Mistress by Mistake

Frazier had told him Charlie had been sent to make sure Anne was kept away from the fracas. He hoped she was safely back on Jane Street by now. As much as he longed to make love to her one more time to erase the shameful memory of Anne, it was his duty to return her to her home in Little Dustup. She had been abused quite long enough.

Now he’d have to go through the whole tedious process of finding a new mistress. Or perhaps he should settle down with a wife as Mr. Mulgrew suggested. The thought of some dewy-eyed virgin held no appeal. He was too old for a schoolroom miss. A virtuous widow then, someone young enough to bear him children and know her way around the bedchamber. Bay imagined that given time, he might work up some enthusiasm for the project. A fleeting thought of Charlie’s black hair tangling down her white back gave him pause, but he pushed it away.

He hadn’t been to Whitley House since shortly after Anne’s husband died. He had resisted her entreaties then, and would have no hesitation after the business of the past few days. Bay was prepared to threaten her with arrest, even if he had no plans to prosecute. It would be folly of the first order to expose what she had put him through. He could imagine the knowing smirks every time he set foot in a ballroom or card-room if it was learned he’d been kept a naked captive by a woman for close to a week. The gentlemen would wonder at his objection, for Anne still cast her spell on society. The women would see him as weak, to be subdued so easily by one of their own. It would be pointless to mention the four toughs who had made his life a living hell lately.

The carriage came to a neat stop and Bay hopped down, nearly tripping in the large boots. The rank scent of his borrowed clothes permeated his nostrils, but his own clothes had disappeared, probably sold off to buy a pint. Anne would be surprised to see him arrive in this condition, and without his guards. He was looking forward to seeing the shock on her face.

But the shock was his once Denning announced him and shut the parlor doors. Charlie sat, pale but composed, on a blue wing chair as Anne held a gun neatly in her lap.

Anne’s nose wrinkled, but the pistol did not waver. “Bay! What are you doing in those dreadful rags? And where are my employees?”

“What is the meaning of this, Anne?” He hoped his voice did not display his own dread.

“Why, I thought you’d be pleased to see me. And this little trollop. Tell her, Bay. She didn’t get the dratted letter, or so she says. Tell her what you told me. That you love me and that we’re together now.”

Bay kept his face impassive, but casually felt for the comfort of Frazier’s gun in his pocket. He had put it there without thinking once the footman fainted, never believing it would be necessary to come to Anne armed.

“Let her go home, Anne. Home to pack. I can’t believe she’s still lurking about Jane Street to begin with.” He watched as Charlie’s white face crumpled. There would be time later for apologies. He had to get her out of here as quickly as possible.

“There! I told you so,” Anne said in triumph. “And I’ve changed my mind, Bay. I will marry you, and then our child will have a normal home.”

“Child?” Charlie whispered. “You are enceinte?”

“Not yet, but I will be, I assure you. Bay is everything a man should be, but then I suppose you know that.”

“All very flattering, I’m sure,” Bay drawled. “But let the little whore go, sweetheart. She means nothing at all to me. Why, she’s just a poor imitation of you. The hair, the eyes-I’ve been a sad fool for you since I was a lad. Let’s go upstairs, love. I’m in sore need of a hot bath and a change of clothes. Your men seem to have misplaced mine.” He walked slowly toward Anne, smiling. “And put the pistol away, Anne. We don’t want anyone getting hurt, even inconsequential courtesans.”

For a fleeting moment, Anne clung stubbornly to the gun. He fixed his face into what he hoped was lustful admiration. “Your little trick convinced me, my darling. You’ve brought me to my senses. All my senses. There’s never been another woman who could hold a candle to you. I cannot wait to have you in my arms again.”

He didn’t turn when Charlie gave a strangled cry, didn’t hesitate as he heard her fleeing footsteps, didn’t start to breathe until Anne’s pistol joined the other in his pocket. “There now, that’s better.” He laid a finger on Anne’s cheek. “Let me just make sure the whore has enough money to leave. I won’t be but a moment.”

Anne frowned. “Let Frazier handle that.”

“Have a bath readied for me. I cannot come to your bed like this. I’ll be right back, I swear.”

He kissed her then, hoping his lips and tongue could lie. Anne clung to him despite his filth, wasting moments better spent chasing after Charlie. At last he disengaged and walked calmly out of the room, as if he had all the time in the world. Once he shut the door, he plunged down the stairs and out into the street.

There was no splash of red anywhere, just the dull gray of fashionable stone houses marching up the street. Blast. Could she have found a cab already? Though Jane Street was not all that far from Whitley House. She might be on foot. Bay bolted down the sidewalk, giving no thought to the image he presented, disreputable jacket flying behind him, pistols clunking into his hip. He’d better do something about that before he shot off his own foot. Pausing to stuff the guns into a planter filled with scarlet geraniums, he turned the corner and was rewarded by the sight of Charlie’s determined back.

“Charlie!”

Her tulle headdress had unwound. Batting it away, she continued her furious pace.

“Charlie! Please stop!”

She didn’t, of course, the stubborn minx. He hadn’t run like this since he was a boy, but he caught up to her, pulling her into his arms. Tears had coursed down her face, spoiling her makeup, but she was the loveliest thing he’d seen in days. He didn’t appreciate her fists, though, beating a tattoo on his chest.

“Let go of me! Have you come to insult me further?”

“Hush, love. Listen to me. Anne is quite mad. Surely you know that. I said what I did so she’d let you go.”

Her hands stilled, then she pushed him backwards with all her might. Bay stumbled in his awkward boots and found himself ignominiously on his arse in the middle of a Mayfair sidewalk.

“Since the first moment I laid eyes on you, my life has been nothing but one catastrophe after the other! I am going home! And nothing you can do or say can stop me!” The fringe wound around her head quivered in indignation.

“Whatever you want, Charlie.” Bay made no move to get up. Exhaustion was catching up to him. A couple walking toward them crossed the street in haste. He and Charlie as currently attired made an unlikely pair to be in this part of town. If their public disagreement wasn’t over soon, a constable was sure to come and end it for them.

“I sat there for hours. She kept smiling, pointing that gun at me.” Her voice shook.

“I know, Charlie. She’s mad. I just said so. I’m sorry you got in the middle of my mess. I had no idea the lengths to which she’d go.”

He watched in dismay as Charlie stepped forward to walk down the street. But then she pivoted.

“Was Frazier right? Did she keep you a prisoner?”

Bay sighed. “Does it matter? You’re free now. I’ll give you whatever you need to get back to Little Hyssop and more.”

Charlie raised an eyebrow. “You do know the name of my village.”

“Of course I know it. But it’s so much fun to tease you.”

Charlie growled. Bay thought if she had a parasol she might have bashed him on the head. He supposed he’d better get up. The sidewalk was meant for walking, not sitting, although truthfully his legs didn’t want to cooperate. He’d been inactive and useless for days, save when they let him up to relieve himself. The last time he had any range of motion at all, he’d managed to dislocate one of the thugs’ shoulders. There had been unpleasant consequences for him, but it had been worth it.

“Look. Go straight to Jane Street. Tell Frazier I said to give you all you ask for.”

Charlie snorted. “As if he’ll believe me. He doesn’t like me at all.”

“He likes Anne less, I assure you. Tell him I’m dealing with her, and that I’ll be home tonight. And get him to send a new suit of clothes to Whitley House, would you?”

Charlie gaped down at him. “You’re going back there? You’re as unhinged as she is!”

“Very likely.” He pulled at a loose thread on the cuff of his jacket. “I cannot apologize enough for what you’ve gone through. Everything, not only this business with Anne.” He looked up, hoping to see a softening in her