The Perfect Mistress (28 page)

She raised a brow. “My, my, that is telling.”

“It’s nothing of the sort.”

“Protest all you wish, brother dear, but I have never seen you at a loss for words or anything else.”

“Then you should be ecstatic.”

“And yet, oddly enough, I’m not. I can’t believe it myself. What has gotten into me?” She sighed. “I am taking Julia to the country for a few days. She needs to clear her head so that she may reach a decision on the disposition of the memoirs as well as what she wants to do about the three of you.”

“The three of us?” Harrison drew his brows together.

“You, Mr. Ellsworth, and Mr. Cadwallender. He was in the parlor, you know.”

“I didn’t know. Damnation.” He had forgotten all about Cadwallender. “What was he doing in the parlor?”

“Waiting for Julia. He had come to discuss the memoirs or so he said.” Veronica crossed her arms over her chest and studied her brother-in-law. “When I arrived, Julia’s butler informed me about the various gentlemen ensconced in various rooms. You probably didn’t notice but I had him close the door. It seemed best, given the rising volume of your discussion.”

He nodded.

“I then made Julia’s apologies and managed to send Mr. Cadwallender on his way before the chaos began in here.” Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t hear everything. Do you care to elaborate?”

“I’m not sure I can. Ellsworth tried to kiss her—”

“And you walked in on it?”

He nodded. “Fortunately.”

“Go on.”

“One thing led to another after that. Somehow she and I began arguing, I have no idea how.” He huffed. “This is what happens when wild and unbridled passions are allowed to run amuck.”

“Passions?” She stared. “Whose?”

“His, hers, mine.” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

She studied him for a long moment. “Admission of passion is not something I ever imagined you saying, particularly not coupled with the words
wild
or
unbridled.
But then you’ve changed a great deal.”

“Nonsense,” he muttered, although she might well be right. He hadn’t been the same since the moment he laid eyes on Julia. Past time he admitted it, at least to himself.

“Ellsworth is not your competition, you know.”

“He wants the memoirs. Badly, I would say.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She paused. “Julia is not so foolish as to be taken in by a man like Ellsworth.”

“I never doubted it.” Although he had.

“The one you need to be wary of is Cadwallender. He is a very nice man and I suspect very similar to her late husband.”

An odd, heavy weight settled in his stomach. “Do you think so?”

“Yes, I do.” She shook her head. “She hasn’t said it but I would not doubt that she’s noticed it as well.”

“I see.” Veronica was right. If the publisher was indeed like her dead husband … “I assume she was happy, with her husband that is.”

“I would assume so,” she said in a annoyingly noncommittal manner. “She’s never said otherwise.” Her gaze met his. “Would you like me to put in a word for you?”

“About the memoirs?”

Veronica rolled her gaze at the ceiling. “No.”

“It’s not necessary. I don’t need …” He drew a deep breath. In truth, he needed every advantage he could get. Very nearly from the beginning he had accepted he needed the help of one annoying woman to best another. Now, he realized he could well use the help of one woman who was not as annoying as he had once thought her, to win the, well, the heart of another he could happily be annoyed by for the rest of his days. Good God, what had happened to him? And when? “Yes, that would be most appreciated.”

She smiled slowly. “Excellent.”

“You needn’t look so smug.”

“Oh, but I am smug. I do love being right, you know. Now”—she ushered him toward the door—“I suggest you go home and decide on a course of action. You know, have another one of your brilliant ideas.”

“They don’t just come to me,” he muttered.

“Knowing they are a product of much thought is a great relief.” They stepped into the entry and the butler immediately opened the front door. Veronica leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Devise another one of your clever plans but try not to be too proper. Julia has behaved properly most of her life and it’s entirely possible she might now be interested in something more than, oh, nice. Which does not bode well for Mr. Cadwallender but does increase the threat from Mr. Ellsworth. You, brother dear, must fall somewhere in between.”

Harrison stared at her. “You have a very devious mind, don’t you?”

“It’s a gift.” She nearly pushed him out the front door. “Julia will be in the country for the next four to five days, I think. More than enough time for you to determine how you will make this end well.” She nodded and the now unseen butler closed the door.

