“It doesn’t matter. He’ll be happy to accept the explanation, whether he believes it or not.”
“Don’t be cruel to him. It’s not his fault.”
“Well, for God’s sake, I’m not a tyrant.”
“He’s afraid of you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Aidan snapped.
She almost smiled at his disgruntled scowl. Everyone liked Aidan. He was probably put off by the idea anyone could be afraid of him. She gave his hands a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry over me. Mr. Penrose wouldn’t tell a soul.”
“He’d better not. Excuse me for a few moments.” He gave her a distracted kiss on the cheek before turning on his heel.
Kate took a deep breath as his footsteps echoed down the corridor. Her lungs hurt a tiny bit at the strain, but otherwise she felt strangely undamaged. She did not want Mr. Penrose to think her a loose woman, but then again . . . wasn’t that exactly what she was?
She smothered a smile at the thought as she headed for the morning room to wait. What a journey she’d taken, from colorless wife to gentleman’s mistress. What a sweet, swift descent into unrespectability. A natural journey, though. She hadn’t exactly started life as an obedient daughter.
A maid came to serve her tea before disappearing into the kitchens to complete preparing luncheon. “Just tug the bell if you need me, missus.” Kate agreed, then wandered over to the window to look out at the street beyond. She stayed close to the curtains to hide herself from prying eyes, but Kate devoured the scene before her. Aidan’s home was on a large corner lot in an intimidatingly wealthy part of the city. She wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood, but hopefully Aidan would give her a tour when they took their carriage ride. The street was quiet this early in the day, and likely half-deserted during the winter, regardless, but Kate enjoyed the short bursts of traffic that traveled by.
As she watched, an unmarked coach slowed to a stop just in front of the window. The driver descended and approached Aidan’s entry stairs. He was too close to the house for Kate to see, but she heard the three sharp raps against the thick door.
A few moments later, the butler passed the doorway of the morning room. Though she heard the murmur of the two men’s voices, she couldn’t make out the words. The driver came back into view outside, but instead of resuming his seat, he approached the door of the carriage.
As he spoke, the curtains of the carriage window slid open an inch, but Kate could see nothing inside.
The driver shook his head and raised his hands. A few more words were exchanged, and then he opened the door and a woman emerged. Though her face was hidden by a large hat and a pale gray veil, her dress was startling in its beauty. The dusty red fabric draped over an underskirt of dove gray silk that perfectly matched the gray ribbon at her neck. Kate was so entranced by the gorgeous colors that it took her a moment to realize the woman was ascending Aidan’s front steps.
“My word,” Kate gasped, pressing a hand to her throat. Who could it be? Marissa, perhaps?
Another knock this time, much softer than the last. This time when the butler passed the morning room, Kate snuck closer to the hall to eavesdrop.
“I know he is here,” the woman snapped. “I was informed yesterday that he’d returned.”
“Madam, I assure you that—”
Kate snuck a peek just in time to see the feminine vision brush past the butler and stop in the middle of the entry. “I will see him,” she snarled.
“Madam, he is not at home!”
Ignoring the butler, the woman turned in a slow circle. Kate’s reflexes were dull, weighted down by the boulder of anxiety that had formed in her stomach. This was not Aidan’s sister. Even past the large hat, Kate could see a coil of black hair.
Before Kate realized that she should retreat, the woman faced her and stopped cold. A glove of pearl gray kid rose up to adjust her veil and lay it back against the hat, and Kate was faced with one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. The boulder in her stomach turned, grinding her belly into sand.
“Well,” the woman said. When she stepped forward, Kate stepped back, and the woman followed her into the morning room. “Who are you?” she asked archly.
Kate just shook her head, her hand still pressed to her throat.
“Mrs. Renier,” the butler said, his face a portrait of pained discomfort.
Mrs. Renier ignored him. “You’re not a maid.” She swept her eyes down Kate’s dress. “Quite.”
Kate bristled. “I’m a guest of Mr. York. My family . . .” The lie turned to ash on her tongue and she couldn’t think what to say.
“A guest?” the beautiful woman hissed. “Aidan York doesn’t have guests. Or friends. Or pleasant visitors from the country. You’re his new lo
ver, aren’t you?”
“I . . .” Now she truly couldn’t speak. New lover. Which meant that this beautiful creature had once been—