Page 45 of Only a Mistress Will Do

In Tristan’s accustomed place.

Fiendish woman. Determined to show him he’d been replaced. Well, he could play that game as well.

Tris shrugged off his cloak and strode to the sideboard. A drink, always welcome, was especially appreciated tonight. He poured a hefty libation and held the tumbler out to Manning who stared into the glowing hearth. “You’ll take one against the cold, I trust?”

The earl leaped to his feet and joined him at the sideboard. “Thank you, yes. As you say, it’s a bitter night.” He seized the glass and bolted a large mouthful.

The man seemed skittish, although anyone might be unnerved having gone to a brothel for an evening of sport and come away with a wife.

“Good vintage.” Manning nodded and took another sip. “Will you stay here tonight with Miss Carlton?”

“He most certainly will not.” All but forgotten on the sofa, Violet now marched toward them, a glint in her eye like an avenging fury. “I have always stayed here with only the servants. I see no reason to change that plan now.”

Tris fought the urge to remind her that had been true of all save one night. Then his shoulders slumped and he poured himself a full glass. What would such a declaration accomplish? He should be pleased Violet would be well taken care of. Still he could muster very little pleasure from the situation. “Miss Carlton is correct, Manning. She will be perfectly safe here for as long as she needs to stay. You have my word on it.”

One scathing look at him, then Violet took her seat again.

“Much obliged.” Contemplating the contents of his glass, the earl swirled the liquid slowly around, knitting his brows into a frown as he sat once more on the sofa.

Of course, the man must be puzzled over his relationship to Violet. God knew what she had told him, although the current look on his face suggested she’d mentioned some aspect of it. Still, Manning had accepted her, virgin or not. It was none of Tris’s concern any more. He had to convince himself of that.

An awkward silence settled over them, Tris glancing from one figure on the sofa to the other. They sat like opponents over a game of chess, neither one wanting to make a move. Tension wound him up, each tick of the clock on the mantle accusing him of folly in letting her go. As if he could have stopped her from accepting Manning.

“Miss Carlton! Thank goodness you’re all right.” Susan sailed into the room, making everyone jump. She swooped down on her mistress like a hawk grabbing a mouse. “Where have you been?”

Manning sprang to his feet, wide-eyed as an owl.

Eyes narrowed, Susan appraised first the earl then Tris. After a long moment, she sniffed and returned her attention to her charge. “You had me in three kinds of fits and Lord Trevor worried to death.” She continued tsk-tsking as she took Violet by the arm. “You come right along with me, miss. Look done in, you do.”

Tris smiled as Violet opened her mouth, perhaps to protest, though she had no chance.

“I’ll brook no argument, miss.” Susan urged Violet toward the door with a none-too-gentle hand. “You need a bath and some hot broth, a hot brick at your feet to help you sleep and we’ll pray this madness didn’t cause you any mischief.”

Violet shrugged sheepishly as Susan propelled her out the door. “You see I am taken captive. Good night, Lord Manning,” she called from the staircase.

“Captive my eye,” the maid grumbled as she headed up the stairs behind her mistress. “You’ll be lucky not to catch your death. Mark my words.”

Some of the tension eased from Tris’s neck. Susan had her charge well under control. “You see Miss Carlton is in very capable hands. Rest assured no harm will come to her here.”

“Indeed.” The young man smiled, the first time he had done so all evening. “Will this woman accompany Miss Carlton to our home when we marry?”

The words stabbed Tris like an unexpected knife in the dark. He sobered immediately, his mask firmly back in place. He shrugged and tipped another good tot of the brandy into his glass. “That is for Susan to decide. I’ve employed her for several years now…” Damn. How much could he say and reveal nothing?

“Yes, for your mistresses.” Manning tossed back the contents of his tumbler. “Of whom Miss Carlton is your most recent.”

God, this would be awkward. “Not exactly. Is that what she told you?”

“She told me enough.”

The dark countenance of Manning’s face—brows taut, nose flared, mouth set with a downward turn—made Tris wish he had not given his sword to Thomas when he entered the house. Lord Manning had a legitimate grievance with him as the debaucher of his bride-to-be.

“I would have married her myself when I found her at the House of Pleasure a month ago. But I had just affianced myself to Lord Downing’s daughter. I couldn’t go back on my word.” Fool. “And there is the matter of her brother.”

“Yes, she told me that as well.”

“She’s been quite the chatterbox this evening, hasn’t she?” Tris stared evenly at the earl, then downed his drink. “The situation has been intolerable from the start. I am sorely grieved by my own shortcomings in regards to my actions toward Miss Carlson, whom I hold blameless. Your brother-in-law told me to get as far away from her as possible and I paid him no heed.” Despite his strong desire for another drink, Tris set his glass down. Getting drunk again would do no good either. “She is a delightful woman, intelligent, talented. I am sure she will make you the perfect wife.” The words wanted to stick in his throat but he forced them out.

“Not when she’s in love with another man.”