Wanted: Mail-Order Mistress (11 page)

A few moments later he rode toward the square at a full gallop. Peering into the moonlit shadows, he strained to catch a glimpse of Bethan’s yellow muslin gown. All the while he struggled to understand what had made her reject his proposal. Her actions forced him to consider the disturbing possibility that he’d completely misjudged her.

Shame and outrage warred within Bethan as she ran up North Bridge Road. She had no idea where she wanted to go, except to get out from under Simon’s roof. Discovering that he’d never intended to marry her had not humiliated her half as much as his hostile, demeaning proposal. He’d called her daft and he was right. What a green little fool she’d been to think he could care for her and they might possibly be happy together!

She could have understood him being angry over her lapse in honesty and how it had caused this terrible misunderstanding. But his reaction had been so much worse than that. Simon’s marriage offer made it brutally clear that he mistrusted and despised her. He thought so little of her that he’d expected her to jump at his proposal even after he declared he had never loved her and never would.

Though part of her had been tempted to become his wife on whatever terms he offered, her pride refused accept a proposal that he’d tossed at her feet with such blatant contempt. To do so would only prove that she was as conniving a creature as he believed her to be.

But how would she survive if she did not wed him and how would she keep all this from hurting Simon’s daughter?

Preoccupied with such thoughts, Bethan did not notice a pair of
sepoys
until she was almost on top of them. They seemed every bit as startled by her sudden appearance.

“Who is there?” one of the soldiers barked while both quickly raised their rifles. Their bayonets bristled in the dim light of distant street lamps.

She jumped back with a squeak of alarm. “My name’s Bethan Conway. I…I look after Mr Grimshaw’s daughter.”

The moment she mentioned Simon, the soldiers hastily lowered their weapons.

“Pardon,
memsahib
!” they cried in a tone of frantic apology. “It is not safe for a lady to walk alone at night. You must go home now, please.”

The thought of slinking back to Simon so soon after she’d flounced off troubled Bethan more than any danger she could imagine.

“I just want a bit of air.” She backed away rapidly. “Don’t fret about me. I’ll be fine.”

Slipping off into the shadows, she told herself the soldiers wouldn’t dare risk firing at her. To her relief, she was right.

The encounter forced her to pay more attention to her surroundings. Thinking about her predicament would have to wait until she found a quiet spot to rest.

She gave the lights of the military encampment a wide berth and soon felt the ground beneath her feet sloping upwards. Trees loomed up around her and the scent of spices enfolded her. This must be the experimental garden she’d glimpsed that evening Simon took her for a drive up Government Hill.

Remembering it made her imagine she could hear the soft beat of a horse’s hooves nearby. She realised it was more than a fancy when she heard the beast blowing out a loud breath.

As she hurried away from the sound, Simon’s voice rang out. “Stop, Bethan! I’ll only follow you if you don’t.”

She knew him well enough to be certain he was not bluffing. Besides, he was mounted while she was already winded after running from the soldiers. If she
had
to talk to him, better here than back at the house, where he was master and she was only an unwelcome guest.

Her footsteps slowed until she came to rest against the slender trunk of a young tree, gasping in deep breaths of the warm spicy air.

Simon sprang from his saddle, landing with a muted thud and a half-stifled grunt of pain. He caught her by the arm and grasped it tightly, as if he feared she would take flight again.

“I don’t care how angry you are at me,” he growled. “Don’t
ever
run off like that again. Do you hear me?”

“I may be daft, but I’m not deaf!” She wrenched her arm out of his grasp. “Why do you care what I do or where I go if you loathe me so?”

“I don’t
loathe
you!” His fierce tone belied his words. “And I certainly don’t want any harm to come to you.”

“A little late for that, isn’t it?” Bethan rubbed her arm
in a fruitless effort to wipe away the tingling heat left by his touch.

Simon exhaled a deep sigh, heavy with regret. “I’m sorry for what happened between us. I swear I never meant to take your virginity. If I’d known it was marriage you expected, I wouldn’t have—”

“I know.” She cut him off sharply. Somehow it grieved her to hear he regretted the wondrous night they’d shared. In spite of everything that had followed and all it might cost her, she could not bring herself to wish it had never happened. Did that make her a wanton harlot, deserving of all the foul names she’d heard such women called? “That wasn’t the kind of harm I meant.”

