The Perfect Mistress (19 page)

Not that he had never been with a woman in a carnal sense before. Charles had made sure of that in Harrison’s youth. And indeed, through the years, Harrison had had a fair number of women in his bed. Women who wanted nothing more from him than he had wanted from them. Cordial interludes on both sides but nothing of significance. If Charles was here he would point out that while he may have taken women to his bed, he had never taken one into his heart. Harrison started at the idea. Where on earth had that come from?

But Charles was a romantic whereas Harrison was most practical. In considering Miss Waverly’s qualifications to be his bride, Charles would certainly point out that in spite of her sterling qualities, nothing was as important to a successful marriage as love. Utter nonsense of course. Harrison had never had so much as a twinge of any sort of feeling that might approximate love. Of course, Charles would laugh and say neither did he until he met Veronica and would further add that the men in Harrison’s family did not seem to find love or even the right wife in their youth. His eyes would twinkle and he would add they were far too clever for that.

Perhaps it was because he was now seriously considering marriage that these odd thoughts about love and what his brother would say if he were here came to mind. But it was his duty to marry an appropriate woman. She would, after all, ultimately be the next Marchioness of Kings-bury.

“And then, my lord, my friend Grace, surely you know her family. Her father is …”

Miss Waverly was the perfect candidate. Well bred, well trained, her family background was impeccable, she would no doubt be an excellent hostess and a perfect wife. And she was young enough to be most pliable. There was no sense of independence or extreme intelligence about Miss Waverly. No, indeed. She would never defiantly stare at him and refuse to do as he thought best. She would certainly not court scandal in any way whatsoever. She would do as she was told, without question. This was a woman who knew her place in the world.

“Do you like poetry, Miss Waverly?” he said without thinking.

“Oh, yes, I do,” she said eagerly. “I quite like poems about love and romance and being carried away by grand passion. They are so … so romantic. Although I will confess, I don’t like poems that do not rhyme.” She wrinkled her pretty nose. “I find poems that don’t rhyme most confusing. It isn’t really a poem if it doesn’t rhyme, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.” He smiled weakly. “And literature? What do you like to read?”

“Read? Well …” She paused for a moment. “Books really seem to take a great deal of effort and time but I quite like magazines. Why, I was looking through
La Mode Illustré
just the other day and this year’s fashions are très, très chic. I was thinking that the current fashion of …”

Harrison kept a pleasant smile plastered on his face and ignored the feeling of horror that rose within him. Surely Miss Waverly’s shallow manner was due to her inexperience and youth, and with time and the proper guidance she would become more, well, substantial. She was very young after all.

“Might I ask you a somewhat personal question, my lord?” she said with her perfectly proper smile.

A faint sound that might have been a groan came from her mother although he might have been mistaken. Miss Waverly’s parents had been most pleased when he had asked to call on their daughter. And why shouldn’t they be? He was wealthy and of excellent lineage and was considered a catch for any ambitious family.

“Yes, of course.”

“I was just wondering how old you are.”

“I have just passed my thirty-third birthday.”

Her eyes widened. “As old as that?”

“I’m afraid so.”

A faint smile curved her lips. “How very nice.” She paused then fluttered her lashes at him. “I have always heard that a lady needs an older man to guide her along the proper path.”

“Quite right.” He nodded in agreement although he really wasn’t sure what to say. Not that he didn’t, in truth, agree with her.

After the requisite amount of time considered proper for this type of call he bid her good day and took his leave, ignoring a faint sense of relief. It was absurd, of course. Miss Waverly was everything he looked for in a bride. She couldn’t be more perfect if someone had taken his list of requirements and checked them off one by one.

Still, in the carriage on his way home, he considered what it would be like to spend the rest of his life with a woman who met all his qualifications. His household would be well run, his meals served on time, his needs attended to. She would spend some of her time in appropriate charitable pursuits. When they entertained it would be correctly done, not too lavish but properly elegant. She would look well on his arm when they attended the opera. She would provide him with children and would attend to their care, hiring well-trained nannies and governesses. Indeed, she would run his life with order and efficiency. She would not cause him an undue care in the world. His world would be exactly as he wished it to be.

