Never a Mistress, No Longer a Maid (Kellington Book One)

by Maureen Driscoll

“You lied to me,” came Edward’s cold voice, eventually. “You’re not a widow.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “It has bloody everything to do with it. I don’t deflower virgins.”

  “Don’t use foul language. And you made your views perfectly clear just before the…deflowering.”

  “You were the one doing the deflowering, with those blasted long legs of yours wrapped around me.”

  “You’re saying I overpowered you?”

  “Yes! No! I’m saying it was too much for one man to resist. You’re too much for one man to resist.”

  Jane was absurdly pleased with the compliment, even if it was given in the midst of a tirade. “I can’t see how it makes one bit of difference now that it’s done.”

  “You do realize this changes everything, don’t you?” he said.

  Oh, dear, thought Jane. He was going to propose. This would throw her whole life in disarray. There would be no chance of becoming a surgeon. No chance of becoming anything but a wife. Of course, if what she’d just experienced was any indication, being Edward’s wife would come with some advantages, but she couldn’t give up her hopes and dreams this easily. At least not without talking about it.

  “You’ll become my mistress, of course.”

  It took Jane a moment to comprehend what he’d just said.

  “You want me to be your mistress?”

  “Very much. I know you don’t have anything to compare it to, but what we just experienced doesn’t happen all that often. To be frank, it’s never happened to me – not like that. You’re a natural at this. And once you learn a bit more, I can only imagine the bliss we’ll find. As long as you remember who’s the man and who’s the woman.”

  It wasn’t often that Jane found herself without words. What she really lacked was a large rock to cosh him with. He’d offered to make her his mistress. Her. Lady Jane Wetherby, granddaughter of an earl. Of course, he didn’t know that , but it was insulting all the same.

  “You can be quite assured, Lord Edward, that I will always retain the knowledge of who’s the man in our relationship. Especially when he made me a most indecent proposal. You can be even more assured, that while I do appreciate your having shown me the act of physical love, I will never ask for another interlude. And if I should require tutoring, I’ll be more than happy to find someone else.”

  Ned saw red at the very idea of Iris getting lessons from anyone else. She was his. At least in the manner of master and mistress. And she would come around. He’d bet his life on it.

  “Very well, madam. I suggest we get some sleep, so we can find our way out of the forest tomorrow and back to civilization. Rest assured I will neither molest you further tonight, nor repeat my ‘indecent proposal,’ as you deemed it.”

  “Good,” she said with more vehemence than she felt.

  “Excellent,” he said with much more bravado than he felt.

  They both lay down, inches from each other. And neither slept a wink.

  * * *

  The next day, a long silent journey returned them to Brussels. After a strictly proper bow and curtsy, each left the other. Ned found his commanding officer and gave his report. Jane returned to her nursing station, where a letter awaited demanding that she return home. It was accompanied by one of her grandfather’s footmen to ensure she complied. He was travelling incognito to avoid bringing further shame to the family.

  So, the next day, when Ned returned to town, seeking out Iris with apology, flowers and marriage proposal at the ready – he had, after all, taken her maidenhead and fictional innkeeper’s widow or not, some things just weren’t done when one was a gentleman – he found no sign of the woman who had so thoroughly bewitched him.

  He should’ve felt relief. He was much too young to get leg-shackled and his brother, the Duke of Lynwood, would be furious. But somehow, the emotion pouring through him as he questioned Iris’s colleagues who knew nothing more than that she’d gone off with “some bloke,” wasn’t relief. Or elation. Or even a mild curiosity as to how she could’ve just walked away without looking back.

  The emotion wasn’t any of those. But he didn’t care to examine it too closely to see what exactly it was.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Marston Vale, Bedfordshire, April 1822

  “Just a little more, Sue. I know you’re tired, but you’re almost there.”

  Jane Wetherby wiped the sweat from Sue Birch’s forehead. It was an unusually warm spring day and the poor woman had been laboring for almost twelve hours.

