The Flawed Mistress (The Summerville Journals) by Margaret Brazear Page B

you.”
       
I gave a cynical laugh.
       
“Then you had best rescue her before some lecherous deviant takes notice of
her.”  I could have bitten out my tongue for that.  “Forgive
me.  That was unnecessary.  Does she really look like me?  Lady Winterton is very fair.”
       
“She does, though I have to say not quite as beautiful.  I do not believe
anybody could be as beautiful as you.”
       
I could at last hear those words in that tone without stiffening, without
feeling threatened.  It had taken me all this time to accept that there
was no hidden meaning behind his words.
       
“But I saw you this afternoon, leaving your bedchamber with her sister,” I
said.
       
“Yes,” he replied, looking slightly abashed.  “I said you would think me
crass.”
       
“Why?  If you have designs on the lady’s sister, why on earth would you
take her to your bed?”
       
He gave me an abashed look, then smiled mischievously.
       
“I have never had much patience with people who say ‘it just happened’ but,
well, it just happened.”
       
“If you say so, My Lord,” I replied sceptically.
       
“I need your advice.  I do not want to tie myself to someone who will be
unhappy with the arrangement,” he began.  “I thought if I put it to the
lady herself, an agreement perhaps with conditions, what do you think?”
       
“I think that would very much depend on what sort of woman she is,” I
replied.  “I would have killed for a civilised agreement, but most women
might need a little, shall we say wooing?”
       
“I do not believe that is the sort of thing I am looking for,” he replied
doubtfully.  “The last thing I want is someone running away with the idea
that I am in love with her.”
        “Why not?”
       
“Because I do not believe that is possible.  I have had many women in my
life and I have never been in love with any of them, not even you my
love.  I do not want anyone to get hurt.”
       
“Then you had best meet her, see what she is like up close if you know what I
mean.”
       
“I intend to,” he answered with a little note of enthusiasm.  “Sir
Geoffrey holds a twelfth night ball every year.  I shall make it my
business to attend.”
       
“What makes you think you will be invited?”
       
“I am always invited,” he replied as though it were obvious.  “He has to
invite me, since I own half the county, but he does not expect me to attend and
I never do.  This year will be different.”  He paused and gazed at me
thoughtfully for a moment.  “Would you care to accompany me?”
        
“No!”  I cried with a laugh, shaking my head.  “Not if you are
planning on getting to know Lady Winterton’s sister.”
         “Do you
mind?”
         “Mind
what, My Lord?”
         “Mind my
talking to you about this, mind my thinking of getting
married.”
         “Of course not.   It is not my place to mind, is
it?  I knew that one day it would happen, it would have to happen. 
And I want you to be happy, which is why I have to remind you of
something.”  He turned to me with a puzzled frown and I went on, “the
likelihood is that she will be protestant. I imagine you will want her to
convert to your faith. It would be unfair to marry her without revealing that,
yet what you are doing is illegal.  You need to be very careful that you
can trust her with the information.”
       
He nodded thoughtfully, as though it was not something he had considered.
       
“I shall put it to her,” he said thoughtfully.  “If she agrees to convert
then I shall assume that her faith is not deep.  If she does not, then I
shall think I had a lucky escape.”
       
I knew he was joking, knowing full well that he kept his own beliefs a secret
for fear of losing Summerville Hall, but I could not help be concerned for his
safety.  He would have to reveal his crime to a stranger with no knowledge
of her