She was certainly eager to get rid of him. He started toward his carriage. Not that she wasn’t right. He had a great deal of thinking to do if he was going to win Julia and, hopefully, the memoirs. There was Ellsworth who was obviously not going to give up. And then there was Cadwallender who was apparently very similar to Julia’s late husband. A husband she had loved.

It was all most confusing and irritating as well. From the moment he’d heard of Lady Hermione Middlebury and her annoying great-granddaughter, Veronica had been right more often than not.

And not one of his brilliant ideas had truly turned out well.

… and I would place the duke firmly in that category of men.

Oh yes, Dear Reader, men do indeed fall into categories and any woman who is at all perceptive recognizes that. First, there is the Proper Gentleman and no man on earth plays that role as well as those with good, English blood. Often stiff and stodgy, they prefer everything in their lives to be efficient, well organized, and on time. They have a great deal of potential.

Then there is the Hero. His purpose is to catch you when you fall. Unfortunately, heroes grow tiresome as they come to expect you to fall and tend to be annoyed when you do not and sanctimonious when you do. No man is as arrogant as a hero.

There is the Adventurer for whom there is no mountain he can’t climb, no woman he can’t conquer. Do understand that I mean a spirit rather than an actual explorer. Why, I have met Adventurers who have never stepped foot outside of England.

And there are Scoundrels, either those who are merely naughty and most enjoyable or those who are truly wicked and are to be avoided. There are other categories, of course, far too many to mention now.

The men that inevitably capture one’s heart are neither fully Proper Gentleman, nor Adventurer, nor Hero, nor naughty Scoundrel. Those are the men who encompass
bits and pieces of any number of different categories. Sometimes the best, sometimes the worst. As for the duke, he was not …

      from
The Perfect Mistress,

the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury

What had gotten into her? She couldn’t remember the last time she had raised her voice let alone lost her temper. And when had she ever spoken without thinking? It was most unsettling and not at all like her.

Julia paced the large bedroom she’d been given at Veronica’s country house. The house was most impressive as were the grounds, but of course, being Veronica’s, it would be. She’d been invited but she’d never been here before. She’d assumed, when Veronica had insisted she come today, that her friend would accompany her. Instead, she’d put her on the train with a note to her staff and said she’d be along the day after tomorrow as originally planned. Julia hadn’t protested; it was rather nice for once to have someone else make her decisions for her. And nice as well to be away and by herself. Tomorrow, she would take a long walk and gather her thoughts, if that was possible.

Tonight, it was impossible not to think about this afternoon’s confrontation with Harrison and Mr. Ellsworth. Although Mr. Ellsworth’s behavior scarcely merited a second thought. It was Harrison’s comments and her own responses that dwelled in her mind. She had tried to sleep to no avail and now paced the room, trying to sort out her thoughts. It was all most confusing, and while she relished the opportunity to be alone it would be nice to have someone to talk it all out with.

“Precisely why I am here,” a familiar voice said behind her.

Julia turned to find Hermione lounging on a chaise near the fireplace. “Are you alone?”

Hermione smiled. “At the moment.”

Julia drew a deep breath. “Thank you for coming.”

“Oh, there is little I love more than staying at a grand house in the country. Although I would prefer if it was filled with convivial companions.” She paused. “I could arrange that if you’d like.”

“Would they all be dead?”

Hermione heaved a long-suffering sigh. “My dear Julia, for the most part my circle of acquaintances consists of the dead. Which is not the same as dull, mind you. They are quite a jolly lot and I daresay you would enjoy them as well.”

“Thank you, but I would prefer not to fill Veronica’s house with the dearly departed.”

“I can’t say I blame you. The whole idea of your coming to the country in the first place was to be alone.” She studied her descendant for a moment. “Shall I leave as well?”

“Please stay,” Julia said quickly and resumed pacing. “What has come over me?”

“In what sense, dear?”

“Surely you witnessed the scene in the library.”

“Oh that. Indeed I did.” She chuckled. “It was most impressive.”

“What, pray tell, was impressive?”

