Rules for Being a Mistress (35 page)

“Yes, I know,” she said coolly.

“May I just say, you are more beautiful than your portrait in the National Gallery.”

“I was but sixteen when that was painted, Your Grace,” Serena replied.

He shrugged. “It sometimes happens that a woman is handsomer at thirty than she is at twenty. You make the case for it. Redfylde told me you were a beauty, but he did not do you justice. A man could drown in your eyes, eh, Lord Ludham?”

The lady flinched, wondering what else Redfylde had told the old degenerate.

“They are striking up the waltz again,” said Kellynch, looking at her greedily. “Will you dance with me?”

Serena curtseyed. She had no choice but to dance with him, and he knew it, she thought bitterly. There was no doubt in her mind that he had come to Bath to take possession of her. Unless she wanted to go to debtor’s prison, she would have to give him what he wanted.
A private humiliation,
she thought,
must be easier to bear than a public one.

“You dance beautifully,” the old lech murmured, closing his eyes as he turned her. “You make me wish I were twenty years younger.”

Serena struggled to maintain her composure. “What do you want of me, Your Grace?”

He raised his brows. “Want of you?”

“I am not a child, Your Grace,” she said impatiently. “I know you have my bills. I cannot buy them back from you, as I’m sure you must know. I know that you can throw me into debtor’s prison any time you like. What are your terms?”

He drew in his breath wistfully. “I don’t have your bills, my beauty. I wish I did, but I lost them on the turn of a card, I’m
very
sorry to say.”

“No, Your Grace,” she said. “You
won
them from Redfylde on the turn of a card!”

“I did,” he agreed, “but then I lost them again. Perhaps I gamble too much.”

“What?” she gasped.

“I’m sorry, my dear. When I found out you were thirty, I’m afraid I lost interest. How was I to know the years had been so very kind to you? God knows they have not been kind to me,” he complained.

“Who?” she demanded. “Who has my bills?”

“Frankly, I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to use them to get you into bed,” said Kellynch. “But I daresay he has been preoccupied with the beautiful Miss Vaughn.”

Serena gave a faint cry of distress. “
Felix?
” she hissed. “Felix holds my debts?”

Kellynch was surprised. “Ludham? No! It is Sir Benedict Wayborn I mean.”

Serena’s stricken violet eyes swung across the room and came to rest on that gentleman. He was dancing with Miss Vaughn. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.

“It really is too bad,” Miss Vaughn was saying to her partner. “I’ve always wanted to be a marchioness. Ever since I was a little girl.”

He smiled at her. “Then you should have married Redfylde,” he said.

She shook her head. “He’d sell my house to Kellynch in a heartbeat, put my mother in a private hospital, and send Allie away to some cold English school where I’d never see her. No, thanks. Besides, you must know I could only marry with an Irishman.”

“I’m not an Irishman.”

Her green eyes sparkled. “No! You’re Protestant Ascendency scum. But that’s close enough for me. I’m sorry about your grandfather,” she added softly.

“I never knew him. Shall we change partners?” he asked at the end of the dance. “It will appear conspicuous if we do not.”

“You should dance with Serena,” she suggested impishly. “It will give you the opportunity to say three
more
beastly things to her. And step on her feet.”

He did not wait long to take advantage of that opportunity.

“You are looking very tired today, Serena,” he said. “Are you ill?”

Serena looked at him coldly. She was fortunate, in a way, that marriage had always been Sir Benedict’s objective. Other men were not so “honorable.”

“I’ve decided to accept your offer, Sir Benedict,” she calmly announced.

He looked relieved.

“I quite understand,” he said. “I don’t know what’s come over me the last few days. I’ve been beastly to you, I know. I do apologize, and I absolutely wish you the best.”

She stared at him in angry astonishment. “Are you mocking me?”

He shook his head. “No! Naturally, I’m very sorry that you find you cannot marry me. I am swallowing my disappointment as we speak.”

“Sir Benedict,” she said severely, “I have just
agreed
to marry you. I am
accepting
your offer of marriage.”

