His Temporary Mistress

by Bethany Sefchick

  His Temporary Mistress

  A "Tales From Seldon Park" Novel

  By Bethany M. Sefchick

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019

  Bethany M. Sefchick

  All rights reserved

  For Baba and Dzedo…

  Your story was the inspiration…

  And for the real Mr. Okey…

  I promised you, didn’t I?

  Prologue

  December 1820

  Highburn Castle

  Yorkshire

  Clutching a cup of warm punch as if it were a lifeline, Dory looked around almost desperately for one of her sisters, since she could not simply leave the ball without informing at least one of them that she was departing. Her head was throbbing, and she dearly wished she could retreat to her guest chambers at the far end of the east wing, so far away from everything and everyone that she was all but invisible. Which was precisely what Dory had always been – invisible. At least to most people. Sometimes, especially as of late, that even included Harry, the man who was supposedly infatuated with her to the point of wishing to wed her. The very man she was supposed to be utterly infatuated with in return. Infatuated to the point where she was merely waiting with breathless anticipation to become his wife.

  Except Dory had come to suspect that neither of them was really infatuated with the other, nor did they have any actual desire to wed each other. Though it wasn’t as if she could say such a thing.

  Well, she could, but people would simply laugh and ignore her. After all, as the “rather unremarkable” middle Tillsbury sister, most people privately whispered that Dory should consider herself lucky that a man like Harry noticed her at all. No other man ever had.

  They also wondered just what she had done to snare his attention. Sometimes, they wondered that rather loudly, as Lady Crenshaw had done during dinner earlier. And none of her suspicions had reflected very well upon Dory. At all.

  And after that? As usual, Dory herself was promptly forgotten and conversation turned as to what young lady might be a suitable match for Harry, eligible gentleman that he was. Just as it always did.

  Hence the room at the far end of the east wing where no one ventured, not even the most unwanted of guests here at the renowned dowager Duchess of Winterset’s annual “Night of A Thousand Stars” Christmastide ball. Because in short, the duchess – dear of a woman that she was – had also forgotten that Dory existed after initially putting her name on the guest list, and thus hadn’t reserved a room for her within the castle. Which was both a problem and not. At least not as far as Dory was concerned.

  Highburn Castle had so many rooms that it was a mark of pride for the dowager that no one, not even sisters, shared a room while under her roof. However, since she had forgotten about Dory, the preferred rooms in the guest wing on the western side of the castle were already allotted, leaving only the dusty, unused, poorly furnished, and much smaller rooms in the largely unused eastern wing available.

  It had been something of an embarrassment when Dory and her family had arrived at Highburn – with Dory’s supposed beau, Harry, in tow, of course – and everyone had their own room. Except for Dory. Because the dowager had forgotten that Dory existed. Just as everyone else did.

  Dory had, of course, assured Lady Winterset that there was no harm done and in truth, there wasn’t. Dory didn’t care where she slept. Unlike most young debutantes of the ton, she wasn’t particularly interested in climbing to the highest reaches of Society circles or securing a good match to as high of a title as possible. She was more interested in what was in a person’s heart than his account ledgers.

  So not having one of the higher status guest chambers didn’t bother her. Though being forgotten had. At least a little. Thought Dory had insisted it didn’t, which was, of course, the proper thing to do. After her time spent exiled to Mrs. Smithson’s so that she would learn to curb her hellion ways, Dory was always proper. Always.

  Still, the slight – however unintended – had bothered Dory’s brother, Frost, and he had spent a good bit of this house party making sure that no one forgot Dory existed after that ignominious beginning. Or at least he was trying to, but with little real success – mostly because this was, simply put, Dory.

  Frost didn’t have to worry about his other sisters, certainly. After all, Sarah, the oldest sister, was already wed to Rayne, the love of her life. Youngest sister Aurelia was all of the talk of the ton these days after her outrageous summer flirtation – and some would say rather overt and slightly improper courtship – with Lord Hugh Hunt, a man who might or might not be a dangerous spy for the Home Office.

  Which left…Dory. A woman who, according to gossip, should never have snared a gentleman’s interest because on her own? Well, she was “rather unremarkable,” which was a direct quote from The City Times, a gossip rag that just about everyone in London subscribed to these days.

  To make matters worse for Dory, Harry had received a letter two days ago that had called him away on business, leaving her alone here at Highburn. Given that most people assumed Dory would eventually wed Harry – because really, who else would have her? – eligible gentlemen were not exactly lining up to fill her dance card as of late. After all, what was the point? She was already taken, wasn’t she? And it wasn’t as if she was a Diamond of the First Water or anything, in which case, it would be a crime if her dance card wasn’t full. She was simply…Dory. Thus, why bother with her at all?

  Except that Dory wasn’t actually “taken.” She and Harry were merely going through the motions of courtship as of late. Though if she wasn’t careful, she would likely find herself married to a man who didn’t love her and that she didn’t love in return. There was affection between them, of course, but Dory wanted more. No, she deserved more. After a lifetime of being overlooked, ignored, and thought invisible, at the very least, Dory felt she deserved a passionate sort of love between her and the man she married. The sort written about in those Minerva Press books that Frost (probably) didn’t know she read.