  “What’s happenin’, Miss Jane? I canna stand to be out here when my poor Sue is suffering so.” Joseph Birch, blacksmith and first-time father, stood just outside the bedroom door in their small cottage.

  Sue and Jane exchanged a look. “Don’t let him come back in here,” said Sue. “It’s hard enough bringin’ a babe into the world without havin’ a bigger one standing by me side worryin’.”

  “He worries because he loves you.”

  “I know,” said Sue with a sweet smile. “I couldn’t have made it through this day without him out there worrying. And you by my side helping. Ohhh!”

  Sue was hit with another contraction and Jane took her position. “Oh, Sue, I can see the babe’s head!”

  “What?!?” boomed the voice from outside the door.

  “Not now!” said his wife.

  “One more push. That’s it, that’s it. Oh my,” said Jane as she gently pulled the babe from its mother. “You have a boy. A beautiful boy!”

  “A boy!” There was a crash as the door swung open and hit the wall, then a beaming Joseph entered the room. “Susie, you gave me a son!”

  He ran to his wife and hugged her. Then he took one look at the newborn, as well as the state of the linens and began to sway.

  “Sit down, Joseph,” commanded Jane with a smile. “I can only tend to one patient at a time. And right now, it’s your son.”

  “My son,” said Joseph as he sank onto a stool. “My son.”

  Jane finished wiping off the baby, then handed him to his parents.

  An hour later, an exhausted Jane walked toward Wetherby Farm, her home. Her father had purchased the home when he’d married her mother. Jane had inherited it upon their death and while she owned it free and clear, the once comfortable farmhouse now needed extensive repairs. The roof leaked, shutters flew off with even the mildest wind and since she was unable to afford much coal, it tended to be quite cold in winter. Nevertheless, Jane loved the old house because it reminded her of her parents.

  Some of the villagers were kind enough to do repairs in exchange for the medical care she provided, but she had little money to buy supplies for the bigger jobs like the roof. Her inheritance was wrapped up in a trust administered by her grandfather’s solicitors. Since her relationship with the earl was strained at best, he continued to cut back on her allowance despite the fact she was six and twenty, and should’ve had full use of the funds. No amount of pleading had swayed him and she couldn’t afford to hire a solicitor to see to her interests. She barely had enough funds to keep her housekeeper and butler, Mr. and Mrs. Heldt, and Farrell, her groom. The three had been with her family since before Jane was born, but she couldn’t very well ask them to continue on unpaid.

  As the only affordable source of medical care, Jane was called on by the poorer residents of Marston Vale on an almost daily basis. Everyone tried to pay her what they could, but it was rarely in currency. She was more likely to carry home eggs or butter than shillings. When a tenant farmer who was having a particularly bad year had tried to give her his one remaining chicken, she insisted instead that she be paid in song from his three children. Even though the incident had been four years ago, the children still serenaded her when she saw them.

  Today, the blacksmith had a baby, a beautiful son. Which was great news for the Birch family and excellent news for the two horses Jane still had in her stable. They’d get new shoes next week.

  She smiled
as she thought about the new babe being held by his proud parents. Then a lump came into her throat as she recalled the love in Joseph’s eyes as he looked at his beloved Sue. It was a look Jane longed to receive from a man, but one she knew she’d never get.

  But before she could become too maudlin, a blonde sprite ran into her at a six-year-old’s top speed, wrapping her arms tightly around her waist. Jane returned the squeeze.

  “Mama! I lost a tooth! See!”

  Jane bent down to look at the gap in her smile.

  “You did! You’re such a brave girl.”

  “I was! I didn’t cry at all. I was surprised a little. But I didn’t cry. Do you want to see it?”

  Violet, with blonde hair and emerald green eyes, carefully pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket. She unwrapped it, then presented her mother with a small, slightly bloody tooth. Jane picked it up.

  “I believe you deserve a special treat for being such a brave little girl.”

  “Mrs. Heldt is making me a tart!”