Dull, boring, staid and stuffy, Charles would have said. Harrison ignored the thought.

He entered the house and noticed an envelope addressed to him on the silver tray that sat on the table in the entry. No doubt it had been delivered while he was out. He opened it and read the note.

It was a brief report from Mr. Ellsworth. It seemed Lady Winterset had not leapt at his offer. He smiled in spite of himself. Good for her. She was far too clever to accept any offer for the memoirs in a rash manner, without due thought. The author’s note went on to say his meeting with her was but his first move and he hoped to make additional progress two days from now, when they attended a salon at Lady Tennwright’s. Harrison’s brows drew together and once more the idea that Ellsworth would try to seduce an agreement from Julia popped into his head.

He absolutely could not allow that to happen. Ellsworth was working for him and seduction was not part of the plan. Damnation, if anyone was going to seduce Julia, it would be him!

Good Lord! Shock coursed through him and he sucked in a hard breath. Where in the name of all that was holy had that idea come from? He certainly had no intention of seducing Julia, not that she would allow him to do so at any rate. It was quite obvious that while she might accept his friendship, his considerable charm was wasted on her.

Absently he strode into the library and slammed the door shut behind him. And as her friend he would certainly not allow that … that … womanizer Ellsworth to seduce her. No, whether she wanted to admit it or not, she did need someone to watch out for her at least in this particular instance. She certainly couldn’t count on Veronica to do so. Veronica would probably encourage her to have an
adventure
with the man. As for Julia herself, the more she read of her great-grandmother’s memoirs, the more she might be inclined to do just that. Why, hadn’t she just this morning declared that she intended to be like Lady Middlebury in the future? Might not that future be as early as two days hence?

Not if he had anything to say about it. He paced the floor. As much as he abhorred the very idea of literary salons he would make an appearance at this one. He’d be by Julia’s side every minute, even escorting her home if necessary.

There was no way on earth he would allow Ellsworth to make Julia yet another one of his conquests. Especially given Harrison’s role in it. The last thing he wanted was to be the cause of her unhappiness. She could be dreadfully hurt by a man like Ellsworth. Underneath all her strength and independence he suspected there was a fragile heart that could easily be broken. He would confess his role in Ellsworth’s proposal and give up all hope of acquiring the memoirs before he would let that happen. Because she was his friend, he amended quickly. For no other reason.

Still, as he sat down to write a note to Lady Tennwright and a second to Veronica, he couldn’t dismiss the question lingering in the back of his mind.

When had rescuing Julia become more important than acquiring the memoirs?

… and then his lips met mine. Even now, it fairly makes me swoon simply to think of it. Regardless of age or circumstances, Dear Reader, there is nothing that can compare to the first time your lips meet his. There is the moment your eyes meet. Your chin raises, his head lowers, and for the briefest fraction of a second, time itself stops. You hover between one heartbeat and the next, unable to breathe, unable to think. And then his lips touch yours. Of course, that sort of first kiss usually follows considerable flirtation. Gazes meeting across a crowded ballroom. The casual touch of a hand brushing against yours. A clandestine meeting under the stars.

And then there is the unexpected first kiss. Why, it hasn’t so much as crossed your mind that you and he would kiss. One moment, you are thinking nothing of any consequence and the next his lips are pressed to yours and you realize with the suddenness of a storm in the summer that this is indeed what you have longed for somewhere deep in your soul. What you never even knew you wanted. Abruptly everything between you has changed and will never again be the same. And the possibilities, well, the possibilities take your breath away.

But when the marquis’s lips claimed mine it was not at all unexpected. We had danced around this moment for some time and now that it was upon us, it was merely the beginning of what would ultimately be one of the most …

from
The Perfect Mistress,
the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury

“She is quite in her element, isn’t she?” Julia’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat at the familiar voice behind her.