“It wasn’t?” He sounded baffled.

“I know you didn’t take my maidenhead on purpose.” Her eyes stung with tears she refused to shed. “But all the horrible things you thought and said about me, you can’t claim you didn’t mean them.”

“Perhaps not.” He sounded almost pained to admit it. “But I am beginning to suspect they may not be true.”

“They’re not!” she snapped, stung by the tepid nature of his doubts. “It doesn’t matter now, though, for I don’t care what you think of me.”

Bethan
wished
that were true, but she could not afford to let Simon know how much his opinion of her still mattered.

“That may be,” he replied after a long moment of tense silence, “but I still owe you an explanation for what prompted me to think and say those things. As you might guess, it has to do with my past.”

“And you’re willing to tell me about it?” she asked warily.

“If you’re willing to listen.” He sounded far from certain that she would be.

“I can’t very well refuse, can I? Not after all the times I’ve pestered you about keeping secrets.” She sank down at the base of the tree and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Go ahead, then. Have your say.”

Simon dropped to the ground beside her. After a moment’s hesitation, he took a deep breath and forged ahead. “Do you remember when I said the less Rosalia knows about her mother, the better?”

“Of course.” Though she knew this must be difficult for him, Bethan did not feel obliged to make it any easier. “What of it?”

“If
you
know more about my late wife, perhaps you will understand why I am so determined not to wed again and why I suspected you of trying to trick me into marriage.”

Bethan strove to stifle the itch of curiosity. An avid interest in Simon’s past strayed dangerously close to
caring
about what had happened to him.

“You may have noticed,” he continued in a wry, self-mocking tone, “I have a lamentable weakness for damsels in distress. I should have learned from my stepmother that such women are seldom as helpless as they appear. Carlotta certainly was not.”

Perhaps not, but heroes weren’t always as gallant as they appeared either. Even as that spiteful thought ran through Bethan’s mind, she could not shake off the image of Simon striding to her rescue.

“I met her in Penang,” he continued. “Her uncle was taking her from Macau to Lisbon for an arranged marriage. While their ship was having storm damage repaired, her uncle fell ill and could not keep her properly
chaperoned. She begged me to help her escape…” His voice trailed off.

Overcome by the curiosity she had not been able to stifle, Bethan prompted him. “What did you do?”

“Married her, of course. Her uncle wanted to call me out for it, but Ford smoothed matters over somehow. For a while Carlotta was grateful and I was besotted. But her gratitude didn’t last long. A few months later she humiliated me by running off with an East India Company factor. My partners dragged me away on Raffles’s expedition to get my mind off her. It worked well enough until she turned up in Singapore a year later with a baby she claimed was mine. She begged me to take her back for the child’s sake. Chivalrous idiot that I was, I agreed.”

Bethan’s mouth fell open when she realised what he was saying. “You think Rosalia might not be your daughter?”

“How can I ever know for certain? She is the image of her mother. I’ve never seen the slightest resemblance to me.”

That resemblance must have made Rosalia a constant, painful reminder of her mother’s betrayal. Simon had tried to be a good father.

In spite of all that had happened between them, Bethan could not resist the impulse to reassure him. “I’m certain you are her father. I told you all the likenesses I’ve seen between you.”

“So you did.” For the first time that day, his voice warmed. “That meant a great deal to me. Regardless of her paternity, I owe Rosalia a father’s attention and affection. But knowing her feelings are like mine may make it easier to mend my past mistakes.”

As silence fell between them, Bethan tried to keep her anger towards Simon burning hot. But thoughts of how Carlotta had abused his generosity and betrayed his trust fell upon it like raindrops. At first they only sizzled and evaporated, but gradually they began to quench the flames.

“You might as well hear the rest of the story,” said Simon at last. “Carlotta did not remain content for long in a humble
kampong
house beside our
godown.
She died as I told you, drowned while boarding a
tongkang.
She was running away again—this time with the captain of a French ship.”

Bethan risked a glance towards him. With his crisp, compelling profile lit by the silvery rays of the moon, he looked like a statue carved out of ice. “So that’s why you thought I was trying to trick you into marriage. And why you don’t want another wife.”