  And while Harry might one day love someone passionately – assuming he was even capable of such strong emotions – it wouldn’t be Dory.

  Then again, she could hardly blame him. Being unremarkable and all, she supposed it would be difficult for her to stir grand passions in anyone. Especially in a man as highly sought after as Harry.

  “There you are Dory! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Frost’s wife, Lavinia, whom they had just recently learned was finally with child, hurried over to the corner where Dory was still clutching her now-empty punch cup.

  Resisting the urge to sigh, Dory gently placed – rather than plunked, as she wished to do – the punch cup down on the tray of a passing footman. “I am here, Lavinia. I have been here all evening.”

  Frowning, Dory’s sister in law began to tug her out of the corner where she had hidden herself behind a rather sticky pine tree that had been dragged indoors and festooned with paper chains, popcorn and other bits of bright, shiny frippery. And which was now dripping sap everywhere, including on Dory’s slippers.

  “Yes, but you have not danced,” Lavinia admonished gently. “And you really should. Everyone is having such a grand time. It would be a shame if you did not.”

  Dory wanted to ask Lavinia who would dance with her, but she held her tongue. Dory’s situation was not Lavinia’s fault and her sister-in-law was a watering pot these days as it was. There was no need to hurt her feelings over som
ething so trivial as being overlooked by the male of the species.

  “Harry departed the other day, so I lack a partner, unfortunately.” Dory adjusted the puffed cap of her sapphire blue gown sleeve, hoping that Lavinia did not catch the glimmer of tears that had suddenly appeared in her eyes for no reason.

  That comment just made Lavinia frown all the more, unfortunately. “He should have stayed behind with you. I cannot believe he simply hared off like that.”

  “He is a busy man. Bow Street Runners work almost all the time.” Which was true enough. Dory couldn’t recall a day since she had met Harry that he had not been working in some capacity.

  “He is your beau.” Lavinia did not seem satisfied with Dory’s explanation and in truth, she had every right. It really was annoying.

  “Perhaps.” The tears pricked at her eyes again and suddenly, Dory felt weary to the bone of pretending. Pretending that everything was fine when it was not, and pretending that she and Harry were destined for a life of wedded bliss. Pretending that this life was what she wanted.

  For a long moment, Lavinia was silent. “So. That is how it is, then.”

  “How what is?” Now Dory was confused.

  Lavinia crossed her arms over her chest. “It is as I thought and as I have told your brother often enough. You and Harry do not suit, no matter how much other people wish it. Not at all.”

  “I am fortunate that a man like Harry even notices me.” Dory had offered that same response so many times now that it came to her lips without thinking.

  “With the man you love and who loves you just as much in return, there should be more between the two of you than him simply noticing you.” Lavinia pursed her lips. “You deserve more, Dory. Both of you do.”

  What could Dory say to that? It was the truth, even if she didn’t wish to admit it.

  On the other hand, there wasn’t anything she could do about the matter either.

  What would she do, even if she could? Run away and join one of the traveling circuses that crisscrossed the Continent? Become a tightrope walker in a skimpy costume at Vauxhall? Somehow reinvent herself into someone new?

  She couldn’t do any of that. She could dream. But she could not do.

  “Things will be what they are.” Dory snagged a glass, this one filled with champagne, from another tray that passed by where they stood. She was becoming more and more miserable as the night went on. Why not get a little foxed to relieve the dull ache just behind her breastbone? That was something she could do.

  Lavinia tapped her finger on her chin and studied Dory so intently that she began to squirm. “I could speak to your brother. I am certain Frost would…”

  “Would what?” Dory cut Lavinia off, not wishing to be rude but tired of everyone pitying her. Dory did that well enough on her own. “Would badger some hapless gentleman into dancing with me? Push rogues and rakes at me just to prove that I am not forgotten? Try to convince them that I am a raving beauty when we all know that I am not. Thank you, Lavinia, but no. I would rather return to my chambers that endure any more pity. From anyone. Including my brother, no matter how well-meaning.”

  For a long moment, Lavinia was silent. Then she sighed. “Frost is only trying to help. He worries about you.”

  “I know.” Dory softened a bit. “But I am not some fragile, tragic figure like Sarah was with Rayne. Nor am I a breathtaking beauty like Aurelia who is in love with a man that is likely more dangerous than any of us realize. I am headstrong and willful at times, of average looks and temperament, and there is nothing remarkable about me.” Except for her bookkeeping skills, of course, but Dory didn’t count that because no one else did. That wasn’t ladylike. Or something she should even know how to do. “This is my reality, Vi, and I need to accept it.”

  “Just as you need to accept that one day you will wed Harry, a man who seems to treat you as little more than a wall sconce in your own life? There and ready to shine brightly when needed and otherwise kept in the dark when not?” Lavinia did not seem as impressed with Harry’s courtship of Dory as others did.

