His Favorite Mistress Read online

  He frowned a bit at the thought, as well as the realization that Black House felt lonely these days without her in it. Curious, since she’d lived there only for a brief time before taking up residence here. “Are you going to the Hamiltons’ fete this afternoon?” he asked, pushing away his former thoughts as he stretched against the sheets.

  She nodded. “Yes, I am supposed to meet Julianna and Lily there, so please don’t attempt to change my mind.”

  “I wasn’t intending to. Actually,” he said, rolling onto his side to lean up on an elbow, “I thought I might escort you.”

  Her head turned his way. “Escort me?”

  These days, he didn’t escort her anywhere, the two of them tending to go their separate ways unless it was to meet here at her house.

  “Yes. Why don’t I stop by around three?” he suggested.

  “Oh well, it’s most kind of you to offer, but there’s no need. Dickey is taking me.”

  He shot up into a sitting position, the sheets bunching at his waist. “Dickey? Milton, you mean?”

  “Yes.” She wiggled into her shift. “He’s been escorting me to a few parties lately. Here,” she said, crossing to stand in front of him. “Help me with my stays.”

  After she settled the cage of silk and whalebone around her torso, he reached for the laces and began pulling each one tight. “So, you’ve acquired a cicisbeo, have you?”

  “Oh, I hadn’t thought of him that way,” she replied, sounding genuinely surprised. “Dickey and I are just friends.”

  Friends, hmm? And is that how Milton feels? Somehow Tony doubted it. Then again, the man was obsessed with gossip and fashion; maybe he was only amusing himself. But did he also plan to keep amusing himself by slowly luring Gabriella into his bed? Tony gave a fierce tug on a lace that elicited an exclamation from Gabriella.

  “Careful,” she warned. “I like my corset snug, but not so tight I can’t breathe.”

  “Sorry,” he muttered, gentling his touch as he finished.

  Undergarments now in place, she walked to her wardrobe and drew out a day dress, the lilac sprigged-muslin she selected draping in soft folds around her body as she slipped it over her head.

  Climbing out of bed, he went to assist her with the buttons. Before he did, though, he caught and turned her into his arms. Bending his head, he claimed her mouth, pleasuring her with a thorough, infinitely tender kiss that left a dreamy smile on her lips once their embrace was done.

  “What was that for?” she asked as he lifted his head.

  “I just felt like it.” He played his fingers over her back. “As you know, I often feel like it. From now on,” he stated, “if you need an escort, you are to tell me. I’ll do my best to make myself available.”

  Surprise shone in her gaze. “Well, I…all right. If that’s what you wish.”

  “I do. Now, let me fasten those buttons.”

  Several hours later, Tony leaned against a pillar on the far side of the Hamiltons’ spacious drawing room, a glass of canary in hand as he surreptitiously watched Gabriella. She was engaged in conversation with Julianna and Lily, whose figure was just beginning to show signs of her pregnancy, and a fourth woman whose name he couldn’t for the life of him recall. Laughing at some remark, Gabriella flashed a pretty smile, the sight warming the blood in his veins, making him think of the night to come. One of many nights for which he now waited with constant anticipation and pleasure.

  But it was more than the nights, he realized, raising his glass to quaff a mouthful of wine. He enjoyed all the time they spent together, the reason perhaps why he was finding himself more and more in her company lately, even on those occasions when it wasn’t strictly required.

  This afternoon, for instance, he could have used the time to visit his stables. He and his trainer needed to talk about several horses, including a likely mare he was thinking about running in the Derby. Instead, he’d decided to come here today. His offer this morning to escort her to the party had been an impulse, but after discovering she was coming with Dickey Milton, he’d made sure he didn’t miss the fete.

  He could have insisted on escorting her, he supposed, but knew she would have wondered at his reaction. Frankly, he wondered at his reaction, since despite his remark about her having a cicisbeo, he knew she was faithful to him. He kept her so occupied sexually—often taking her multiple times a day—that she couldn’t possibly have the time or energy for anyone but him. Besides, he trusted her, knowing with a bone-deep certainty that she would never be dishonest enough to betray him with another man.

