Wanted: Mail-Order Mistress (15 page)

It was clear their guests did not know how to treat her. Was she the hostess or a mere servant? Was she Rosalia’s respectable care-giver or Mr Grimshaw’s secret mistress? The uncertainty about her place made everyone uneasy. The ladies were careful to be civil but not too friendly. The moment she was out of earshot, she was sure they started gossiping about her. Their husbands were rather
too
friendly, making her skin crawl with their leering looks. Only the children behaved naturally towards her. They did not care whether she was wife, nursemaid or mistress as long as she kept them entertained.

Had Simon deceived her with his assurance that mistresses were accepted in Singapore society? Or did men take no notice of the subtle signs women used to shun outcasts? Even if he did come to love her in the
future and offer to marry her, could she ever expect more than grudging tolerance from the people among whom she must live?

In spite of those qualms, she was not sorry she’d suggested Simon host this party. The reason for that was one particular guest. Captain Flynn, the harbour-master she’d long been anxious to question about her brother’s ship, had accompanied his wife and daughters to the gathering. Though the things she’d learned from Simon about his mutiny had shaken her absolute faith in Hugh, Bethan still could not rest until she knew what had become of him.

The party was nearly over by the time she managed to catch Captain Flynn off by himself. While some of the guests were still eating and others preparing to leave, the harbour-master stood in one corner of the veranda sipping a cup of punch while he gazed out towards the sea.

“Keeping watch over your harbour, Captain?” Bethan grasped for an opening that might lead into her question without sounding suspiciously abrupt. “Master attendant of such a busy port must be a very important post.”

“It
was
at one time.” With a fierce scowl, Captain Flynn bolted the last of his punch. “Before our current Resident saw fit to strip away the prerogatives of my office.”

“What a shame.” It was clear the man nursed a deep grievance of some sort, but Bethan did not have the time to hear all the particulars. “I was hoping you might be able to answer a question for me, about a ship that passed through Singapore three years ago.”

The captain gave a derisive chuckle. “My dear young woman, have you any idea how many ships have come through this harbour in that time?”

Before she could hazard a guess, he provided the discouraging answer. “Almost a thousand square-rigged vessels and perhaps ten times that many native craft.”

She should have known it was hopeless, that far too much time had passed to discover anything useful. Stubborn resolve made her clutch at straws. “It wasn’t a native ship. It would have come from England.”

“That’s different,” the captain replied, much to her surprise. “We’ve had less than two-score ships from Europe since this place was founded. That number is expected to rise dramatically now that a treaty has been signed and Singapore is an official British possession. What ship did you want to know about?”

“The
Dauntless.
” A tantalising flicker of hope almost made Bethan forget the excuse she’d invented to explain her interest. “A man from my village was among the crew and he hadn’t been heard from since his ship left Singapore.”

It was not an outright lie, she told herself in an effort to ease her conscience. She’d only failed to mention that the man was her brother.

“The
Dauntless…
hmm?” Captain Flynn stared off towards one of the ships at anchor as if picturing another that had been there three years ago. “Didn’t she go up in flames during a mutiny off the Coromandel Coast?”

“Oh, dear.” In spite of the heat, an icy chill swept through Bethan. This was the first she’d heard about a fire. “Did all hands perish?”

The captain shrugged. “I don’t recall much about it, though I do know there was at least one survivor. Doctor Ellison took passage from Singapore aboard the
Dauntless
on his way to an assignment in Madras. He’s back
here now, staying just up the road with his friend Dr Moncrieff.”

“Fancy that.” It took every scrap of self-control Bethan could summon to keep from betraying her excitement. “I must think to ask him about it if we happen to meet.”

She chatted for a few more minutes with Captain Flynn, then excused herself. For the rest of the party, she went about in a hopeful daze. To think that all these weeks she’d tried in vain to glean any scrap of news about her missing brother, when someone with reliable information about Hugh was so nearby.

The first chance she got, she would be off to question this Dr Ellison to find out what he knew about the
Dauntless
mutiny.

