The Accidental Mistress
Kate Harper
Copyright Kate Harper 2011
Published by Kate Harper at Smashwords
www.kate-harper.com
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Copyright Kate Harper 2011
Chapter One
‘I’ve heard a rumor,’ Lord Antony Fortnum had to raise his voice to be heard above the din of the Hellfire Club.
Devereux gave his friend a sideways look, dark eyes amused. They’d shared the best part of three bottles of claret together and Tony was well in his cups. Dev, on the other hand, was more or less clearheaded; he had a reputation of being able to drink most men under the table.
‘Rumors are a sad fact of life, Tony. Which one is it this time? My impending marriage? I’ve challenged some other poor fool to a duel?’
‘They’re a little more sultry than that. The rumors are all around Alice Gaskell.’
Dev arched an eyebrow, wondering how the hell word had gotten around about his interest in Alice. He’d been very discreet because, while Alice wasn’t marriageable material, ruining her would be scandalous and he didn’t wish the world to know that he was interested in the chit.
Which was why he’d taken such pains to keep his proposed seduction a secret. ‘You listen to others too much Tony and then you compound your folly by talking rot. Have another glass of wine!’
‘Oh now, rot is it? Well you’re wrong there because I know. Rumsey was talking about it at White’s just yesterday. Saw you and the Gaskell chit off in a quiet corner in the gardens, heads together and as thick as thieves. Everybody knows that you’ve got your eye on the gel. Why wouldn’t you? With her looks half the blades in London are dancing attendance. But it’ll land you in trouble,’ his friend predicted, ‘She’s not one of your usual bits of skirt and you won’t be able to pay her off with a couple of pretty trinkets. She’s Quality for all her mother’s family smells of the shop.’
Which was, Dev reflected wearily, quite true. But Alice was a ripe little piece who was as keen as he was to take their acquaintance further. She’d made her interest in him perfectly clear from the outset. Alice Gaskell knew exactly what she wanted and he was more than happy to give it to her. ‘I wouldn’t worry about it Tony,’ he murmured, turning his attention back to the two men who were going at each other in the ring, stripped down to breeches, both of them gleaming with sweat. Clearly both boxers were getting tired for their swings were becoming progressively wilder as they staggered across the canvas. ‘I’ve yet to be nailed by some pretty young hopeful or her grasping mother. You may believe me when I tell you that I’m in no danger now.’
‘Ha!’ Lord Fortnum hiccupped and drained his glass once again, ‘That’s what you say! But the world knows that Felicia Gaskell has a dead set on making a good match for that girl of hers and I’ve an inkling that she’ll get one. She has the ear of Lady Jersey and Lady Beddlington. You don’t want to go putting them offside. Trust me Dev; luscious she may be, Alice ain’t worth the trouble she’ll bring if you try and bed her without a ring.’
‘I’m well aware of what I’m doing, Tony. Relax. I’m not about to fall into marriage just yet.’
‘Keep playing with fire and you might not have a choice.’ Fortnum muttered, turning his attention back to the fight. He had a wager on Boucher and by God, it looked as if he were going to collect. ‘Thorpe’s looking woozy. One good uppercut and he’ll go down.’
Dev smiled and poured them both more claret. ‘He will, I won’t. I don’t want you talking about me and the Gaskell chit Tony. The girl is a lovely piece of perfection, no doubt about it but that’s all she is. A pretty face with nothing of substance behind it.’ He offered his friend a glass, ‘So? Your silence?’
‘Oh certainly. I’ll put a lid on it but I’m not the only one talking. Take care, Dev. That’s all I’m saying. At some stage, all men must fall, although most of the time they trip their way into the shackles.’
Dev grinned and they turned back to the fight just as Boucher landed the winning punch. Game over. But not for him, Dev mused. He was a long way from tripping into anything as foolish as marriage.
Just the same… he thought of Alice’s golden ringlets, the perfection of her alabaster skin and those enormous China blue eyes… Virgin territory or not, he would have her and be damned. And afterwards? Well, he was Devereux, Marquis of Roxburghe and he would deal with the consequences when they occurred. As delightful as Alice Gaskell was, she was not the kind of girl he would ever take for a wife.
