He’d not had such thoughts about any particular female in a very long time—not until Miss Doyle stepped into the room. Not even his mistress of late. In fact, Henry had become quite bored, really. In his youth, he’d spent many an hour at the brothels, and had favorites, but after some time, Henry found that if his mind wasn’t engaged, he found little appealing about the woman he was with. That had been a few years ago. Then, he’d been introduced to Harriet at a Cyprian ball and learned that she was in need of a protector. As their discussion had been quite riveting at the time, Henry had physically reacted to her as well and a deal was struck.
Harriet had been his since and the arrangement, for the most part, had worked out well. At least it had until recently. No more did she enjoy stimulating conversation before going off to bed and she’d actually become a bit clingy and demanding, something Henry had no patience for. If one wanted to suffer in such a manner, then one might as well marry, and thus the reason he hadn’t visited recently.
However, now that it had been some time since they’d seen one another, he was certain all would be as it should. Then, he’d take care of what was necessary so that his mind might remain on teaching and not the size of Miss Doyle’s bodice, which was quite perfect indeed.
“Have the carriage brought around instead.”
“Yes, Lord Kilsyth,” his valet answered as he quit the room.
After changing, he headed back downstairs to the waiting conveyance and gave direction to Covent Garden.
“I bet Harriet knows nothing of animal husbandry,” he muttered aloud. Of course, why should she. Harriet was a soiled dove. A former actress who preferred to be kept in a comfortable arrangement by a gentleman. In fact, Harriet had started out much like Miss Doyle. After being down on her luck, she began a career on the stage. As most men don’t actually marry actresses, she’d found another way to set herself up well.
Henry frowned. Had her brother not lost Miss Doyle in a game of chance, would she have eventually become a soiled dove as well? A woman to be passed from one protector to another?
His stomach tightened. That would never do. Not at all. The very idea of another gentleman even touching Miss Doyle’s hand, let alone anything else, did not sit well with Henry. Not one bit.
It was a good thing that he had won Miss Doyle because she was not the sort to end up like Harriet.
Dear Lord, it just occurred to him that had anyone else taken the bet, she might have been won by them. Though Henry didn’t know all of the gentlemen in the room, he very much doubted any of them would have appreciated being suddenly saddled with a ward. In fact, they’d not see her as an innocent in need of protection, but a beautiful woman to be desired.
Keegan and Ashford would have protected her. They may be Devils, but despite what Society believed, they’d not take an innocent for themselves, however, they’d be quite lost with what to do with her, unlike Henry. It was the other gentlemen at the gaming table who may have seen her as an opportunity to conquer and make their own.
No, Miss Doyle, what little he’d been able to learn of her so far, would not be suited for the role of mistress. She was far too intelligent and beautiful and it would be a waste if she were reduced to simple decoration and limited use.
Harriet chose her career. Miss Doyle could have very well been forced into it. Thank goodness she now had him.
The carriage rolled to a stop outside of the home Henry had purchased a few years back. Though not large, not like his townhouse in Mayfair, it was still a very fine home, situated near a small park. Besides clothing and jewelry, he’d seen it furnished and servants hired. Harriet wanted for nothing as long as she was present when he required her.
Today, he required.
“Lord Kilsyth,” the butler greeted as he approached the door. “Do come in. I’ll advise Miss Evers of your arrival.”
“Thank you, Humphrey.”
“Will you be needing anything while you wait?”
“Coffee, please.”
“Of course.” Humphrey nodded and turned down the corridor to the stairs leading to the kitchens as Henry wandered into the front parlor.
He had never felt comfortable in this room with all the pink, lace and frills, but as it was Harriet who actually lived here, he’d not argued about the décor and suffered through the short time they spent in here during his visit.
“Henry,” Harriet called from the entry. “Why didn’t you send word you were coming so that I might have prepared for you?”
She wore a silk dressing gown of deep green and her russet hair tumbled about her shoulders. Harriet was a lovely woman. Not as lovely as Miss Doyle, but few women were. “Nonsense. There is nothing to be prepared, nor must you do anything.”
A slow seductive smile came to her lips as she glided forward, much like a cat getting ready to pounce. “Oh, I’m certain there is something I must do, or you’d not be here.” She stopped before him and rested her hands on his chest.
By now, Henry should at least feel the stirring of some desire, but he had absolutely no reaction to his mistress at all.
What the blazes?
“Your coffee, Lord Kilsyth,” Humphrey announced from the entry as he carried a tea service into the room.
“You still drink that vile stuff, darling?” Harriet asked as she moved away from him to pour. “I much prefer tea.”
“It’s an acquired taste, I’m told.”