  “That’s unfair, Vi,” Dory countered, though she had to concede the other woman was right. Dory functioned much like a candle in a light fixture in Harry’s life. Ready to be lit and noticed when it suited him. Otherwise, she was left in the dark and without purpose.

  The other woman shook her head, angry now. “No, it’s not. You know I adore Harry, but the man is as cold as a block of ice at times. Especially with you. If he has any sort of passion within him, I’ve never seen it, and I know passion, Dory. I also know when it’s lacking. You deserve more. You always have.”

  Lavinia was right about that, and Dory knew it well. For a brief time, Lavinia had been employed at Lycosura, a former brothel where she had been known as Miss Ianthe, a prostitute who had been forced to sexually service the men who sought out – and paid very well for – her company. Though Lavina had managed to escape that wretched place with her innocence still intact – until Frost had come along to claim it, of course – she had done and seen a great deal during her time within those gaudy, gilded halls. If Lavinia said she knew a thing or two about passion in a man, Dory was inclined to believe her.

  “Very well.” Dory had no wish to argue this point just now. All she really wanted to do was rest. And perhaps, yes perhaps, begin to figure out if there was truly a way forward for her. One that didn’t involve marriage to a man who was everything she could wish for but didn’t love her. Or even seem to notice her. “I will speak to Frost. But not tonight. Tonight, I simply wish to rest. My head is paining me.” She waved a hand at the glittering and slightly gaudy decorations that were festooned everywhere she looked. “This has become a bit too much for me.”

  “And for me as well.” When she looked closer, Dory had to admit that Lavinia looked a little pale. “We shall seek out Frost and inform him that you are escorting me back to my chambers.”

  Dory nodded as relief washed over her. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

  As she watched Lavinia wind her way slowly through the mad crush of twirling dancers Dory’s mind began to whirl. For Lavinia was right. Dory did deserve more than to be treated as a mere fixture in Harry’s life. She might not shine brightly within Society or be seen as a diamond of the first water, as her sisters were. But Dory was still a human being who deserved more than simply being viewed as a piece of furniture.

  Truthfully, she wanted what Frost and Lavinia had. What Sarah and Rayne shared so deeply between them. And yes, even what Aurelia and Hugh had found together. She wanted that passion. She wanted that desire. She wanted a man to look at her and hunger for her – and only her – as if she was the last woman in the world. She would never be remarkable, but she could, at least, be desirable to her husband. Or even a man who was not her husband. Shocking to think that way, yes, but if she was destined to wed Harry and could find no way out of that fate? Then why not indulge and play? Tease and tempt? All of the other women she knew had.

  Could she do that? Could she be like the other women she knew and be something other than an invisible, overlooked light fixture as Lavinia had said?

  Could she return, however brief, to her old hellion ways? And, more importantly, not be discovered?

  Dory had no idea. But she did know that she wanted to try.

  Chapter One

  Late March 1821

  Dionysus Gaming Hell

  London

  Dory had come back to this place. A place she shouldn’t be. A place where she would be utterly ruined. If she was discovered.

  Actually, there were a lot of things she did as of late that she knew she should not, so being here was no exception. That was her nature. Her true nature and not the more sedate, polite, and proper one she had worn as a mask for so long.

  Masks. They were everywhere here. Everyone wore them to hide, just as she did. To pretend they weren’t here when they really were.

  Because to be here? That was a risk. For everyone. Especially her. />
  She wasn’t even quite certain why she had come back. Why she had taken the risk again.

  Wait. That was a lie. Dory did know why she had returned to Dionysus.

  She had come back for him.

  To see if what she had felt was real. Or simply an illusion.

  It could have been an illusion. It would not be the first time she had fooled herself into believing she cared deeply about a man who cared nothing for her.

  That time? She had been wrong. This time? She didn’t think so.

  Still…

  In her mind? That first night? He had been larger than life. And not at all what she had expected.

  Lord Raven. Mysterious and handsome and yet a man everyone here knew. Except her. She hadn’t known. But she had wanted to know him.

  Why? She had no idea.

  He had begun as nothing more than a story in the newspapers and gossip rags. A man made into a god.

  A god that intrigued her, however.

  Was he as fascinating in person as the gossips hinted he was? Or was he only a shadow of the larger-than-life figure that had been splashed across every paper for the last three months?

  Dory didn’t know. But she wanted to – very much.

  It was partly because she was captivated by the thought of him, the idea of what he represented. Partly because she was feeling rebellious. And partly because she was tired of still being overlooked by everyone in her life, no matter what she did or said or tried.

  If he saw her, however? This masked raven? If he even so much as spared a glance for her?

  Then she would know that she was more than those around her believed her to be. She was more than a wallflower. More than a mere accessory to someone else’s life.

  If she could attract even a hint of his attention, it would be enough to prove to her that she should keep trying to be seen. To not give up. Because if the infamous “Lord Raven” could notice her? Then others could as well. She simply needed to figure out how to accomplish that.