Marrying the Mistress Read Free

subject he particularly wished to avoid discussing, it seemed not to occur to him that Helene would have benefited from some clarity on the issue. She had a house, servants, a horse and enough money to pay her bills, but presumably those would all disappear one day, unless she could make some other arrangement.
    Had relations between Helene and Lord Winterson been more cordial, she might have broached the subject to him. But not the way things stood. There was a younger brother who also lived on the outskirts of York, a new country parson named Medworth whose profession and family kept him totally occupied. No doubt he was relieved to know that his brother was being cared for, but his absence showed that he had his hands full enough without involving himself in Miss Follet’s problems.
    * * *
    Mindful of Linas’s enjoyment, Helene made every effort to enter into the excitement of the first day, during which two of Winterson’s racing thoroughbreds were competing. The day had begun with an earlier-than-usual breakfast and, since the weather was blustery but dry, Helene and Linas borrowed two of his brother’s hacks to ride with the others, she in her habit of nutbrown velvet and matching plumed hat that drew many a compliment. Linas had retired early the previous night, well before the others, and had fallen asleep even before Helene could go in to wish him goodnight. His valet had told her that his master had been too tired even to take his usual night-cap of port, sharing with her a look of concern that did not bode well for the busy day ahead.
    So it did not surprise her that no reference had been made to her birthday on the morrow, and it seemed to her inappropriate to mention it when all the attention was focused on the races, the guests, the winners and owners, the sumptuous feast, the meeting of old friends and the excitement of Winterson’s successes. Linas had completely forgotten, and Helene had already decided that his guilt would serve no good purpose. Even so, there were moments during the day when her lovely expressive eyes must have revealed something of her hurt and disappointment, the ache to be at home with herfamily on this special day, enjoying their warmth and love instead of maintaining a position for which she had no real appetite, which she would once have reviled before she lost her innocence.
    Turning to look at Linas, she checked that he was comfortable on the well-mannered hack, heaved a sigh, and looked away into the distance to where the newly white-painted grandstand swarmed with racegoers. A large horse and rider moved up beside her, blocking her view of Linas. It was his brother. At first his eyes followed where hers had been and then, returning to find that she was looking down at her hands as if deliberating whether to go or stay, said, ‘No, don’t go. We have not spoken all day.’
    â€˜To each other, you mean? What is there to be said, except congratulations?’
    â€˜Oh, dear. You’re angry.’ His voice was deep and apologetic.
    â€˜Not at all. But you must not be seen talking to me, my lord. That would look very odd, wouldn’t it? See, we’re being remarked already.’
    â€˜What is it, Miss Follet? You are angry. With me? Linas? Has he been flirting with someone?’
    â€˜I don’t know what he’s doing. Does it matter?’
    His horse stretched its neck, pulling his hand forwards as it shook its head and jangled its bit, keeping its rider occupied with its sidling before he brought it back, almost touching her leg with his. She watched as he humoured the great beast with patience, as if he enjoyed controlling its movements, his face strong, impassive, astonishingly regular, for a man. His dark hair was too long, she thought, noting how it curled over his cravat at the back.He had obviously been thinking of what she said. ‘Or what he’s not doing? Is that it? He’s forgotten your birthday?’ he