But she would make a damn fine mistress for a month or two…
Sophie Hartwell spent an uneasy day, unable to settle to anything, haunted by an impending sense that all was not well with the world. It was Alice’s peculiar behavior since they’d returned from the masquerade ball the previous evening that had set Sophie pacing the floor. The ball that Alice had disappeared from for half an hour without a chaperone and without an explanation. Sophie had quizzed her afterwards but Alice had remained stubbornly silent all the way home. Sophie had waited, knowing full well that her cousin never could keep a secret. Sophie was aware that Alice was a complete scatterbrain when she thought her affections engaged and she was worried that her infatuation with the dark and disastrously handsome Marquis of Roxburghe was leading her into trouble. How could it not? The man was trouble. He carried with him a cloud of dangerous intrigue, which only served to make him more attractive to the susceptible opposite sex.
So, convinced that something was in the wind, Sophie had trapped Alice after luncheon, determined to wheedle the truth out of her. It hadn’t taken long, for by then Alice was desperate to tell somebody what her great secret was, although she’d prevaricated, just a little to honor whatever rash promise she’d made.
‘I shouldn’t,’ she’d sighed, dropping into a chair. A small smile had played about her mouth for all of her feigned reluctance. ‘I promised.’
‘Who did you promise?’ Sophie asked, knowing that Alice wanted to be coaxed.
‘Well,’ the girl shot a look at Sophie from beneath preposterously long lashes, ‘I’ll tell you but only if you swear that you won’t tell a soul. It’s a great secret!’
‘I don’t think I can swear.’ Sophie objected honestly, ‘What if it’s something foolish? Honestly Alice, you’re a shocking minx. I saw you flirting with at least six different men last night.’
‘Yes,’ her cousin had admitted happily, ‘It was a dreadful crush, wasn’t it? And there were so many obliging men who wanted to dance with me. But truly Sophie, there was only one who had my heart.’
Sophie ignored the flowery sentiment and went straight to the crux of the matter. She’d been trying to keep an eye on her cousin ever since she’d realized that she stood in very real danger of ruin. ‘Roxburghe.’
‘Yes.’ Alice breathed ecstatically.
Sophie looked at her cousin bleakly. This was very bad news. The Marquis was a fatal combination of elements that might as well have been manufactured specifically to appeal to impressionable girls; dangerously wild, hopelessly good-looking and absurdly wealthy. Alice had been besotted with the wretched man for weeks. ‘You know of Roxburghe’s reputation. He’s ruined more debutantes than any man in England.’
Alice had tossed her golden girls. ‘Oh poo! He will not ruin me.’
‘He will if you listen to his blandishments.’
Alice shook her head, dismissing this. ‘You don’t understand Sophie. Dev loves me.’
Sophie sighed. She didn’t believe it for a minute. Devereux, Marquis of Roxburghe loved only himself and his own pleasures. But she knew her cousin well enough to realize that the silly chit wouldn’t listen. Just the same, Sophie had to try. ‘You’re making a mistake, Alice. Roxburghe is a scoundrel. Do you not remember Mary Trewellyn?’ They had met the girl several times when they had first arrived in town but then she had mysteriously disappeared. Rumor had it that she had been seduced by the most wicked rake in town, but the matter was quickly hushed up. She had returned to the wilds of Lincolnshire and some predicted she would not been seen in London again for some time.
‘Oh Sophie, you don’t understand. Dev loves me. And have you ever seen a more handsome creature? Amelia Trigg looked absolutely sick when he came across the room and asked me to dance.’
‘Alice,’ Sophie began, then paused. What could she say to get through to the girl? As lovely as her cousin was, she wasn’t terribly bright. ‘You need to be careful, is all I’m saying. The man is an even more appalling flirt than you are.’
‘Nonsense.’ The look on Alice’s face had told Sophie all too clearly that, whatever she may say, her cousin was far too enamored with the Marquis of Roxburghe to listen. ‘Dev would never hurt me.’
Time to try another tack. ‘So what was this promise that you gave him?’ Sophie enquired with some trepidation. Lord, let it only be a kiss that he was demanding from her addle pated cousin! It seemed unlikely. A man like Roxburghe was rarely satisfied with so little. Few women were safe from his attentions unless, she’d reflected wryly, they happened to be Miss Sophie Hartwell who had a habit of disappearing beside the radiance of her cousin’s beauty. Sophie never troubled herself overly much with her gowns or her hairstyles if they were going out for the evening for she knew she became invisible when she was standing next to Alice.
‘He wants to go away with me.’ It came out on a whispered breath.
Sophie experienced a sinking sensation. ‘Pardon?’
‘I know!’ Alice had nodded, voice wondering, ‘The Marchioness of Roxburghe. Could anything be so marvelous? Think of the jewelry, the houses, the clothing. Mama is delighted.’
‘You’re mother knows that Roxburghe intends to seduce you?’ Sophie had said incredulously.