“
T
he party was a great success, thanks to you.” Simon lifted his cup of punch in a toast to Bethan.

Their guests had long since departed, not wanting to be caught away from home after dark. With some difficulty, Bethan and Simon had managed to put his overtired, overexcited little daughter to bed. Now they sat together on the veranda, watching the stars come out above the eastern horizon.

Bethan did not reply to his praise. She seemed lost in thought. Now that he came to think of it, she’d been preoccupied ever since the party got over.

“How many of the ladies tried to hire you away to work for them?” Though he strove to make it sound like a jest, Simon was very much in earnest. Had she realised how great a demand there might be for her services? And did it make her regret the impulsive decision to place herself in his keeping? What if she discovered there were men in Singapore willing to offer her not only comfort and security but respectability as well?

His question seemed to jar Bethan out of her musing. Or perhaps it was the anxious edge he hadn’t been able to keep out of his voice. “Only one, though another did ask me to let her know if I’m ever looking for a new position.”

“Do you intend to?” he asked. “Is that what’s been on your mind this evening?”

“No!” Bethan batted the air with her hand as if to dismiss such an absurdity. “I told them I’m quite contented where I am.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Thank God he was in no immediate danger of losing her. A pressing weigh seemed to lift off Simon’s chest, allowing him to breathe properly again. “Mrs Bertram asked if Rosalia might like to come to their house next week to visit and stay the night.”

“Will you let her go?” asked Bethan, her attention fully engaged.

“I wanted to talk it over with you first. Do you think it’s a good idea? Mrs Bertram assured me their place is as well guarded.”

“Of course!” Bethan cried almost before he’d finished. “You saw how much Rosalia enjoyed playing with the other children today. I know you want to keep her safe, but there are other things just as important. If you let her go, I’ll guard her with my life.”

“I’m sure you would.” Her devotion to his daughter stirred something deep within him. “But I thought we might let Rosalia stay on her own. It would allow her a taste of independence and give us some time alone. What do you say?”

For a moment he thought Bethan might object, but something seemed to change her mind. “It might do her good. And she won’t be far away.”

Simon set down his empty glass and went to kneel beside Bethan’s chair. “It might do us good to have more than stolen moments together when Rosalia is sleeping.”

She reached up to brush a lock of hair back from his forehead. “I think it might.”

He caught her hand and brought it to his lips, where he dusted kisses over each of her fingertips. Those clever, supple fingers of hers were becoming deliciously adept at rousing him. Her natural curiosity and playfulness made each encounter a sort of fresh adventure that even a cautious man like he could relish.

“I know what I will enjoy most,” he whispered.

“Are you going to tell me?” She rested the tip of her little finger in the shallow cleft of his chin. “Or do I have to guess?”

Simon chuckled, enjoying this intimate banter more than he’d ever imagined he could. “I am going to enjoy waking up next to you, knowing you will not have to rush away to tend my daughter.”

“It will be a treat to sleep in.” Her eyes sparkled with innocent mischief.

“You could pretend to be asleep…” Simon leaned closer to nuzzle her neck “…while I find inventive, pleasurable ways to wake you.”

“I like the sound of that,” Bethan murmured, her voice husky with desire.

“It’s settled then.” He got to his feet, scarcely noticing the familiar pang in his leg. “Tomorrow I’ll send word to Mrs Bertram, accepting her very kind invitation.” Seizing Bethan’s hand, he hoisted her up from her seat and into his arms. “But for now, I have a very amusing game I’d like to play with you.”

“Good day, sir,” Wilson greeted Simon when he strode into the office a few days later. “There was a man came by last night after you’d gone and left a parcel for you. He said it was from Mr Hong, with his compliments.”

The clerk held out a small box.

For a moment Simon could not imagine what it might be. Then he recalled asking the Chinese trader to make enquiries about Bethan’s stolen property. Prying open the box, he lifted out a silver locket.

“Is that Bethan’s?” Wilson broke into a broad grin. “The one that was stolen?”

“So it would appear.” Simon unfastened the delicate catch and opened the locket, relieved to find the miniature portrait of her father still intact.