“Carlotta was not the only reason. She was just the last and the worst of several women who deceived and betrayed me after I tried to help them.”

“But I’m not like those other women, Simon! Why must you tar me with the same brush?” The moment those words left her mouth, Bethan’s conscience hurled them back at her.

Was she so very different from Carlotta and the other women who had exploited Simon’s gallantry for their own purposes? By misleading Hadrian Northmore to secure her passage to Singapore, she had cheated Simon out of the mistress he wanted. Since her arrival, she’d purposely misled him about her reasons for coming here. Even after he had confided in her some of the most painful secrets from his past, she still could not bring herself to trust him with her secret.

Her situation was different, Bethan tried to persuade herself. She had not acted from selfish motives. She had no designs on Simon’s fortune and she would never desert him for another man. She was only trying to protect her beloved brother from people who might judge him as unfairly as Simon had judged her.

Her conscience refused to be soothed by those excuses.

“
I
know you’re not like those other women.” Staring down the hill towards the lights of the town and the shadowy ships anchored off shore, Simon strove to ignore his nagging doubts. When Bethan had protested her innocence, she sounded as if she might be trying to convince herself more than him. “Part of me does, at least—the reasonable part, the fair part. But there’s something else inside of me that’s still bitter and certain of being betrayed again.”

Telling her the sordid truth about his marriage had felt as if he were stripping off the hard protective shell he’d worn for so long. When it was gone, he’d stood before her with all his flaws and weaknesses exposed. Yet it had also been like lancing an old corrupted wound, draining off some of the resentment and self-doubt that was slowly poisoning him.

He owed Bethan a debt for that and for helping him form an attachment with his daughter. He wished she would let him repay her in the ways he was able, by
offering her his protection, his passion and the best of everything his fortune could provide.

But when he tried to tell her so, his insidious doubts made him say something quite different. “There’s one thing I still can’t fathom. If your English wasn’t good enough to understand Hadrian, how were you able to read the notice he put in the newspaper?”

He was afraid Bethan would resent his question, but she came back with an answer so readily, he knew it must be the truth. “Evan saw the notice and read it to me. Then he helped me write the letter to Mr Northmore.”

The note of fondness in her voice vexed Simon. “Who’s Evan?”

“He’s a friend of my…a friend of
mine
from Llanaled.” Her hesitation suggested there was more to it than that.

“How good a
friend
?” It shouldn’t matter to him. Whatever the connection it was all in the past and he had no claim on her. In spite of all that, it
did
matter far too much.

“Good enough to help me find a job in service when I first came to Newcastle. If you must know, he wanted us to be more than friends. I told him I didn’t feel that way about him and I wanted to see the world before I settled down. Evan was kind enough to help me make my dream come true.”

Simon’s lip curled. “Spurned suitors don’t usually go out of their way to do favours for women who’ve rejected them.”

“I don’t know why you’re asking about Evan.” Bethan grew suddenly defensive. “What happened isn’t his fault. It’s mine. If I’d told Mr Northmore straight away that I couldn’t speak English very well, I’m sure
he would have made certain I understood that it wasn’t a wife you wanted.”

Was it possible Evan had been too simple to read between the lines of Hadrian’s newspaper notice? Simon wondered. Or had her
friend
played a cruel trick on Bethan because she’d rebuffed his advances? It would never cross her mind that she might have been betrayed by someone she cared about. Much as Simon deplored her
naïveté
, something deep inside him envied her innocent belief in the goodness of others.

“You do believe me, don’t you?” she pleaded. “That it was all a mistake and I never set out to trick you?”

“Yes, I believe you.” Though there were parts of her story that still didn’t ring quite true, a fragile seed of trust took root in Simon’s heart. “If you’d wanted to trick me into marriage, you wouldn’t have refused my proposal.”

“I reckon that’s true,” said Bethan. “I don’t want you to marry me against your will because of a mix-up that wasn’t your fault.”

The relief her answer gave Simon was not as overwhelming as it should have been. “In that case…is there any chance you’d consent to become…my mistress?”

Her whole body recoiled. “I may be daft and rash, but I do have
some
morals. If I let you keep me, I’ll be no better than the woman my father left us for. No better than your wife. I’d only be using you to secure my comfort the same way she was. I’d deserve to be shunned by your neighbours and called filthy names.”

