Mistress in the Making Read online

  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.

  He grasped Charlotte’s hand and led her toward home, knowing every step was one closer to parting with her. He had no excuse to keep her anymore. He’d learned of his brother’s death and he’d seen the lady Charlotte should be instead of the whore he’d made her. Seeing her with Lady Sarah only confirmed his resolution to return her to her family. It was the morally right thing to do, never mind his heart and body protesting abjectly.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” Charlotte said, squeezing his hand.

  He returned the squeeze. “Just thinking.”

  “How do you feel? Your brother is innocent. The death was accidental.”

  He stopped to look at her, sliding a hand down her cheek. “Innocent darling. It’s possible my brother didn’t commit fratricide. It’s also possible he tampered with the horse’s shoe, the saddle or any number of things.”

  He turned away to avoid her penetrating look.

  “Will you keep searching for answers?”

  He shook his head. “No, it will only hurt Lady Sarah, and I’m not sure I ever would learn the full truth.” A part of him would always wonder if Sebastian had played any role in their brother’s death, but short of interviewing every servant in Lady Sarah’s family estate he’d never learn the truth. And even if he undertook the task, memories could be faulty or misinterpreted. No, he’d let the past die.

  Charlotte released a breath and started walking again. “I’m glad you feel that way. I feared you’d remain ever focused on learning the truth at the expense of your own happiness.”

  He quickened his pace to catch up with her. “What if he is guilty?”

  “You said it before. You’ll never know and you’ll sacrifice your life to seek revenge. The best thing you can do is protect women such as myself from him. Don’t ever let him beat another woman, lady or mistress.”

  “I won’t,” he promised and vowed he’d honor it even if he spent his fortune acquiring every mistress in London to keep them from his brother.

  “You should also marry Lady Sarah,” Charlotte said and dashed ahead lightly, hopping over the ever-present muddy puddles.

  He yanked her arm, halting her progress. “What? Marry Lady Sarah? Have you gone mad?”

  She smiled, though sadness lingered in her eyes. “It’s the best way to protect her, and provide her a little happiness.”

  He shook his head. “You’re daft if you think a pale, crying ninny could ever make me happy.”

  Charlotte protested. “Lady Sarah is lovely and intelligent.”

  “I will consider marriage to her, but she doesn’t hold a candle to you.” Damn, he hadn’t meant to say that aloud.

  They both froze as she stopped walking and spun to look into his face.

  “Don’t say things like that,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” he asked, despite knowing she was absolutely right. It wasn’t fair, especially when he had every intention of cutting ties as soon as they arrived at home; a home that would feel bereft without her laughing presence. He swallowed over the lump that thought caused and thought about Charlotte’s best interests, which were to head back to the country and find a nice man to marry who wouldn’t care she was no longer a virgin. The people in her village need never know she’d played mistress to a London lord for a few weeks.

  “Don�
�t make me dream of things I can never have,” she said and turned to stalk away. He followed her all the way home in miserable silence.

  *

  “Bellamy!” Lucas bellowed, throwing open the front door and yanking back the doorknob before the door crashed into the wall of the foyer. “Bellamy!”

  “He’s visiting Miss Brown,” Charlotte said, calmly unbuttoning her pale-blue pelisse, wondering why Lucas was suddenly acting like a wounded bear.

  “Alyce Brown? My brother’s mistress?”

  “Former mistress,” she corrected. “Though I dare say she’s Bellamy’s mistress by now.” She smiled at Lucas’ bewilderment and turned to head into the library, the only semi-habitable room in the house besides the bedroom she shared with Lucas.

  “Don’t go in there.”

  “Why ever not?” She turned back to him.

  “You’re leaving, and you should go pack,” he said. “As soon as I find Bellamy and have him arrange transportation.”

  “I’m leaving?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her chest to ward off the sudden chill at his words. “Where am I going?”

  “Home,” he said succinctly. “I’ve kept you from your family too long.”

  She stepped close enough to breathe in his unique scent. “What if I want to be kept?”

