His Mistress By Christmas (5 page)

Her servants, no doubt, thought her quite mad when she’d insisted on having the top down. Her driver had tried to dissuade her, as had her butler and her maid, although they should have known better. Veronica very rarely changed her mind. Why hadn’t they just said, “But, my lady, it’s bloody cold outside?” She ignored the thought that perhaps, in their own way, they had. Still, it wasn’t all that bad. She had a lap blanket and a warm brick at her feet. It was really quite invigorating, once one stopped shivering.

Surely a little thing like the weather wouldn’t keep an adventurer like Sir Sebastian away. Although one did wonder where he was. She sat up and scanned the park, then settled back with a sigh. Perhaps she had been too subtle. Or too forward. Perhaps she had scared him away with her penchant for heated discussion and her progressive thinking. Still, one would think it would take more than an outspoken manner to scare away a man of courage and fortitude, as Sir Sebastian’s exploits had proven him to be, unless that, too, was an illusion. It was possible that he was as apprehensive about this meeting as she.

Veronica wasn’t at all used to being apprehensive or uncertain. But then she had never set her sights on a man before. Truth be told, she wasn’t entirely certain what she was doing or how to go about accomplishing it. She grimaced. She had been teasing Portia when she’d said it wasn’t as if Sebastian had advertised for a mistress. But it was a pity, really. It would have made this much easier and completely straightforward to be able to apply for a position without having to justify her reasoning.

How lovely it would be to simply say to him she had decided on this course for any number of reasons that were really none of his business. And to further say she had selected him for reasons that again were not his concern, although those she would be willing to share.

She straightened again and noted a lone familiar figure on foot heading toward her across the snow-covered grass. Relief washed through her. His strides were long, determination apparent in the very lines of his body, as if he had a purpose far more pressing than a mere drive in the park. She bit back a satisfied smile. And indeed this was no mere drive.

She’d been aware—even if not overly interested—of his books and adventures long before she’d ever met his cousin. He was, after all, extremely well-known. Her late husband had been something of an admirer and had Sir Sebastian’s books in his library. But it wasn’t until recent months that Veronica had read them. She wasn’t at all sure if the idea of becoming Sir Sebastian’s mistress was a result of having read his words or if it was just a happy coincidence that she had become intrigued with the man behind the books at very nearly the same time she had decided she would much prefer to be a mistress rather than a wife. Not that it made any difference in the scheme of things. And how convenient that he was related to one of her dearest friends.

He drew closer and her heart fluttered. Nerves, of course, and apprehension. To be expected, really. While Veronica was outspoken on very nearly every topic, and had her own particular set of morals and rules of behavior that might well offend those governed by strict propriety, she had never been with a man other than her husband. She’d never been seduced by anyone other than Charles, and indeed, she had not been averse to his seduction. She had, on occasion, wondered if any woman would or had. Charles had been quite a disreputable rogue when she’d met him, at least where women were concerned. Not that she had fallen into his bed without due consideration. She had too much pride to value herself lightly. She had, admittedly, wanted him with the sort of ache she’d never experienced before. It was as much lust as love. And she’d not been disappointed. Veronica thought it exceptionally odd that so many wives considered intimate relations a duty rather than a pleasure. But then Charles had been unique. And so was she.

“Henry,” she called to her driver. “Do stop the carriage.”

“But, Lady Smithson,” Henry began, then caught sight of Sir Sebastian. Realization dawned on his face, and he cast her an assessing look. “Do you intend to walk, my lady?”

“Not in these shoes.” Her gaze settled on Sir Sebastian. A broad grin spread across his face. He waved and picked up his pace. “I suspect Sir Sebastian will be joining me.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Henry said in a noncommittal manner, but there was a distinct hint of approval in his tone.

Portia’s relations weren’t the only ones who thought three years was long enough to mourn for a woman of her age. Still, if Henry knew exactly what she had in mind, his disapproval would show on his face. The benefit of having servants who had been with you for years was unquestioned loyalty. They were nearly as much a part of her family as her blood relations. On the other hand, while Henry and the others were too well trained to say anything aloud, they were not at all reluctant to let their opinions of her behavior show. She often wondered how difficult it was to be a properly trained servant with a mistress who preferred her own rules to those of society’s.

