The Mistress Wager Read online

  “We must go back,” she sighed.

  “I know.” He walked her away from the deforestation. “But make no mistake, Kitty. This is a beginning, not an end. Not for us.”

  She detected a note of iron in his tone and wondered at it. But the music grew in volume and the sounds of the world insinuated themselves back into her consciousness as they approached the ballroom. There was no chance for her to think, to consider her next words.

  So she merely nodded. Once.

  It was suddenly the most important thing in the world for her to believe in what he said.

  Chapter Six

  The masquerade had intensified during their absence, and Max barely managed to restrain a wince at the noise level which battered their eardrums as they returned.

  It would seem the libations offered to the guests had begun to take effect, since the waltz that now played was being enjoyed with less than studied appreciation.

  In fact, it bore all the markings of turning into a romp.

  He felt Kitty’s hand tighten on his arm, and he glanced down at her. “Too much, do you think?”

  She shot him a grateful glance. “A little, yes.” Her eyes returned to the dancers. “But I can’t see Hecate. I should find her and see if she’s ready to leave.”

  “Who is with you this evening?”

  “Me? I came with the Standishes. Hecate was with the Bassets.”

  “Aha.” Max nodded to his left. “Well, I see Lady Bassett over there. Her propensity for large feathers can be most annoying, but at this moment I find myself somewhat grateful.”

  He managed to get both himself and Kitty across the ballroom without incident, which was quite a feat of physical dexterity.

  Kitty blinked as she shook her skirts. “Whew. I had no idea the waltz could be so energetic. My gown was stepped on at least three times.” She walked to Lady Basset. “Good evening, my Lady. I’m wondering if you might know where I would find Hecate?”

  The older woman nodded, her massive feather making a few candles waver in the sconce a yard or so behind her. “She and Eugenia were dancing, dear. Most suitable partners, I might add.” Lady Bassett looked coy. “Their maid is ready to attend them and accompany them home when they’re finished here.”

  Kitty looked at her. “You mean you’re going to leave early?”

  “Well, dear,” she glanced slyly at Max. “Not all of us are lucky to have such a desirable dance partner…”

  “Good evening, Lady Bassett.”

  He bowed over the older woman’s hand, making Kitty jump. She hadn’t realized he was so close behind her.

  “Had I known you required a partner, I would of course have made sure to add my name to your dance card.”

  “Oh, you silly boy,” replied Lady Bassett with an arch smirk. “Why all of London is talking about the…the…close friendship that has developed between you and Kitty here…”

  Already rather emotionally ruffled, Kitty was not best prepared to deal with such an obvious innuendo. “My Lady, I have to say—you didn’t just jump to a conclusion, you cleared four hedges, a fence and a small brook to do so. Without a horse.”

  Lady Bassett’s eyes flashed and suddenly there were more than a few guests gathered around. The scent of battle seemed to set curious noses twitching and attract those who would see blood spilled. Metaphorically speaking.

  “Well.” Lady Bassett harrumphed. “Obviously it’s no secret then. You are engaged in an inappropriate…what can I call it?”

  “Affair?” prompted Max.

  “Don’t make it worse,” said Kitty through gritted teeth.

  “How sordid.” The older woman drew herself up, feather a-tremble, with a distinct aroma of sherry emanating along with her words. “You should be ashamed to be in such company, Mr. Seton-Mowbray. And as for you, Miss Ridlington, I shall surely see to it that my gels no longer associate with the likes of you.” She turned to Max. “I suppose it is quite delightful for you to have a Ridlington as your mistress. At least she has a title. Of sorts.”

  Kitty sucked in a breath, and Max could see the fury shimmering over her like a veil.

  “You are way beyond yourself, Lady Bassett,” she spat. “Your opinions are of no matter, your manners appalling, and I doubt your gels as you call them will thank you for this display.”

  “Go on, my dear. Give it to her.” Max folded his arms with a grin.

  “It doesn’t bother you?” She flashed him a quick look.

  “Not at all. Why should it?”

