Tempting His Mistress (5 page)

“You would have to ask them.”

Evan groaned inwardly. What was it about this woman that enticed him into conversing with her? If it could be called conversing. It seemed as though they were taking part in some merry dance of words, throwing them back and forth and circling one another with them. Would anything that ever came out of her mouth be straightforward?

And now they were speaking of his conquests. At least he thought they were. Miss Claremont had such a way of tangling him up and muddling his thoughts that at times, the words left his tongue before he had a chance to consider them.

Once they reached the open fields and Oakholm Hall was in sight, Evan stopped the horses so they could check on Thomas. The bleeding had stopped, but he barely responded to either of them when they tried to rouse him.

“He shall be fine,” Miss Claremont assured him, teeth chattering.

Truth be told, he was more concerned about her than his brother. Thomas had a hard head and after some rest would probably wake up with nothing more than a headache. He certainly didn’t want this stubborn woman’s death weighing on his soul. Knowing her, she would die just to spite him rather than admit to feeling cold or unwell.

Knowing her? What an odd thought. He did not wish to get to know her nor did he believe one day’s acquaintance was enough to get the full measure of a person.

The heavy rain and her tightly clenched lips prevented any more conversation. Grass scented the air as they followed the dip in the hill down to the hall. From their prospect, the ornamental gardens were tucked behind the house, offering an unobstructed view of the red house against the green Hampshire hills. The setting was not unlike that of his home, Hawksley Manor, but his family home had been built in the Palladian style some hundred years ago. He preferred the pale columns and simpler style to the ornamented architecture of Oakholm.

A servant greeted them at the door and rushed inside for help before Evan could demand aid. Several of the footmen lifted his brother from the horse and took him up to his bedroom. Lady Stanley and Harriet rushed into the hall, a whirl of concern and anxious questions.

Evan paused to talk to his sister-in-law, whose cries were growing hysterical. He suspected her hysterics were to gain attention and he eyed her severely.

“Harriet, you shall do him no good in such a state. It’s nothing a sleep and a brandy cannot fix. If you had not decided to leave the hunt and abandon poor Miss Claremont, we might not have had to search for you and end up in this situation,” he said sharply.

Harriet gaped at him in silence.

“My lord, I don’t believe you can blame Lady Harriet for your brother’s misfortune,” Miss Claremont interjected so he turned his scowl on her.

But it was lost on her and she ignored it to pat Harriet’s arm. “I think you should rest for a while. Maybe take a moment in the drawing room. You’ve had a shock.”

Harriet nodded eagerly, her blonde curls bobbing. “Yes, you are absolutely right, Miss Claremont.”

“After all, you can be no help to your husband in your...” she paused as if searching for the right word, “concerned state,” she finished diplomatically.

He smothered a smirk. The woman knew how to charm better than a politician. For someone who had spent little time in society, she had dealing with overdramatic women down to an art. He had to wonder if she had turned that charm on him at some point—which might explain his fascination with her—but as far as he could recall, she hadn’t checked her tongue once with him.

Lady Stanley sent a messenger to fetch the doctor before accompanying Harriet into the drawing room at Miss Claremont’s suggestion.

As he took the first step upstairs to sit at his brother’s bedside, it became clear Miss Claremont intended to accompany him. “You needn’t help any longer, Miss Claremont. You are soaked through and have done enough.”

“Nonsense. A little rain will not kill me and your brother could do with a woman’s touch.”

Evan didn’t point out Thomas had several servants—male and female—attending to him. Her lifted, stubborn little chin told him arguing was fruitless. “Very well then, but will you not change?”

“When the doctor arrives I shall change. I don’t see you dashing to your room to change.”

“I am not wearing a useless hat and dress,” he muttered as they hastened upstairs.

His brother lay out on the red and gold bedding and appeared to be awake. Evan blew out a breath. In spite of his belief Thomas would come to no harm, he would have hated to have been proved wrong.

Miss Claremont unbuttoned her jacket, slipped it off and hung it over a chair. Evan found himself transfixed by the sight of her curves under the cambric shirt. The ruffles hid much of her but with her tightly cinched skirt, he had a fine idea as to what lay beneath. She removed her hat too, patted her hair and caught his eye, colouring as she did so. Her hands shot to her side and she glanced around the room.

“Why are the curtains closed?” she asked.

“The lord complained, my lady,” one of the women replied.

“Let him complain. The doctor will not be able to see a thing in this light.”

The curtains were thrown open and Miss Claremont came to his brother’s side. Evan only seemed capable of watching her commanding manner and admiring her efficiency. She took the cloth and bowl from a servant and cleaned Thomas’s face with such gentleness he might have forgotten she was barking orders only a moment ago.

Not for the first time, he mourned her lack of connections. Miss Claremont, it seemed, was quite a woman and surely suited for something much better than being a penniless, illegitimate woman.

“Can I do something?” he asked, feeling at a loss stood to one side.

She smiled—a gentle, understanding smile—and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. With damp curls framing her face and the way the smile softened her eyes, he forgot that her hair was unremarkable or that she was only merely pretty. In that moment, she could have been Helen of Troy and he would give up anything to see more of those smiles.

“Stop pacing,” she said softly, “and try to get some sense out of your brother. He should not be allowed to fall asleep before the doctor gets here.”

He nodded curtly, and her smile dropped when he came to her side. He lamented the loss of such a smile. So far she had only deigned to bestow him with teasing or bitter smiles. What he would not give to see more genuine ones from her.

Inwardly, he shook himself. Pretty smiles were easy enough to come by. What was he thinking? As he leaned over to study his brother, he became aware of the stiffening of her shoulders. Evan fought a smirk. His close proximity affected her.