  So what was worrying him? When he thought about it, their current arrangement gave him the best of both worlds—all the benefits of marriage with none of the inconvenient obligations. Going to her house was like having a mistress—the best one he’d ever had. As sensual and satisfying as a trained courtesan, Gabriella brought him to heights of pleasure that even he, in his vast experience, hadn’t realized he could feel. And yet, despite the illusion, there was nothing truly illicit about their relationship, since she was, after all, his wife.

  Actually, he ought to be enjoying the situation. He had everything he claimed to want—great sex, as much as he wished, as well as a woman who would legitimately bear his children and ensure the continuation of his line. So why the niggling discontent inside him? Why the longing for something else, something more? He didn’t understand himself these days. If only she hadn’t started this nonsense about maintaining her own residence. They were practically living together again as it was. If only she would relent and come home, everything would be fine.

  But would it?

  Surely she could see he had no interest in any other woman. And as for her accusation that he was using her as a brood mare, well, that was patently ridiculous, since he wanted more than children, he wanted her. And not just for sex. He liked Gabriella, he always had. She made him smile and kept him amused. When they were together, there was no place else he longed to be. And when they were apart…he wished he was with her as well.

  He gazed at her again and felt a pressure blossom inside his chest. Too much rich food at nuncheon, he decided. Then he saw Dickey Milton approach, watching as the other man kissed her hand and made some remark that soon had her giggling. He scowled and tossed back the rest of his wine.

  As he observed them, he remembered his remark about the possibility of someday letting her go her own way discreetly, and knew he’d lied. He would never let her go. And if any other man dared to touch her, he would make sure the fellow was sorry he had. Very sorry indeed. Accepting another glass of canary from a footman, he sipped the wine and waited.

  Nearly a half hour later, Milton made his way from the room. Setting down his glass, Tony followed.

  “Milton,” he said when he and the other man were well out of earshot. “I would have a word with you.”

  “Oh, hello, Wyvern, I didn’t realize you were still here. I noticed you at nuncheon, then you seemed to disappear.”

  “I’ve been around. Had an excellent vantage point, in fact.”

  Milton tossed him a curious look. “You ought to have joined the conversation. The ladies were regaling me with tales of a ball they recently attended. Some very amusing stuff, I must say.”

  “Yes, I noticed your rapt fascination, particularly when it comes to my wife.”

  To his credit, Milton didn’t so much as flinch under the nasty glare Tony gave him, returning the look with apparent equanimity. “The duchess is a lovely young woman. I always enjoy her company.”

  “Well, from now on you can enjoy it a great deal less. I understand you escorted her here today. She won’t be needing your assistance in the future.”

  “Are you warning me off?” he questioned in a clearly astonished tone.

  “In a word, yes. I don’t want you seeing her anymore. And I don’t want you telling her why, either. I’ll leave the excuses to you.”

  Milton stared for a long moment, then released a hearty laugh, the sound traveling over
Tony’s spine with the irritation of a dull razor. “Well, I don’t believe it.”

  Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “Believe what?”

  “You, jealous over your own wife! I never did put much stock in all the romantic tales of your hasty wedding. How you’d supposedly been overcome by love and swept her off her feet. Lust, more like, and something else is my guess. Though clearly the ‘something else’ wasn’t an early baby, as a few of the less charitable among us speculated.”

  Milton ran his fingers over the ribbon of his watch fob as he continued. “When I heard about your public separation, I assumed I’d been right, and that you’d grown tired of her as you have all your other women. But then you started visiting her at her townhouse—an interesting twist, to say the least. Still, until this moment, I never realized the truth.”

  “Oh?” Tony said on a near growl. “And what truth is that?”