“Oh,” he said, stepping on her foot again. “Sorry! Are you sure? Quite sure? You don’t want to think about it a little more, perhaps?”

“Bastard.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She forced a smile. “I said: of course, I’m sure. Felix!” she called to her cousin, who was dancing nearby with Miss Vaughn. “Felix, wish me happy. I have just agreed to become Sir Benedict’s wife.”

“An interesting development,” Kellynch remarked, sidling up to Miss Vaughn.

Cosima was rigid with impotent rage.

“Excuse me,” she said, moving away from her uncle. “I have to go and collect my mother from the baths.” She could not bear to look at Benedict and Serena. She had no intention of congratulating them. She felt sick. Quickly, she took her leave of Lady Matlock.

As she was leaving the drawing-room, Kellynch caught her by the elbow.

“I’ll go with you, my dear. I have my carriage.”

She tried to withdraw her arm, but he would not allow it. “What are you doing here in Bath?” she asked as they went out. “I haven’t changed my mind about selling Castle Argent, if that is what you think.”

“It’s not always about you,” he chided. “It’s Allie’s birthday,” he reminded her. “Did you think I would forget the birthday of my favorite niece just because she happens to be the sister of my least favorite person in the whole world?”

“Oh, God!” Cosima said, horrified and guilty. Sadly, for the past week, she had gone completely shameless. If she wasn’t writhing in ecstasy with the man like an abandoned harlot, she was sure to be thinking impurely about him at all other times. She had forgotten Allie’s special day. Her golden birthday, too, for Allie was turning ten on the tenth of the month.

She felt exactly like the wicked hussy she was.

“Well, you’ve been busy pursuing your own pleasures,” Kellynch said dryly. “Dancing, breaking hearts. I’m not surprised you forgot your own sister’s birthday.”

Cosima’s face was red. “You’re right! I’m the worst sister in the whole world. I’ve got to get her a present, Uncle Jimmy. Help me, please.”

He yawned as the footman put down the steps of his big, comfortable carriage. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” he said. “I daresay, Aggie did not remember either.”

“No,” Cosima admitted, “but I’ve nothing like her excuse. She’s not getting any better.”

“Well, she never was entirely well,” he pointed out, climbing into the coach, and beckoning her to follow. After a moment’s hesitation, she did. “Poor woman.”

“The baths don’t seem to be helping much.”

“At least she’s clean,” he said dryly. “I thought I’d take you all to the theater tonight,” he went on. “A girl only turns ten once.”

She frowned. “What’s the play? Some of these plays are not appropriate for children, you know. It’s all smut and violence these days, everywhere you turn.”

“It’s
The Beaux Strategem,
one of Sheridan’s best. I took you to see it in Dublin when you were Allie’s age, and look how beautifully you turned out. Do you remember?”

“No.”

He looked at her in silence for a moment. “You look thin, Cosy. I thought Lent had been and gone. You’re nearly as stringy as old Nora Murphy. I almost didn’t recognize you.”

“I’ll be fat again by summer,” she assured him.

He was even more shocked by Lady Agatha’s appearance. Never had she been robust, but he was completely unprepared for the frail, wizened woman who looked at him in confusion.

“You remember the Duke of Kellynch, Mother,” Cosima prompted her, as she spread the rug over her mother’s knees.

“You remember me, don’t you, Aggie?” Kellynch encouraged her.

Lady Agatha was easily persuaded. “Yes, of course.”

“His Grace has come for Allie’s birthday.”

“Oh,” said Lady Agatha. “Is today Allie’s birthday?”

“It’s all right, Mother. I forgot, too.”

“And who is Allie?” Lady Agatha asked tentatively. “Tell me again.”

“Good God,” murmured Kellynch. “It must be hell for you.”

“Don’t talk about her like she’s not here,” Cosima whispered crossly.

In honor of Allie’s birthday, they decided to fetch the child from school early.

“Surprise!” Cosima said weakly, when Allie at last appeared at the school gate. “Happy birthday. Did you think we forgot you?”

