away before guilt made her admit her request was all a plot.

  The carriage ride passed delightfully, despite the sinking feeling Merry had every time Charlie smiled at her with approval. Twice she almost owned up but then bit her tongue. Fortunately, their swift arrival at Durn village, a collection of stone houses with slate roofs, occurred before she plucked up the courage.

  The village boasted an inn, a mill, an apothecary and a haberdasher’s, which also served as the post office. Numerous cottages wound along a fast-running beck, with the grand Norman church set at one end. They started at the haberdasher’s. While Charlie enquired after the mail, Merry picked up an assortment of items. Handkerchiefs, a nightdress of serviceable cotton, stays, a matronly cap of the sort Caro favoured, some stockings. Soon her arms were full. Pretending to browse, she made her way to the back of the shop where an open door led to a storeroom.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  She spun around at the sound of his voice. ‘Looking for buttons.’

  Charlie raised an eyebrow at her collection of items. ‘Mrs Falkner needs all of those?’

  Merry couldn’t help her blush. Lying to him felt horrid. ‘She does,’ she said firmly. She carried them to the clerk at the front of the shop and dropped the pile on the counter. She picked up the nightgown. ‘It is very plain.’

  ‘Ah…’ the clerk nodded. ‘Most ladies makes their own.’ He pointed to the bolts of cloth behind him. ‘I have some nice white linen.’

  ‘How much is the nightdress?’

  ‘One and six.’

  ‘Daylight robbery,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m no bairn wet behind the ears, you know.’

  He grimaced. ‘All reet. A shilling.’

  ‘Give him what he asks,’ Charlie said, clearly embarrassed by her haggling.

  She frowned. ”Tis my brass,’ she said. ‘And I’ll not be gilding his lily.’

  The clerk muttered something under his breath.

  Charlie winced.

  Merry turned to face him. ‘Why don’t you wait outside in the carriage? It will probably be quicker.’

  Brow furrowed, he looked doubtful, though she had the feeling he was dying to leave her to her negotiations. ‘Better yet, why don’t you see if the apothecary has the willow-bark tea?’

  His expression cleared. ‘Good idea.’

  No doubt he had a vision of her trying to bargain with the apothecary, too.

  He strode from the shop.

  Merry picked up the stays. ‘I’d like to try these on.
Do you have a private room?’

  ‘In t’back.’

  ‘I won’t be a moment. If his lordship comes back, tell him I’ll be quick.’

  The storeroom had a screen secluding one corner from view. It also had a door into the laneway, which traversed past the Red Lion. If she hurried, she could be back before Charlie noticed her absence. Perfect.

  She picked up her skirts and ran along the rutted alley and, breathing hard, entered through the side door.

  ‘I’m looking for a Miss Jane Harper,’ she said to the lad sweeping the parlour floor. ‘She is expecting me.’ She tossed him a sixpence.

  ‘First room at the top of the stairs,’ the boy said, pocketing the coin and returning to his sweeping.

  Beth was right. Jane had followed them. Hoping there was an innocent explanation, she ran up the stairs. Pressing down on the latch, she pushed the door open into a private parlour with Jane sitting at a table in front of the window beside a swarthy young man with close-cropped hair and a brutish face.

  A premonition all was not well made her heart race. ‘Jane Harper, what are you doing here?’

  The man rose to his feet, a nasty look on his face. ‘Now here’s a surprise.’

  Merry narrowed her eyes on the woman. ‘I heard you were here and wondered if you wanted to return with us, but now I see you have other friends.’

  A rather unpleasant smile split Jane’s narrow face. ‘Nice of you to call, Miss Draycott.’ She gestured to the man. ‘Why don’t we make our guest comfortable?’

  He pulled out a chair.

  ‘No, thank you, his lordship is waiting for me.’

  The man lowered his beetling brow and pulled a pistol. ‘Sit.’

  ‘All right,’ Merry said, sitting down opposite Jane. She eyed the woman warily. ‘Are you working alone, or is someone paying you to cause me harm?’

  ‘I’m saying nothing,’ Jane said, her lips tight.

  Merry’s heart sank. ‘Then tell me if Mrs Falkner is involved?’

  Jane’s eyes widened a fraction. Surprise? Because Merry had guessed wrong or because she’d guessed right? ‘Tell me. I’ll pay you well and tell no one how I found out.’

  ‘There isn’t enough money in the world to pay me off.’