The handsome Welshman stared back at him with grey-green eyes as merry and curious as Bethan’s. His hair had been the same rich shade of auburn too. And his chin had the same intrepid tilt as his daughter’s. Mr Conway had been a fine-looking fellow in his youth. No wonder he’d attracted the desire of a woman other than his wife. What if a penchant for inconstancy ran in the family?

“She’ll be glad to get that back.” Wilson’s voice broke in upon Simon’s doubtful brooding. “I never saw her without it the whole time we were sailing from home.”

Snapping the locket shut, Simon chided himself for his unjust suspicions. Here was proof Bethan had been telling him the truth from the first day she’d set foot in Singapore.

If anything, she was
too
honest. Informing him with brutal candour that he was neglecting his daughter, admitting the desire she felt for him even when he might have exploited it, challenging his stubborn reluctance to
talk about painful events from his past. Uncomfortable as her frankness could be at times, he found it refreshing and admirable. She was one woman he would never have to fear deceiving or betraying him.

“When you’ve got a minute, sir,” said Wilson, returning to his ledger, “George had a question about the different grades of indigo. And the captain of an American ship wanted to buy some coffee, tea, sugar and spices. I told him to come back today.”

“Good.” Simon headed towards the warehouse. “By treaty we’re not permitted to sell trade goods to Americans, only enough to provision their ships. I’ll talk to George about the indigo. All the different grades can be confusing.”

He tucked Bethan’s locket into the breast pocket of his coat for safekeeping. Throughout that day it rested against his heart, a constant reminder of her many sterling qualities and how great a temptation she might pose to some other man. He could not run the risk of having such a precious treasure stolen from him.

This visit of Rosalia’s could not have come at a better time, Bethan reflected as she and Simon drove back up Beach Road after delivering his daughter to visit her little friends. Besides allowing them more time alone, it would give her a chance to seek out the doctor who might have information about her brother.

“You’re quiet.” Simon’s voice called her back from her thoughts and plans. “That isn’t like you. Nothing wrong is there.”

“Not at all.” Realising she needed an excuse to explain her silence, Bethan offered one that was more
than half-true. “Though I am a bit worried about Rosalia. I know she’ll be safe enough, but I hope she’ll have a good time and not be lonely.”

Simon’s features relaxed. “I don’t suppose there’s much chance of that with four other children for company. Did you see how taken she was with the baby?”

Bethan chuckled. “I think she’ll be pestering you for one the minute she gets home.” Realising how that might sound, she blushed furiously. “I didn’t mean…that is…she’ll likely want a doll or some such.”

The sight of the Bertram’s youngest, with its thatch of dark downy hair, plump wee cheeks and sweet milky scent had called forth a tender, brooding yearning in
her
as well. But it had also raised questions she’d been foolishly trying to ignore about the possibility of Simon getting her with child.

Her mother had told her little enough about how babies were bred, except for a few furtive words when she first got her monthly flux. The mysterious jests and whispers of her fellow servants had done little to cure her ignorance. She was certain Simon would explain it all to her if she asked, but it was such an thorny subject to raise. She didn’t want him to think she would use a child of theirs to get things from him, the way his late wife had. Neither did she want to sort out all her confused feelings about motherhood and what it would mean for her. A joy, quite likely, given how much she loved children, but a burden and worry too. A child would tie her to Simon as tightly as wedding vows, even if he could not love her.

“Don’t worry.” He gave her knee a reassuring pat. “I know what you meant.”

Did he really? Somehow Bethan doubted it.

“Rosalia isn’t that far away if she wants to come home,” he continued. “See, we’re back already. Now, I want you to change into your prettiest gown—that green one, perhaps. I’ve only seen you wear it once and you looked lovely in it.”

“You mean my wedding dress?” The words popped out before Bethan could stop them. “I mean, the dress I bought to wear for…when I thought we were…Good heavens, I’m all tongue-tied today!”

A glance into the garden as they drove to the stable provided the perfect change of subject. “What’s that table doing out in the middle of the grass? And what are those coloured balls hanging from the trees?”

