Free An Inconvenient Mistress by Caroline Kimberly Page A

thought of spending time alone with her made every fiber of his being tingle.
    Of course, he could simply seduce her.
    Phillip quashed that thought instantly, knowing little good would come of it.
    Arriving at her cabin, he steeled his nerves. Rather than pounding the door down, which he was completely justified in doing, he rapped softly. It took a moment or two before he heard a voice call, “Yes?”
    “It’s Ashford,” he called back.
    “What do
you
want?” Even through the door, he could hear her exasperation.
    “I’d like to talk to you,” he said as kindly as he could manage considering he was talking through a damned door. “Preferably to your face.”
    He listened intently, wondering at the long pause. Finally, he heard a shuffle and what sounded like a curse word, though it was too muffled for him to be certain. The door opened a crack and Isabella peeked at him.
    “Are you going to yell at me more?” She didn’t even bother to curb her hostility. “Because if so—”
    “No,” he interrupted. “I’m not going to yell.”
    She still didn’t open the door, so Phillip charged ahead. He cleared his throat a bit nervously. “On the contrary, I came to, um, apologize.”
    Isabella looked at him suspiciously but she did open the door. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.
    Phillip looked past her into her small cabin, unable to curb his curiosity. The Scrap was nowhere to be seen and there were few personal effects visible to him. There was a book on her bunk and a set of silver brushes next to the wash basin on the small vanity. Other than that, the chamber was devoid of anything Isabella. It echoed her clothing, he mused—sedate and dreary. He found it hard to reconcile the fact that a force of nature such as Isabella hid behind such a lifeless façade.
    She was looking at him expectantly, her jaw set stubbornly. “I believe you were about to tell me something?” she asked politely, her tone belying her impatience.
    Phillip cleared his throat. “I overreacted to the situation in the infirmary. I forget that a woman like you follows a different set of principles.”
    “A woman like me?” she asked slowly.
    He shifted his feet and fumbled to explain himself. “I mean that you weren’t raised to be a lady, so I can’t expect to hold you to the same standards.”
    “Of course not,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m practically savage having never learned to properly curtsy if dear Prinny ever stopped by for tea.”
    “That’s not what I meant,” Phillip said, his frustration growing at his own bumbling. “I—”
    “There’s no need to explain, Captain,” she snapped waspishly. “I know exactly what men like
you
think of women like me.”
    “That’s not—” Phillip started. He searched for the right words. “I honestly don’t know what to think of you. Talking to you is like trying to speak a foreign language I’ve never even heard. It’s near impossible.”
    Isabella’s expression darkened with each statement he made. “If this is your idea of an apology,” she smarted, “you may keep it.”
    Phillip ran an exasperated hand through his hair and tried again. “See, this is the problem. I don’t mean to offend you, yet I seem unable to open my mouth without doing exactly that.”
    “Then perhaps you should keep your mouth shut,” she suggested sharply. She began to slam the door, but he placed his palm firmly on it and shoved.
    “I’m trying to offer you a compromise,” he grunted as she struggled. “At least have the good grace to hear me out.”
    She gave up the fight with the door and huffed. “Fine.”
    “Sully has explained to me that he finds you helpful,” Phillip said, rushing through what was likely one of the most painful speeches of his life. “In fact, he thinks you’re quite an asset.”
    She didn’t smile, but the softening of her eyes made it obvious she enjoyed the old man’s praise.
    “What I propose, Mrs. Marshall,”