  “That’s very kind of Mrs. Heldt. I hope you can eat it with one fewer tooth.”

  The fact that she might be missing tart-eating capabilities hadn’t yet dawned on Vi. Her eyes grew wide at the very thought.

  Jane looked at her daughter’s emerald eyes. Eyes that brought back so many memories.

  “I’m only teasing. I’m sure you shall be quite capable of eating anything Mrs. Heldt cooks.”

  “Let’s go see her! Perhaps it’s ready!”

  And with that, Vi grabbed her mother’s hand and the two of them ran toward the rundown house and the apple tarts which would be there for both of them.

  London

  Ned Kellington’s head hurt. It certainly wasn’t the worst headache he’d ever had. He had surprisingly fond memories of that headache. However, it was irritating enough that all he wanted to do was return home and go to bed. But since the night was still young, a good three hours before dawn, he knew neither of his companions would permit him to attend to his wishes.

  During the six months since returning home from his last mission for the Foreign Office, it had become somewhat of a routine. He and his two younger brothers, Arthur and Hal, would dine at one of their clubs, catch up on the latest gossip, then attend whichever ball was considered necessary to stave off a visit from their Aunt Agatha who meant to see them all married as soon as possible. Then they’d head out in search of more satisfying entertainment some time after midnight.

  At nine and twenty, Ned was two years older than Arthur and four years older than Hal. They’d always been close as boys, but hadn’t seen much of each other in the years since Ned had finished university and gone off on his great adventure. First the war, then missions for the Foreign Office. They always joked that, given his historical namesake, it should’ve been Arthur who’d gone off on a quest. But it was Ned who’d left home and only seldom ventured back.

  It wasn’t that he hadn’t missed his brothers and sister. He had. But he’d wanted more from life than settling into his very comfortable existence as the slightly younger brother to the Duke of Lynwood. He was afraid that if he’d settled into that post, he never would’ve roused himself from it. And before he knew it, he’d be sixty years old and soft around the middle with a wife someone else had found for him and grandchildren who pestered him constantly. Actually, the grandchildren might not be too bad. But an arranged marriage – he cringed at the very thought.

  Now he was back in London, retired from service and getting to know his brothers as men. Men who took full advantage of the entertainments London offered.

  But, truthfully, the appeal of late nights had begun to pall. Ned had even begged off from his brothers one night last week claiming illness, then stayed home to read a book. He’d had to be careful to hide his perfidy since they all lived at Lynwood House, but his valet and former batman Rigg had once again had his back, even if the man had thought the behavior queer indeed.

  “What say you, Madame L’Amour’s or that new gaming hell?” asked Arthur.

  It had been the whimsy of their late parents to name their children after four Kings of England, and one Queen. Arthur was the tallest of the Kellington brothers, a fact that seemed to bother the duke just the slightest bit, which meant Arthur took every opportunity to point it out. His hair was the fairest of all of them, much closer to their sire’s light brown than to their mother’s raven locks. His build – like all of the Kellington brothers’ – was lean muscle distributed across broad shoulders, a well-developed chest, a rippled stomach, narrow hips and strong thighs.

  Experienced women of the ton compared the Kellington brothers to each other in great detail – and found none of them wanting.

  Henry, known to everyone as Hal, had a love of women reminiscent of Henry VIII, even if their parents had the bravery of Henry V in mind when they named him. Hal was always quick with a smile and a joke, which meant he could charm wives and avoid castration from their husbands almost equally well. He wore his chestnut hair to his shoulders, pulled back in a queue.

  Their sister Elizabeth was the baby of the family at one and twenty, but, like her namesake, could hold her own with the men of her family. With curly black hair, she was the only other member of the family to have Ned’s emerald eyes. Since her come-out, she’d been pursued by every eligible man between 18 and 80, and had, up to this point, accumulated a dozen proposals of marriage, all of which she’d politely turned down.

