The Accidental Mistress Read online

  “Tell his lordship that I am not at home today.”

  “Yes, ma’am, but I believe he knows that you are in residence.”

  “Your man is entirely correct,” Ethan declared, pushing the door wider to step into the room. “Hello, madam. Don’t you look radiant today!”

  And indeed she did, attired in a walking dress of striped green-and-white jaconet muslin that set off her jewel-toned eyes and Titian curls to perfection.

  Lily’s head swung up to face him. For an instant, her lips thinned, clearly aggravated at having been caught out. Obviously aware that the servant was watching, she fashioned a smile. “I could say the same of you, my lord. Though perhaps in your case ‘superior’ would be a more apt description.”

  His lips twitched with humor at her veiled jab, but he remained silent.

  “Thank you, Hodges, that will be all,” she stated in a firm yet quiet voice.

  Bowing, the butler exited the room.

  Once the man was gone, Ethan stepped forward and offered her the bouquet of roses he held. “These are for you. I had them cut from my own hothouse not an hour since.”

  A long moment passed before she accepted.

  Gathered inside tissue and tied with a broad white silk ribbon, the arrangement looked large inside her delicate grasp. Not wishing to stint, he’d ordered three dozen carefully selected flowers, each stem trimmed of its thorns so there would be no possibility of injury. As for color, he’d chosen red.

  Red for beauty. Red for passion. Red for the glorious, fiery hue of her hair, through which he fervently hoped to be running his fingers very soon.

  He watched as she slowly brought the petals up to her face and breathed in the succulent fragrance. Her expression softened, her eyelids falling to half-staff.

  He smiled to see her pleasure and her loveliness.

  Lowering the flowers again, she peered over at him, her brows drawing together as though she’d been caught doing something she ought not to have done.

  “I hope you are not going to refuse those as you did the last ones,” he remarked casually. “Lilies may not be to your liking, but I have eyes enough to see that roses do not offend.”

  “No, indeed they do not,” she said in a mollifying tone. “The flowers are beautiful. Thank you, my lord.”

  “Ethan,” he corrected in a low tone.

  “My lord.”

  His mouth turned up at one corner. “As you prefer. For now.”

  Turning, she crossed to lay the bouquet on a nearby table. “And I did like the lilies. I just did not feel they were appropriate for me to keep under the circumstances.”

  “Why ever not? Gentlemen send flowers to ladies all the time.”

  “True, but I did not wish to give you false impressions, nor engender hope where none should lie.” Her eyes met his with a pointed look, obviously intending for him to take her hint.

  He strolled forward, leaving only a few inches between them. “Oh, but I believe I have plenty of reason to hope, especially after the time we spent together the other evening. As you get to know me better, you will see that I am possessed of a very resilient nature. I do not tend to give up easily, at least not on the things I truly want.”

  The freckles on her nose became more noticeable as a mild flush stained her cheeks.

  Adorable as always, he thought, blood humming in his veins.

  “Mayhap we should have that discussion now,” he murmured, his gaze tracing over her face. “The one we agreed to in the garden but decided to postpone.”

  “There was nothing to discuss, nor postpone, my lord, as you well know. I gave you my answer then. It has not changed.”

  “And what answer is that? As I recall, you were conflicted.” He laid a hand against her waist, stretching his long fingers upward so they settled scant inches beneath her breast. “Maybe we need to explore the situation, just us two, to help you decide.”

  Her rib cage expanded on a deep inhalation, moving his hand in the direction his fingers longed to go. But suddenly she pulled back and away, shaking off his touch.

  “I have decided, and the answer is no,” she said, her words throaty and breathless and unsure enough to make him grin. “Now,” she declared, lifting her delicate chin, “if that is the only reason you have called upon me, I believe you should go.”

  Deciding he’d pressed her as far as he could for one day, he relented. “Actually, I did visit for another reason, besides the flowers, that is.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest, looking as though she wanted to tap her foot as well. “And what might that be, pray tell?”

