Read Online His Mistress by Morning by Elizabeth Boyle - Free Book Online Page B

Charlotte told her. “I am not this sort of woman.”
    Quince clucked her tongue. “Well, you’re certainly not the Charlotte you were, but Lottie Townsend doesn’t find these situations objectionable.”
    Charlotte spoke slowly and deliberately. “I am not Lottie Townsend. I have nothing in common with this creature.”
    “But you are wrong,” the lady told her, still sorting her flowers. She pulled out a pansy and a rosebud. “People are such complicated creatures, my dear. Faceted, flawed, their characters ever up for interpretation. We all have varied potentials, aspects of our personalities that for whatever reasons we never explore. Society, choices, and, dare I say it, outright cowardice keep us from living out our lives completely. Charlotte Wilmont and Lottie Townsend are just different aspects of you. You aren’t doing or saying anything that isn’t true to your self.”
    “But I don’t remember any of this,” Charlotte replied, waving her hands at the scenery before her. “I’ve never been married.” She paused for a moment, then lowered her voice. “I haven’t, have I?”
    Quince shook her head. “No. Finella made up a story about a shipboard romance with an officer under Nelson while you two were in Italy. The tale goes that he diedat Cairo and you’ve mourned him deeply. Such a tragic history and his heroic name lends an air of respectability to your situation.”
    “I was in Italy?”
    The old woman grinned and nodded. “Oh, aye. Finella took you to Paris during the Peace, and then on to Italy. To give you some polish before you started your career. ’Twas a brilliant move on her part. And just look at you, so very splendid!”
    Charlotte took a deep breath and shook her head. “But it’s not just me—everyone is different. Why, Cousin Finella is—”
    “Quite a corker, don’t you think?”
    Pressing her fingertips to her forehead, Charlotte didn’t know what to say. Cousin Finella a corker? There were so many things wrong with that statement that she didn’t know where to begin.
    Quince didn’t seem to notice her distress and just kept nattering on. “Certainly, there were some small adjustments that had to be made to accommodate your wish. Most things are the same, the important ones,” she assured her. “But time is like a garden, touched by winter one year, kissed by a gentle spring the next. You never know what will take root and bloom. So you must see how you can’t adjust someone’s life without some ripples. Finella was one of the things that had to change a bit.”
    “A bit? What utter nonsense! You’ve turned her upside down. Turned me into a-a-a—”
    “A woman beloved by a man. That was your wish, wasn’t it? To be the woman he loves.” Quince pulled out a bundle of posies and pressed them into Charlotte’s hands. “And desired not just by Lord Trent, I’d point out. You’ve abevy of admirers. That’s just a little extra I tossed in.” She sighed, a dreamy look on her face. “Really, truly, no need to thank me.”
    “Thank you?!” Charlotte exploded, rising to her feet, ready to throttle this well-meaning, quite possibly mad, busybody. “I’m a disgrace. Ruined.” With her heart thumping wildly and her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath, she suddenly realized that she was making a scene. In public.
    Taking a deep breath, Charlotte settled back down on the bench, willing herself to find a measure of composure. I am a lady. I am not Lottie Townsend . Having gained the wherewithal to continue she said, “You don’t seem to understand. Tonight, Lord Trent plans on visiting me. He thinks that we will be…he seemed to be of the opinion that we would be…”
    Intimate. Lovers. In bed. Naked. Entangled . Everything that she’d only barely managed to avoid this morning.
    Heavens, wasn’t the fact that she couldn’t even manage to say any of this without blushing herself crimson and sputtering about proof enough that she wasn’t this