His Favorite Mistress Page 17

  A slight shiver ran through her. “No, this evening has proven eventful enough already. Let us be on our way.”

  He took her hand, and they walked forward. As they traveled, many others passed by, some wandering dazed and lost, a few bearing injuries, while more were simply weary and eager to reach their homes. After ten minutes or so, the two of them finally came to the edge of the park. Reassessing their surroundings, Tony realized they must have traveled toward Piccadilly, some distance from where the fireworks celebration had taken place.

  Exiting the park, they stepped out into the city, the mostly residential streets quiet at this time of night. Given their location and the late hour, he knew finding a hackney would be a virtual impossibility. He could always knock on the door of a nearby home, he supposed, and ask that a footman be sent to Black House for a coach. But as he and Gabriella were so obviously alone together, he was reluctant to exercise that option. Better to make the journey on foot, then get her safely home to Rafe and Julianna with no one else the wiser.

  “Are you up for a walk?” he questioned.

  She nodded. “I wore my half-boots; I shall be fine.”

  Keeping her hand secure inside his own, he and Gabriella started forward, the surrounding darkness broken only by the light from a few house lanterns. They had been walking for nearly fifteen minutes when the rhythmic clip of horses’ hooves rang out behind them. Pausing, Tony turned to watch the approaching coach. He was debating the wisdom of flagging down the vehicle when it slowed of its own accord and drew to a halt. The window closest to him and Gabriella slid down with a quiet snick.

  “Gracious, Wyvern, is that you?”

  He held back a groan, his jaw tightening as he met the gaze of the last person he could possibly have wished to see. “Good evening, Lady Hewitt.”

  “Whatever are you doing out here?” she questioned, sending an arch look in Gabriella’s direction. “Has there been an accident with your coach?”

  “A small riot, actually, during tonight’s fireworks celebration in Green Park.” He said nothing further, taking up a position just in front of Gabriella in the forlorn hope that his ex-mistress wouldn’t be able to clearly identify her in the darkness. But as he knew, such a hope was indeed ridiculous.

  “How frightening!” Erika said with exaggerated concern. “And now you and poor Miss St. George…that is Miss St. George just behind you, is it not?…are being forced to walk home. Well, providence has decided to shine upon you,” she said, opening the door. “Come let me take you up. My coachman shall have you home in no time.”

  For an instant, Tony considered refusing, but he knew the gesture would be useless since the damage, as it were, was already done. Sliding Gabriella’s hand over his arm, he led her forward.

  “Thank the stars both of you are all right!” Julianna exclaimed nearly an hour later as Tony, Gabriella, and Rafe stood with her inside the Pendragons’ entrance hall. “We were all so worried when we realized the two of you weren’t with us. I assume you were pushed away from our group when the fighting broke out?”

  Tony and Gabriella exchanged a quick look before glancing away.

  “Something like that,” Tony offered. “Everything happened so fast. It’s hard now to recall.”

  This time it was Rafe who shot him a look, his friend’s arms crossed over his chest, a speculative frown on his face. Julianna, however, didn’t seem to notice, reaching out to give him and Gabriella yet another hug. “Well, whatever the details, it is of no consequence now. All that matters is that you are returned safe and unharmed.”

  “Yes,” Gabriella piped. “Were it not for Wyvern, I don’t know if I would have escaped unscathed. I was dreadfully frightened.”

  “If you were, you certainly didn’t show it.” Tony sent her a smile. “You were amazingly fearless.”

  “I didn’t feel fearless. Inside I was a veritable bowl of jelly.”

  “The loveliest jelly I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, losing himself for an instant in her expressive violet gaze. When he glanced up again, Rafe and Julianna were watching; there was a smile on Julianna’s lips, while Rafe had an even more pronounced scowl on his brow.

  Tony cleared his throat. “Yes, well,” he stated, “the hour grows late and considering all of tonight’s excitement, I suppose I ought to say my farewells.”