  “Driving. I thought you might enjoy a spin in my phaeton. If we find an open bit of road, I might even be talked into letting you take a try at the reins.”

  Her hands fell to her side, an eager light sparkling in her vibrant green eyes. “Oh, that sounds diverting.” The light faded a moment later though. “But I am afraid I cannot accept.”

  “Why not? Worried I won’t be able to keep my hands on the ribbons with you so close beside me?”

  Before she could respond to that salvo, the butler appeared in the doorway. “Lord Ottwell, ma’am,” he announced in a carrying voice.

  Ethan’s jaw tightened.

  “That is why,” she murmured softly so only Ethan would hear. “Lord Ottwell has already offered to take me out in his carriage. He is giving me my first driving lesson today.”

  Before Ethan had a chance to remark, Ottwell strolled forward, pausing in front of Lily to execute a neat bow. “A fine good day to you, Mrs. Smythe. May I say you look as bright and inviting as a ray of sunshine after a storm.”

  She laughed and stepped forward to offer her hand. “You may, my lord, but I do not believe I am deserving of such an enthusiastic description.”

  “Oh, but you are, ma’am. All that and more.”

  A second laugh floated from her lips, making Ethan’s jaw clench another millimeter tighter.

  Ottwell pivoted as though he had only just noticed Ethan’s presence. “Vessey.”

  “Ottwell.” Ethan restrained the urge to show his teeth.

  The other man met his look for a moment before glancing away, audibly clearing his throat.

  “I don’t mean to hurry us along,” Ottwell continued, his pale gaze once again centered on Lily, “and we may remain here and converse for a while, if you would rather, but my tiger is holding my team at the ready. You have only to give your assent and we shall be on our way.” He flicked a glance toward Ethan, surreptitiously straightening his shoulders and puffing out his thin chest. “I am taking Mrs. Smythe for a driving lesson.”

  Ethan set a fistful of knuckles against one hip. “So I am given to understand. I trust you will have a care.”

  “Of course. I won’t allow her to attempt anything too risky.”

  “I wasn’t talking about her.”

  A hint of dull color stole upward from beneath the other man’s neckcloth, turning the underside of his chin a shade reminiscent of a newly made brick.

  Lily turned toward Ottwell before he had a chance to reply. “Give me a moment to gather my spencer, my lord, and we shall be off.” Gliding toward the doorway, she paused, then turned and made a slight detour. “I shall have my maid put these in water,” she said, bending to gather the bouquet of roses into her arms.

  Some of Ethan’s tension eased, a smile forming when he saw her raise the petals to her nose and inhale just as she was walking from the room.

  After her departure, silence fell between him and the other man. Ottwell thrust his hands into his pockets and made a remark about the weather. Ethan gave some equally innocuous response. To his relief—and Ottwell’s, too—Lily soon returned, looking lovely in a white spencer and chipstraw bonnet, a green-and-white-striped ribbon tied at a jaunty angle beneath her chin.

  As the three of them left the room, Ethan maneuvered matters so that Ottwell was forced to take the lead. Further slowing his step and hers, Ethan bent toward Lily. “Did you set
them on your dressing table or your nightstand?” he murmured into one of her beautifully shaped ears. “I am curious to know, so I can properly envision you enjoying them.”

  She turned her head. “Set what?”

  He met her gaze, taking her elbow as they walked down the stairs. “The roses I gave you, of course. You did take the bouquet to your bedchamber, did you not?”

  The flash in her eyes answered his query, pleasure flooding his chest to know he was correct. Ah, Lily, you took my roses to your room, he mused. It is only a matter of time until you shall take me there as well.

  “I had my maid place them outside in the corridor,” she prevaricated. “And how do you know I have a dressing table and a nightstand?”

  “Just a guess, since those are common items for a lady’s boudoir.”

  “A subject on which you would know much,” she quipped in an undertone.

  He leaned even closer. “A subject, in your case, on which I hope to know a great deal more very soon.”

  A nearly imperceptible tremor ran through her as they reached the marbled foyer. With a gentle tug, she removed her elbow from his grasp. “Alas, my lord, you will have to keep speculating. And now I have a driving lesson.”

