The Secret Mistress

and at Oxford in the dim, distant years of his youth, and it was obvious he had lost none of his skills even if his joints did tend to be creaky at times.

Angeline’s team lost ignominiously, a disaster that caused them a great deal of shared laughter and brought them a great deal of sympathy from the spectators. The marquess even gave it as his opinion that they would have won handily if only they had not lost—a comment whose great wit sent him off into a wheezing cough.

Everyone strolled back in the direction of the house, where tea was awaiting them. Everyone except Miss Goddard and Lord Windrow, that was, who were walking slowly together in the direction of the lake, and Tresham and Edward, who were talking with each other beside the wickets.

And then, just before Angeline reached the house with everyone else, Tresham caught up with her, took her by the elbow, and steered her off in the direction of the formal gardens.

“You had better be warned, Angeline,” he said when they were well clear of anyone else. “Heyward cannot take no for an answer, it would seem. He intends to ask you again. That must be why he went galloping after you yesterday and came back today actually inside Windrow’s carriage with you—poor Windrow. He must have been trying to ingratiate himself with you. Be prepared.”

“Oh,” she said, “I will. Thank you for the warning. But are you sure? I thought he came after us because of Miss Goddard. They are fond of each other, you know. They have been friends forever.”

“He would do the world a great favor if he married her, then,” he said, “which perhaps he will do after you have rejected him for a second time. Windrow has been acting strangely around her, but he must have turned queer in the head if he imagines that she will be susceptible to his sort of dalliance.”

Angeline was not so sure. Well, she was. Miss Goddard would surely not dally in any way that would compromise her virtue. But was dalliance what Lord Windrow had in mind? Poor Tresh. He might start to feel vulnerable himself if one of his friends suddenly fell prey to love. Though it was doubtful. She could not quite imagine Tresham ever being either vulnerable or in love. When he married, as he must eventually, it would be a purely dynastic thing. He would choose just the right lady, and he would breed just the right number of children on her, and he would carry on with his life as if his marriage were no more than a pimple on the surface of it.

Sometimes she wished she did not love her brothers so much. They did not deserve her love. Except that no one would ever be loved if he had to deserve it. Including herself.

“I shall listen to his offer,” she said with a sigh.

They had made love again last night—or, rather, early this morning, when dawn was already a suggestion beyond the windows of their room and one lone bird was doing its best to fill the sky with song. Edward had done it slowly and tentatively, prepared at any moment to stop if there had been too much pain. But really there had not, and the pleasure had far outweighed the little soreness there was. And once it had been perfectly clear to him that she did not want or need him to stop, then passion had swept them both away until they had emerged, much later, panting and sweating and all tangled up together and in the twisted bedcovers.

She could not say it had been better or more glorious than the first time. If she did, then she had the feeling she would be saying it every time they made love for the rest of their lives, and that would be ridiculous. It had been as good and as glorious.

And if Tresham knew …

“Good girl,” he said. “This has been a surprisingly pleasant interlude, has it not? But it will be good to be back in London. You will be swamped with admirers again once we are. And suitors. You must put me out of my misery and accept one of them one of these days, Angeline. It would be mortally depressing to have to face this all over again next year. Not that I would have you accept just anyone.”

“Perhaps I will put you out of your misery today and accept Lord Heyward,” she said with a laugh.

“Devil take it, Angeline,” he said, “have some mercy on me. Imagine having Heyward as a brother-in-law for the rest of a lifetime.”

“Imagine having him for a husband for the rest of a lifetime,” she said.

And she felt a purely unexpected but quite identifiable aching sensation stab downward through her womb and out along her inner thighs.

Imagine Edward as her husband!

As they made their way back along one of the graveled paths toward the house and their tea, Tresham actually chuckled. And of course this had been a surprisingly pleasant interlude for him. Each day so far he had disappeared for an hour or two at a stretch—at exactly the same time Cousin Belinda disappeared. If there was not dalliance going on there, Angeline would be quite prepared to eat one of her hats, trimmings and all.

EDWARD FOUND LORRAINE and Fenner together in the conservatory half an hour before dinner. As good fortune would have it, his mother and his grandmother were with them, as were Alma and Augustine and Juliana.

“Edward,” his mother said, “how did you find Lady Windrow? I used to consider her charming though I never knew her well, but she became reclusive after Windrow died. I believe they were exceedingly fond of each other.”

“She was well, Mama,” he said, hating the lie. Before he was forced into more of them, he turned to Lorraine and Fenner.

“I have spoken with Lady Palmer,” he said, “but I must speak with the two of you too. This whole house party was arranged to celebrate your betrothal, after all, and it is only right that the main focus of attention be upon you. I may wish to take some of that attention away from you if Lady Angeline Dudley says yes to a question I hope to ask this evening and if she would not prefer that we delay an announcement. But it will be delayed if you would prefer it.”

“Edward.” Lorraine smiled warmly at him. “You are going to propose marriage to her again. For the right reason this time—I can see it in your eyes. And she will, of course, say yes. How could any lady in her right mind not?”

Now there was a touching example of filial loyalty—in a mere sister-in-law.

“Edward!” The other ladies all spoke together. His mother pressed her clasped hands to her bosom.

Fenner got to his feet and extended a hand.

“Good luck, Heyward,” he said. “And I am quite sure I speak for Lorraine when I say we will be delighted to have this gathering at my sister’s made even more memorable than it already is.”

“Thank you,” Edward said and bent to hug his grandmother, who had extended both arms to him. “But she has not said yes yet.”

And it would be just like Angeline to find some excuse to say no just so she could witness the extent of his wrath. It would be an extremely wrathful wrath. Good Lord, she might even now be with child—a mildly panic-inducing thought.

After dinner, by mutual consent, there was dancing in the drawing room again. The same three musicians had arrived after a hasty summons. And the Persian carpet had been rolled back from the floor again. The French windows were open wide again.

And once more, after a few lively country dances, which left everyone laughing and breathless, it was the waltz that everyone wanted. And once again Edward took Angeline as a partner and waltzed with her out on the terrace, twirling in and out of the candlelight with her.

Somehow his legs felt less wooden outdoors and his mind less intent upon