  He shook his head and gently pushed her back a step. “Don’t do this, Charlotte.”

  “Do what? You’re the only person in the room doing anything. Please explain yourself. Have I displeased you?”

  He ran a large hand through his hair, making it stand on end, and stalked to the bottom of the staircase then turned back to her. “You could never displease me,” he muttered.

  Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them fall until she knew more.

  “I’m releasing you of your obligation to me.”

  “Why? Aren’t you enjoying our time together?” She started to beg, but then a horrible thought occurred. “It’s Lady Sarah, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  She bit her lip and smiled through her tears. He was only taking her advice. She had no right to tears. “Of course we must part ways. I could never remain while you married Lady Sarah, whom I now consider a friend.”

  For a moment, Lucas looked so bewildered she had the urge to hug him. Then he shook his head as he found his bearings.

  “It is because of Lady Sarah, but not the way you think. I’m not going to marry her,” he said.

  “No?” She hid her smile and illicit relief. She’d suggested the marriage, but couldn’t honestly rejoice in it.

  “When I saw you today with Lady Sarah, I realized your rightful place. You’re a true lady, Charlotte. Not a whore. I had no right to take advantage. I’m finally doing the right thing and sending you back to your family. I will continue to pay Madame Bella, of course.”

  “Of course,” she murmured as her heart tried to absorb the vicious blow he dealt in his effort to be kind.

  “Don’t try to sway me. My mind is made up.”

  “I wouldn’t dare,” she said as she leaned against the faded floral wallpaper.

  “Go upstairs and gather your things. I’ll make this right for you. I swear it.”

  She turned to put one heavy foot in front of the other up the stairs, not wanting to tell him the only way for him to make it right was to marry her. She’d never trap him into marriage. It would make him a laughingstock to marry his mistress, and she loved him too much to allow that to happen.

  “Can we at least have one last time together?” she asked, smiling sadly up at him. She didn’t hope to dissuade him, but she wanted one last memory to take to her lonely bed at home. When he looked about to protest, she loosened the neckline of her bodice, revealing her breasts to him.

  His eyes flickered down, but he remained a few feet away with his arms crossed. Hmm, how to get him to respond? She toyed with her hardening nipples, pleased when he visibly missed a breath.

  “Don’t do this, Charlotte.” But he’d taken one step closer.

  She licked her lips and cupped the undersides of her breasts.

  He took another step.

  She held out a hand.

  “Mmph,” she gasped when he tugged her hard into his chest and yanked down the remaining fabric of her dress.

  “This changes nothing,” he said, placing warm, wet kisses on the side of her neck. “I’m still returning you as I should have done the very first night.”

  She leaned back to better receive his kisses and tangled her hands in his lapels to tug his coat off. “Yes, but now we’ll have final memories.”

  He broke off his kisses to clasp her cheeks between his large palms. “Memories? I’ll never forget you, Charlotte.”

  Her head bent to focus on unbuttoning his trousers and to hide her tears from him. No woman would ever love him the way she did. Why couldn’t he see that? The urge to beg for marriage was rising and she had best squash it down before she made a fool of herself. Madame Bella had made it very clear that men didn’t marry their mistresses.

  At last she successfully undid his buttons and freed his hardening shaft. The reminder of their first night in the carriage when she’d knelt at his feet to pleasure him in her mouth surfaced and she straightened to standing to lead him into the parlor.

  “There’s something I’d like to try,” she murmured. “Besides, we don’t want to shock poor Bellamy if he comes home and finds us occupied in the foyer.”

  “Because the parlor is so much better,” Lucas muttered, but he followed her lead.

  They entered the room and she was happy to feel it was warm despite the lack of fire. “Go sit there.” She pushed him toward a narrow damask chair without arms. “Wait,” she said when he was about to lower down into the chair. “Remove your clothes first.”

  Together they stripped off any remaining clothes and Lucas went to sit while eyeing her intently. She smiled and stepped closer. Using his shoulders for leverage, she straddled his thighs, taking care to place his cock up so it rubbed against their stomachs.

