Page 79 of One Night with a Prince
I never allowed any man to insult me. Just
because I was a mistress didn’t mean I had
to endure rudeness.
—Anonymous,Memoirs of a Mistress
Christabel could tell from Byrne’s expression that he hadn’t meant to say that. His dismay was almost comical. But then his eyes grew steely. “You’re coming with me to Bath. Now.”
She was tempted to refuse: At last she had a chance to search for the letters without him around. But getting into Lord Stokely’s room could prove tricky, and if the baron had a safe there, she couldn’t break into that. No matter what Byrne said, he probably knew exactly how to pick locks. So a trip to Bath would give her the chance to talk him into helping her do just that. All right, so she was making excuses—the truth was, she wanted to go with him because she wanted to see his estate, wanted to get a glimpse of the real Byrne that no one else had.
“I’ll have to take Rosa,” she said.
“If you’re worried about your reputation you’d be better off leaving her here, since we’ll have to stay at my estate overnight. She can make the others think you never left. We’ll only be gone one night, so you don’t need a bag. If you meet me down the road, Rosa can tell anyone who asks that the incident with Lady Jenner left you feeling unwell. Then not even other servants will be able to enter your room to determine if you’re there.”
He had a point. And though she suspected that her reputation was already damaged beyond repair, it couldn’t hurt to keep this trip a secret. “All right.”
“I leave within the half hour. I’ll meet you down by those hedges on the far lawn. They’ll shield you from view of the house.”
Then he was gone. She barely had time to stuff a few essentials into one of her old large reticules and instruct Rosa on what she should tell people, before it was time to meet Byrne. Only after they were well away from Stokely’s estate, did she relax. “Did you tell Lord Stokely you were leaving?”
Byrne nodded. “The bastard seemed inordinately pleased. He probably thinks he’ll get the chance to seduce you, now that I’m gone.”
“I don’t understand his interest in me—though we might be able to use it.”
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlA scowl knit his brow. “How so?”
“Well, you said you don’t know how to pick locks.” She smiled innocently. “If we can’t figure out any other way to get into Lord Stokely’s bedchamber, then I can always cozy up to him so that he brings me—”
“No,” he said tersely. “You will not do any such thing.”
“I’m not saying I would share his bed; just that I’d let him have a kiss and flirt a little until he invites me there.”
Byrne’s face was stormy. “Once there, you’d end up in his bed whether you wanted to be or not.”
Christabel stiffened. “Don’t you trust me not to allow a man to seduce me?”
“I’m not talking about seduction, lass. I’m talking about force. He’d call you a tease and do as he wished, feeling justified that any woman who came to his bedchamber meant to share his bed, no matter what she said. And no one would fault him for it, either.”
“I can handle myself with him, and you can always stand outside and wait for me to call out if I’m in trouble—”
“No, it’s too dangerous. I won’t let you whore for those letters.”
There was that word again. “Aren’t I doing that already?” she asked quietly. A deadly stillness came over him. “Are you saying you shared my bed only to gain my help?”
“Of course not. But the fact remains that thanks to this scheme, I began sharing your bed.”
A curse erupted from him. “You are not a whore, Christabel.”
“What am I then?”
“My mistress.”
Like all the others. All the many others.Her throat grew painfully tight. “I see little difference between a whore and a mistress.” Though the past two days with him had been mostly heaven, the reality of her position had plagued her conscience. “You’re funding my part in these card games. You bought my gowns. Isn’t a whore someone who exchanges her favors for financial gain?”
Anger tightened his features. “I’ll grant you that a mistress does that, too. But there’s a difference.”
“Oh?” She trod dangerous ground—his mother had played that role for Prinny, after all. But she had to make him understand. “Aside from the fact that a whore has encounters with several customers and a mistress has several encounters with one, I’m not sure I see the difference.”