“Chinese lanterns.” Simon’s voice had a jaunty ring to it. “Part of a little surprise I planned for this evening. I hope you’ll enjoy dining out in the garden. I asked Cook to prepare us a banquet of his most interesting and toothsome dishes.”

“What’s the occasion for all this fuss?” Bethan asked as he helped her out of the gharry.

“You’ll see,” he replied with a mysterious half-smile.

Curious to find out, she changed quickly into her green gown. But on her way to join Simon for dinner, she happened to glance out the window that looked down Beach Road. Only four plots up the street, in a house she’d passed several times since coming to Singapore, was the man who could tell her what she’d come so far to find out.

Eager as she was to speak to him, she also felt a qualm of dread. What Dr Ellison had to tell her might threaten the life she hoped to make with Simon and
Rosalia. It was no use getting ahead of herself, though. This evening promised delights she did not want to spoil by borrowing trouble.

“You’ve never looked more beautiful.” Simon swept an admiring glance over her when she appeared in the sitting room a few moments later. “May I escort you to dinner?
Al fresco
as the Italians would call it, if we had any of them in Singapore. They are one of the few nationalities not represented here.”

He led her out to the garden, where darkness was beginning to fall. The brightly coloured paper lanterns cast a warm glow over the whole area. The lush fragrance of jasmine perfumed the air. Beneath the spreading canopy of a tall saga tree, a compact table was set for two with a white cloth, gleaming china, crystal and silverware. The middle of the table held an array of flowers in the most vivid and varied hues Bethan had ever seen—coral pink, golden yellow, rich purple.

“What are these?” she asked as Simon held out her chair. “They’re so perfect, they don’t look quite real.”

“Orchids. They grow wild around here, clinging to the trees like weeds.”

“Prettiest weeds I’ve ever seen.” Bethan smiled up at him. “I can’t believe you’ve gone to all this trouble for me. I feel like a princess in a story.”

Simon might not be the perfect hero-protector she’d once dreamed of. His armour was dented in places and he’d needed
her
help to slay a few of his dragons. Yet somehow that made him all the more appealing.

A few moments later, Ah-Ming appeared bearing bowls of bird’s-nest soup. The broth wasn’t full of little
twigs like Bethan expected from the name. Instead it was thick like unset jelly and rather sweet.

“It’s not to everyone’s taste,” murmured Simon when Ah-Ming was out of earshot. “But the Chinese regard it as a great delicacy. They say it keeps a person healthy and young.”

“I like it well enough.” Bethan made sure to clean every drop from her bowl so Cook would not be insulted.

She liked the dish of prawns that followed much more, and the Chinese capon was so moist and tender she savoured it to the last morsel. While they ate, Simon entertained her with stories of Singapore’s earlier days and the time he’d spent in India and Penang with his partners. Now that he was not so anxious to suppress unpleasant memories, he seemed free to recall happier times.

As they lingered over a final course of tropical fruit and sweet little cakes called
kueh
, Simon removed something from his pocket. “Now for the surprise I promised you.”

“I thought all this
was
the surprise.”

“Part of it.” His lips remained solemn, but his blue eyes shimmered with an expectant smile. “The introduction.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words to continue. “I have something to give you. I hope you’ll pardon my delay in doing so. I wanted to present it under the proper circumstances.”

Reaching across the table, over the vibrant mass of orchids, he opened his hand to reveal her silver locket.

“You found it!” Bethan seized the locket and pressed it to her lips. “Where? How? Oh, thank you, Simon!”

He explained about seeking help from one of the Chinese merchants.

Bethan’s eyes misted with tears when she opened the locket to find the tiny image of her father undamaged. He smiled up at her as if happy to be reunited after so many weeks.

She scarcely noticed what Simon was saying as he continued. “I realise a ring is the customary medium for such requests. And the locket already belongs to you, so of course you must keep it no matter what your answer.”

“Answer?” She wrenched her gaze away from her father’s face to stare at Simon. “I don’t understand. What’s the question?”

“I should think that was obvious.” He cleared his throat. “Will you marry me?”