“I am not—” he began.
She had inhaled sharply while he spoke the three words, and her bosom had swelled. She looked forbidding to say the least.
“Do I understand, sir,” she said, “that thishouseis where you keep yourmistresses?”
Plural. Like a harem.
He leaned back in the seat, resisting the sudden urge to bellow with laughter. How could he possibly have been so gauche as to give rise to such a misunderstanding? His choice of words today was proving quite disastrous.
“I must confess,” he said, “that the house was bought for just that purpose, Miss Martin. It was years ago. I was a swaggering young sprout at the time.”
“Andthis,” she said, “is where you wish to takeme?”
“It is not unoccupied,” he told her. “I want you to meet the person who lives there.”
“Yourmistress?”
She was the very picture of quivering outrage. And part of him was still amused at the misunderstanding. But really this was no joke.
Ah, this was not funny at all.
“Not my mistress, Miss Martin,” he said softly, his smile fading. “Lizzie is mydaughter. She is eleven years old. I would like you to meet her. Will you? Please?”
8
Claudia gave herself one more look-over in the pier glass in herdressing room and drew on her gloves as she turned toward the door. She felt rather self-conscious because Susanna was standing there.
“I am sorry,” she said briskly, not for the first time, “that I will be unable to come visiting with you this afternoon, Susanna.”
“No, you are not.” Her friend was smiling impishly. “You would much rather go driving in the park with Joseph. I would in your place. And today is as sunny and warm as yesterday.”
“It was very kind of him to offer,” Claudia said.
“Kind.”Susanna tilted her head to one side and regarded her closely. “It is what you said at breakfast, and I objected to it then, as I do now. Why should henottake you for a drive? He must be close to you in age and he enjoys your company. He proved that the evening before last when he sat beside you at the concert and took you in for supper before Peter could find you to bring you to our table. And yesterday he walked you home from Mr. Hatchard’s and then took you out on the river during the garden party and was sitting in the rose arbor with you when we came looking for you to bring you home. You must not talk of his interest as mere kindness, Claudia. It belittles you.”
“Oh, very well, then,” Claudia said. “I daresay he has conceived a violent passion for me and is about to beg me to become his marchioness. I might end up a duchess yet, Susanna. Nowthereis a thought.”
Susanna laughed.
“I would rather see him marry you than Miss Hunt,” she said. “His engagement has not yet been announced, and there is something about her I do not like though I cannot explain quite what it is. But I hear sounds downstairs. Joseph must have arrived.”
He had indeed. He was standing in the hall when Claudia went down with Susanna, talking with Peter. He smiled up at them in greeting.
He was, of course, looking as handsome as ever and alarmingly virile in a dark green coat with buff pantaloons and white-topped Hessian boots. At least his colors coordinated with hers, Claudia thought wryly. She was wearing the third and last of her new dresses—a sage green walking dress that she had thought very smart when she bought it. And really, what did it matter that she looked far less grand than anyone else she had met socially in the last few days? She did notwantto look grand, only presentable.
He had brought a curricle instead of a closed carriage, she saw as soon as they stepped outside the door a couple of minutes later, Susanna and Peter coming too to see them on their way. He handed her up to the passenger seat and climbed up to sit beside her before taking the ribbons from his young tiger, who then proceeded to jump up behind them.
Despite herself Claudia felt a rush of exhilaration. Here she was in London, staying at a grand house in Mayfair, and riding in a gentleman’s curricle with the gentleman up beside her. Their shoulders were, in fact, all but touching. And she could smell his cologne again. She did not need to remind herself, of course, that this was no mere pleasure trip but that he was, in fact, taking her to meet his daughter—hisillegitimatedaughter, the offspring, no doubt, of one of his mistresses. Lila Walton must have been right on that visit of his to the school. He had a daughter he wished to place there.
And the nature of his interest in her was now quite apparent. So much for romantic daydreams.
She was not really shocked at the revelation he had made yesterday. She was well aware that gentlemen had their mistresses and that sometimes those mistresses, as was nature’s way, bore them children. If the mistresses and their children were fortunate, the gentlemen also supported them. The Marquess of Attingsborough must be of that number, she was happy to know. His mistress and daughter were living comfortably in a house he had bought years ago. And if he chose to send the girl to her school, well…She did not doubt he could afford her fees.
Yet despite the existence of a longtime mistress and mother of his child, he was courting Miss Hunt. It was the way of the world, Claudia knew, at least of his world. He needed a wife and legitimate heirs, and a man did not marry his mistress.
She wasveryglad she did not move in his world. She far preferred her own.
She wondered how Miss Hunt would feel about the existence of the woman and child if she knew about them. But then it was altogether possible that she did.