“They wouldn’t!” he insisted in a fierce whisper. “People here view that sort of thing differently than they do back home. Malay and Chinese men take concubines
all the time and several of the Europeans have
country wives.
”

“Country wives?” Bethan sounded doubtful. Perhaps in spite of her reluctance to abandon respectability, she secretly wanted him to persuade her.

“That’s what they call native or mixed-race women who live with European men during their time abroad. Our former Resident had a charming French-Malaccan lady. Everyone in Singapore accepted her and their children as part of the community.”

If he thought his explanation would change her mind, he was mistaken. “What happens to these country wives when the men go back home?”

Her question made Simon squirm, but he tried to put a decent face on the practice. “Most make provision for them by deeding property or leaving money.”

“They abandon them, you mean?” Bethan sprang to her feet.

“It isn’t as bad as you make it sound.” Simon’s leg gave a twinge when he rose from the turf at the base of the nutmeg tree. “Besides, none of that matters to you and me. I have no intention of returning to England.”

“No?” She didn’t sound convinced. “But your partners did. I reckon the Indies is like one great bountiful mistress to some men. They come here and take what they want from her, then go away once they are satisfied. I won’t let that happen to me!”

She was as afraid of being abandoned as he was of being betrayed. Simon longed to take her in his arms and promise her that he would always protect her and provide for her. But what if she asked for more than that—things he could not give?

“Where does that leave us, then, if you won’t let me wed you or keep you?”

“I’ll look after myself, of course, if you’ll be gentleman enough not to boast of your conquest. If you can recommend me to another family who needs a nursemaid, I can earn the money to pay back what you spent on my passage to Singpore.”

Simon’s relief over his near escape from a forced marriage gave way to alarm at the prospect of losing Bethan. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Yes, it will,” she insisted. “I don’t want to be beholden to you. You paid to bring me here to be your mistress. Since I can’t do that, it isn’t fair for you to bear the expense. It may take me a while, but I’ll repay every penny.”

She was the first beautiful woman of his acquaintance who didn’t want anything from him, not even the few guineas it had cost to bring her here. The thought of her leaving his household to strike out on her own troubled Simon deeply. He feared she might attract the admiration of ruthless men who would use whatever means necessary to get what they wanted from her.

“I don’t need your money.” He took a step toward her, but froze when she backed away. “You’ve seen how I live—I’ll never miss it.”

“That’s not the point, Simon. I can’t keep living in your house, on your charity, after what happened between us.”

After what had happened between them, he couldn’t bear to think of her living anywhere else. If ever a woman needed his protection it was Bethan Conway—as much from her own trusting nature and reckless impulses as from others who might exploit them. Unlike
those who’d begged his help in the past, she truly deserved it, with her honesty and kindness.

“It wouldn’t be charity. I owe you a debt for what you’ve done for me…and for what I’ve taken from you.”

“You don’t owe me anything!” Bethan insisted with such fierce conviction, she almost persuaded him. “You didn’t force me into your bed. What happened between us last night was my choice. I wanted it as much as you did.”

“Only because you thought we were going to be married.”

Bethan shook her head. “That was
my
mistake, not yours.”

Her integrity and generosity took his breath away. She could have used his guilt as a bargaining tool to wring tough concessions from him. Instead she’d forfeited that advantage so he could make peace with what he’d done. That made Simon want more than ever to do right by her…if only she would let him.

Perhaps there was a way he could make amends to Bethan, while letting her believe she was repaying whatever obligation she felt towards him. It would test his self-control and perhaps place his heart in jeopardy. But when he weighed those costs against the prospect of letting her go, he could see no other choice.

What had made her insist she would leave Simon’s house and find work elsewhere when she wasn’t certain that was even possible? Bethan asked herself that question as they stood in the warm, spice-scented darkness of the experimental gardens arguing over her future.

Perhaps it was what Simon had told her about his late wife. She could not bear to use him as Carlotta had. Bad
enough she was still keeping secrets from him after he’d risked confiding in her.

Or perhaps it was the renewed conviction that she must continue searching for her brother. She had been wrong to think she could forge a new family and forget the old one. Simon didn’t want to create a family with her. He only wanted a willing partner to satisfy his desires, without making any demands upon him. Her brother was her only true hope for restoring the family she craved. If she left Simon’s house, it would be easier to carry on her search without fear of rousing suspicion.

