Page 17 of Only a Mistress Will Do

Forcing himself to think only of his duty, Tris signed the document with a flourish of pure bravado. Damn, he wished he hadn’t promised his father. But he couldn’t go back on his word. He stared at the map. So this was how it felt to sell your soul to the devil.

“Now for her jointure.” Lord Downing drew forth another piece of parchment. His quill scratched busily over the yellowish surface. “We must see to Dora’s welfare, should you pre-decease her.”

The sinking feeling in his stomach would pass, he hoped. He’d given his word, now doubly so. Stand firm. Show no emotion. Yet, despair at the thought of Violet Carlton’s exquisite amber-colored eyes washed over him. Damn. Let him get on with it and be done. Tris took the proffered pen and dipped the point in the inkwell one more time.

* * * *

Tristan closed the door and let his shoulders slump. Lord Downing had droned on and on about the impeccable bloodlines his daughter came from. The man must breed horses. He was so obsessed with his lineage. Dora was a sweet girl, undoubtedly docile from her reactions both times he’d met her. He should probably speak to her before he left, let her know the betrothal had been officially arranged.

He looked at the clock in the main hall. Almost three o’clock. Damn, he’d missed Violet’s fitting. He headed for the front reception hall to ask Pratt, the butler, to tell Miss Harper he wished to speak to her. Well, he’d get Violet to show him the gowns tomorrow.

Tris stopped dead, heat rushing into his face. What the hell was he thinking? He was betrothed to an innocent of eighteen and contemplating the enjoyment of watching another innocent woman under his protection disrobe. Had he become so truly depraved? Of course, he could not watch Violet try on her gowns. She was not Serena. Not his mistress. She would be nothing to him as soon as he could find her a position. Duncan had been right. Best for all their sakes to get rid of Miss Carlton as quickly as possible and forget their heated interlude.

He continued down the corridor, determined to control this ungodly appetite for the woman. Concentrate instead on igniting passion in his bride-to-be. Fortunately, he found Pratt outside the reception room and sent him to fetch Miss Harper. Her father had suggested waiting a mere three weeks before the wedding, although Tris found no need for such haste. Still, perhaps given his current preoccupation, it would be best for them to marry swiftly and begin a new life for the New Year.

Miss Harper entered the room, a pleasant smile pasted on her face, though her gaze darted nervously around the room. When she discovered they were alone, her eyes widened and she retreated a step.

“How good of you to call, Lord Trevor. Would you like for me to fetch my father?” In two steps she had reached the door, but Tris was determined to make the most of this encounter. If they only had three weeks until they wed, they would need to get used to one another.

“No, Miss Harper, please stay. I have already been in conference with Lord Downing this afternoon.”

Escape cut off, she tensed and closed her eyes, as if expecting a blow.

“We have agreed on the settlements and as soon as I have the traditional family sapphire fetched from my estate in Yorkshire, we shall be formally betrothed.” He’d thought she’d be happier at the news, although it could be no surprise to her.

“Indeed, my lord.” Her face had drained of color, until her cream-colored gown stood out starkly against her skin. “I had no idea Father intended to move forward with his plans so soon. I thought I would have at least until the spring.” The wistful timbre dropped her voice almost to a whisper.

It smote his heart. He wished to force this girl as little as he had Violet. Yet arranged marriages still occurred with great frequency. How did a gentleman proceed without frightening his bride? A speedy courtship then, with lesson number one immediately.

“I’m certain this is sudden, my dear, yet I hope we may be better acquainted before the wedding in three weeks.” Forward into the breach.

“Three weeks!” She swayed and Tris grasped her arm, taking the opportunity to draw her closer.

“Soon, yes, however,” he gathered her hands into his, “we will spend much of the time in conversation, getting to know one another. Would you like that, Dora?”

She jerked her head up at the familiar use of her name, then hesitated, her mouth open.

Would she protest? He had the right now, although it was the first time he’d ever used it with her.

“Yes, I would like that, Lord Trevor.” The assent had come out almost too low to hear, but she’d accepted his proposal. That was something, surely.

“You may call me Tristan or Tris when we are private. In public, of course, simply Trevor will do.” He kissed her hands and she shivered. They would need to further their acquaintance a bit more rapidly. “Have you never been kissed before, Dora?”

She turned her head to the side and shook it, then tried to slip her hands out of his.

“No need to be afraid, my dear. I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, sensually, he brushed the back of her hand with his lips, then turned it over and grazed her palm as well. “Kisses are a normal part of married life.”

“I know.” Her voice was stronger than a whisper, but still low. “I’ve seen my brother Simon kissing his wife Judith.”

“Would you like for me to kiss you?” He stared into her clear blue eyes and cupped her cheek.

An almost imperceptible nod.

Good.

Tris angled her face toward him and pressed his lips against hers, gently at first, then more insistently. He slid his other hand around her back and pulled her even closer, until he could feel her small breasts against his chest. Carefully, he opened his mouth and ran the tip of his tongue along the seam of her tightly clamped lips.

She gasped and stumbled away. “My lord.”