“Uncle Jimmy!” Allie shrieked when she saw the familiar face.

“You’re looking stout as a Connemara pony,” her uncle said, relieved. Cosy was so thin, and Lady Agatha so frail that he wasn’t sure what to expect from Allie.

Allegra hugged her sister impulsively. “This is the best birthday surprise ever.”

“If only everyone was so happy to see me,” Kellynch remarked dryly as Allie snuggled against him in the carriage. “Now, then,” he said, when the carriage was on its way to Camden Place, “Cosy thinks we ought to take you to the theater now that you are a grown-up, but I think we should sit at home and read a nice book of sermons. What do you think?”

“I long to see the theater again,” said Lady Agatha dreamily.

“May I go really?” Allie asked, not quite believing it.

“Of course,” said Cosima. “It’s your birthday, darling!”

Allie hugged her again. “I knew you wouldn’t forget me, Cosy.”

Over her head, Cosima offered her uncle a silent thank you for letting Allie think the trip to the theater was her idea. Not all men were bastards, after all. At least, not all of the time. She absolutely refused to think about Ben. That chapter of her life was over, definitely.

“You’re not crying, are you?” Allie asked her, shocked.

“You’re just growing so fast, that’s all,” Cosima said quickly, wiping her eyes.

Benedict called in Upper Camden Place while the ladies were dressing for their night out.
He certainly took his time,
Cosy thought bitterly. Lady Agatha was using the desk in the small sitting room as a dressing table, so Miss Vaughn received him in the drawing-room. She was wearing the evening gown Serena had given her. Her flaxen hair was piled on top of her head. The fringe she had cut helped to conceal the fact that it was a wig.

She wanted him to see for one last time what he was losing forever.

He was dressed to go out as well. His black coat and snowy white waistcoat became him very well. “Miss Vaughn,” he said, shaking her hand. “You left so quickly. I was hoping to catch you before you left. You are going out tonight?” he asked, noticing her dress.

“Yes. It’s Allie’s birth-night. Our uncle is taking us all to the theater.”

“I will see you there,” he said without enthusiasm. “I am escorting…Lady Serena.”

“You must allow me to congratulate you,” she said quickly. “Congratulations!”

He sighed. “I am sorry, you know. I don’t know what possessed her to accept my proposal, but she did, and I must honor my commitment to her.”

“Of course,” she said politely. “You are a man of your word.”

“She would be publicly shamed if I jilted her. No honorable man could do such a thing. I should not have asked for her hand. I made a mistake. But I cannot turn my back on it.”

“I understand perfectly,” she assured him. “I’m fine, really.”

He smiled at her. “Of course you are. I knew you would be. You are young and beautiful. You will find someone else.”

Her temper frayed. “Are you suggesting that I marry someone else?”

“Of course,” he said. “It’s Cherry I’m worried about. I must see her. I must explain—”

Cosima cut him off. “She already knows.”

“Damn,” he muttered. “Damn!” He looked at her anxiously. “Upset?”

She stared at him. “Destroyed,” she whispered.

“Poor darling. May I see her?”

Suddenly, she wanted to hurt him, to deal him a deep, mortal wound. “She doesn’t want to see you, Ben. You will never see her again. It’s over. Understand that.”

He looked blank for a moment. He did not understand her sudden hostility. “You can’t keep me from seeing her, just because you didn’t get what you want, Miss Vaughn.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Nothing has changed between Cherry and me.”

She gasped. “How can you say that? You’re to be married!”

“We will still be together, Cherry and I,” he said firmly. “Serena is not the sort of woman to interfere in her husband’s affairs. She will expect me to keep a mistress.”

“How nice for you,” said Miss Vaughn. “Maybe I will marry. But, when I do, I’ll take her with me. Your little pet. A little present for my husband.”

His face didn’t change, but she could tell by his eyes that he wanted to murder her.

“You will not keep us apart, Miss Vaughn. She loves me, and I love her.”

