Mistress in the Making by Lynne Silver Page A

you?”
    A waiflike lady with pale-reddish, almost blonde hair turned, dropping her bag of crumbs. “Mr. Morgan. You startled me.” A smile covered her face but did not reach her eyes. She glanced at Charlotte, waiting to be introduced.
    “May I present my wife, Mrs. Morgan,” he said smoothly, ignoring how comfortable it felt introducing Charlotte as his wife. Squawks of ducks and splashes in the pond echoed as the ladies inclined their heads to each other.
    Lucas scooped up Sarah’s bag and handed it to her. Without the safety of ballroom banalities, he was unsure of how to broach the subject. Thank goodness for Charlotte.
    “Lucas was just telling me some wild tales of his travels. Have you ever traveled abroad, Lady Sarah?”
    “I have not,” she said, looking from Lucas to Charlotte with a quizzical expression. “If you’ll pardon me asking, how long have you been married?”
    “Seven years,” he said.
    “One month,” Charlotte said at the same time.
    Lucas forced a laugh. “What my wife means is we’ve been married a month but betrothed for seven.”
    “Oh. Funny, your brother never mentioned your betrothal. He often said you were too wild to ever settle down.” She turned back to tossing pinch-sized crumbs to ducks without seeming to aim. Sadness and loneliness pervaded the air surrounding her.
    Lucas met Charlotte’s wide-eyed, meaningful glance. Now what it seemed to say.
    He shrugged.
    Charlotte unhooked her arm from his and stepped next to Sarah, reaching into the bag for her own handful of crumbs. “I’m not really his wife.”
    Sarah halted her arm, mid-throw. “You’re not?”
    Charlotte shook her head and tossed accurately at a pair of ducks who flapped toward her bounty. “I’m his mistress.”
    Sarah froze then looked from her to him and back again. “Truly?” She seemed excited by the information and not at all horrified. “You don’t look as I expected a mistress would.”
    Charlotte flushed and his stomach tightened, knowing that he’d been partially responsible for her discomfort. Though he hadn’t forced her onto Madame Bella’s auction block, he hadn’t returned her to her family either and had initiated her sexually while knowing she was a gently bred lady.
    “I believed mistresses didn’t arise until evening and wore vulgar costumes, but I have a gown similar to yours,” Sarah said with a laugh.
    Lucas winced at the unwitting direct hit.
    Sarah turned to him. “Did you really outbid your brother for her?”
    He coughed, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation flowed. He wanted to question her about his brother, not the particulars of his arrangement with Charlotte, but he nodded.
    “I overheard my father discussing it,” she said. “Good.”
    Charlotte smiled at Sarah. “I agree, but why do you feel that way?”
    Sarah flushed and gave him an apologetic glance. “The current earl makes me uncomfortable. My apologies for insulting your twin, sir.”
    He tried to force his body to remain in a relaxed stance, but animal instinct had him freezing and intently listening to her next words.
    “How does Westhunt make you uncomfortable, Sarah?” Charlotte asked.
    “After my fiancé’s death, he often commented that he meant to assume all his brother’s properties, including me.” She shuddered. “I begged my father to never allow that to happen.”
    “Did he ever touch you or hurt you?” Lucas asked.
    Sarah looked at him, startled. “Oh no. He was the picture of a perfect gentleman, but there is something in his demeanor that makes me uneasy.” She turned away so he couldn’t see her eyes anymore and was surprised when her shoulders hunched and sobs flew from her in great gasps.
    Charlotte latched on to her with gentle arms, leading her over to the nearest bench. “Why, Lady Sarah, whatever is the matter? You can count on us as friends.”
    He followed the women to the bench, unsure of his role in comforting the delicate woman, forever grateful