Free Mistress by Midnight by Maggie Robinson Page A

would never have befriended her husband’s mistress.
    It would be awkward to reveal the truth now, and disastrous if James guessed what was happening between his father and favorite honorary aunt. James would view it all as betrayal of the first order. He’d loved his mum and loathed his dad.
    Laurette braided her hair over her shoulder and sat at the pretty desk, lighting another branch of candles. The letter to James flowed in fun. She was more careful with Beatrix, parsing each word to perfection. Tomorrow she’d send them off with Martine with some of her coins, avoiding Con’s franking privileges.
    She blew out the candles and padded over the thick carpet to her golden bed. The day had been both exhausting and exciting.She would have to find a balance for the next six months if she were not to expire at the end of it. Exit. Exhumation. Exhibit. Exhilaration. She removed the sponge and let it fall to the carpet. Exploration. Explanation. Extinction.
    It was in this fashion she finally fell asleep.
    Laurette had written her letters yesterday. Nothing much had transpired to fill up any other pages or any more hours to her day. She had awakened early as was her custom, although Caesar the rooster was not responsible, just the sound of a merry whistle somewhere in one of the back gardens. She doubted any of them were as lavishly appointed as hers. She had stretched on her little balcony and spied over the high walls. Martine had brought her breakfast and seemed to think she should be eating it in bed. Laurette disappointed her by sitting in a chair near the window screen, letting the morning breeze waft over her and the coddled eggs.
    She bathed and dressed. She made the tour again of the house without Nadia, poking into every chest and under every fat cushion, admiring the art work and selecting a book. She settled for some hours in her green upstairs sitting room, unable to make sense of the words before her. Her mind kept wandering, wondering what Sadie would do when she got Laurette’s letter. Wondering when Con would come. Feeling Con’s skillful hands slide over her skin when he did.
    When Nadia found her, she discovered she was now expected to come downstairs for lunch. Still full of breakfast, Laurette was tempted to decline. She thought of Qalhata’s fierce face and set the book aside. The cook had evidently taken her words to heart, for the portions were fewer but the dishes more than delectable. She ate until she thought she’d burst.
    The afternoon now stretched before her. There would be no afternoon callers or jaunts to the shops. There was no basket of mending she could muck up with her crookedstitches or vegetable plot to weed. But the day was fine, so she walked about in the garden, watching the bright yellow birds flit from branch to bush. The fountain burbled, the flowers exuded their fragrance, the sun braved the haze of the city to shine on her bench. Laurette sat in the square of warmth and gazed up at the windows next door, all discreetly laced and swagged in curtains. She wondered if the other mistresses were as bored as she. Perhaps she could form a kind of Mistresses’ Union, where they might take tea together—or something stronger—and complain about their ennui. She let out a laugh.
    “What is so amusing?”
    Con walked toward her, looking every inch the marquess this afternoon. His bottle-green coat and buff breeches showed every muscle, the stock at his neck was blindingly white. A large emerald held it in place, glittering in the sunlight. If he wasn’t careful, he’d invite every ambitious footpad in London to rob him. The stone alone could feed her and Sadie for years.
    “Good afternoon, my lord. I was not expecting you until this evening.”
    “I wanted to see how you are getting on.” Con sat down next to her. His thigh brushed hers and she resisted the impulse to push closer.
    “I am, if you must know, dead bored.”
    Con raised an eyebrow.
    “I’m used to activity, you