Chapter Five

As mistress to an earl, I witnessed many a

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv scandalous event, but none so outrageous

as the secret card parties.

—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress

Christabel was ready to throttle Byrne. He refused to say a word about where they were going, no matter how much she plagued him.

And that comment of his—when I get ready to seduce you.Hah! Did he think she’d fall into his bed the minute he decided he was “ready”? Bonny Byrne indeed. He was more like a Prince of Sin, trying to corrupt anything in skirts.

Look at how he tooled the vehicle to ensure that she touched him as often as possible. At first she’d thought him merely a bad driver, but it soon became apparent from the way his spirited horses followed his every command that his motions were intentional. If she slid away on the seat, he took a corner fast to throw her back against him. And every time he did it, she marveled at the taut muscles in the thighs plastered to hers, the fine control of his whipcord of an arm. By the time they drew up in an alley behind a nondescript town house in Cheapside, Christabel’s blood was thundering in her veins. Despite her determination to ignore him, he made touching him an addictive enjoyment.

Which was, of course, what he intended. To make her want him, crave him…desire him. It wasn’t going to work, no matter how much he tried. Itwasn’t .

As he helped her down, she glanced uneasily around the alley. This looked less a place for a card party than a place for secret assignations. A little iron-barred door led into a high-walled garden amazingly lush for the middle of town.

When he produced a key to unlock the door, her suspicion that the place might belong to him deepened. Until he brought her up the path of the garden and in the back way to a kitchen, where his appearance threw the servants into a tizzy.

“Monsieur Byrne! What a delightful surprise!” exclaimed a tall, spindly fellow sporting a chef’s hat and a thick French accent. “If I had known you were coming, I would have sent to ze butcher for a leg of lamb.”

Byrne laughed. “We won’t be here for dinner, Ramel. And I doubt your mistress would approve.”

With a snort, the chef lowered his voice. “La canailleupstairs with Lady Jenner do not appreciate fine lamb—for them, I only makele boeuf .” He said it as if beef were beneath his abilities. “But for you, it should be lamb withpetits oignons —”

“Monsieur Ramel!” a female voice barked from beyond the kitchen doorway. “Where’s the tea we called for over ten minutes ago?”

When the woman entered to find Byrne and Christabel standing there, she halted abruptly. “What the devil areyou doing here?”

“My lady,” the chef said hastily, “Monsieur Byrne came in the back way—”

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“Good afternoon, Eleanor,” Byrne told the woman.

Even Christabel had heard of Byrne’s torrid affair with the Countess of Jenner. Sothis was the famous whist-player, who won and lost thousands of pounds at the tables without blinking. Did she always wear such outrageously low-cut gowns? And hadn’t the chef mentioned guests? Tossing back the blond locks that flowed shockingly unbound over her shoulders, Lady Jenner frowned at Byrne. “You can’t come up. I’m unwell.”

“Relax, I know all about your Tuesday afternoon card games.”

Lady Jenner’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you?”

He arched one eyebrow.

The buxom female groaned. “I swear, I don’t know how you unearth everyone’s secrets. But we don’t allow strangers, so if you’ve come to play, you’ll have to get rid of your friend.”

“We’ve come to watch.” Byrne settled his hand in the small of Christabel’s back. “And my friend isn’t a stranger. She’s Haversham’s widow.”

Lady Jenner cast Christabel a withering glance. “You’rethe Marchioness of Haversham? The woman who wouldn’t accompany her husband to town because, as he put it, ‘she’s too afraid of society’?”

Christabel bristled. “What? I’ve never been afraid of anything in my—”

“Yes,” Byrne said, giving Christabel’s waist a warning squeeze. “This is the same woman. As you can see, Haversham’s description wasn’t entirely apt.”

“Still, we can’t be sure she won’t gossip.”

“I’ll vouch for her discretion.” Byrne lazily surveyed the kitchen. “But if you don’t want us to stay, I could always mention to your husband the purpose to which you’re putting the town house you inherited from your family.”

“Damn you, Byrne.” She pouted in that fetching manner only certain women could pull off. “Very well, I suppose if you only wish to watch…”

“That’s all. I want Lady Haversham to see truly excellent whist-playing, and I thought at once of you and your friends.”

