Mistress in the Making (11 page)

Chapter Eight

“And then he tipped back in his chair onto his ar…ahem…rear,” Lucas said and pulled her arm closer so he could brush his hip against hers. They were strolling in the park at a very unfashionable hour, enjoying an unusual bit of warm air before winter delivered its calling card.

Charlotte’s laughter bubbled at the conclusion of one of his many travel tales and he felt a bit taller at making her laugh. She’d been too serious of late. She’d continued to be everything a man wanted in his mistress—responsive, sensual and available. However, it seemed only her body was available. She was holding a piece of herself back and he missed it. Ever since she’d returned from visiting her friends at Madame Bella’s she’d withdrawn, not throwing herself at him at every opportunity.

Had Madame Bella spoken to her? Reprimanded her in some way for being so much more than a mistress? He didn’t know and didn’t know how to broach the subject.

“Is that Lady Sarah?” He squinted to better see the lone figure tossing crumbs at the pond ahead.

“Your eldest brother’s former betrothed?” Charlotte’s smile faded. Of course she wouldn’t know Lady Sarah on sight. Mistresses were strictly verboten at good society events where Lucas had spent frequent evenings in the past week researching Sebastian’s social gentleman’s persona.

“Yes, I think that’s her.” He tugged at Charlotte’s hand to hurry her toward the young woman. “We’ll be able to question her here in the park. Ballrooms are too crowded.”

His footsteps kicked up dust on the gray pebbles as he neared Lady Sarah. As he arrived within polite shouting distance, he realized Charlotte was no longer at his side. He turned back to see her halt and give him a little wave.

“Go on, talk to her. You said you can never get her alone in a ballroom, she’s always dashing off when you get close. Now’s your chance.”

He stepped closer and clasped her hands. “Why are you stopped here?”

Her eyes closed for a second. “Lucas, I’m your
mistress
. I can’t speak to an unmarried girl, let alone any woman in society.”

He frowned, recognizing the truth in her words but hating the ridiculous strictures society thrust upon them. Up until a few weeks ago, Charlotte had been as gently bred and innocent as Lady Sarah. He swallowed the queasy discomfort at his role in her status change. “She won’t know you’re my mistress. You look as innocent as she.”

“Oh? And where’s my chaperone?” Charlotte’s impatience matched his. “Go on, before she leaves.”

He grabbed her elbow and dragged her with him, releasing her free will in the matter. “I’ll introduce you as my wife.” He was able to ignore her snort and mutterings because of the smile she tried to hide at the word ‘wife’.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow evening when every matron in the ton wants to know where your wife is.”

He smiled and waved at Lady Sarah, but addressed his words to Charlotte. “I’ll tell them you’re in a delicate condition and prefer to rest at home.”

“And what of your infamous mistress for whom you set a new bidding standard?”

He shrugged. “Everyone will assume I needed an outlet for my male passions if my wife is pregnant.”

She chuckled. “It is audacious. No one will assume your wife and mistress are one and the same person.”

He turned his response into a greeting. “Lady Sarah. May we join you?”

A waiflike lady with pale-reddish, almost blonde hair turned, dropping her bag of crumbs. “Mr. Morgan. You startled me.” A smile covered her face but did not reach her eyes. She glanced at Charlotte, waiting to be introduced.

“May I present my wife, Mrs. Morgan,” he said smoothly, ignoring how comfortable it felt introducing Charlotte as his wife. Squawks of ducks and splashes in the pond echoed as the ladies inclined their heads to each other.

Lucas scooped up Sarah’s bag and handed it to her. Without the safety of ballroom banalities, he was unsure of how to broach the subject. Thank goodness for Charlotte.

“Lucas was just telling me some wild tales of his travels. Have you ever traveled abroad, Lady Sarah?”

“I have not,” she said, looking from Lucas to Charlotte with a quizzical expression. “If you’ll pardon me asking, how long have you been married?”

“Seven years,” he said.

“One month,” Charlotte said at the same time.