  “Very well.” She lifted that determined chin and stared at Lady Bassett. “Your daughters will doubtless find themselves some sort of acceptable husband. However, my choices in life are dictated by my desires, not my fortune. Should I become anyone’s mistress, it will be because I choose to do so, regardless of how such an act is viewed by the narrow minded and pompous chuckleheads you represent.”

  Lady Bassett gasped, as did several of the onlookers. Who, Max noted, drew nearer so as not to miss a word.

  He judged it was time to intervene.

  “In fact, Lady Bassett, if I may be permitted to add my mite to this—er—conversation, Miss Ridlington has not yet decided whether to become my mistress.” He smiled as the most outrageous idea flashed into his brain.

  Kitty was staring at him, her expression blank. Then she noticed his smile. And, to his utter amazement, she gave him the tiniest nod.

  He took a leap of faith. “She will be making the decision shortly, based on the turn of a card.” He glanced around. “Gentlemen, if you would care to place a wager on the outcome, we will be in the card room within the hour.”

  The music had stopped, and for a full five seconds, there was dead silence. Then the gentlemen faded away, their footsteps revealing the stampede to the card room, while the ladies fanned themselves and the soft chatter of shocked gossip began.

  Kitty turned to Max. “The turn of a card?”

  “You wanted to be the shocking Miss Ridlington, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but…” she swallowed, “I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon.”

  He walked her away to the quietest corner he could find, aware that they were the cynosure of all eyes and that word of his statement was spreading throughout the masquerade. “Do you want me to scotch this, Kitty? I can do it, you know.”

  There was that little lift of the chin again, amusing him. She met his gaze squarely. “I should say yes. I should run a mile and then jump into a carriage, drive to Scotland and spend the rest of my life raising sheep.” Her bodice rose and fell on her rapid breaths. “But since I have no idea how to raise sheep, I don’t like haggis and I couldn’t run a mile in these slippers, then all I can say is…I accept your wager.”

  Somewhere deep inside Max’s brain a little voice cheered. “You will be my mistress?”

  “You will give me pleasure?”

  Aroused and secretly thrilled at her response, Max nodded. “More than you can imagine.”

  “Then I have nothing to lose.” She glanced around. “The Ridlington name has one more blot on it. But it has survived much worse.” She blinked. “I really should find Hecate, Max.”

  “After we’ve drawn our cards, we’ll find her and make plans from there.”

  To his surprise, this evening was turning out to be exciting, challenging and arousing. None of which he’d expected when donning his domino for yet another masquerade.

  Miss Kitty Ridlington had proven to be a catalyst of sorts for him; from now on he was going to keep her closer than close. Soon he would introduce her to his world of pleasure.

  Unless he lost the wager.

  He snorted. That would not happen.

  *~~*~~*

  Excusing herself briefly, Kitty sought sanctuary in the ladies withdrawing-room. She needed a moment’s respite from the stares, glares and whispers behind the fans.

  She’d desired this, she reminded herself. Now nobody would ever ignore her again.

  But the full magnitude of her
fall from grace became obvious when one or two women walked in, saw her, and left again.

  Did it hurt? She asked herself as she rinsed her hands in cool water and splashed a little on her face.

  Perhaps.

  But the young maid smiled as she offered dry cloths and Kitty allowed her to straighten the bow at the back of the gown. “There you are, Ma’am. Pretty as a picture.”

  “Thank you.” Kitty smiled back. “Are you tired? You have to be here until everyone has left, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” the girl curtseyed. “But it’s me job. So best not to complain.”

  “Well done.” Kitty paused. She needed to do something to remind herself that real people cared not one whit about reputations, wagers, or mistresses. So she unclasped the small bracelet she wore. It was a trifle, lavender glass intertwined in metallic scrolls, and worth very little.

  She held it out to the maid. “Here, take this. A souvenir of an evening when you helped a fallen woman.”

  “Oh, Ma’am.” The girl stared at the jewelry, then up at Kitty. “Really? Fer me?”

  “Really. For you.” She took the girl’s hand and put the bracelet in it. “I’m sure it will bring you good luck.”

