Free Elusive Passion by Kathryn Smith Page A

the first place,” she later remarked as he dragged her outside.
    “Trying to find the positive side, are you?” he asked, sparing her a brief glance.
    “Yes.” She had to run to keep up with him. “Don’t you think we should?”
    He came to an abrupt stop. “All right. At least they won’t expect us to marry.” It was said with a decided sarcastic edge, but Varya gave a gusty sigh of relief. Obviously, the marquess wasn’t at all accustomed to women not wanting to marry him, for he seemed positively startled by her reaction.
    After Ivan she had vowed never to marry. There wasn’t a man alive whom she trusted enough to hand over complete control of her life. By law a wife was a man’s property, and he was free to do what he liked with her money or her person. To put herself so directly under any man’s control was to lose her independence, her career, even her own will. In the case of Ivan it might mean losing her life.
    A mistress, however, was a different story. A mistress controlled her own money and made her own decisions. If a mistress did not like the way a man touched her, she could leave him. A wife was a prisoner. A mistress was free.
    As free as a woman could be nowadays.
    Yes, she could live with the stigma of being thought the mistress of Miles Christian. It went against everything she had been brought up to believe, but it would even provide a wonderful cover for them if they chose to continue investigating Bella’s murder together.
    It would still be her ruin. Having been raised to guard her virtue, she found the thought was somewhat distressing.
    “Oh, Bella,” she whispered to the darkness. “Why did you leave me?”
    For years, her higher social status had given her knowledge and experience that Bella could only imagine. The awe in the older girl’s eyes had been the only encouragement Varya needed to spin tale after tale of her opulent life in Russia. It had made the fact that her father had sent her away to school almost bearable.
    Only Bella knew how much Varya had wanted her father’s approval. Only Bella knew that Varya had never been able to win it.
    When Bella ran away from school to become a singer, it had been Varya she had thanked for giving her a dream to chase. Far from feeling proud, Varya had been horrified that her friend had chosen such a path. It wasn’t until a few years later, when she herself left the school and forced her entourage to make a sojourn into Paris before returning to Russia, that Varya saw just how free her friend was.
    At that time, Bella was a rising star, the darling of Paris. Her lover was a handsome French nobleman who treated her like a rare gem. Bella was in control of her life. She conducted herself like a lady, thanks to Varya’s tutelage, and in return, she shared an intimate knowledge of men that had made Varya blush right down to her ankles.
    Despite Bella’s words, Varya had been completely unprepared for the Marquess of Wynter and his allure.
    How Bella had gushed about the man! How manyletters were nothing but “Miles this” and “Miles that.” She was certain Bella exaggerated the man’s looks and charm. It angered her to see the supremely self-assured Bella make a cake of herself for a man who had no intention of marrying her. And when he broke Bella’s heart, Varya’s opinion slipped lower still.
    Regardless of her personal view of the man, he had meant a lot to Bella and vice versa. He was also deadly attractive. How could she find him so decidedly arrogant yet thrill at his very touch? For that’s what the feel of him had been—thrilling. She had actually found herself wondering what it would be like to be his mistress in reality.
    She could never betray Bella in such a way. But her friend’s memory aside, Varya had not been brought up to be anything to a man other than a wife.
    That would never happen now—not that she ever wished it to.
    She glanced past the glass doors to the miniature on top of her dressing table. She