“Evan?” his brother peered up at him, and Miss Claremont removed the cloth.

“Yes, Thomas. I’m here.” He noted Thomas’s wound was no longer bleeding but it was deep. “You’ve been a damned fool.”

“My head hurts like the devil,” he complained, his words slurred. “Could do with a drink.”

“You shall have a drink soon enough. First you must be seen to by the doctor.” Evan turned to Miss Claremont. “Do you know how far away the doctor lives?”

“Only a mile or so I believe. He will not take long.”

Thomas only seemed to register her presence then. “Ah, Miss Claremont, are you playing my nursemaid?”

“I am indeed, Lord Richdale.”

“You have a soft touch,” he observed.

Fist curled, Evan suppressed a grunt of annoyance at his brother’s flirtatious manner. He had paid her little attention at dinner aside from the usual courtesies, so why the sudden interest? Of course, Thomas was likely a little addled. Evan brushed it off as that and quelled the burn in his stomach.

By the time the doctor arrived, Thomas was more lucid and answering his questions well.

“He shall not need stitches,” the grey haired man assured Evan.

“Mores the pity. It might have taught him a little caution.”

Miss Claremont caught his eye, her lips compressed and for once not in anger but in amusement as she held back a smile. He stared at those lips for several moments before noticing the shake in her hands.

“Well, Doctor, we shall leave you with your patient. We shall await you in the drawing room.”

He led Miss Claremont downstairs, through the saloon and past the drawing room to the library. The musty scent of books filled the air.

She stared up at the bookshelves that lined three of the walls before turning to him. “I thought you said we were to await the doctor in the drawing room.”

“I shall meet him there shortly. I have no doubt he will be sometime yet and you, Miss Claremont, need a moment’s rest.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffed.

“Your skirts and hair are still damp and your hands are shaking. Either you are cold or fatigued. I won’t have your health on my conscience.”

She put a hand to her hair and her shoulders slumped. Evan smirked and took that as a sign of resignation. Shutting the library door, he ushered her towards the red wingback chairs by the rear windows. Rain spattered against the glass, clouding the view but the expansive windows let in enough light to highlight Miss Claremont’s features as she sat. It shimmered around her hair like a halo and enhanced the planes of her face, revealing the deep cupid bow above her lips and the pert up-tilt of her nose.

He found himself arrested by the sight and it took her to scowl at him to remember his intentions in bringing her here. “I thought you might like a moment to yourself,” he explained. “And the library is the warmest room being at the rear, though perhaps I should order a fire lit.” He turned to eye the wide empty fireplace. It being spring, there was rarely a need to see them lit.

“I need no fire, my lord. I am quite well. Just a little chilled and tired.”

Evan crushed a smug smile. He knew she was exhausted and yet she refused to admit as much. Many women—like his sister-in-law—would have thrived on the opportunity for some attention, maybe even going so far as to swoon.

As she had refused a fire, Evan strode over to the walnut drinks cabinet—a large piece of furniture and a testament to Lady Stanley’s late husband’s enjoyment of a stiff drink. He opened the door and grinned when he saw it was still as well stocked too. Several times when Lord Stanley had been alive, Evan had joined him for a drink in the library. The man had been an intellect and made for a fine drinking companion, though his propensity for drinking often hindered him in his intellectual pursuits. A damn shame, in Evan’s opinion.

Pouring a brandy, he handed it to Miss Claremont before decanting one for himself and sitting on the chair next to her. She eyed the glass for a moment. Perhaps she did not like liquor? Many ladies avoided the stuff. However, after contemplating the liquid for several breaths, she lifted the glass and threw the drink back.

Evan had been taking a sip of his own brandy and relishing the warmth as it flowed into his muscles but to see her drain her glass in one go made the brandy stick in his throat and he coughed.

Miss Claremont offered him an apologetic smile. “Forgive me.”

“No need,” he said gruffly. “You’ve had a trying day.”

“No more than you, Lord Hawksley. It was your brother who was injured.”

“My brother has a tendency to injure himself. He rarely thinks before he acts.”

“Whereas you do?” She ran a finger around the rim of the glass, eyeing it before meeting his gaze.

“Always.”

“You are never impulsive?”

“Never.”

“Yet you took part in risky business dealings with my father,” she mused.

“That was not impulsive. I trusted your father. He was an astute man and had made me money before. He explained the risks and the potential rewards and I agreed to go into this speculation with him. There was no impulse behind the decision.”

“But it went badly?”

Evan lifted his brows. Why was this woman so fascinated with his business dealings, and how did she know that the last speculation her father had offered to him had gone badly? Evan had lost a fair bit of money, as had Mr Claremont, but Miss Claremont would have no knowledge of the debt still owed to him.

He forced a shrug. The money was of little consequence to him, but Mr Claremont had been an honourable man and planned to pay back what he owed Evan. Now the debt had passed down to the heir—a cousin of Miss Claremont’s. Whether he would push the matter was another thing. He suspected it depended on the cousin’s nature. If he was a frivolous man, Evan would not let it go easily. Let the boy have a little lesson in business early on and it might put him on the right path.

“You lost money?” she prompted.

“My, Miss Claremont, you are inquisitive. Do you not know a man’s business dealings aren’t to be discussed so openly?”

“My father always discussed his business dealings with my mother.”

“Yes, but we are not husband and wife. We are mere acquaintances.”

High on her cheeks, colour blossomed. Belatedly he remembered her mother and father had not been married.

“And I suppose you are the sort of man who believes women should have no involvement in the matters of men?”

Her quick recovery reminded him of the spirit behind those pale eyes. “You suppose much.”