His Lady Mistress (6 page)

His brows rose. ‘So soon? But I haven’t paid my debt to you.’

Her breath seized. If he stayed…if anyone came in…‘There is no debt. You helped me. Please—you must go! If anyone finds you here…’ Her voice dried up at his smile.

‘They’ve all gone boating.’

‘And the servants—the
other
servants?’ she amended, re
membering her role. ‘You think they won’t tattle?’ She grimaced. Most of them were only too pleased to have someone to look down upon. One or two were sorry for her, but the rest took their tone from their mistress.

He grinned at her and pulled out a large handkerchief. And ripped it almost in half. ‘Our chaperon. I brought it along for mending.’

She scowled at him. Drat the man! She would be in the most appalling scrape if they were caught and all she wanted to do was smile back!

‘No one would ever believe that the high and mighty Lord Blakehurst would be seen dead blowing his nose on a mended handkerchief!’ she snapped. And shut her eyes in horror. Was she mad? Meek little Selina wouldn’t have said that!

An appreciative chuckle made her eyes snap open.

‘Not dead, no,’ he admitted with a grin. ‘That would be a bit much. But I do have a very saving disposition. Hangover from my army days. Ask my valet. He’ll tell you.’

‘Please, just go,’ she begged.

He stared at her. ‘Miss…Miss…Selina, you’re not scared of me, are you? You don’t imagine for one moment that I have any…’ he hesitated ‘…that I would behave like Godfrey Faringdon towards you?’

Verity gasped. ‘
You?
Like Godfrey? Oh, no!’

His gaze focused. ‘You seem very sure.’

She caught herself up. ‘I…I…yes. Nothing about your reputation suggests that you…that you…well, anyway, I
am
sure. But please go!’

‘Has that little toad bothered you again?’ he asked sharply.

Her stomach lurched. ‘No. He hasn’t been anywhere near me.’ She could not repress a shiver. The moment Lord Blakehurst left Godfrey would be at her again.

‘Good.’

Her eyes widened at the harsh note in his voice. ‘Why should you care?’

He didn’t answer. Instead, he came towards her. She forced
herself to stillness, meeting his suddenly intense gaze unblinking.

Slowly he lifted a hand and brushed the backs of his fingers over her cheek, tracing the line of her jaw, the softness of her throat. Every precept of good sense and modesty shrieked at her to strike his hand away. She remained still, captive to his gentle touch. When had she last been touched gently?

The answer shook her to the core. Nearly five years ago. By Max Blakehurst. Only now his touch made her restless, sent shivers rippling through her. She forced herself to remain still, rigid.

After a moment his hand dropped. He inclined his head. ‘Good afternoon, Selina.’

The door shut behind him and slowly Verity lifted her hand to the path his fingers had traced.

Twenty minutes later Max rode out of the stable yard. With Lady Moncrieff stalking him through the house, retreat was the only sane tactic. He had no stomach for her ladyship’s plans for their mutual entertainment and having her forever cooing about him had become intolerable.

He pushed his horse harder, seeking forgetfulness in the flying hooves and surging power beneath him.

Several miles later the mare’s labouring breath told him it was time to turn for home. He drew the lathered animal to a halt, dismounted and loosened her girth.

‘Easy, old girl.’ He rubbed the sweaty nose. ‘I’ll walk for a bit. Give you a breather.’ Guilt and self-loathing did not excuse riding his horse into the ground. There was no rush, he could take his time getting back. When he did he’d make his excuses and depart. There was nothing to hold him at Faringdon Hall.

Or was there?

Deep grey eyes swam into focus. Wary, shuttered eyes, fringed with the darkest lashes. Selina…what was her name? Dering. Selina Dering. He came to a dead halt. Why the devil
would he consider staying for Selina? As far as he could judge, his warning to Godfrey and Lord Faringdon had taken effect. She had said herself that Godfrey had not been near her. What more could he do for her?

His whole body hardened as he walked on slowly, suggesting all manner of things that they could do for each other. From the moment she had landed in his arms the other night he’d been conscious of the attraction. He wanted her. At first he’d tried to ignore it. Told himself he’d acted in her defence from motives of the most disinterested chivalry. It was only half-true. He wasn’t disinterested. On the contrary.