That seemed to soften the woman’s temper. “Weare the best.”

“That’s why we’re here.” A devilish gleam appeared in his eyes. “To assess the competition for Stokely’s party.”

“You and Stokely won’t win the pot this year, I promise you. We’ll lead you a merry dance.” She shifted her gaze to Christabel, running it down her awful black gown with an impudence bordering on insult. “If you’re planning to play at Stokely’s, Lady Haversham, I do hope you’re better at it than your husband was.”

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Christabel’s curiosity got the better of her. “You played cards with Philip?”

The woman’s laugh grated on her nerves. “Of course. We played him when we needed to plump our pockets after a loss. Dreadful player, your husband.”

With another grating laugh, she turned and gestured to them to follow, leaving Christabel to shake with impotent rage. All right, so Philip had been awful at cards, but it was still a cruel thing to taunt a man’s widow with.

Suddenly, she felt Byrne’s hand soothingly stroke her waist. “Pay Eleanor no mind.” Byrne led her after their hostess. “The only thing she excels at besides playing cards is being a hellcat.”

Christabel stifled a gasp at his bluntness.

“Is that why you became my lover, Byrne dear?” Lady Jenner remarked from ahead of them in silky-sweet tones. She began to climb a rather narrow staircase. “Because you enjoyed bedding a hellcat?”

“That’s why I became yourex -lover,” he shot back. “I have better things to do than serve as your scratching post.”

Lady Jenner had reached the top of the stairs, where she now stood waiting for them. Catching sight of Christabel’s shocked look, the countess apparently misunderstood the source of it, for she said with a sly smile, “I take it that Byrne didn’t say you’d be meeting one of his mistresses here.”

Christabel managed to smooth her features. “Formermistresses, you mean.”

The woman shrugged. “We come and go. He has so many.” A gloating smile touched her lips. “As a matter of fact, there are two more here this afternoon.”

Christabel forced a smile of her own. “Good. Then I’ll have the chance to determine for myself if they’re as tiresome and stupid as he claims.”

That wiped the smile right off Lady Jenner’s face. Turning abruptly, she headed down a dimly lit hall. As they followed, Byrne murmured, “I believe Eleanor has met her match.”

She cast Byrne a wary glance. “Is that why we’re here? To see if I can hold my own around your former mistresses?”

“Among other things. Think of this as a rather extreme example of what you might encounter at Stokely’s party. If you can stomach this, you can stomach anything. We’ll watch them play at whist and scandal.” He skimmed his hand up her spine. “And we’ll give the cardplayers the chance to watchus .”

“Watch us do what?”

He kissed her cheek, then whispered, “Pretend to be man and mistress, of course. So if I were you, I’d hold that quick tongue of yours. Watch, learn, and listen. And try not to look shocked. Your reactions are entirely too transparent.”

That was her only warning before they entered a most licentious scene. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Three players were ranged around a card table as Lady Jenner took her seat on a settee drawn up to it, making the fourth. There were four other guests in the moderately sized drawing room, and most of the eight were behaving indecently.

A blowsy brunette in a low-cut day gown was curled up on a chaise longue beside a pointy-nosed fellow with thinning hair, her hand rubbing his thigh as he examined his cards. An exceedingly handsome young gentleman in his shirtsleeves shared Lady Jenner’s settee, draping his right arm across the back so he could tangle his fingers in her unpinned hair. Then there was the gray-haired matron who divided her concentration between her cards and the fierce-looking fellow in an unbuttoned uniform jacket, who leaned over her shoulder to nibble her ear.

But most wicked of all was the slender, reddish blond female who actually sat upon a portly man’s lap, giggling as he sipped from a glass of brandy.

“Byrne!” exclaimed the portly man as he caught sight of them. “Fancy seeing you here.” He leered at Christabel. “And who isthis fair creature?”

As Christabel stiffened instinctively, Byrne squeezed her waist in warning. “This is Lady Haversham. A very good friend of mine.”

Apparently, that was code for “mistress,” because the women exchanged knowing glances, and the men joined the portly man in leering at her. Though bile rose in her throat, Christabel forced a smile for their benefit.

