Temporary Mistress

'I've told myself as much, but it's not quite so simple.'

'With time, my dear, you'll find other pleasures.'

Sitting up straight, Isabella wiped away her tears with her shawl. 'I told myself that as well,' she said with a small smile.

'I have something of interest that might distract you from your melancholy.'

'Not another Dermott?' A tentative teasing note colored her voice.

'Something less disastrous. You know the season is just beginning.'

'You jest, surely. You know my life was of the simplest before Grandpapa died.'

'It would be an opportunity to show Dermott you're capable of surviving without him.'

'I doubt he'd notice or be concerned.'

'Would you like him to?'

'Notice me?'

Molly shrugged. 'It depends how you feel about him.'

Isabella pursed her mouth. 'Sad and angry both. But hardly hopeful of more. You said yourself he's not worth pining over.'

'Good. What say you to perhaps finding a suitor who would return your love?'

'In the ton? I'm not sure I'd be accepted.'

'If I made it possible, would you be interested in being launched this season?'

'Me?' The notion was preposterous and yet in some faint degree intriguing.

'You're beautiful, wealthy-once your relatives are thwarted-and of good birth on your mother's side. Why not you? Heiresses are much in demand, you know.'

Isabella smiled. 'I suppose they are. Dermott said that he'd take care my uncles were no longer a danger to me.'

'I've begun inquiries as well through my lawyers. Between Dermott and me, we should be able to return you to your home with your fortune intact. Especially with our trump card.' She winked. 'We can always threaten to expose your indiscretion and taint all the Leslies with the scandal. And most important, I have a sponsor for you with unimpeachable credentials.'

Molly smiled. 'Am I supposed to ask who?'

'You are, to which I answer, the Prince of Wales.'

'No!'

'As a personal favor. And as you know, the Prince of Wales's influence overcomes all obstacles.'

'My heavens! Never say I didn't barge through the right door when I ran away from home.'

'It would be my great pleasure to give you a season. Who knows what nobleman might offer you his heart? What do you think?'

'I'm not sure. What a startling prospect. Or daunting, perhaps, coming from my sequestered background.'

'You could put Dermott in his place. As an added bonus. He deserves it.'

'You mean he'd be opposed to seeing me in society?'

'I think he might be opposed to seeing you with other men.'

'Regardless he doesn't want me himself.'

'Never say love is reasonable.'

'Not love surely. Not with Dermott. You use the wrong word.'

'He's never had a lady at Bathurst House nor at Richmond. It says something, despite his resistance to anything smacking of attachment.'

'I could make him jealous, you mean.'

'If you wish, or you could find yourself another man to love. With your lack of experience, perhaps you'd do well to survey a broader field before deciding you love Dermott Ramsay.'

'Do you think this is love I feel?'

'That's for you to say. I wouldn't know. But a season would give you an opportunity to decide.'

'What if I fail in this bid to be launched.'

Molly laughed. 'Dear girl, with your looks? Even without a shilling you'd have men falling at your feet. And with your fortune you'll have to beat them off.'

'Really… beat them off?' It was a flattering notion to any young woman.

'No doubt of that. Say yes and I'll have a dressmaker in to fit you for a suitable wardrobe.'

'Here? Forgive me.'

'I have a home on Grosvenor Place as well. The widow, Mrs. Peabody, don't you know,' she said, grinning.

'It does sound like a very enticing prospect.'

'And you could annoy Dermott in the bargain.'

'If that were true, and I'm not entirely sure it is-definitely added incentive. Very well, I'll do it,' she quickly said before she lost her nerve.

Chapter Twelve

AFTER STOPPING at his lawyer's office to be briefed on the Leslies, Dermott was currently on his way to Herbert Leslie's office. He was in a foul mood, although he refused to admit the actual reason for his displeasure. He told himself his resentment was directed at the family that had tried to harm a young woman without friends. He told himself his mission was one of benevolence and charity. A chivalrous gesture for a lady in distress. None of which fully accounted for his sullen rage, if he'd allowed himself to face the plain, unvarnished truth.

But he didn't. Nor had he for a very long time, intent on disallowing personal feelings-a necessary expedient for a man still dealing with loss.

The clerk in the antechamber stammered in alarm when Dermott burst through the door demanding to see Herbert Leslie.

'Never mind,' Dermott growled, pushing past him, shoving the door to the inner office open with a stiff-armed push and striding in like a raging bull.

Herbert's eyes bulged with terror, and he jerked back in his chair as though the impact of Dermott's arrival had propelled him there.

'Out,' Dermott snapped to the man seated across the desk from Herbert, and without waiting for the employee to exit the room, he said in a voice so cold, the office manager told the flustered workers beginning to gather outside in the corridor that someone should call for a Bow Street Runner.

Dermott kicked aside the formerly occupied chair, and placing his palms on the desktop, leaned forward, menace in his dark gaze. 'Listen carefully, Leslie,' he growled. 'Because I'm going to say this only once.'

Herbert trembled in his chair, wondering how he'd possibly incurred the wrath of the Earl of Bathurst, who was renowned for both his temper and his skill with dueling pistols.

'I understand that you've threatened Miss Isabella Leslie with an unwanted marriage and the loss of her inheritance. Let me express this as plainly as possible so there can be no mistaking my intentions. If you, your brother, nephews, or son'-he pointedly enunciated each relationship with precision-'ever attempt to harm Miss Leslie again, I will personally call each of you out and kill you. Is that clear?'

Unable to move in his fright, Herbert opened his mouth and croaked.

'Nod your damned head if you can't talk, you bloody coward.'

Gathering every ounce of energy not frozen in fear, Herbert managed to nod once.

Dermott stood upright and glared at the petrified man. 'Another thing,' he curtly noted. 'Don't be seen within ten blocks of Isabella's house, or my same warning applies. And this isn't an idle threat. I'd take great pleasure in putting a bullet through your foul hearts.'

Turning, the earl stalked from the room, scattering the huddle of employees outside like a flock of frightened birds while Herbert tried to draw enough air into his lungs to cry for help. When Leslie could finally speak again, he ordered that all the doors be locked to visitors until further notice. And it wasn't until nearly an hour later that his panic and fear subsided enough to consider the baffling question of why the Earl of Bathurst was concerned with his