Free The Scoundrel and I: A Novella by Katharine Ashe

girl,” he said in a low voice, “not really.”
    “As a princess, thoroughly,” Seraphina said behind her. “She dresses up nicely, doesn’t she, Anthony?”
    “Aye.” As he came forward there was a light of deviltry in his eyes that dispelled Elle’s nerves and made her abruptly eager for the evening’s adventure. He glanced at his cousin. “Not dressed yet, Seri?”
    “I will be momentarily. But you must go ahead of me to Lady B’s. Who knows how long Uncle Frederick will last tonight? Now go fetch the carriage, Tony.”
    He looked about the foyer. “Your butler’s broken his leg, has he?”
    Seraphina chuckled lightly. “Darling, go. I must say a word to Miss Flood without you present.”
    “Aha. Feminine secrets.” With a bow, he went.
    Elle turned to the modiste. “Thank you, Seraphina. This gown, the jewelry . . . It is all perfect.”
    “And your coiffure,” she said, scanning the smooth coils, upswept and decorated with a sparkling tiara. “Penelope is an artist with hair.” She grasped Elle’s gloved hand. “Now, ask me what it is you have been eager to ask me all evening.”
    Elle’s mouth opened, but Seraphina squeezed her fingers.
    “Dear Elle, you have the most transparent face.”
    Elle looked her directly in the eye. “You and Captain Masinter are clearly very fond of each other.”
    “We are devoted.”
    “Why aren’t you married? To each other. Plenty of cousins wed.”
    Seraphina’s eyes smiled. “I was married once. My husband died several years ago.”
    “Did the experience sour you on marriage?”
    “Not at all. He was considerably older, of course. But he was kind. No, I am not sour on marriage. And I adore Anthony. He is the best man I have ever known. But, Elle, he is not my cousin as everyone likes to pretend.”
    Elle felt abruptly sick. He could not have brought her to his mistress’s house; it seemed so unlike him, and unlike Seraphina as well. But what else could this beautiful, independent woman be, to command the attention of such a man? From what Minnie said, men of the aristocracy took mistresses as often as men of the common class drank gin.
    “He is my half-brother,” Seraphina said. “From the other side of the mattress, as it were,” she added with an expressive nod.
    “Oh.” Such relief filled her throat that she could manage nothing more.
    “You wish to know if I am acknowledged by our family,” Seraphina said. “And if not, why Anthony acknowledges me.”
    Lips caught between her teeth, Elle nodded.
    “Our father, Sir Benton, was a diplomat for many years. On one occasion while traveling in the East, he happened upon a beautiful Turkish girl. Men sometimes being what they are, he temporarily cast aside his marriage vows. When he returned to England, he forgot the Turkish girl, but nine months later my grandmother reminded him. My mother had perished bearing me, you see, and her mother brought me here to be raised in the comfort of wealth. Sir Benton’s wife would not have it. She had five young sons and four young daughters of her own, and she did not like the idea of having yet another, especially not a little brown nut of an infant that was proof of her husband’s infidelity. They sent me to Sir Benton’s youngest aunt, a widow who had once lived abroad not far from where my mother had grown up, as it happened. Great-aunt Seraphina raised me as her own bastard, rather than as my father’s.” She smiled. “Thus, cousins.”
    “But they believe you are a cousin only?”
    “Everybody knows the truth, of course. Our paths cross infrequently, though, so they rarely have reason to cut me directly.”
    “Captain Masinter does not cut you. He obviously cares for you.”
    “He protected me from them. He still does. I told you he is a good man, Gabrielle,” Seraphina whispered, turning her to face the man walking toward them from the back of the house. “Be kind to him.”
    In the candlelight, his eyes glimmered with admiration. Elle