“Good day, Lady Smithson.” Enthusiasm rang in Sir Sebastian’s voice. She did hope it was for her.

“Good day, Sir Sebastian.” She nodded. “I’m surprised to find you on foot. I thought you intended to drive today.”

“On a day like this? Never.” He drew a deep breath and glanced around. Apparently his enthusiasm was for the weather. “What a fine day this is.”

“Is it?” She raised a brow. “One might think it rather cold.”

“I find it refreshing.” He drew another breath deep into his lungs. “And most stimulating. Makes the blood rush through your veins.”

“In a futile effort to keep warm, no doubt,” she said under her breath.

He laughed. “Come now, Lady Smithson. Admittedly, it is a little colder than usual for this time of year, but there is something about the sharp tang of cold air that makes one feel alive.”

“I should think someone who has frequented the tropical climes as you have would be averse to the cold.”

“Just the opposite.” He shook his head. “When one has felt sun so intense it blisters the skin, one appreciates the more varied climate one has lived in most of one’s life. At least I do.”

“Perhaps your next adventure, then, should be as a member of a polar expedition.”

He scoffed. “I daresay that is too cold even for me. But this is a perfect day to walk. Will you join me?”

She smiled. “I would be delighted. Henry,” she called to her driver. “I believe I will walk, after all.”

Henry choked, then coughed. “As you wish, my lady.”

“If you would be so good as to follow us.”

Sir Sebastian opened the carriage door and helped her out. His hand on her arm was warm and firm. Once more, a lovely sense of anticipation shivered through her. He offered his arm, and they started off at a sedate pace. He was half a head taller than she, but matched his longer strides to hers.

“Tell me, Sir Sebastian, do you intend to stay in England long, or are you already planning another venture?”

“My plans are never entirely certain.” He chuckled. “But, at the moment, I shall stay in England for the foreseeable future. I would rather like to concentrate on my writing for a time. Most people will never see the places I’ve been, and I must say I find a great deal of satisfaction in sharing my adventures. I am toying as well with using my own experiences as the basis for fictional works.”

“Like Mr. Haggard and his Allan Quatermain?”

“Something like that.”

“
King Solomon’s Mines
has been most successful, you know. It was advertised as the most amazing book ever written.”

He glanced at her. “Have you read it?”

“Not yet. I must confess my reading of late has been confined to the true adventures of Sir Sebastian Hadley-Attwater.”

“And?”

She raised a brow. “Hoping for a compliment?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

“Very well.” She thought for a moment. “I found your books most intriguing. I like, as well, the way you set words to paper, the style of your writing, as it were. In truth, though, I can’t imagine the adventures of a fictional hero to be any more compelling than what you have actually experienced. Is that compliment enough?”

“It will do.” He nodded. “Aside from pursuing my writing, this is home, and I must confess, I have missed it.”

Surprise widened her eyes. “Have you really?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” He chuckled. “One doesn’t think of men like myself as being especially sentimental about things like home and family.” He glanced at her. “I have a rather extensive family, you know.”

“Portia has mentioned that.” She nodded. “Three sisters, I believe, in addition to your cousin, as well as two older brothers.”

“In truth, I am the youngest of four brothers, but my eldest brother, Richard, died several years ago.”

Sympathy washed through her. “My condolences, Sir Sebastian.”

He shrugged as if it didn’t matter, but the shadow that passed over his eyes told her otherwise. “He was never quite as robust as the rest of us.” His good humor returned and he grinned. “We are a hardy lot. Even Portia, although I daresay she would prefer not to be considered as such.”

“No, hardy is not a quality Portia aspires to.” Veronica chuckled. “However, she has mentioned the need for resilience when one is raised with seven other children.”