  “Why, that you really do love her. Just think, Anthony Black, the most dedicated rake among us, brought to heel by a woman—a sweetly adorable, witty, and beautiful woman, yet a woman nonetheless. I’m going to have to make a huge bet at White’s Club before anyone else guesses.”

  Tony’s heart kicked in his chest, the other man’s words crashing like a thunderclap inside his head. Love Gabriella? No, I don’t love her. And yet the more he considered the idea, the more he realized how true it was. When viewed from that perspective, everything he’d said and done over the past few weeks made perfect sense. His moments of anger and despair. His temper, which had never before been unsteady. His obsession to have her—and not just in a carnal sense, but in all ways. He not only wanted her, he needed her, knowing suddenly that without her he would never be entirely whole.

  By God, Milton is right. I do love her, he thought. Why had it taken him so long to realize what had been there in front of him this entire time?

  “You make that wager,” Tony told the other man. “And in the meantime, stay well away from Gabriella.”

  Milton laughed again. “She and I really are nothing but friends, you know.”

  “But you wish you were more.”

  “You have me at that,” Milton admitted. “She’s a delightful woman and you’re lucky to have her. Although at the moment, you don’t have her, do you? Seeing that you’re living apart. Well, good luck winning her back, since I get the impression she doesn’t believe you care.”

  “Well, she’s wrong. Now, do us both a favor and take yourself off.”

  Milton chuckled and strode away, apparently not the least bit offended.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  G ABRIELLA SNUGGLED AGAINST Tony, her body warm and replete from a most thorough bout of lovemaking. But then Tony is never anything less than thorough, she mused, always making sure I am well satisfied before he takes an equal amount of pleasure for himself.

  To her surprise, he’d brought her home from the Hamiltons’ party, telling her something about Dickey Milton needing to leave early and him volunteering to take the other man’s place.

  There’d been an odd, unusually intense expression on his face while they took his coach across the city. More than once he’d appeared on the verge of saying something, but then he’d stopped and kissed her instead. As so often happened, his kisses led to more. By the time they reached her townhouse, both of them had been so hungry for the other, they’d just barely made it up the stairs to her bedroom before taking each other in a frenzy. He’d stripped them both after that first coupling and settled her beneath the sheets, where he’d proceeded to do it all again—only this time he’d been slow, almost reverent, as he brought her to a trembling, soul-stirring climax.

  Now, here they were, with night darkening the world outside, all thoughts of the ball she’d originally planned to attend gone from her brain.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, sliding her palm across his chest before threading her fingers into the black curls that grew there. “We missed dinner, you know. I’m sure Cook could make something simple for us. Or we could always raid the pantry.”

  He captured her hand and brought it to his lips. “Hmm, we’ll eat. But first there is something I want to say. Something I ought to have told you long ago.”

  “Oh? And what is that?”

  “Gabriella. Sweetheart,” he said, gazing directly into her eyes. “I love you.”

  For an instant, she didn’t think she’d heard correctly, sure a moment later that she must have imagined the words. Maybe I am actually asleep and this is a dream, she mused. “What?” she asked aloud.

  “I love you,” he repeated. “I only just realized it myself or I would have said something earlier.”

  She swallowed, her heart threatening to beat up into her throat, repressed joy fluttering like a pair of gold-edged wings around her heart. “And when did you decide this?” she asked, marveling that she could speak at all.

  “Just today. I suppose I’m not used to the idea, so it didn’t occur to me sooner. But I know it’s right, and I want you to come home.”

  The wings stopped fluttering, the tiny glimmer of hope she’d felt dying an abrupt death. Suddenly cold, she sat up. “Home, is it?”

  “Yes,” he murmured, running his palm over the bare skin of her back. “Now that we’re reconciled, there seems no reason for you to remain here. I’ll have your belongings packed up first thing come morning.”

  Tossing back the covers, she rose from the bed and crossed to her wardrobe to pull out a dressing gown. Wrapping herself in the heavy folds, she struggled to get warm, knowing it would be a long time before that happened. She tightened the tie at her waist. “You presume a great deal, Your Grace, based on a few simple words. You will leave my belongings right where they are. Now, shall we go have that dinner?”