  Stepping forward, she lifted her voice. “Lord Ottwell, shall we depart?”

  The other man sprang to attention, clearly pleased to be taking her away from Vessey.

  Ethan trailed them down the front steps onto the sidewalk. “Have an enjoyable drive,” he called as Ottwell assisted Lily up into the curricle’s elevated seat.

  “We will.” She sent him a little wave. “Good-bye, my lord.”

  “Au revoir, madam. I will not say good-bye, since I am certain we shall be seeing each other again quite soon.”

  Chapter Nine

  AN HOUR LATER, Lily found herself wishing she had taken the marquis’s warning about Lord Ottwell’s driving skills more to heart.

  From her perch on the carriage’s seat, she found herself in the center of sheer chaos as dogs barked and voices shouted; a small army of people gathered to watch the proceedings as his lordship attempted to calm the frayed tempers of a pair of merchants. Scattered in the street lay the remains of several spilled wooden crates—apples, onions, cabbages, and pears mixed in with loaves of bread, broken pies, and crumbled pastries. As for Lord Ottwell’s carriage, the damaged vehicle sat at an awkward angle—half in, half out of the street, leaving other drivers to maneuver their horses and carriages around the wreckage however they could manage.

  As if that were not bad enough, a small flock of street urchins raced into the fray, pausing to fill their empty pockets and grab whatever foodstuffs they could carry in their scrawny arms before fleeing down the street. Lily cringed as one of the merchants let loose a fresh round of invective, waving his arms and bellowing at the departing miscreants.

  Lord Ottwell wrung his hands. “My apologies. I truly do not know how this could have happened.”

  “It ’appened because you couldn’t turn a bloody corner,” huffed the other man. “You drove straightways into me stand.”

  “Yes, well, the horses shied just as I was making the turn,” his lordship defended, “and I had not the time to adjust for their course deviation.”

  The merchant paused, his thick gray eyebrows crowding together as he scratched his balding pate. “Adjust their what?”

  While Ottwell continued his impassioned explanation, Lily heaved a sigh. From her vantage point, the horses hadn’t appeared to shy at all, at least not until after he’d urged them into too narrow a turn, leaving the team no option but to crash the curricle into the food stands. The poor shaken animals had shied plenty after that. Ottwell’s tiger had leapt down to calm the horses, the team now standing in quiet obedience despite the disorder around them.

  The produce seller pointed a carrot-sized finger toward his ruined merchandise. “What I wants t’know is if I’m to be paid fer me loss?”

  “Of course I shall make recompense. Both of you have only to send me a reckoning—”

  “And how long will that take? Me livelihood depends upon this stand.”

  “It would appear Ottwell has his hands full,” remarked a deep, silky male voice not far from her ear. “Quite a mess, I must say.”

  Lily swung her head to the left and gazed over to find Lord Vessey standing next to the carriage. Tall and impeccably attired in a chocolate-brown coat, biscuit waistcoat, and fawn trousers, he looked every inch as splendid as he had in her sitting room only a brief while ago. One difference, however, was the unmistakable gleam of amusement lighting his intense amber eyes.

  “My lord, what brings you here?” she asked.

  “I was driving through the area and noticed the accident. Imagine my surprise to find you and Ottwell involved.”

  She studied him, trying to decide if his appearance was merely a fortunate coincidence or if he had been in the area because he’d been following them. Either way, she was glad for his timely arrival. “I must confess when I left home I was not expecting to crash into a pair of street stalls.”

  “You are unharmed, I trust?”

  “Yes, completely, not so much as a bruise.”

  “Good, because I would be most displeased to hear otherwise. Since you are stranded, may I offer my assistance and see you home? My carriage is parked just there.” He pointed to a splendid, high-perch phaeton waiting ahead, his own tiger holding a team of precisely matched grays at the ready. Painted a glossy dark blue, the racing vehicle sported the Vessey coat of arms, emblazoned in gold on the door. Even before the accident, the marquis’s equipage quite cast Lord Ottwell’s into the shade. In fact, the phaeton was one of the finest Lily had ever seen, not counting the marquis’s magnificent coach-and-four, of course.