Then Byrne performed the introductions. Names flew at her so quickly she couldn’t take them in: Talbot, Markham, Bradley, Hungate, Talbot again…

Two Talbots? She must have misunderstood.

“There’s only one chair left,” the countess said matter-of-factly, gesturing to a heavy walnutbergère a short distance from the card table. “You can share it.”

“All right.” Byrne shoved the chair closer to the table. Then before Christabel could react, he took a seat and hauled her onto his lap.

She froze. She’d never sat across a man’s lap in her life, not even Philip’s. It was the most intimate thing she could imagine—save activities reserved for the bedchamber. In shock, she swung her gaze to Byrne, only to find him watching her with an impudent smile.

Deliberately, he stretched his arm out on the chair behind her rigid back and settled his other arm across her waist, his taunting gaze daring her to protest.

“I can call for one of the servants to carry a chair for you up from the dining room if you’re uncomfortable, Lady Haversham,” their hostess said slyly.

Christabel forced herself to relax, to lean back against his arm. “No need to go to that trouble,” she managed. “I’m fine here.”

“Fine, indeed,” Byrne murmured, giving a whole new meaning to the word. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv He splayed his fingers over her belly, sparking her temper. His head was close enough that the bracing scent of his shaving oil filled her nostrils, and his breath practically scorched her cheek. How dared he take advantage of the situation to hold her so scandalously? She glanced around the company, only to find that no one regarded her presence on Byrne’s lap as the least bit strange or alarming. Except perhaps Lady Jenner, who shot her a malevolent look. Or did she? Seconds later the countess was regarding her cards in apparent deep concentration. None of the other women even showed a hint of jealousy. And two of them had been his mistresses! But which ones? The red-haired woman? The brunette in the appallingly naughty gown? She didn’t want to know. That would mean she cared, and she didn’t. Not one whit. All she cared about was her mission, and if she must play a scandalous lady to gain the letters, she’d do it. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.

“Do you play, Lady Haversham?” asked Mr. Talbot, the pointy-nosed gentleman.

“She’s going to be my partner at Stokely’s,” Byrne answered for her. Christabel shot him a questioning glance he ignored. Yesterday, he’d refused to let her partner him at the house party. What had changed his mind?

Lady Jenner looked just as surprised by the admission. “You’re not partnering our host as usual?”

“Not this year, no.”

The countess regarded Christabel with new antagonism. “For your sake, madam, I hope you’re better at whist than your late husband. Byrne detests losing.”

Mr. Talbot threw a card on the table. “Stokely has to invite her first anyway. And you know how he feels about bringing new people into our cozy group.”

“I don’t go unless she goes,” Byrne drawled. “And since she’ll be withme, he should know he can trust her.”

Mr. Talbot shrugged. “If you’re not partnering him, why should he bother?”

“Because Stokely can’t resist a challenge. He’ll invite her out of sheer curiosity to see who I threw him over for.”

Christabel began to sweat. Dear Lord, she should never have lied to him about her whist-playing.

“In any case,” Mr. Talbot said, “the man never invites anyone after he’s sent out his invitations, and ours arrived last week, didn’t they, my dear?”

The flame-haired female answered, not the woman with her hand on Mr. Talbot’s thigh. “Yes. We were in town when they came.”

We?

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv From her seat on the portly gentleman’s lap, the flame-haired woman batted her long lashes at Byrne.

“But I’m sure he’ll make an exception for you. Stokely’s party wouldn’t be the same if you weren’t there.”

“Don’t waste your flirtations on Byrne,” Lady Jenner said snidely. “Can’t you see he’s presently occupied? The man may be incapable of faithfulness to a woman, but at least when he’s with her, he gives her his full attention.” Lady Jenner shot Mr. Talbot a cold glance. “Unlike your husband there.”

Christabel’s mouth fell open.

“Yes, they’re married,” Byrne hissed in her ear. “And yes, they’re both here with other lovers. Wipe that shock from your face.”