Alice had shot her a hurt look. ‘Not seduce, Sophie. He intends to marry me. I absolutely know he does.’
‘And he has said as much?’
‘Not in so many words but he will.’ Alice had risen to her feet, ‘My dearest Roxburghe wears his heart on his sleeve and that heart belongs to me. Now I must go and find Mama. I want that new blue satin we ordered last week from Madam Martine for tonight. I simply must look my best.’
‘Alice, wait! What about Lord Halstead? I am certain he intends marriage and he’s dreadfully rich and utterly besotted with you.’
‘Oh… Halstead is very sweet, I’ll give you that. But he’s no Roxburghe.’
Indeed he wasn’t. For a start, Halstead’s intentions were honorable. Sophie had put an anxious hand out, making Alice pause. ‘Does the Marquis mean to elope with you?’ Alice’s smile had spoken volumes, ‘When, Alice? When is this to happen?’
‘Soon. Very soon. Oh Sophie,’ Alice had sighed with rapturous pleasure, ‘A marchioness. Only imagine…’
Sophie had been left to imagine all kinds of things, the chief of which was that it was likely her cousin was heading for certain ruin and a sudden return to Yorkshire with all her hopes in tatters. Truly alarmed, she had sought out her aunt who had been dozing in front of the fire in the drawing room, a novel from the lending library unheeded on her lap. It had proved to be as frustrating an interview as the one with Alice for Aunt Felicia was of the same opinion as her daughter, convinced Roxburghe intended marriage.
‘But Aunt,’ Sophie had said, exasperated, ‘If that was his intention then he would come and talk to Uncle Edward. He would ask for Alice in the usual way. Surely you must see that?’
‘And so he shall.’ Felicia Gaskell had said comfortably, ‘A gentleman can’t go around seducing girls like my Alice as he sees fit. He’ll come up to speed Sophie, you mark my words. And my little Alice will have done very well for herself. Roxburghe is everything I ever wanted in a husband for her. And after my girl is matched, well then we’ll find some likely suitors for you, never you worry. You won’t be left on the shelf, I promise you.’
‘It’s not a suitor I’m after Aunt,’ Sophie protested, ‘It’s Alice that concerns me.’
‘And you’re a dear sweet girl because of it.’ Aunt Felecia agreed warmly, ‘But you’re almost two and twenty, Sophie dear which is a dangerous position to be in. Another Season and I’m afraid your chances of making a decent catch will be gone. But with Alice settled, we will progress. I believe I saw young Merrivale making eyes at you at the Hamilton’s rout on Saturday. He’s a likely fellow, wouldn’t you say? Good family, a solid five thousand a year.’
But Sophie hadn’t wanted to be drawn on potential suitors. She had given up any idea of marriage two years before when her father, blessed with six healthy children, had been unable to fund a Season in London. Sophie and her sisters would have to be content with modest dances and rural balls. She was quite resigned to the possible life of a spinster, if no suitable match came her way, although she’d gladly taken up her aunt’s offer to keep her cousin company in London, even if her wardrobe would look dreadfully provincial. Her time in London wasn’t about putting herself on the market. It was about finding Alice the best possible husband and so Sophie had accepted the invitation very happily. Her aunt, a single-minded woman, had not given up on her niece securing a suitable marriage while she was in town, however and spent a great deal of time on the subject. Sophie had extracted herself with difficulty, just as anxious as when she’d walked into the room.
The entire reason that Aunt Felicia had come down from Yorkshire and had taken the house in Half Moon Street had been to ensure the beautiful Alice had a successful Season, followed by a glorious match. Felicia Gaskell, nee Tanner, had started life out as a mill owner’s daughter but had caught the eye of the local squire when she had been just as young – and almost as lovely – as her daughter. She’d done well for herself and she intended that her daughter do even better. But to think that a man like Roxburghe might come up to snuff…well, Sophie simply didn’t believe it for a moment.
Several hours later, sitting in front of her mirror as she prepared for the evening ahead, Sophie wondered if it was just jealousy that made her believe that Alice was aiming too high. Back home Sophie was considered a passable beauty but next to her cousin she paled into insignificance. Was she secretly resentful because her cousin received all the attention? Sophie grimaced at her reflection. ‘If that is indeed the case then shame on you Sophie Hartwell!’ For say what one would about Alice, she had a good heart even if she had been taught to think only of herself. There wasn’t a bad bone in her whole body, just a lot of foolish ones. But Roxburghe, curse him, wasn’t looking for intelligent conversation in his conquests. Sophie bit her lip and wondered how she could save Alice from a dark and miserable future for, as lovely as she was, if she gave herself to Roxburghe no man of any consequence would take her as a bride.