She smiled but did not turn around, her gaze lingering on Portia. “I assume you’re speaking of Lady Redwell.”

Harrison chuckled. “She’s like a child in a candy shop.”

Portia was indeed having a grand time. They’d only arrived within the past quarter hour and Julia had scarcely done more than chat with their hostess but already Portia had been engaged in one flirtatious conversation after the other. With Mr. Ellsworth of course, who was surrounded by other admirers, as well as with one of the poets who had attended Veronica’s dinner.

“Her late husband was a literary sort as I understand it although I don’t think he was terribly successful. She’s quite impressed by literary fame.”

“So it would appear.” He paused. “Are you?”

“To a certain extent I suppose. I daresay I don’t know anyone who isn’t.” She turned to face him. “It must be incredibly difficult to craft a story or poetry so that it captures a reader’s attention. I am most admiring of anyone who can do that well. As for the fame that accompanies success …” She shrugged. “That in itself is not especially impressive to me.”

The faintest hint of relief shone in his eyes although she might have been mistaken. He nodded toward Portia and Mr. Ellsworth’s other admirers. “Then you are the exception.”

“Perhaps.” She studied him for a moment. “You have the oddest habit of appearing where I least expect you. I had the distinct impression literary evenings were not to your liking.”

“I am trying to broaden my horizons,” he said. “After our discussion the other evening about poetry, I thought I was being somewhat narrow-minded and—”

“Stubborn?”

“Possibly.” He paused. “I have been known to be stubborn on occasion.”

She gasped in mock surprise. “You? Stubborn? Imagine my surprise.”

“I would think you of all people would recognize stubborn.”

She laughed. “Perhaps I would.”

“And, as I am trying to improve relations between myself and my late brother’s wife, I thought it would be a nice gesture on my part to escort Veronica here tonight.”

“Did you?” Her brow rose. “I have never known Veronica to require an escort before. Veronica alone among the ladies of my acquaintance never hesitates to go wherever she wishes unaccompanied.”

“Well”—he shook his head in a mournful manner—“it was not easy to convince her.”

“And you did so because you wish to broaden your literary horizons?”

“Absolutely.” He paused. “And I knew you would be here.”

“How on earth did you know that?”

He chuckled. “A gentleman never reveals all of his secrets.”

Veronica must have mentioned this evening to him. It was all Portia could talk about yesterday when the three women had met briefly for tea at Fenwick’s. Portia had been in something of a tizzy at the very thought of being again in Mr. Ellsworth’s illustrious literary presence; Veronica was late, as usual, for an appointment with her dressmaker; and Julia hadn’t felt at all her usual self but rather restless and preoccupied. She couldn’t get Harrison’s comments out of her head. That nonsense about gentlemen thinking she was like Hermione. Surely no honorable gentleman would think anything of the sort. And he had called her compelling and irresistible. Even William had never called her anything of the kind but had rather praised her as sensible and practical. Yes, her mirror told her she was pretty if a little too somber-looking and tired around her eyes. But she’d passed her twenty-seventh birthday and was a widow with no family to speak of and no money. Scarcely what anyone would call compelling or irresistible. Anyone but Harrison apparently. And the man did seem to have the strangest urge to protect her, which was altogether too, well, nice. He was as confusing as he was annoying. Yet she wasn’t at all annoyed to see him now but oddly pleased.

“You don’t strike me as a man who has secrets, my lord.”

“That’s because I hide them well.”

“Which is the very definition of secret,” she said wryly.

“Oh, I am a man of many secrets, Julia.” He leaned close and lowered his voice confidentially. “I am most mysterious.”

She stared at him for a moment then caught the gleam of amusement in his eyes and laughed. “You are not at all mysterious.”

His eyes widened in disappointment. “Not even a little?”

“I am sorry.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Hmph. I shall have to work on that.” His brows drew together. “But I am wearing you down. Not only am I now the most annoying man you’ve ever met but you must admit, every time we meet, you find me more charming than the time before.”