Unable even to comprehend such blatant debauchery, she swung her gaze to him. But that proved a mistake, for when Byrne saw her outrage, he took immediate measures to hide it. He kissed her. Before the entire roomful of people, he kissed her, slowly, leisurely, as if it were his right. His mouth was hard and thorough, commanding her response, leaving her no choice but to play the part, though her every feeling revolted at the idea of behaving so intimately in front of other people. She forced her eyes closed and her lips apart to admit the heated thrusts of his tongue. And as if it weren’t bad enough that she had to put on this shameless display, she could feel his arousal grow hard and insistent beneath her bottom—

“For God’s sake, Byrne,” Lady Jenner said peevishly. “Did you come here to watch us play or to make love to your mistress?”

Christabel tore her mouth from his, grateful for the reprieve. Byrne’s warning glance kept her mute as his broad hand shamelessly stroked her belly. “Both.” He shifted his gaze to Lady Jenner. “We’re not the only ones enjoying ourselves. Unless I miss my guess, that’s Lieutenant Markham’s hand rubbing your thigh under the table. At least, I hope it’s your thigh.”

Christabel had to bite her tongue to keep from gasping.

The lieutenant started to yank his hand out, but Lady Jenner caught it and held it still. “Don’t pretend you care what Markham and I do, Byrne. We both know you don’t waste time on jealousy after you’re done with a woman.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong,” Byrne said in a lazy drawl. “I don’t waste time on jealousy evenbefore I’m done with a woman.”

As Lady Jenner scowled and the men laughed, Christabel forced a smile. How she wished she could leap from Byrne’s lap and stalk off. But she dared not. So she sat there, chafing at the harsh reminder of his true character.

And how could anyone be so very wicked? Oh, he might kiss well, but he had no tender feelings, for her or anyone else. If she ever succumbed to his advances, she’d end up being the same to him as one of these women—a discarded plaything to trade public insults with and nothing more. Perhaps he’d had a conscience once, before he’d been forced to work in the streets as a boy, but sadly that had ruined him forever. Because the Byrne before her now clearly had no morals, no scruples. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv Otherwise, he couldn’t be so comfortable here.

Lord, she’d never even imagined that such nonchalance about infidelity existed among the nobility. When Byrne said they were a fast set, she’d imagined ladies who wore too much rouge and gentlemen who made the occasional bawdy comment. No wonder he’d tried to warn her. But if she wanted her father’s letters back, she had to play her part and be convincing, no matter how disgusting she found it.

Pasting a look of lazy contentment on her face, she relaxed against Byrne’s chest. His quickly drawn breath gave her a measure of satisfaction. He thought she couldn’t handle this, but she would prove him wrong.

She met the portly gentleman’s leer with a sultry smile. When she realized Mr. Talbot was watching her, she deliberately covered Byrne’s hand on her waist with her own, then rubbed it as she’d seen Mrs. Talbot rub her lover’s chest.

She could feel Byrne’s heated gaze on her, feel his arousal harden again beneath her bottom. The Prince of Sin, no doubt about it.

Then she felt his mouth against her ear. “Very good, lass. Keep that up, and evenI might believe you a wanton.” He slid his hand along the underside of her breasts. “Now it’s time for you to pay attention to the players, if you’re to partner me in whist. Watch Talbot, the best of the lot. And Eleanor’s partner, Lady Hungate. She’s good, too.”

From then on, Byrne was all business, explaining the intricacies of their plays in heated whispers. Christabel forced herself to attend, even though his arousal didn’t abate, and her shocking surroundings grew no less shocking.

Before long, she realized that his arousal came as much from the game as from her. She and whist were both challenges to be mastered. Well, he might have mastered whist, but he would never master her. No, indeed.

“Your whispering over there grows tiresome,” Lady Jenner said just as Byrne explained a particularly perplexing move that Lady Hungate, the gray-haired lady, had made. “Can’t you stop your flirting for even one moment, Byrne?”

“We’re discussing strategy. Strategy is the key to winning at whist.”

“I thought good cards were the key to winning at whist,” the countess retorted. “But let’s see who’s right. We’re almost finished with this rubber—why don’t you and your new ‘friend’ play the winners? It’ll giveus a chance to assess your playing the way you’ve been assessing ours.”

Panic rose in Christabel’s chest. Oh no, not now, not here. She hadn’t even played a practice game in two years!

But before she could think of an excuse, Byrne tightened his grip on her waist as if in warning, and said,

“Why not?”

Lord help her. She was in deep, deep trouble.

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