  “Yes,” Rafe stated. “Good night, Tony. I expect I shall see you tomorrow at Brooks’s.”

  He returned Rafe’s gaze with apparent equanimity. “Likely so.” Turning, he nodded to the ladies. “Julianna, rest well knowing everyone is safe. Miss St. George, may your dreams be deep and filled with the comfort of angels.”

  “May yours as well, Your Grace,” Gabriella said, offering him her hand.

  “Oh, I doubt that shall come to pass,” he replied, curving his fingers over her own. “Seraphim and their like haven’t been on speaking terms with me for years.”

  Rafe gave an audible snort, his lips twitching with amusement in spite of his taciturn mood. Making Gabriella a bow, Tony released her hand and stepped away. Wishing them all a collective good night, he exited the townhouse.

  Late evening shadows stole around him like a dark cloak, the neighborhood silent except for the muffled bark of a dog several streets away. He was expecting to find one of Rafe’s coaches waiting for him. Instead, standing before him was the same vehicle in which he had arrived. The horses advanced a few paces at his arrival, stopping so the coach door was directly opposite him.

  Lady Hewitt leaned forward, her face framed in the lamplight that shone into the open window. “It’s about time you left that house. I was beginning to wonder if you planned to stay the night.”

  He slipped his hands into his pockets. “What are you still doing here, Erika? There was no need for you to wait.”

  “Oh, I know. But how could I depart and cut short our chance to visit a bit more?” Satisfaction gleamed on her comely features, her expression reminding him of a vixen who had just located a henhouse full of plump, unsuspecting chickens. Given the twinkle in her eyes, he wouldn’t have been surprised to see a telltale feather or two floating on the air.

  “I assume you sent Rafe’s coach away?” he questioned.

  “Of course. Why go to the bother of two vehicles when one will do? Come along, Tony. The hour does grow late.”

  Hesitating only a moment more, he stepped forward and entered the coach. Relaxing back against the well-appointed seat, he waited for her to begin.

  “It’s been a long time since last we met,” she ventured as the horses drew the coach into a gentle motion.

  “An hour at least, I would guess.”

  She made a face. “Don’t be glib. You know what I mean.”

  “My pardon. You are right, my attempt at humor was poorly done. Surely, however, you didn’t ask me here to talk about old times.”

  “I suppose not, although I must say one can never entirely forget old times, can one?” she observed with a bitter tinge to her words. “Despite a person’s best efforts to do so.”

  “It is true that some matters are more easily set in the past than others.”

  “As are some people. You seem to have had no difficulty forgetting me, for instance.”

  He restrained a sigh. Ah, he mused, this is the trouble with encountering old lovers, especially those for whom the breakup was not mutually desired. He rubbed an idle thumb against his trouser-clad knee. “I have not forgotten you, Erika. How could any man forget a woman like you?”

  She made a slight noise of mollification, but said nothing more.

  “I have simply moved on,” he continued. “As have you. I understand you have been seen with Lord Plympton lately.”

  She rolled her shoulders in a graceful arch. “Hmm, noticed that, did you? He can’t keep his hands off me, you know. And what inventive hands they are, too, I must say!”

  If she thought her remark would spark some glimmer of jealousy in him, she was doomed to be disappointed. Although, as he well
knew, she had yet to state her real objective for this conversation.

  “While you, Your Grace,” she went on, “have been dancing attendance on that young miss, that Gabriella St. George. It’s very naughty of you to be dallying with such an innocent, especially beneath the noses of your good friends, the Pendragons. I assume you haven’t taken matters too far beyond flirtation, since a man of your prodigious appetites couldn’t possibly be satisfied with an inexperienced little chit like her.”

  His fingers tightened into a fist, disliking even the sound of Gabriella’s name on her lips.