“First of all, darling, you did not fall prey to Mr. Ellsworth’s crude attempts at seduction. I would have thought a man with his reputation would have been a bit more subtle. In spite of the sound manner in which you kicked him, he finds it impossible to accept that any woman can resist either his charm or his fame.” She smiled. “I was quite proud of you.”

Julia scoffed. “Mr. Ellsworth holds no particular appeal for me.”

“Yet another reason for my pride in you. And then there was the way you handled Harrison.” She chuckled. “Very impressive indeed.”

“I didn’t handle him.” Julia sighed and brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “I lost my temper. I don’t lose my temper. I never lose my temper. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“I daresay you wouldn’t have lost it at all if Harrison hadn’t been present.”

“That’s absurd. I was upset by Mr. Ellsworth’s behavior.”

“Initially, yes. You probably would have kicked Mr. Ellsworth once you were free of his clutches whether Harrison was there or not. But I suspect you wouldn’t have been anywhere near as angry had Harrison not been there. There was only one man in that room that elicited passion from you. Today, it was anger but you weren’t as angry over his refusal to thrash Mr. Ellsworth as you were about his behavior following your kiss.”

“Nonsense,” Julia muttered, but it did seem to make a certain amount of sense.

“Yes, of course. Utter and complete nonsense.” Hermione shrugged in a dismissive manner. “Let’s talk about what you’re going to do with my memoirs, shall we?”

“Very well.” Julia resumed pacing. “I do need to make up my mind. I have three interesting offers. Mr. Ellsworth’s does seem to be the best thus far. I would receive a tidy sum, equal to that offered by Harrison.”

“You do understand I do not want my work destroyed. It’s all that’s left of me in the world.” Hermione’s voice carried a deceptively offhand note, as if she didn’t care.

Julia met her gaze. “I will never allow that. And that will be clear in any bargain I may strike.”

“That is most appreciated. Now then we are back to Mr. Ellsworth.”

Julia nodded. “His offer would include royalties from sales of your book so, with any luck at all, there would be an income in the future. It’s probably the best offer thus far but …”

“But it would involve continued association with the man as well as the matter of his fictional versions of my adventures.” Hermione’s brow furrowed. “I’m not sure I trust that his adaptation wouldn’t be somewhat sordid.”

Julia raised a brow. “More sordid than your adventures are?”

“They’re not the least bit sordid.” Indignation sounded in Hermione’s voice. “They might be somewhat specific as well as have a certain sensuality about them but they are not sordid.”

“Probably not.” Julia cast her an apologetic smile.

“And might I add, they are quite well written.” Hermione sniffed. “I think I could have been an excellent writer myself.” She cast Julia an unrepentant grin. “If I ’d had the time.”

“Very well. Then we agree.” Julia nodded. “While Mr. Ellsworth’s offer may be the most lucrative at the moment, everything that comes with it is not something either of us wants.”

“Which brings us to Benjamin.” Hermione sighed. “What a nice man he is.”

Julia cast her a suspicious look. “Do you really think so?”

“Don’t you?”

“Well, yes, he is very nice.” She thought for a moment. “And while his offer is not as initially substantial as the others, he does think the book will be successful, which means continuing income from royalties.”

“And he is a man who can certainly be trusted. You wouldn’t have to worry about a man like Benjamin.”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

“No, indeed.” Hermione shook her head. “Why, Benjamin is not the sort to force himself upon you in the library.”

Julia scoffed. “Absolutely not.”

“Nor would he take liberties on a darkened terrace.”

Julia narrowed her eyes. “Hermione.”

“I would think a man like Benjamin would never let his passions overrule his innate good sense. He would never pull you into his arms and press his lips to yours until your blood fired in your veins and you clung to him because your knees were too weak to support you.”

“Hermione.” A definite threat sounded in Julia’s voice.

Hermione ignored her. “Benjamin would never kiss you without asking permission first.”

“He’s a gentleman,” she said staunchly.

“And very nice. As I assume his kiss would be. Julia, dear,” she said gently. “You have had nice. William was nice. Do you really want nice again?”