Page 21 of Only a Mistress Will Do

With a jerk that reverberated up his arm, she pulled her chin out of his hands and sat back, clutching the napkin. “I know how society works, Tris. Such things are expected of an honorable man.” Her unwavering stare unnerved him. “I also know, married or not, many men keep mistresses. When you ordered so much for me, were so particular about my clothing, I thought you had changed your mind.” She bit her bottom lip and twisted the napkin. “I have no other way to repay your kindnesses.”

“I do not seek repayment, Violet.” He’d be angry with her, if she didn’t look so forlorn. Her eyes were downcast again, her mouth taut, without a glimmer of a smile. He wanted nothing so much as to take her in his arms and stroke her hair, tell her everything would be all right. But that was impossible. “And much as I might desire you, I will not dishonor you. You should not dishonor yourself by agreeing to such a scheme with me or any other man. Especially not a married man.” The melancholy mood she had created touched him as well. “A bachelor may sow his wild oats, but once a man marries, he is duty-bound to cherish his wife. No matter where his heart may lie.”

“More men should think as you do.” She picked up her teacup, sipped, then grimaced and set it hastily down.

“It is not always easy.” He should ring for fresh tea, but had the idea she wanted it as little as he.

“Yet you are choosing the more difficult path. That is commendable.”

“I have seen first-hand the devastation such actions produce. A whole family could be destroyed.” His had been.

She cocked her head, but wouldn’t ask.

Then he’d tell her. Lay it to rest once and for all.

“My father had a mistress. I didn’t find out about her for years, but he kept her from the first year of his marriage to my mother.”

“Oh, Tris.” Violet’s eyes became sadder. “Then why did he marry her?”

“An arranged marriage, very common in their generation. They liked one another well enough and there was respect in the beginning. At least my mother professed there was. But they didn’t fall in love.” Why hadn’t he poured himself some brandy before beginning his tale? “While she was increasing with my eldest sister, my father hired a woman to take care of his ‘needs’ because my mother was indisposed. It was regarded as being considerate of a woman in a delicate condition.”

“Indeed.” She snorted and Tris couldn’t help but laugh. Violet had a fiery streak in her to be sure.

“I never met this woman, but Father loved her desperately. She wasn’t of the nobility of course, but her family was genteel and had fallen on hard times.”

Violet gasped.

She’d likely agree to a brandy now as well. Why the hell not? He rose and headed for the writing desk that held a decanter and glasses. Bless Mrs. Parker for replenishing it today.

“A remarkably familiar story, isn’t it, my dear? Would you like some?” He held the bottle up and she stared at it so long he thought she meant to refuse. But at last she nodded and he poured two fingers of the smooth cognac into each tumbler. If she didn’t want it all, he’d be happy to finish hers off. “What is sad is that it’s not in the least a remarkable occurrence. It happens all the time, even now.” He handed her the glass.

She sniffed it and wrinkled her nose.

Charming in a completely devastating way.

Cautiously, she took a sip. Her eyes widened and she struggled to swallow.

He wanted to laugh. She surprised him in so many ways.

Then she recovered, gulped, and cradled the glass in her hands. “And did your mother learn of the mistress?”

“Not at first. My father strove hard to keep it from her. As I said, he did respect her and wanted to keep her from any unnecessary pain.” Especially while she might be carrying his heir. Tris downed his drink. “She found out just before I was born. It was fortunate I was the hoped-for heir, because afterward she wouldn’t let him into her bed.” He shook his head. His home life had been hell growing up. “I’ve always suspected my name had something to do with the old legend of Tristan, Iseult, and King Mark. A lovers’ triangle from before the Round Table.” He poured another two fingers for himself.

“Did your father send your mother away?” Violet took a sip and puckered her lips. At last she swallowed. She still had a good bit left.

“He tried, but she refused to go. She was Viscountess Trevor and would let no one forget it, least of all my father. She begged, pleaded, even berated him to give the woman up, but he refused. He’d fallen in love with her, you see.” Tris stared at Violet, his heart beating with little jerks. He gripped the goblet then reminded himself not to break the stem. “In all those years, he never let her go. He and my mother lived estranged under one roof for more than twenty years before she died. Two years later Father’s mistress died as well. He was inconsolable. Her death broke him inside and he followed her to the grave within two months.” Tris tossed back the remainder of his cognac. He wanted to smash the glass into the fireplace, but what good would that do? “I’ve vowed not to repeat my father’s mistake. So you can best repay my kindness, Violet, by being happy in your life, no matter if it’s work, music, or marriage. Just be happy.”

Her eyes fixed firmly on the glass, she toyed with it, swirling the contents to and fro. “Then you are in love with your betrothed? I didn’t understand that.” When she raised her head, her gaze was cool. “I supposed since you had come to the House of Pleasure, to me, you did not love her.”

Tris bit his tongue and clenched his fist. Violet was damned intelligent, even when somewhat foxed. The drink had freed her tongue. She wouldn’t have asked such a question had she been sober. “It is a typical arranged marriage.”

Incredibly, her eyes filled with pain. “Why in the name of God would you agree to such a thing, Tris? Knowing what your parents’ lives had been like?”

“I never meant it to happen like this, Violet.” Seen from her point of view his actions must seem those of a lunatic. Perhaps they were. “My father’s dying wish was for me to marry Miss Harper in order to bring a valuable piece of property back into the family.”

“A piece of property?” She gazed at him, as though he had indeed lost his mind. “You’ve sacrificed your happiness for a piece of land?”

He drew himself up. She didn’t understand. “My family has waited generations to reacquire it. My father made me promise and I will not go back on my word.”