  “Most unfortunate about this evening.” She paused, trailing a hand across her long silk skirt. “Had someone else come upon the two of you wandering alone together in the dark, I fear they might have been tempted to rush home and start sharing such titillating news with their entire acquaintance. I mean, on the face of it, the girl is compromised, and what with the way the Ton can be, I worry that poor Miss St. George would soon find her reputation quite in tatters should word get out.”

  So now we come to the heart of the matter, he thought, waiting to see what further threats she had to utter.

  “Given the previous aspersions cast upon her character by her aunt,” Erika observed, “I do not see how she could possibly survive another round of scandal. What a tragedy that would be to find oneself driven from Society because of a circumstance not at all under one’s control!”

  He held his temper. “Yes,” he replied in a deliberately casual tone. “That would be most regrettable indeed.”

  “Of course, I have no intention of breathing a word. It shall be our little secret.”

  “Will it? How generous of you!” he drawled with a faintly mocking undertone.

  “Why, thank you, Wyvern,” she mused aloud, a little smile of self-congratulation riding her lips. “I think so, too. And generosity deserves a reward, do you not agree?”

  He clenched his hand tighter, in no other way allowing his emotions to show. “Just what sort of reward did you have in mind?”

  She let out a brief laugh, the sound raking over his system like a set of nails across a slate. “You! I want you back.”

  His arched a single brow. “Do you really? What of Plympton?”

  “What of him?” she shrugged. “He is amusing and serves his purpose, but despite his skills he lacks your unique finesse. Of all my lovers, I have yet to find one who comes close to matching your talents in bed. Of course, I wouldn’t take you back without some additional recompense.”

  “Such as?”

  “A good bit of groveling to start. Literally on your knees for a while, I believe. Although I can think of many other ways you can pleasure me while you’re on your knees, can’t you, Your Grace?” she purred, quite clearly enjoying the moment. “And there would be a few other rules as well. For instance, I would decide when and where and how often we meet.”

  “Would you?”

  “Hmm-hmm. And most important of all, I will be the one to end the affair. You will be mine until I decide we’re through. And when I have had enough and want to kick you out, it will be done in public so everyone can see me toss you aside. I’ll expect you to grovel then, too, and beg me not to end things between us. I might even insist on tears. You can jab a needle into your palm if you can’t conjure them up on your own.”

  “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking this out, haven’t you?”

  “You have no idea,” she spat, her repressed anger suddenly showing.

  “Then again,” he said, “if you had considered all the angles, you would realize that I am not a man who begs—not for you, not for anyone.”

  “Not even for the sake of that poor, innocent girl you’ve led astray? And what of yourself? After all, think of your reputation should word get out. Since I am sure the last thing you’d ever want to do would be to actually sacrifice your freedom and marry her. Compromised as she is, there would be no other honorable way to rescue her.”

  He drew in a long, deep breath and held his tongue.

  “No, I know you, Tony, and you’d rather be branded a cad than saddled for life with some debutante, however intriguing she might presently be. Although given that you’re a rake already, the scandal would likely do nothing but add to your cache. Yet what of your friends, Rafe and Julianna? How would they feel, knowing you had brought shame and dishonor upon them and theirs? Why Rafe Pendragon might even feel the necessity to call you out! A tragedy to end a decades-old friendship over a girl. And you do not have to,” she purred, leaning across to slide her hand over his thigh. “Just come back to me on my terms, and my silence is yours.”

  Her hand glided higher. He brought his palm down hard on top and stopped her progress. Restraining the urge to fling aside her touch, he curled his hand around her own, wondering in that moment how he could ever have wanted her. With a Machiavellian determination, he hid his disgust and raised her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her perfumed skin.

  “You’re very clever, my dear,” he murmured. “But then you always were.”

  “I’m glad you noticed.”

  “And it would seem you have me at your mercy.”

  She showed her teeth, gleaming white even in the dim night shadows. “Just the way I like my men.”

  “It is late, however, and in case you were not aware, we have arrived at Black House.”

  She tossed a surprised glance out the window. “So we have. Perhaps I should come inside?”