But what had made Simon resist the idea of her leaving? Was it only because he felt guilty for taking her virginity? Did he still have hopes of persuading her to become his mistress? Or could it be that, even after what had happened, he cared more for her than he dared admit?

“With all this talk of who is obligated to whom,” he said “we’re forgetting someone else to whom we both owe a duty.”

“Rosalia?” Of course. She should have known Simon would be willing to abide her continued presence in his home only for the sake of his daughter.

“That’s right. If you leave, who will take care of her until Ah-Sam returns?”

Once again, it occurred to Bethan how much her leaving might upset Rosalia, especially if she went to care for some other children in a house nearby. “I’m afraid if I go, she’ll think it’s because she did something wrong.”

Simon gave a rueful sigh, echoed by a breeze rustling the leaves of the nutmeg tree. “It won’t be easy to persuade her otherwise when she’s was far too young to be told the true reason. That is why I want you to stay
and continue caring for her. Once Ah-Sam returns in the autumn, you can decide how to proceed. If you choose to go back to England, I will arrange your passage and do everything I can to assist you.”

“That’s very generous but I don’t want to be in your debt.”

“You won’t. I would consider the exchange a very favourable bargain. Having Rosalia well cared for until Ah-Sam returns will be worth far more than that to me.”

“I don’t want her upset by all this, either, but I don’t see how I can stay under the same roof with you after what happened between us.” When Bethan’s thoughts strayed to that blissful encounter, a tantalising heat crept up her thighs.

“Why not?” Simon’s tone grew frosty. “Surely you don’t believe you have anything to fear from me?”

“Not fear.” At least not of
him.
“But you must admit it will be awkward. You brought me here to be your mistress and you’ve made no secret of…wanting me.”

“I cannot deny I desire you.” He leaned towards her, then pulled himself back. “But my sense of honour is stronger than that desire. These past weeks, when I thought you’d had a frightening experience with another man, I tried not to rush you into bed. I waited until you were ready. At least, I thought that’s what you were telling me.”

She could not help but be touched by his consideration. But how could she spend the next several months in his employ, trying to forget the taste of his kisses and the thrilling sensations he’d stirred in her body?

“It’s not your honour I doubt, Simon. It’s my virtue.” Though she knew it might be a dangerous thing to
admit, she owed him the truth about this at least. “I feel desire for you as well and after last night…I can’t give in to that desire again. If I stay under your roof, I’m afraid I’ll be tempted to.”

“No, you won’t, because I won’t give you the chance. I’ll keep my distance, I swear. Please don’t make Rosalia pay for my blunder. I cannot deny I want you in my bed. But I need you in her life more.”

How could she refuse such a plea and such a promise? This situation was her fault and she must make it right, whatever that took.

“All right, then. I’ll stay.” She tried to ignore a sly whisper in the back of her mind that accused her of seeking any excuse to remain near Simon. “But I warn you, if it gets too hard for me to resist these feelings, I will have to go.”

“Fair enough,” said Simon. “Now can we go home before the sentries spot us and think we’re outlaws planning to attack the town?”

Bethan nodded. “I can go back now. But you’re only joking about the outlaws, aren’t you?”

“I wish I were.” Simon caught the horse’s reins and climbed into the saddle. “The jungle is full of the scoundrels. I’ve heard they belong to some sort of Chinese secret society. Until now they’ve been content to terrorise their own people, who are too frightened and mistrustful to go to the authorities. I fear it is only a matter of time until they grow bolder.”

So that was why he’d come after her, because he felt compelled to protect her. Bethan stifled a pang of disappointment as she took his outstretched hand and let him hoist her on to the horse’s back. He did not want to
bear a greater burden of guilt if she came to harm, like his wayward wife.

On the ride back to the villa she clung to Simon’s waist, greedily inhaling his scent, soaking up the close contact she must soon take care to avoid.

It wasn’t only her physical yearning for Simon she would have to resist. She was afraid that last night she might have lost something to him even more precious than her virginity. It was something she’d never meant to surrender—a fragile piece of her heart that he might crush in his powerful fist or grind beneath his heel. She must guard against giving him any more, and somehow she
must
find out what had become of her brother.