Cosima opened her mouth to shout at him, then clamped her lips shut. Shouting would change nothing. Telling him the truth, that she, Miss Vaughn, was his lover, would only add more thorns to the crown of humiliation she was already wearing. It would change nothing. He was committed to marry Serena, and there was nothing she could do about it.

“She belongs to me,” said Benedict. “You will not understand this, Miss Vaughn, but she needs me. She is the sort of woman who enjoys belonging to a man completely. I am sorry she is unhappy, of course, but in the end, she will come to me, no matter what you say. I command her, not you. She will do as I wish.”

“You
command
her?” she repeated in disbelief. “Aye, you like to order her around like a slave when you’re in bed, don’t you? But you and I both know that’s just your way of begging. If anything,
she
commands
you.
You’re here, begging to see her,” she pointed out. “She won’t be begging to see you anytime soon! I promise you that.”

She turned away to fight back the tears.

“I suspect you know that no other woman is going to put up with your perverted appetites,” she said scathingly. “Do you think Lady Serena would ever allow you to use her mouth like a common prostitute? Sure who could bear the taste of you but a woman in love?”

“How dare you,” he breathed.

“Why don’t you go and suck her belly button and see what happens?”

He stared at her in silence.

“And do you think her ladyship would ever wear that tight black dress for you, and let you take her on the floor of your closet like an animal? I highly doubt it.”

He was gray around the mouth. “She told you everything, I see. I asked her not to.”

She smiled. “Asked her? Maybe you should have commanded her. Sure, she wouldn’t dare disobey one of your commands. You have her so well-trained.”

Without a word, he left her. She stood rigid in the center of the room until she heard the front door slam. Then she collapsed in tears. Blindly, she ran to her room, and tore off her dress.

Serena’s dress.

“Box them all up,” she screamed at Nora. “Send them back to that black-haired bitch!”

The Duke of Kellynch was twenty minutes late. The Vaughn ladies came out wrapped in their cloaks. Allie’s was scarlet. Cosima’s and her mother’s were dark blue. Nora’s was black as a bat wing. “Sorry I’m late, ladies,” Kellynch said affably as the footman helped them into the carriage. “My dinner must have disagreed with me, but I’m better now.”

“Don’t worry, miss,” he told Allie. “They’re holding the curtain for us.”

As the duke had hired a private box for the evening, they were spared having to enter the theater via the thronged main entrance. Instead, they gained the theater by passing through the private residence next door. Lady Agatha had to be carried up and down a series of stairs, but she did not mind that in the least, and Kellynch’s footman assured her ladyship that she was light as a feather. The ladies went into the private retiring room attached to the box, divested themselves of their cloaks, and put the finishing touches on their toilettes.

The Duke of Kellynch had not set eyes on Miss Vaughn’s dress until she entered the box. Had he seen it earlier, at her mother’s house, he almost certainly would have ordered her to go upstairs and change. However, it was too late now. He was not a man who shocked easily, but this was too much, even for him.

“God in heaven, woman!” he cried. “Are you trying to kill me?”

Still standing, Cosima calmly smoothed down the skirt of her black satin dress.

“What?” she asked innocently.

“Did somebody die?” Lady Agatha asked, confused. “Are you in mourning, dearest?”

“No, Mother,” Cosima assured her.

“You need a bloody husband,” Kellynch said grumpily. “Somebody who can lock you up and throw away the key. You are not fit to be seen in public.”

“What a prude you are, Uncle Jimmy,” she sniffed. “I’m beginning to think your reputation as a libertine is completely undeserved.”

His Grace was not the only one to notice Miss Vaughn’s costume.

“Good gracious!” exclaimed Lady Dalrymple, while still fumbling for her quizzing glass. “Kellynch has brought a vulgar widow to the play!”

Beside her, Millicent had the opera glasses. “It is Miss Vaughn.”

They were guests of Mr. Fitzwilliam tonight. The clergyman was shocked speechless by Miss Vaughn’s indecent attire. Never in his life had he seen anything like it. Clearly it belonged in the boudoir, yet it was the somber color of deepest mourning.