  “Not tonight,” he said on a shake of his head. “After all, I could never be brought to grovel properly in my own home.”

  She laughed. “I suppose not. So we are agreed then?”

  He stroked his thumb over her hand, then made himself kiss the inside of her palm again as if he savored the act. “We shall talk more on the morrow…but wait, I have an engagement tomorrow evening that I cannot break. Would the day after be agreeable? That way I can make certain arrangements to see to your pleasure.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Your aren’t trying to deceive me, are you?”

  “To what end? As you pointed out, you leave me no other options.”

  He watched as she considered his statement, the smile returning to her lips. “The day after tomorrow will be acceptable. But be sure whatever it is you have planned for us will be creative enough to surprise even me.”

  “That, dear lady, I can safely guarantee.”

  Chapter Twelve

  F ROM HER PLACE on the divan in her bedchamber, Gabriella turned a page of the novel she was reading, a volume from the Minerva Press that Lily Andarton had lent her the last time she’d called here at the house. Rain drizzled in rivulets against the windows, the day a gloomy one that seemed to suit everyone’s subdued mood.

  After last night’s troubles in the park, she and Julianna had decided to cancel their engagements and remain indoors for the rest of the day, the weather only reinforcing the wisdom of their decision. At present, Rafe was out on business while Julianna had gone upstairs to the nursery to feed baby Stephanie and play for a while with her precocious two-year-old son, Campbell, whose new favorite word was “no.”

  Turning her attention back to her book, Gabriella tried to focus, but despite the heroine’s perilous situation, her thoughts soon began to drift again. Although Rafe and Julianna hadn’t said anything further about her and Tony becoming separated from the group last night, she couldn’t help but think there might still be repercussions from the event.

  Her uncle’s words had certainly carried an uncharacteristic edge to them, while the pointed looks he’d given Tony had been impossible to miss. For her part, Julianna had clearly been relieved by their safe return. This morning, however, Gabriella had caught a faintly worried expression on her friend’s brow—an expression that disappeared the moment she’d noticed Gabriella looking.

  And then there was Lady Hewitt.

  On the surface, her offer to take Gabriella and the duke in her coach had been a generous one, her conversation during the journey
congenial and often amusing. Yet the more Gabriella considered, the more she wondered if there might have been some other, underlying motivation at work. And although many of Society’s rules still eluded her, she knew enough to realize that she and Tony should not have been alone together—at least not discovered alone together. Still, any reasonable person would surely understand that there had been extenuating circumstances. They’d been caught in a riot, for heavens sake!

  Besides, she silently shrugged to herself, what is the worst that could happen? If anything were said, the talk would blow over in a few days’ time. With her mind a bit easier, she returned to her book. Five minutes later, a knock came at the door.

  “Come in,” she called, marking her page with a finger.

  “Pardon me, miss,” said one of the housemaids. “His Grace is here and has asked if you would join him in the drawing room.”

  Tony is here? Setting the novel aside, she rose to her feet. “Of course. Tell him I shall be along shortly.”

  The maid bobbed a curtsey and withdrew.

  Crossing to the pier glass, she checked her hair and smoothed a crease from the skirt of her apricot-and-cream-sprigged muslin gown. Deciding she looked presentable, she walked from the room.

  She expected to find him already talking with Julianna, but instead he was alone. He turned as she entered the room.

  “Good morning, Your Grace,” she said, crossing to him. “I had not expected to see you so early and on such a dreary day. Why, it isn’t even ten o’clock yet.”

  “Miss St. George.” He executed a polite bow, looking even more urbane than usual in a dark green cutaway coat and fawn-hued trousers. A few errant droplets of rain glistened in his thick, night-dark hair, his eyes startlingly blue against the natural tan of his complexion.

  “If you’ve come to see Rafe,” she offered, “I am afraid you have missed him. Julianna is upstairs with the children. Why do I not send for her—”