Lucas forced a laugh. “What my wife means is we’ve been married a month but betrothed for seven.”

“Oh. Funny, your brother never mentioned your betrothal. He often said you were too wild to ever settle down.” She turned back to tossing pinch-sized crumbs to ducks without seeming to aim. Sadness and loneliness pervaded the air surrounding her.

Lucas met Charlotte’s wide-eyed, meaningful glance.
Now what
it seemed to say.

He shrugged.

Charlotte unhooked her arm from his and stepped next to Sarah, reaching into the bag for her own handful of crumbs. “I’m not really his wife.”

Sarah halted her arm, mid-throw. “You’re not?”

Charlotte shook her head and tossed accurately at a pair of ducks who flapped toward her bounty. “I’m his mistress.”

Sarah froze then looked from her to him and back again. “Truly?” She seemed excited by the information and not at all horrified. “You don’t look as I expected a mistress would.”

Charlotte flushed and his stomach tightened, knowing that he’d been partially responsible for her discomfort. Though he hadn’t forced her onto Madame Bella’s auction block, he hadn’t returned her to her family either and had initiated her sexually while knowing she was a gently bred lady.

“I believed mistresses didn’t arise until evening and wore vulgar costumes, but I have a gown similar to yours,” Sarah said with a laugh.

Lucas winced at the unwitting direct hit.

Sarah turned to him. “Did you really outbid your brother for her?”

He coughed, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation flowed. He wanted to question her about his brother, not the particulars of his arrangement with Charlotte, but he nodded.

“I overheard my father discussing it,” she said. “Good.”

Charlotte smiled at Sarah. “I agree, but why do
you
feel that way?”

Sarah flushed and gave him an apologetic glance. “The current earl makes me uncomfortable. My apologies for insulting your twin, sir.”

He tried to force his body to remain in a relaxed stance, but animal instinct had him freezing and intently listening to her next words.

“How does Westhunt make you uncomfortable, Sarah?” Charlotte asked.

“After my fiancé’s death, he often commented that he meant to assume all his brother’s properties, including me.” She shuddered. “I begged my father to never allow that to happen.”

“Did he ever touch you or hurt you?” Lucas asked.

Sarah looked at him, startled. “Oh no. He was the picture of a perfect gentleman, but there is something in his demeanor that makes me uneasy.” She turned away so he couldn’t see her eyes anymore and was surprised when her shoulders hunched and sobs flew from her in great gasps.

Charlotte latched on to her with gentle arms, leading her over to the nearest bench. “Why, Lady Sarah, whatever is the matter? You can count on us as friends.”

He followed the women to the bench, unsure of his role in comforting the delicate woman, forever grateful Charlotte was there to take control.

“That’s the problem,” Sarah sobbed. “You’re being so nice to me when I… When I…murdered your brother.”

He met Charlotte’s look and knew his expression matched her stunned one. He knelt in front of Sarah and grasped her shoulders. “Please tell me what you mean, Sarah.” He struggled not to shake her to hurry her crying fit along, but inwardly counted to ten and back again.

“Sarah, Lucas would like to know what happened,” Charlotte said gently, and handed her a clean, white linen square.

“Why do you think you murdered my brother?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, though his heart pounded. At last he was going to get answers and it all happened more easily than he’d dared dreamed.

She accepted the cloth and dabbed at her eyes. “Your brother came to visit my father’s country estate following the Season. One night there was a terrible storm. Trees fell and the ground was a soggy mess, but I…” She hiccupped into the handkerchief. “At breakfast I mentioned how much I loved the pebbles near the stream on the estate. They’re shiny and brightly colored…”

Lucas bit his tongue in an effort to stop from telling her to get to the point. Charlotte smiled and squeezed Sarah’s hand.

“I asked your brother to fetch me a pebble. I knew he’d ride and you remember your brother’s riding…”

Lucas nodded grimly. “Neck or nothing,” he muttered.

“I knew he’d ride instead of walk to the stream, but I didn’t try to stop him. He seemed invincible.”