“Make no mistake, the stubborn nature of my siblings in no way negates the stodginess of the family as a whole.” He shook his head in a mournful manner. “Portia is not alone in her admiration for propriety. We are a remarkably proper family, eminently respectable and not at all prone to scandal.”

“Except for you?”

“I’ve always enjoyed a good scandal, much to my family’s dismay.” He leaned closer in a confidential manner. “I am the black sheep of the group, you see.”

“You do have a certain reputation.”

He chuckled. “I assure you, while it is not unearned, it is somewhat exaggerated.”

“It would have to be, wouldn’t it?” She cast him a pleasant smile.

“One of the more annoying costs of notoriety.”

“Annoying? I find that difficult to believe.”

He shook his head. “I much prefer to be credited with those things I actually do, good and not as good, rather than those I am simply assumed to have done.”

“Then you have not been with legions of women?”

He choked. “Good Lord, Lady Smithson.” He shook his head in amusement. “You are direct.”

She raised a shoulder in a casual shrug. “Didn’t Portia warn you?”

“She did say you were most outspoken. She finds it shocking.”

“Might I confide something to you, Sir Sebastian?”

His eyes widened slightly. “Please do.”

“From the moment I met her, there is nothing I find quite so enjoyable as shocking Portia.”

He grinned in a wicked manner. “It is fun, isn’t it?”

“And irresistible.” She laughed. “Tell me, do you enjoy shocking the rest of your family as well?”

“My family is easily shocked.” He blew a long breath. “Everyone would have been much happier if I had studied law or served in the military or even gone into some sort of reputable business. Or the church.” He raised a brow. “Can you see me as a member of the clergy?”

“I daresay your sermons would be most interesting.”

“I would be defrocked after the very first, I fear.” He laughed. “Even then there are those in the family who would prefer an inept parson to an adventurer, traveler, author, lecturer—”

“Don’t forget explorer.”

“Explorer is a relative title and loosely given to anyone who ventures outside of the normal boundaries of experience. I think it should be earned.” He shook his head. “I have never been the first civilized man to step foot upon an unknown land. I have never discovered a lost civilization or the heretofore unknown headwaters of a significant river. Nor have I ever made an important discovery of any kind, although I have had a grand time of it.”

“I see.” She studied him for a moment. “Do you regret that?”

“Having a grand time?” He flashed her a grin. “Not for a moment.”

“I meant not discovering anything of importance.”

“I should, shouldn’t I? It would have been nice, I suppose.” They walked on in a companionable silence for a few moments. “It was not my intention to discover undiscovered worlds when I first set out on my life of travel. Although it was what one might call an instrument of discovery that set me on my course through life.”

“Oh?”

He stopped, reached into his waistcoat pocket, and pulled out a small pocket compass. “I found this in an old trunk when I was a boy. No one in the family seemed to know who it belonged to, but it is quite old. I’ve kept it with me ever since. It is my most prized possession, I suppose.” He held it out to her, and she took it curiously. It was still warm from the heat of his body. “There’s an inscription on the back.”

She flipped it over and studied the faint engraving. “
In Ambitu, Gloria
.” She glanced at him. “I was never good at Latin. What does it mean?”

“In the quest, glory.”

“Is that a family motto?” She handed the compass back to him.

“No, simply mine now.” He replaced the item in his pocket. “It suits me. The journey being more important than the destination, that is.”

“How profound.” She thought for a moment. “If you did not intend to discover the undiscovered, was your only intention in your choice of profession to shock your family?”

He stared at her, amusement in his blue eyes. “Lady Smithson, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were a journalist for one of those periodicals that never seem to have their facts correct.” His brows drew together in mock suspicion. “Are you?”

“Of course not.” She laughed. “But what a splendid idea.”

“You do ask a lot of questions.”

“And you manage not to answer many of them.”

He winced. “My apologies. I don’t mean to be evasive. I simply don’t have the answers.” He thought for a moment. “When I began what has admittedly been a most interesting life thus far, I had no particular goal except, perhaps, as you have noted, not to do what was expected of me by my family.” He fixed her with a firm look. “It is not an admirable goal upon which to base one’s life.”