  With that, she left the room, only to walk smack into Aunt Venetia.

  “There you are.” Her aunt grabbed her arm, and all but dragged her down a corridor away from the crowd. “What the devil game are you playing Kitty? Are you trying to disgrace us all?” Her eyes were filled with anger mixed with anxiety.

  “Of course not, Aunt.” Kitty managed to slip a word in as Venetia took a breath.

  “Well you’re doing so,” answered the older woman. “Have you thought about Hecate? She will be shunned, and there goes any chance of her making a good match. Not to mention my household. I shall become a pariah…”

  Worried that tears might flow, Kitty took her aunt’s hand and patted it. “Hush now, Aunt. Firstly, I may lose the wager. Secondly, Max Seton-Mowbray isn’t just anyone, you know. Being with him…well, it does carry a certain cachet. Think how many people will come to visit now…knowing there’s a much better chance of running into the scandalous Miss Ridlington and her protector, Mr. Seton-Mowbray.”

  That practical comment stilled Aunt Venetia’s obvious distress. “Hmm.” Then her lip trembled again. “But Kitty. To be his acknowledged mistress?”

  “Dearest Aunt,” she replied. “I’m a Ridlington. Our family isn’t known for deep or long-lasting relationships. My father outlived three wives and apparently loathed all the children he fathered. None of us are looking for the perfect life, because we know damn well it’s not going to happen.” She paused. “Well, all right, Edmund, Simon and Letitia have been lucky.”

  Aunt Venetia remained silent, watching her niece.

  “So I never expected to come to town and find a husband. I came looking for the excitement, the thrill of balls and masquerades, just like this one. I’ve met some charming people, and some not so charming ones. I’ve been proposed to once—”

  Venetia gasped, but Kitty held up her hand to silence her.

  “And I refused that offer, along with a couple more that were not so appropriate. I make my own decisions, Aunt. And I have found something most appealing in Mr. Seton-Mowbray. So I have decided to take this gamble, this wager, and let Fate have the final say as to whether I become his mistress or not. Either way, you will have achieved a certain notoriety which I am assured you will be able to use in the future. Because you are an extraordinary woman in many ways, one of which is in your brilliant manipulation of idiots like those.” She gestured at the ballroom.

  Venetia sighed, then let a chuckle escape. “Do you know what your problem is, Kitty?”

  “No, but I’m sure you’re about to rectify that situation.”

  “You’re too bloody smart for the Ton.” She grinned. “I just hope Max Seton-Mowbray is bright enough to keep up with you.”

  Kitty leaned in to hug her. “Oh he is, Aunt. Trust me when I tell you he’s quite amazing in so many ways.”

  She couldn’t see the expression on her aunt’s face during their hug, but when Venetia heard her answer, a tiny little grin curved her lips. But all she said was “I’m so glad to hear it, dear. Very glad indeed.”

  Chapter Seven

  The card room was quite large, which was a good thing, since it appeared that every guest was attempting to cram themselves into it. They failed, of course, but there was more than a little fussing and fidgeting as those who did get inside made sure they could relay information to those who didn’t.

  At last, Comte Arnaud DuClos raised his hand for silence. He had taken on the responsibility of acting as host for this scandalous incident, and was fully enjoying the entire episode. After all, he whispered to Max in an aside, he—Arnaud—was French, and therefore unshockable.

  “Mesdames et messieurs,” he began. “Ladies and gentlemen. You are all aware of ze wager placed between Monsieur Max Seton-Mowbray and Mademoiselle Kitty of Ridlington.”

  There were a few muted chuckles at the odd Frenchified turn of phrase.

  “I shall now shuffle the card deck.”

  There were more hushed whispers as Arnaud suited words to action, under the eagle eye of several Lords, a Duke and a Margrave from somewhere in Europe Max couldn’t pronounce. The riffle of the cardboard was quite clear, even though the room was filled to the point of explosion with people trying to see what was happening.

  It was, thought Max, quite a moment, and would probably be written up for several generations to come as one of the nights of the year.

