Practical Widow to Passionate Mistress (Transformation of the Shelley Sisters 1)

‘Once, I gave my virtue because I was in love,’ she said, fiercely. ‘And then I gave my reputation in return for protection. But I am not going to give my freedom in return for money.’

‘I have not offered you any yet,’ Ross snapped back. This was probably not how a gentleman negotiated with a prospective mistress. He should have thought what he could offer her, laid that out, discussed provisions to be made after the affaire was over. No doubt that was how it was done.

But he had realised what he wanted in a blinding flash and asked for it. The women in his life before had come and gone easily with an exchange of coin, or sometimes of food. Or perhaps a pretty shawl or a trinket.

Meg was a lady—or had been. He could not offer her coin in her hand like a whore and he had no idea what she might accept as a business arrangement.

‘Tell me what would you like,’ he said more moderately. Her eyes were like flint as she glared at him. ‘A house, of course. Penryn is a charming town, you would like that. Your own servants. A carriage, a dress allowance, those too, naturally. I would set up a bank account for you…’

Her eyes were shooting daggers now and she looked too angry to answer him. Up to now he had always seemed to understand women well enough; now he appeared to have strayed into shallow waters and had no idea how to read the chart. ‘Meg, you have been in my arms, you have kissed me. Don’t tell me that you did not want me then. What has changed? I am offering you security, comfort. I cannot be that repellent to you.’

‘Oh, you arrogant man,’ she hissed. ‘Just because I kiss you that does not mean I want to be your mistress, your…plaything! You think I want to be tucked away like a gem in a jewel box for you to take out and toy with when it suits you? I am earning my living, honestly, with a fair exchange of money for labour and loyalty and you want—well, you want what you lust after. Never mind what I want.’

‘What do you want?’ he asked, genuinely baffled.

Meg took an agitated step away from the shelter of the sofa. ‘Don’t men realise that it is not the lying together that is important to women—however good that is—it is all the other things. Friendship, companionship, trust, give and take between two people…’

‘Love?’ he finished for her, the word sounding like a jeer. ‘You are quite the romantic.’ She flushed, as though the word was an insult. ‘If that is what you want, Meg, then I am sorry, but I cannot give you that, whatever it is.’

‘I never said love,’ she shot back. ‘Do you think I am going to hold out until you lie and use that word, whisper sweet nothings and then yield?’ Her expression said quite plainly that she could hardly imagine him doing any such thing as whispering soft words of love. ‘Do I seem so foolish, so empty headed? If you only employed me because you thought you could talk me into your bed, then you had better have your money back now and I will leave,’ Meg said, haughty as a duchess. ‘I am afraid you will have to accept two gowns, a pelisse, a bonnet and a quantity of underthings in lieu of part of it, but I have not worn all of them.’ She stalked to the door.

‘What,’ Ross demanded, ‘am I going to do with a pile of female underwear?’

They glared at each other, then the corner of her mouth twitched. ‘I am afraid I could not possibly speculate,’ Meg said, sweeping out into the hall.

Damn the woman! He might not be in love with her, but he was deep in lust and whatever it was he felt for her was rapidly becoming an obsession. An uncomfortable one.

‘My lord?’ Heneage was standing in the door, regarding him with some caution. Ross supposed he was frowning again.

‘Yes?’

‘Tregarne is here and asking to speak to you, if it is convenient, my lord.’

‘Very well, I’ll see him in the study.’ What did he want? Ross wondered. He had intended visiting the head keeper in the next day or so.

‘My lord.’ The man who had taught him to load and clean his weapon and how to shoot safely and accurately seemed hardly unchanged until Ross saw the light full on his face and realised he must now be in his sixties.

‘Tregarne! You see, your tuition has got me home again safely.’ And God knows how many men dead. Ross shook his hand and gestured towards the chair opposite his own beside the fireplace. ‘How are you? And Mrs Tregarne and the boys?’

‘All well, my lord.’ The weatherbeaten face cracked into one of its rare smiles. ‘James has joined the navy and Davy’s one of the underkeepers now. But you took a bullet in the leg, so they tell me. That’s not good news.’

‘It’s a lot better now and the limp is going. I was coming to see you tomorrow; I thought we could go and bag some pigeons and a rabbit or two for the kitchen.’

‘That would be just like old times, my lord, if I might say so.’ The keeper grinned. ‘But my, you’ve filled out some from the gangly lad you used to be. Grown into your feet, just like my lurcher pups do.’

The keeper hesitated. ‘There was something I needed to talk to you about though, my lord. You recall that old rogue Billy Gillan? He’s still alive and tough as hobnail boots—and he’s still taking our pheasants, the wicked devil. And smuggling from down in the cove, if the rumours I hear are right. Now, I want to set a trap and catch him at it. He was too wary while your father was with us, God rest his soul, but Billy won’t have your measure yet—he’ll be careless, I’m hoping. We’ll catch him red-handed, haul him up in front of you—’

‘I’m not sworn as a magistrate, Tregarne,’ Ross interjected.

‘No, of course, you won’t be.’ The keeper’s face fell. ‘You will soon enough, won’t you? But we don’t have to wait—Sir John Vernon at Hall Place, he’ll have the old rogue behind bars, soon as look at him.’

It would kill Billy. And it was a miracle he’d escaped capture before now. But Ross wasn’t going

to let him fall foul of Tregarne if he could help it. If he could only think of a way to keep the wily poacher on the right side of the law—but that was like looking for ways to stop cats chasing mice.

He could tell Tregarne to ignore whatever Billy was up to—but that would be openly condoning smuggling as well as undermining Tregarne’s authority with his underkeepers.

‘Leave him be for a few days,’ he temporised. ‘I’ll see about getting sworn—I don’t want to export my own troubles over to Sir John to deal with.’