Her very refusal to have anything to do with him piqued his interest. Most girls in her position would be doing their utmost to cast languishing smiles, practically tripping over themselves—literally—to engage his interest. Selina couldn’t get rid of him fast enough. He grinned. Not what he usually looked for in a mistress, but for her he’d willingly make an exception. God, she’d be sweet…

No!
Be damned if he’d behave as Faringdon had, forcing the girl into submission.

But you wouldn’t be. All you have to do is offer. She can refuse.

And she would. Her whole response to him suggested that. Far from trying to catch his attention, she had been practically pushing him out of the door of the sewing room. Hardly encouraging, but at least she had some spirit left. Whatever her background was, she didn’t talk or behave like a servant.

He faced another truth. When he left, what was to prevent Godfrey taking up where he had left off? Probably at the most he had won the girl a breathing space. He swore under his breath. All he wanted was to shake the dust of this place from him, but he couldn’t. Not until he had made quite sure that Selina was safe.

A heavy weight descended on his shoulder accompanied by a satisfied snort. Adjusting his step to accommodate the mare’s head, he cast a sideways glance at her and rubbed the
velvety nose. ‘Comfortable? Anything else I can carry for you?’

She whiffled contentedly.

He shook his head and walked on, remembering the unridable filly he’d bought three years earlier. Mistrustful Fidget, as likely to bite a man as not, with her head on his shoulder like an overgrown spaniel.

He’d tamed her. Why not Selina? He had rescued Fidget from a young idiot who was mistreating her brutally. Was Selina’s situation so very much different? He caught himself up with a rueful grin. Arrogant coxcomb! Selina was a girl, a woman. Not a filly.

Fidget had been given no choice in her fate. Selina had every right to refuse. Fidget had learnt to trust him
after
he had taken her. Selina would have to learn
before
he took her, if she learnt at all. If she hadn’t been too badly hurt. His stomach clenched at the thought of what she’d likely been subjected to.

He’d been invited to stay for a fortnight. He had just over a sennight left. That long to gain Selina’s trust—and affection.

Affection?
Where did that notion come from? Since when had he wanted affection from one of his mistresses? All he wanted from his mistresses was a couple of months of pure and simple pleasure. Three at the most. Well, maybe not pure. Very well,
definitely
not pure. But no more than three months. Not even from the loveliest of them. So there it was—he wanted Selina. Right down to her freckles.

And if she didn’t want him?

His whole being revolted at the thought. He took a deep breath. If she didn’t, he’d have to devise another way of protecting her. It crept into his mind that Selina would be very different from his previous mistresses. He had the oddest feeling that he might not want to let her go after three months.

He pushed the thought away. He was being fanciful. Tak
ing her as his mistress would be the easiest and most satisfactory way of protecting her. That was all.

Hurrying along an upstairs corridor the following morning, Verity heard a breathless voice protesting.

‘No. Please, sir…you mustn’t…’

She hesitated for a moment. She should be helping Celia get ready for the riding party…A sob of fright came, followed by a crash and a wail of despair. Anger burned away her hard-won caution. Hitching up her skirts, she broke into a run. Rounding the corner she found one of the younger maids, Sukey, crouched weeping over a tray of broken porcelain. Desperate fingers clawed uselessly at the shattered ruins.

Godfrey stood there, an amused smile on his face. ‘Next time you’ll know better than to refuse, won’t you?’

Verity felt sick. This would see Sukey dismissed. She turned on the man responsible like a tiger. ‘Leave her alone! Haven’t you done enough? Just go away!’

She hurried to the distraught maid and bent down to help her, picking up the pieces. Godfrey loomed over both of them. Furious, Verity surged to her feet, a jagged shard of porcelain in her hand.

‘Were you looking for this? Go away!’

He leapt back, swearing.

‘What is…my
Sèvres
!’

Verity barely bit back a curse as she looked up to find Lady Faringdon, her face mottled with fury, staring down at the ruined tea service.

She turned on the maid. ‘Out! Go and pack. I expect you out within—’

‘It wasn’t Sukey’s fault!’

That halted Lady Faringdon’s tirade. Her eyes bored into Verity.

Meeting her gaze unflinchingly, Verity lied shamelessly. The truth wouldn’t help. ‘I was in a hurry. I bumped Sukey
over as I came around the corner. It wasn’t her fault.’
Keep it simple. No explanations. Hopefully she won’t remember you were supposed to be going to Celia’s room—in the opposite direction.