  “J’ai fini. Fait accompli.” He held the deck aloft. “You see, yes?”

  Many voices agreed with yes’s and indeed’s and other confirmative phrases.

  “Et maintenant…er, and now is ze moment.” Arnaud soldiered bravely on in an awkward mix of French and English. “Should Mademoiselle Kitty of Ridlington draw the high card, she is ze winner. Et si Monsieur Max draws ze…um…ze carte la plus élevée…”

  “The highest card, Arnaud.” One of his friends loaned a verbal hand.

  “Merci,” he laughed. “Yes. If Monsieur Max’s card is higher, then he will win.” He leaned over to his wife. “What do they win, encore?”

  La Comtesse Natalia’s smile betrayed icy charm and a lot of teeth. “Mr. Seton-Mowbray, cheri.”

  “Vraiment?” Unaware that his wife might cherish an interest in that direction, Arnaud simply lifted his eyebrows.

  “Oui. Truly.”

  Arnaud shrugged. “Quelle extraordinare, les anglais.”

  It might indeed be extraordinary, but Max found himself wishing Arnaud’s grasp of English was better, and that he’d get on with the damn thing. Besides, the Comtesse’s expression was none too friendly, and getting worse by the minute.

  There was no indication in Kitty’s expression if she was wishing that too, but he’d bet a hundred guineas she was at least thinking something very close.

  “Right.”

  Finally. English.

  “Mademoiselle. As ze lady involved, it should be you first. La première, oui?”

  “Thank you,” smiled Kitty.

  Max watched as her hand—betraying not a tremor or a twitch—reached out and took the top card from the deck, concealing it as she did so, not revealing any emotions, nerves or excitement. She might have been selecting a sweetmeat from a pretty box.

  He bowed with great elegance, sweeping one arm wide and locking the other behind his back. “After you, Miss Ridlington.”

  She nodded, glanced at her card, smiled slightly, and held it high. “The nine of clubs.”

  There was a ripple of excitement as word spread through the crowd and out into the ballroom. It was a good card, high, not as high as she probably would have liked, but a decent draw, nonetheless.

  Damned if he was going to be outdone. He drew the next card in the same cool and collected way, neither frowning nor smiling, then moved to stand next to Kitty.

/>   Now it was down to one card, the one Max held in his hand. He waited for silence and it fell quickly enough, coming with a noticeable lack of oxygen in the room as Max looked at his own card. He could have sworn the candles dimmed slightly.

  He stepped forward and raised his hand. “The King of hearts.”

  And the rafters rattled with the ensuing roar, which gave him the perfect opportunity to dispose of his backup card. All’s fair in love and war, as the saying went. Max had been determined not to lose this wager. He wanted Kitty Ridlington too much to take the risk.

  *~~*~~*

  “I should have known I would never win against you in anything to do with cards,” pouted Kitty as they walked together toward the foyer.

  “That’s nonsense and you know it,” Max scolded. “Fate decided the course of events, not you or me.”

  She snorted. “Well, that’s as maybe. So what do we do now? Or, more to the point, as your new mistress, what do I do now? Go back to Aunt Venetia’s and wait for you to procure me a house? I’d like something nice, you know. Several bedrooms, servants’ quarters, a good kitchen—that’s always important—and at least two parlors. Oh, and I’d like a small room I could use as an office. I shall need somewhere to keep my records and so on.”

  He stood patiently, waiting until she reached the end of her list. “Are you finished?”

  “I’m sure I can think of a few other things if you give me some time,” she answered.

  “Yes, I’m sure you could.” He watched as a servant helped settle her cape over her domino. “No, you will not go back to your Aunt’s. That would be inviting half the busybodies in London onto her doorstep first thing tomorrow morning. She’ll have enough to deal with as it is.”

  “Oh.” Chastened, Kitty nodded. He was quite right.

  “You and I will return to my home for this evening. Tomorrow we shall discuss how this matter is to be best handled.” He accepted his own cloak and walked Kitty out into the cold air.

  “You’re very dictatorial.” She glanced up at him. “Are you angry at the way this evening turned out?”