  Glancing toward Ottwell, she found him still engaged in negotiation with the stall owners.

  “Who can tell how long he will be,” Vessey remarked as though he had read her thoughts. “Even when he calms those two down, he’ll still need to call for a new carriage and make arrangements to have this one taken away. You could be here for hours.”

  Much as she did not like on principle to abandon Lord Ottwell, Lily had to agree that Lord Vessey made several excellent points, not the least of which was the dismal prospect of spending the rest of her afternoon sitting here in this broken-down curricle. With a nod, she agreed. “Yes, thank you, I would appreciate a ride home.”

  “Ottwell,” the marquis called, his voice carrying easily over the crowd. “Mrs. Smythe is coming with me.”

  Lord Ottwell paused in mid-sentence and looked over, a series of lines descending across his forehead.

  Without giving her an opportunity to speak to the other man, the marquis reached up, caught her around the waist, and swung her to the ground with a confident power that made her belly flutter. Once her feet were on the ground, he tucked her hand into the curve of his elbow and led her forward. She only had time for one last glance at Lord Ottwell, who looked profoundly perturbed, before the marquis drew her to a halt in front of his phaeton and moved to help her inside.

  Up, up she went, her pulse quickening as Lord Vessey caught her around the waist and lifted her off her feet. For an instant, she hung suspended inside his powerful embrace, her eyes even with his, his mouth scant inches from her own. For the faintest fraction of an instant, he paused as if he were considering drawing her nearer for a kiss. Instead, he lifted her farther upward and set her on the seat.

  Steadying herself, Lily willed away a momentary sense of vertigo, telling herself the reaction was due to the lofty height of the phaeton and not from having just been held so closely inside the marquis’s arms. Gazing around, she noticed that the carriage really was set high, making her feel like a bird perched on the top branch of a forest’s tallest tree. A smile broke across her mouth, excitement rising as she surveyed London from an entirely new perspective.

  Lord Vessey vaulted up and settled next to her on the seat, his broad shoulders nearly tou
ching her own. Taking up the reins, he whistled softly to his horses and eased them into traffic, his every movement bespeaking competence and control.

  Now this, she thought, is a man who knows how to handle the ribbons.

  “Not quite the experience you were hoping for on your very first lesson, I imagine,” he remarked once they were safely on their way.

  Her shoulders drew back. “If you are inquiring as to whether I was driving when the accident occurred, I was not.”

  He tossed her a look. “I never imagined you were. If you will recall, I warned you Ottwell is as ham-fisted as they come.” He paused, making a quick turn that would have set the other man on his heels. “Did he let you take the reins even once?”

  Her lips tightened. “He said he was working up to it, looking for just the right spot.”

  Vessey barked out a laugh. “In Covent Garden? He would have been looking all day.”

  “So I was beginning to realize,” she agreed with a sigh.

  “Disappointed, hmm?”

  “Yes, if you must know.”

  “Let me teach you, then. My offer is still good.”

  A wave of longing unfurled inside her chest, but she pushed it aside. “I cannot.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “No,” she replied in an emphatic tone. “I cannot. And you already know the reason.”

  His lips turned up in a slow, sensual smile. “I thank you for the compliment, madam, but even I would find it difficult to make love to you in an open phaeton in full public view. Why else do you imagine Society so thoroughly approves of the sport?”

  Her mouth parted at his bold statement, yet she knew he was right. Even girls with overly protective mamas were permitted to go driving with a single gentleman as long as the pair did so in an open carriage. Even so, had she not resolved only yesterday to see less of the marquis rather than more? And spending long hours with him, snuggled hip-to-hip inside a small carriage, was not the way to achieve her aim. Still, she couldn’t deny the fact that letting Ethan Andarton teach her to drive would be nothing short of divine. Assuming she could keep her mind on the lessons, instead of the man.