Half an hour later, she stood behind her cousin, waiting to be announced at Lady Richmond’s ball. Resplendent in her new satin, Alice had never looked lovelier and drew every eye in the room. Sophie hung back, surveying the crowd of people, searching for one, particular face. A lean, handsome face with wicked dark eyes; the Marquises of Roxburghe was not the kind of man to fade into the wallpaper. She knew that her cousin was also looking for him but there was no sign of his tall, distinctive figure. Too early, Sophie thought wryly, relaxing a little. Never let it be said that Roxburghe might arrive somewhere before ten o’clock.
Perhaps she was on edge but she sensed the moment he arrived and looked towards the door quickly. Despite her dislike of the man, her breath caught at the sight of him. As usual, he appeared to have dressed with scant regard for convention and yet the black topcoat and breeches he wore looked as if they melded seamlessly onto his tall, lean frame. His cravat was loosely knotted, the only dash of color apart from his claret vest. There was a general air of rakish indifference about him but Sophie knew that not even the most exacting dowager would say a word of censure to his face. Perhaps that was the problem, Sophie thought sourly, shaking free of her momentary bedazzlement; everybody let the man behave exactly as he wished.
Sophie spent the next three hours lurking on the edges of the dance floor, her eyes alternatively on her cousin or on Roxburghe. Apart from one dance, he didn’t go near Alice but Sophie wasn’t deceived. She caught several shared looks between them and her trepidation increased. Something was going on, of that there was no doubt. She was increasingly convinced that Roxburghe intended to run away with her cousin.
And that was out of the question. She could not stand around and let Alice run off with the Marquis, ruining any chances the girl had for the future. Something had to be done.
The question was, what?
‘Drake? Have you done as I asked?’
‘I have, my Lord.’ Silas Drake looked at his employer, face expressionless, although there was plenty going on behind the mask. ‘The landau will be ready and waiting at two. I have sent word ahead to Mrs. Chambers to expect your arrival and have cancelled your engagement with Lord Enderby tomorrow.’
‘Excellent.’
Drake looked at the Marquis of Roxburghe’s dark head, bent over the page of instructions he was scribbling down, a vague list of things that he wanted his secretary to see to while he was out of London.
Mentally, Drake shook his head. There was trouble on the wind, he could sense it. The young fool was up to mischief and who could say what the result would be? His employer seemed intent on turning the very society he belonged to against him with his increasingly reckless behavior. Two duels in the past twelve months, a stint in France after the last one when it looked as if he’d killed young Francis Beckham. It was only luck that had seen the boy recover, allowing Devereux to return home again.
Drake knew that air of restless excitement that clung to Dev tonight. And he’d been drinking, not enough to incapacitate him but more than enough to silence any small voice of reason, which might council caution. Lord knows, it was faint enough at the best of times.
Uneasiness touched him. What devilry was Roxburghe up to now?
‘May I ask when you will be returning to London, Sir?’
Roxburghe paused, considering this. ‘Not for several weeks, I expect. But sooner if things do not go as I plan.’ He shot his secretary a smile, the kind that rarely got an airing in public. To his servants and his friends, Devereux was a different man, free with his friendship and generous to a fault. It generated a great deal of loyalty in those who knew him well. ‘You can manage, Silas. You always do.’
‘Yes.’ Drake agreed, then paused. He cleared his throat. ‘This is a very sudden trip down to Dorset, my Lord.’
Roxburghe finished off his list, wiping the quill tip with a cloth. ‘Stop fishing. You know perfectly well why I’m heading to Dorset.’
Drake sighed. ‘I very much fear I do. It’s that Gaskell girl, isn’t it?’
Roxburghe shook his head ruefully. ‘The worst kept secret in London. Damn all females. You can never trust ‘em to keep their mouths shut.’
‘As you say.’ Drake cleared his throat, ‘Are you sure that it’s wise to leave town right now? I mean, it’s the height of the Season. Your absence will be noted.’ And so will Alice Gaskell’s, was the unspoken rider.
Roxburghe went still for a moment, and Drake knew his employer was suddenly looking inwards at a landscape that only he could see. It must not be a pleasant place, Drake reflected because it altered the man’s face subtly. He’d worked for Dev for four years and had seen that look before but he had no real idea what it meant except that there was a darkness deep within his employer. It was this darkness that prompted the wild behavior and reckless enthusiasms. And an almost astonishing disregard for the consequences of his actions. There were times when the devil rode the Marquis of Roxburghe and tonight, the devil had him in hand once again.