  She also would’ve been the recipient of countless indecent proposals if the rogues in town didn’t live in fear of her brothers, both physically and socially. One raised eyebrow from the Duke of Lynwood could freeze someone out for the rest of the season. And the man was also good with his fives.

  William, Duke of Lynwood. Named for the Conqueror, and known as Liam to a select few. At two and thirty, he was an enigma to many. A wealthy duke, one of the best prizes on the marriage mart, Liam spent most of his time at Lynwood in the country, only returning to London for Parliament and to do his duties as Elizabeth’s eldest brother. He was more rugged looking than the rest of them. His nose had been broken more than once during his wild years at Cambridge. But when duty called after the death of their parents, Liam put the past behind him and calmly took up the reins. If his current quiet life didn’t exactly jibe with his wild youth, no one dared to question him about it. Or if they did, they didn’t do it twice.

  “What say you?” asked Arthur again. “Gaming or whores?”

  “We can’t do both?” asked Hal.

  “How about neither?” said Ned, absently.

  His brothers exchanged a look.

  “What has come over you?” asked Arthur.

  “I’d say you were dicked in the nob, if I weren’t afraid people would think it’s hereditary.” Hal became momentarily distracted as Lord Fellowes and his current ladybird strolled by arm in arm. “I don’t know how he does it. Fellowes can barely move with those stays wrapped around him as if to hold in his entrails. And yet, he catches some of the most beautiful birds in Covent Garden. What is it about the man?”

  “Blunt. Loads of it,” said Arthur as he, too, turned to gawk at the female.

  It was growing too much for Ned. “Don’t you ever tire of the same routine over and over again?”

  “Now I do think you’re daft,” said Hal. “Why not ask the sun if it’s going to rise tomorrow or if it’s too bored to give it a go, having done it so many times before. Are you sure you didn’t get anything important shot off on the continent?”

  “I’m quite intact, thank you.”

  “You should enjoy yourself while you can, Ned, since your days of freedom are numbered,” added Arthur. “Liam will be back any day now, no doubt to tell you to formalize your understanding with the quite proper Miss Merriman.”

  “Are you really going to get leg-shackled to that twit?” Hal’s aversion to matrimony was well known.

  “How do you know she’s a twit?” asked Ned. “You barely know her.”

/>   “I know her well enough,” answered Hal. “And if you ask me, you can do better than a viscount’s daughter with no sense of humor and a highly inflated view of herself.”

  “Turned down your advances, did she, Hal?” asked Arthur.

  “Flat. And in front of a balcony full of witnesses, too. Bad form, if you ask me.”

  Ned knew he should be bothered that his brother had made advances toward the lady he was expected to marry. But Hal made advances to just about every woman. Gray-haired matrons were said to have their spirits lifted for months with just one wink from the man. As for Miss Merriman, Ned felt depressingly neutral toward the lady he’d met only half a dozen times, but was expected to marry because of some agreement between their parents.

  It was a most disagreeable thought. While he could hardly consider himself a romantic, he thought there should be more of a basis to marriage than that. He wanted a wife who’d obey him absolutely, but have enough spirit to stand up for herself and those she loved. He wanted a wife who could fire his blood and make him look forward to the marriage bed. A blonde wouldn’t be bad. With brown eyes and flecks of amber. And the ability to use up a bottle of good Scots whiskey without taking a sip.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Marston Vale, Bedfordshire

  Jane sat behind the desk and ran the figures again. They simply couldn’t be right. After already taking every step of economy imaginable, they still wouldn’t have enough money to get through the year. She’d already sold off the furniture that wasn’t needed. The linens were threadbare. Her dresses had been turned inside out and patched. Poor Vi had only her mother’s old toys, except for whatever their groom Farrell could whittle. They grew whatever food they could, then supplemented it with what the villagers gave them in payment for medical care. Jane wouldn’t accept payment from the poorest of the poor. But if her situation didn’t change, her family would be little better off than they.

  If only her grandfather would relent and release her inheritance. But she knew he’d only do that if she sent Vi away to live with strangers.