She held her breath.

So, from his vantage point just inside his bedchamber, did Max. Obviously Godfrey didn’t confine his harassment to Selina. He opened the door a little more.

Lady Faringdon had her back to him, but she looked as though a poker had been stitched into her gown. He focused on Selina, standing between her mistress and the weeping maid. Her face was blank, expressionless, the eyes downcast.

Silence held for a moment. He could see the fierce tension in Selina’s body as she waited for the inevitable. Any moment now she’d be dismissed. She’d saved the maid at the cost of her own position. Savagely he reminded himself that it didn’t matter, that he’d look after her even if she didn’t know it.

Then a blur of movement and a ringing slap. Selina stood unflinching as her cheek flamed scarlet from the blow.

He didn’t even realise he had moved. ‘Good morning, Lady Faringdon. A little domestic disaster?’ He avoided Selina’s eyes. If he saw that mark on her cheek he might just strangle his hostess.

Lady Faringdon blanched, her hand going to her mouth. ‘Oh!’

Max waited. If she struck Selina again…

‘Why, Lord Blakehurst! I do hope we didn’t disturb you.’ With a suppressed snarl she turned on Selina. ‘Insolent hussy! I’ll deal with you later.’

Then she snapped at the maid. ‘Clean that up and get back to your duties, girl. Godfrey—our guests are waiting to go riding. You should be down already.’ Her smile became gracious. ‘And you, Lord Blakehurst? Are you not going?’

He lied without hesitation. ‘That was my intention, but I
have a letter to write. I’ll follow later.’ Returning to his room, he listened as steps retreated along the corridor. He’d thought to join the riding party. Not now. He had something else to do.

Chapter Three

H
e found her in the schoolroom. At first she didn’t realise the door had opened and he watched her. Tidying up with a swift, calculated efficiency. Picking up paper, emptying inkwells, shelving books. Apart from the red mark on her cheek, she looked tired. Faint smudges showed like bruises beneath her eyes.

Anger coalesced deep inside. ‘Are you all right?’ He couldn’t keep the fury from his voice. That someone had hit her, hurt her in any way—he swallowed his rage and strode into the room.

‘Oh!’ Books cascaded from her arms. ‘Oh, damn!’ She bent down to pick them up.

‘Here, let me help you.’ He bent down. ‘What’s this? Miss Mangnell? And good lord—
The Mirror of Graces
? How to be a proper young lady?’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘My Aunt Almeria swears by this one.’

‘Then I’m glad I don’t know her,’ muttered Selina.

Max gave a snort of laughter. ‘So am I.’

She flushed. ‘I beg your pardon. I should not have said that.’ Wary grey eyes glanced up at him. ‘What are you doing here anyway?’

The red mark on her cheek cried out. Biting off a curse,
he reached out and touched it gently. ‘I came to see if you were all right. Does that hurt?’

She flinched and he dropped his hand. ‘It won’t happen again,’ he said quietly

She didn’t meet his eyes and bent to pick up a book from the floor. ‘You can’t know that.’ Her fingers whitened on the book.

‘Yes, I can,’ he said. He’d never raised his hand to a woman. And he didn’t see himself starting with this waif. ‘Why did you do it, Selina? No doubt she will dismiss you later when she has had time to find another governess. Why not tell her the truth?’

‘You think she would have believed me?’ Careful fingers began to smooth the pages of the abused book. ‘Even if she had, she would have assumed Sukey asked for it. That she attracted Godf—Mr Faringdon’s attention on purpose. She would have been dismissed all the quicker.’

He couldn’t deny the truth of that. But still…his conscience informed him that he was a complete and utter knave to make his dis-honourable offer when she was desperate. He swore mentally. What else could he do? Leave her to be flung out? To starve? Or worse?

His conscience, which had never taken much interest in his dealings with the fair sex, pointed out that what he was about to propose definitely came under the heading of
Worse
. Worse than death, in fact.
The devil it does! I’m not planning to rape her!

He planned to seduce Selina. Gently. And make sure she had everything she could possibly desire. His blood burned at the idea of teaching her a few things he doubted she had the least idea of desiring. How could she after Godfrey? Best to lead up to it gradually.