  “What do you plan to do to me?” Lucas asked, his voice a low rumble.

  “I’m going to have my wicked way with you,” she said with a laugh. She moved her hips against his, loving the feel of her breasts sliding against his rougher, hardened chest. Her breath caught when his cock rubbed at just the right angle to dip into her ever-dampening passage.

  “Ride me,” Lucas growled.

  She understood his meaning immediately, having seen this trick performed at Madame Bella’s.

  Raising her hips, she gripped his penis and slowly lowered until he began to breach her opening. The fit was tight, almost too tight for comfort.

  “Lean toward me,” he said at the same time he reached around to cup her buttocks, one globe in each large hand. His fingers dipped to a forbidden crevice that forged a flood of desire, opening her wide to him.

  Lucas’ hips flexed and he sheathed himself deeply inside. “Now ride,” he grated.

  She rode. Her toes grazed the carpet and she used them to maneuver her body forward and back reveling in the tight, sweet slide of Lucas’ inside her. His penis filled her, rubbing deliciously against every nerve.

  “I’m going to miss this. Miss you,” he murmured into her hair.

  For a moment it all became too much and she froze, resting her forehead on his damp, broad shoulder. He allowed her a minute’s rest before leaning back, bracing his legs and thrusting up furiously against her.

  She held on near helpless, feeling the bounce of her breasts from the violence of his thrusts. It was as if they were trying to crawl deeper inside each other, knowing it was the last time they’d ever make love. Charlotte clung desperately to Lucas, burying her lips against the corded tendons of his neck. As she neared completion, his movements slowed as his arms tightened on her hips. When he shouted his bliss at climax, she let her hot tears escape down his chest along with the silent words, I love you. Forever.

  Chapter Nine

&nb
sp; One week later

  Charlotte adjusted her bodice, tugging it a tad lower to show off her bosom to better advantage. She nodded at Madame Bella, ignoring the older woman’s pursed lips.

  “You had better fetch what Elizabeth was going to go for and more.”

  She nodded. “I shall. I swear it.” One more tug assured her breasts full prominence. “Thank you—”

  Madame cut her off with a raised hand. “I don’t want to hear it. Beware, lest I change my mind. Your sister still sleeps upstairs. I can delay the auction until the laudanum wears off.”

  “I’m ready,” she said quickly before Madame acted. “Let’s begin.” She walked down the hall, taking deep breaths and praying.

  She’d spent the better part of her week home moping and roaming the grounds of her family estate, alternating between aching for Lucas and fearing for Elizabeth. Fear won when a letter arrived from Lucy and Emmy telling her of the Lord Westhunt’s frequent visits to Madame. Lucas’ brother could have only one reason to visit Madame Bella, and that was to arrange to win Elizabeth’s auction as he’d tried to do at Charlotte’s.

  Panic had infused her at the thought of Elizabeth belonging to that monster. Though he may not have murdered his eldest brother, he had beaten a helpless woman. If he knew Elizabeth was Charlotte’s sister, there was no telling the lengths Westhunt would go to win her.

  Elizabeth was to go to auction and there’d be no handsome Lucas to save her. It was clear Charlotte was going to have to do the saving. She’d sold the fabric of one of her mistress gowns and used the coin to buy fare back into London.

  The long carriage ride had given her time to think. She’d keep Elizabeth out of the auction at any cost. Now that she’d played mistress to Lucas, she better understood the ways of men and could perhaps convince another Galahad to bid on her. A few drops of Laudanum in Elizabeth’s tea and some sweet talking to Madame Bella and Charlotte was once again steps away from a roomful of men hoping to bed her.

  She stepped through the dramatically draped curtains dividing the bleak hallway with the sumptuous parlor and forced a brilliant smile on her face. Every figure in the room received a wink, a nod or some acknowledgement to make him feel she wanted him to be the winner. Her smile faltered briefly when Lord Westhunt’s glittering eyes locked on her, but she hid her concern and stepped onto the platform.