liaisons, he’d never met another woman who touched him more deeply on a physical level. He was nearly certain they would make spectacular lovers. And as his mother said, they were already friends. He enjoyed her company, her good sense and intelligent observations, her calm demeanour that was often so in contrast to his emotional, volatile mother.
Protecting her from harm would be a privilege.
But taking a mistress wouldn’t advance his career, nor help him fit in better with his married friends. Indeed, it would distance him further.
He really did need a wife to achieve both those aims. He resisted a sigh. No matter how tedious the idea of marriage sounded. He’d just have to talk himself into liking the idea better. Surely he could reshape his outlook, if he worked at it hard enough.
‘I do admire Ellie—and I certainly find her desirable. But I also think it’s time that I moved beyond temporary liaisons and made a permanent choice of companion.’
Could he take Ellie—and then walk away from her? If she were to become his mistress, and they later parted, how could he keep her as a friend?
Though his mother was correct about his tendency to move from one woman to the next, he couldn’t imagine his life without the serene loveliness of Ellie in it.
‘So you’ll just leave Ellie to fend for herself?’ his mother asked, jolting him from his thoughts. ‘Because a woman who isn’t chaste and dutiful deserves whatever she gets?’ she added bitterly.
‘No, of course not,’ he flashed back, stung. ‘How could you accuse me of thinking that? I’ve never treated any of the women with whom I’ve associated with less than courtesy and respect, and you know it! Just because I’m not prepared to make Ellie an offer doesn’t mean I’m not concerned for her well-being. We’re not as close as you and she have become, but I still consider her a friend! You may trust me to make sure she comes to no harm.’
‘And just how do you mean to accomplish that, if she is not under your protection?’
‘We’re friends. I can stop by her school, and visit her at home.’ He gave his mother a smile. ‘It is possible for a man and a woman to be just friends, you know.’
She shrugged. ‘Maybe if the man’s a eunuch, or the woman a sour-faced virgin.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘But I shall stop, before you make me cross. Just promise to watch out for Ellie, and I won’t tease you any further. Even though I think your desire to pursue marriage is a mistake.’
‘That’s easy enough to promise.’ Setting aside his teacup, he rose. ‘I must get along as well. But to demonstrate the sincerity of my pledge, I’ll stop by Ellie’s school this very afternoon. Check out her circumstances, make sure that bully boy is providing sufficient protection. I’ll keep my eyes and ears open when I make the rounds of my clubs, too. If someone has disreputable intentions towards her, I’ll put a stop to it.’
His mother opened her lips, then closed them. ‘I’ll not ask again how you think you can do that without staking a claim to the lady. Just know, I shall hold you responsible if anything untoward happens to her.’
‘No more responsible than I’d hold myself,’ he retorted. ‘I watch out for my friends, Mama—even the ones who happen to be female.’
‘See that you do. Now, go on with you. Some dreadfully dull committee meeting awaits, I’m sure.’
Chuckling, Christopher dropped a kiss on his mother’s head and left her.
But despite his intent to focus on finding a wife, the enticing vision of Ellie in his arms was difficult to put out of mind.
A short while after her visit with Lady Vraux, Ellie Parmenter stepped down from the hackney and approached the modest shop front she’d rented for her school on Dean Street. With space on the ground floor for classrooms, her office, and a storeroom, and bedchambers upstairs for the girls and the matron she’d engaged as chaperone and fellow teacher, it served excellently for its purpose.
‘Afternoon, miss,’ Jensen, her bully-boy protector-cum-butler, said as she entered. ‘The post done arrived. I put it on your desk.’
‘Thank you, Jensen. I’ll see to it directly.’ Nodding to the matron and calling a hello to the girls seated at tables, working on some stitchery, Ellie crossed the space towards the small room she used as an office. Laid out on the desk were several envelopes—that looked very much like bills.
She took a seat and opened them, confirming with a sigh that they were indeed invoices for coal, porridge, thread, and candles. Having gone from her mother’s house to her protector’s, she had little experience of the various and sundry expenses involved in running a household. She kept discovering, to her dismay, how many more of them there were than she’d anticipated.
Pushing away the unpleasant realisation of how quickly she was going through the sum Lord Witlow had invested in the school, she told herself they would manage somehow. After she finished with the bills and checked on the students, she would go out again and purchase some cloth. The two new girls she’d taken in yesterday, both children raised in brothels, needed more suitable clothing. She meant to use Witlow’s funds as prudently as possible, and it would be cheaper to buy the material to make up the gowns.
Besides, Lucy had expressed an interest in learning the dressmaker’s art. With time and training, she could perhaps be found a place with a modiste—especially if Lady Lyndlington gave her a recommendation.
All the wives of Christopher’s closest friends, the Hellions, were uncommonly gracious. After she’d responded to his plea for help and located the girl involved in the plot to discredit Ben Tawny, they’d insisted on having her dine with them so they might thank her personally.
She wouldn’t have admitted it to Christopher, or even to his mother, but she would have been willing to do nearly anything he asked of her.
What an arresting figure he’d made today, the sunlight streaming through the gauze-curtained windows silhouetting his tall, muscled body, shimmering on his dark gold hair and highlighting the sparkle of those deep turquoise eyes!
She chuckled, remembering the quizzical twist of his lip as he protested his mama mocking his intention to marry, even as that aim sent a pang to her heart. His hold on her affections went far deeper than admiration for his handsome face and virile body, or the zing of attraction she felt whenever he came near. She would never forget, nor could she adequately repay him, for the unfailing kindness, sympathy and respect with which he always treated her, especially at the darkest moment of her life.
Just as well that he was set on wedding a proper young miss. Now that she was finally free of her obligation to Summerville, she didn’t intend to become any man’s mistress ever again. That firm resolve, however, might waver—if Christopher were the one offering her carte blanche.
Shaking her head at her foolishness, she told herself she mustn’t even consider becoming more to Christopher Lattimar than a casual friend. It would be too great an irony if she agreed to a disreputable liaison with the one gentleman who’d always treated her like a lady, despite her position.
Besides, even if he should crook his finger and she were not strong enough to refuse him, such a relationship would only be temporary. How could she bear