  He sat up, his eyebrows angled like a dark pair of swords. “Didn’t you hear what I said? I love you, Gabriella. I want us to be together.”

  “No, you want me to be in your house, just as you have wanted this entire time. It’s an old argument and one I am not interested in continuing.”

  He looked astonished. “Are you saying you don’t believe I love you?” When she didn’t reply, he continued. “My God, that is what you are saying. Why?”

  “How can I not when I heard you tell Lord Vessey the exact opposite? ‘Love? Gabriella?’ she mimicked. ‘No, I don’t love Gabriella.’ Well, you made your feelings very plain that day and now you expect me to believe you’ve had a complete change of heart?”

  His jaw tightened, a muscle ticking near his eye. “Yes, I do.”

  “Do you want to know what I think?” she said, anger bringing her the rush of warmth she had craved earlier. “I think you are so determined to bend me to your will and get me back where there will be no further scandal that you will try anything, even this. You had no compunction in seducing and manipulating me into marriage, and now you are doing it again. Well, I will not allow it. I will not let you use my feelings for you against me by saying what you know I so desperately want to hear.”

  “And what are those feelings?” he asked in a quiet voice. “Are you saying you love me, then?”

  “Of course I love you!” she returned, her voice quavering with barely checked emotion. “I can’t believe you haven’t known all along. My God, why else would I have married you if not for love? Why else would I have been so distraught hearing what you said to Ethan? What other reason could possibly have driven me out of my home when I had been so happy? Or at least stupidly imagined myself to be.”

  Her voice caught on the last, tears threatening to rain down her face. Somehow she held them back. “I am not falling for your blandishments this time and I am not coming home. This is my home now,” she stated, pointing a finger at the floor. “And this is where I will remain.”

  “Gabriella, I—”

  “No, no more. I’ve let you back in my bed. I’ve played along with this…whatever these past weeks have been and I’ll keep playing if that is what you demand. I promised to give you a child and
I will honor that commitment. But this other, I want it to cease. No more talk of my moving back to Black House or Rosemeade. And no more false promises of love.”

  “They aren’t false,” he interrupted in a rough tone. “I really do love you.”

  For a long moment she stared, wanting to believe him in spite of everything. Yet something inside her refused to take the leap, afraid if she did and he changed his mind once again that the loss would break her. She looked away. “I’m going to go downstairs now and have dinner. You may join me or not as you wish.”

  Instead, he sat motionless in the middle of the bed, his skin pale beneath his usual swarthy complexion. A trick of the candlelight perhaps, she decided. Or maybe a result of suppressed rage over her having caught him out in his lie. Whatever his emotions might be, she could not let them sway her, would not let him sway her. Fitting a pair of slippers onto her feet, she opened the door and went out into the hallway.

  Ten minutes later, she sat at the dining-room table waiting for a meal she did not want. She heard a single creak and the quiet sound of his footfalls on the stairs. Her shoulders tensed as she prepared herself to face him. But as she listened he walked not toward the dining room, but away. A minute later, she heard a murmur of conversation as one of the footmen opened the front door, then closed it behind him. Tony had left.

  It’s for the best, she told herself. But if it is, then why do I feel as if I’ve just cut out my own heart? Unable to hold them back any longer, she let the tears slide hot and wet down her face.

  As soon as he arrived home, Tony saddled a fresh horse and rode out with no clear direction in mind. In spite of the late hour, he couldn’t bring himself to go inside and upstairs to his bed, knowing how lonely the house would feel, how empty his bed would be without Gabriella there to share it.

  For the first time in my life I am in love, he mused. And the woman I adore doesn’t believe me. He gave a mirthless laugh at the divine irony of the situation and spurred his mount faster, tossing a coin to the toll keeper as he headed past one of the gates that led north from the city.