“He thought he was invincible. Likely he wouldn’t have listened to any warnings,” Lucas said to her.

Sarah nodded, looking him straight in the face with tears spilling onto her cheeks. He could see her damsel-in-distress appeal for his heroic older brother. As for him, he preferred Charlotte’s no-nonsense pertness.

“You’re probably correct. He rode out to fetch that stupid little pebble and didn’t see a large fallen limb in time. His horse went down on top of him.” She buried her face in her hands.

“Oh, Sarah, you didn’t murder him,” Charlotte said, wrapping an arm around the other woman.

“As good as.” Sarah sniffled, her voice muffled. “If only I hadn’t beguiled him to fetch it.”

“Who found his body? How long before you knew something was amiss?” he asked.

“I did,” Sarah said quietly. “Along with your other brother, the current earl. When he hadn’t returned by noon, we went to the stream.” She buried her face in her hands. “I can still see his large body facedown in the mud. So…so…still.”

“Why wasn’t his cause of death common knowledge?” Lucas asked sharply, wincing when both women’s heads flew up to stare at him. He strove to gentle his tone. “I meant, why didn’t I know about this?

“My father wanted to keep it quiet. He feared I’d be ostracized if my involvement became common knowledge. He paid the groomsmen to keep it quiet and your twin agreed to say he’d been the only one to find the earl.”

“Lady Sarah!” A woman came into view, panting and clutching her hat to her head.

“My maid,” Sarah said. “We have an arrangement. She accompanies me to the park and I allow her to go off with her sweetheart.” Her tears were slowing and her ashen face bloomed with color again.

“Lady Sarah. What are you doing, miss?” The maid skidded to a halt next to Lucas and frowned down at her charge.

“Hettie, may I present Mr. Morgan, younger brother to the Earl of Westhunt.”

The maid bobbed a curtsy and had the good sense to flush at chastising her mistress in front of a peer.

“Hettie, we need another moment of your lady’s time. Do you mind?” Lucas jerked his head in the direction of the pond, allowing no leeway in his tone.

“Of course, sir.” The maid bobbed a curtsy and stepped back toward the pond, facing their threesome with concern etched on her face. When she was out of earshot, Lucas turned back to Sarah.

“You say my twin agreed to the deception. Do you know why?”

Sarah shrugged. “He was so strange after the doctor declared Charles dead. He didn’t seem grief-stricken his brother was dead, only elated that he held the title.”

He nodded as his mind spun with the implications. His twin may not have
killed Charles. Despite the long, agonizing months of thinking he was solving his eldest brother’s murder, he felt a curious emptiness inside. It was over. His search for the cause of death had come to an end. He stared at the bench, watching Charlotte and Sarah speak with heads leaning in to each other.

His stomach churned uneasily at being unable to discern any real difference between his mistress and his brother’s former fiancée. For all intents and purposes, Charlotte was a lady, same as Sarah. The only difference between the two was Sarah had a father who sought to protect her and Charlotte had only herself to rely on.

Momentary paralysis struck at the idea that he could be counted among the vultures. Was he really any better than his twin? Of course, he didn’t beat women, but he left invisible damage all the same. For Christ’s sake, he’d exposed Charlotte to every perversion a man could have.

Shakily he rose and held a hand out to Charlotte. “Lady Sarah,” he said, bowing, “it is time we left for home. Thank you for telling me your tale.”

Sarah stood alongside Charlotte. “Thank you for your understanding. I feel a burden has been lifted. I held such guilt about my role in Charles’ death and had no one to apologize to since the current Westhunt felt no remorse. Please accept my deepest regrets about my role in your brother’s death.”

Lucas grasped her hand and kissed the top. “No need for an apology or regrets. If you hadn’t requested the stone, my brother still would’ve found an excuse to go riding recklessly on the wet ground.”

To his surprise, he found he meant every word sincerely. Sometimes death was simply an accidental tragedy with no one left to blame. Perhaps the left-behind mourners sought to place blame to make the grief easier, but it changed nothing. Dead was still dead.