Page 35 of Only a Mistress Will Do

“She’s an accomplished musician and I had given her a harp—”

“You did what?”

Tris frowned. “She mentioned she loved playing the harp, so I bought her one. What was the harm in that?”

“I suppose you visited daily, had late suppers with her, and took her driving in the park?” Duncan’s lips had twisted into a sardonic smile.

“And if I did, what of it? I did nothing improper.” His friend’s attitude had become irritating in the extreme.

“What you did was treat her like a mistress in all ways save one, until last night.”

“I did no such thing.” The nascent protest died on his lips. Save for not sharing a bed with Violet, he had indeed treated her much as he had Serena, Grace, and Fanny. “And if I did so, what was the harm?”

“Had you stayed strictly away from her, your infatuation would not have been allowed to grow.” Returning to the chair behind the desk, Duncan continued his admonishments. “This predicament would never have come to pass.”

“Perhaps.” Tris doubted it though. “I somehow believe Miss Carlton and I would still have forged a bond. Something about her touched me from the moment I saw her.”

Duncan snorted. “You met her in a brothel, Tris. I know what touched you about her.”

Tris met his friend’s gaze unwavering. “Yes, I’m sure you do. You met your wife in the same brothel, as I remember.”

The marquess paled. “That was totally different. She’d been kidnapped and brought there.”

“And you paid for her just as I did for Violet. I know—” He waved away the protest brewing in Duncan’s face. “The circumstances were quite different. But the question is this. Had you been betrothed when you met Lady Dalbury, would you have been satisfied to keep her as your mistress? Or would you have fought to make her your marchioness?”

“Huh.” Duncan swirled the liquid remaining in the glass, first one way then the other. “Katarina didn’t want to be my wife, much less my mistress. God help the man who asked such a thing of her. But I take your point.” Slowly sipping the rest of the spirits, he studied Tris. “And now you’ve ruined Miss Carlton, you want to marry her?”

“I’ve wanted to marry her from the beginning. At first for honor’s sake, true, but now, not only do I love her, but it’s become more urgent. After last night she could be increasing.” Tris ran a hand through his hair, wanting to tear it out. That thought had occurred to him as he galloped Lucifer to Dunham House.

“Then you must pray it has not come to pass as you cannot marry the lady. Do you not remember Lord Staunton?”

“I’ve heard the name, and associate it with something vaguely scandalous. Why?”

“He set the ton tongues to wagging the year we went on the Grand Tour. That’s why you don’t remember him. It was all over by the time we made it home. I had to ask my father what the whispering was all about when Staunton’s name came up.” Shaking his head, Duncan drained his glass. “Nasty bit of business, the whole affair. Staunton was engaged to Lady Mary Cafford, but then ran off with Lady Georgina Myers. It was two months after Hardwick’s Law had been put into effect, so they had to go to Coldstream Bridge in Scotland to marry. The scandal raged the whole time we were abroad. I’m mightily surprised we didn’t get wind of it in Italy.”

Tris laughed. “They could have shouted it from the rooftops of Venice and I’d have no recollection of it. Signora Maccari, however, I still remember very well.”

Duncan chuckled and sent him a sly glance. “As you say.” He sobered again. “Here in England, however, they received the cut by every person in the ton. My mother knew Lady Georgina’s mother. She said the episode tore the family apart, for they couldn’t defend the couple nor receive them either. Such ugliness upset my mother greatly. Staunton was refused admittance at White’s, at Vanes, even at Charbury’s.”

“Impossible.” That brought Tris upright, alarmed. Charbury’s was the notorious gaming hell he frequented sometimes. They allowed the dregs in if they had the money to gamble.

“True, nevertheless.” Duncan leaned all the way back in his chair. “The other patrons complained about his presence so loudly and threatened to riot if he wasn’t removed, so they escorted him out. The last straw for Staunton, though, was his father’s reaction. He disinherited him, stripped him of every means of income and publicly declared him no longer his son. The next day Staunton put a ball through his head.” With a shudder, Duncan poured another drink. “And Lady Mary, although everyone held her blameless, has never married.”

The story shook Tris. As he’d told the marquess, he didn’t remember the scandal, but then he’d just been back from the continent, still feeling in fine fettle and spoiling for a bit of skirt after six weeks of voyage without female companionship. Society’s doings had interested him not at all at the time. Now they did. Still he shrugged it off. “I already hold my title and estates, Duncan. No one can disinherit me. My sisters may well never speak to me again, but I will bear that as well as I can.” He shot his friend an inquisitive look. “I suppose you and the marchioness will be forced to join the throng and stone us figuratively if not literally?”

Duncan grunted and waved a hand at him. “Short of a royal command I doubt anything would sever our friendship. And God forbid anyone tell Kat she could not honor you and your wife. Heaven help the society matrons who try to cross her.” He chuckled, a glint in his eye.

The tension that ached behind Tris’s eyes eased.

“So you are determined to proceed with this madness? I’m frankly surprised Miss Carlton accepted you after you told her about our part in the duel and the death of her brother.”

Tris stiffened. Hell. Oh, hell and damnation. When Violet had mentioned the duel this morning he had known he must confess to her. Not telling her then had been the one cowardly act he’d ever committed.

“You did tell her, didn’t you?” Duncan’s eyes had narrowed, his brows furrowed in a monstrous frown.

“I thought I’d never see her again after we said goodbye yesterday. Then last night happened so quickly…” Raising his chin, Tris stared him down. “No, I didn’t tell her.”

“Christ, Tris.” The scars on his friend’s left cheek reddened. “You must tell her what happened before you break your betrothal. She may well refuse you and then where would you be?”