A Perfect Mistress (2 page)

“May I help you, sir?” she asked gently.  “Did you perhaps want to leave a card?”

“Yes,” Jackson said hoarsely, pulling himself out of the strange spell her eyes had cast upon him.  “Yes, of course.”  He whipped his card out of the case and handed it to her, his fingers tingling where they touched hers just briefly.  “I'm here to see Miss Delia Maxwell.”

Sophie felt her smile die and her excitement
dim just a little.  Of
course, he was Delia's new man and
the reason for her sudden good mood.  “Come into the parlor, sir, and I'll tell Delia that you're here,” she said softly.  She
thought she
felt
his eyes on
her
back
as she left
him in
the parlor, and when she
peeked
behind her to check, he was staring straight at her
.
Sophie blushed hotly and hurried up to Delia's room.

Delia was as giddy as a
girl
when Sophie told her
that
she had company. “Quickly, make up a tea tray with some of those scones you baked yesterday and bring it in,” she commanded, feverishly applying powder to her already white face and checking her appe
arance in the mirror for flaws.
“And don't take forever.  We won't want any intrusions after a few minutes.”

But
when Sophie sat the loaded tray on the table outside the door, she could tell that things weren't going well.

“A farm?” she heard Delia screech.  “Are you
mad
?  Why on earth would I want to go to live on a farm with you?” Sophie strained to hear, but all she could catch was the low rumble of his deep voice. Delia laughed scornfully. “You may as well leave now!”

When the door flew open, Sophie
wasn't
quick e
nough to move out of the way. The gentleman
crashed right into her and she would have gone flying had his arms not come swiftly around her, pressing her
whole body from knees to chest against his muscular form.  Sophie felt her nipples harden, and then he put her gently away from him, his hands
still gripping her upper arms.
Delia pushed past them, her face like a thundercloud, but neither of them paid her the slightest bit of attention as she swished past and up the stairs,
still
muttering to herself.

“Are you all right?” he asked. 

“I'm fine,” she said faintly.

When his gaze dropped down, Sophie realized that he was tall enough to see straight down the scooped neck
line of her high-
waisted
gown.
She’d
lost weight with all the hard work she did each day, and they were much looser than they used to be.
He let go her arms hurriedly as she took a step back.

“I'm sorry, Miss …?” His raised eyebrow asked her name.

“It's Mrs
....Sophie
Grey.  I'm a widow,” she blurted out, flustered.  “Delia is my sister.”
Sophie clapped a hand over her mouth and stared at him, horrified. She
hadn’t
meant to tell him that. She looked around to make sure that Delia was nowhere near, and breathed a sigh of relief when she
didn’t
see her anywhere.

His slow, wicked smile did funny things to her stomach.
“Widowed.
Yes. I'm very pleased
to meet you, Mrs. Grey. Sophie. I am Jackson Henry, at your service.”

He sketched a quick bow, and Sophie’s heart melted. Those
eyelashes
…
my goodness, she’d never seen
eyes such a beautiful green and such long lashes on a man before. What a shame it was that one of those eyes now had to
be covered up
.
She wondered what had happened to him, and she wished that she could ask, but of
course
it would be rude.
She
didn’t
want to hurt his feelings or make him feel uncomfortable.

“
But I must go now.  I think perhaps your sister has tired of my company.”

Sophie stared after him, and
he caught
her
at it when he turned back as he reached the door.

“Forgive my forwardness, Mrs. Grey, but would you care to take a stroll through the park with me?”

“I think I would,
Mr. Henry,
” she said, and was instantly surprised that the words had come out of her mouth.
She
hadn’t
meant to say yes, not at all. It could only lead to trouble, and if Delia found out,
she’d
have a fit.
She
was a jealous cat, and she
was sure to make a fuss if she thought he was interested in Sophie
.
She might not want him, but she
wouldn’t
want anyone else to have him, either.
Sophie started to take it back, but then her mouth firmed
and she stopped herself
.
Hadn’t
she just been lecturing herself about being so weak and cowardly? What if she went for a walk in the park with a handsome man, what would that hurt?

“Wait for me outside
, please,” she said in a small little voice. “
Let me get my
shawl
and I'll be right down.”

He was still there waiting when Sophie slipped out, and she
wasn’t
sure if she was glad or sorry. He proffered his arm, and Sophie placed her fingers on it gingerly.

“I don’t have long,”
she said, shooting an uneasy look at Delia’s
window.

“We’d best be off then.” He set a brisk pace, but Sophie had no trouble keeping up with him. 

The fresh air and exercise were lovely, and the park was one of her favorite places
. The sun shone through the trees and dappled the ground, and a fresh breeze blew through, making Sophie clutch her bonnet
while Mr. Henry
laugh
ed
.
She settled it back on her head more securely, smiling at him shyly.

“It’s a beautiful day,” she ventured. “I like to come here in the evenings and watch the children playing. I bring crusts with me and feed the ducks in the pond, as well.”

“This is the first time I’ve felt at ease since I’ve been here,” he said. “I miss the country.
It’s
too crowded here, and too noisy. I can’t sleep at night for all the racket, and I can’t stand the smell of this
godawful
place during the day.” He took off his hat and swung it in his hand,
and Sophie had the sudden urge to brush back his windblown hair
. “It is nice in this
park
, though
.
I can smell flowers and sweet grass and sunshine.
Perhaps I should have just camped out here for the duration of my stay.”

Sophie felt her cheeks getting hot, and his frank gaze made her stomach do flips. “Where are you from?” she asked, lowering her eyes and studying the ground so she
wouldn’t
have to look at him anymore.

“I have a farm near Geddes,” he said. “I live in the middle of the wild woods,
Mrs. Grey.
I only go to town when I need to. My closest neighbor is
a good five miles from me, and I like it that way.”

Sophie peeked up at him. “What are you doing here, if you hate the city so much? Why leave your beautiful place if you like it so much better?”

He started to answer, and then hesitated, banging his hat against his knee. “I don’t know if I should tell you. I am not sure that it’s really proper, Mrs. Grey.”

“I’m a widow, not a little girl,” Sophie said tartly. “I’m quite sure I won’t be shocked, whatever it is.”

When he smiled, his scar pulled his face tight and
made the
eye
patch move. I
t looked painful. Sophie
couldn’t
help herself; she put her hand to his face there, and he froze. His skin was warm beneath her palm, and she let it linger there, even though they were standing in a public place
and there were people all around them
. 

“Does it hurt?” she asked softly. “It looks fresh, and the skin is still tight.”

He
didn’t
answer for a moment, staring at her strangely, and Sophie started to feel just awful. She pulled her hand away quickly. Had she offended him with her impulsive action?
She’d
ever been one to let her mouth get away from her, and she felt her face turn hot yet again. “I’m so sorry…” she started, but he cut her off, still staring.

“Don’t be sorry, Mrs. Grey. I think I will tell you, after all. I came to St. Louis to find a woman to take back with me
to my home
. I need a mistress, and
I’m thinking that
you
would be
a perfect choice
.”

********

Sophie
sat down gingerly on the bed, tiredness seeping from her very pores. 
After Mr. Henry had dropped his bombshell on her at the park,
she’d
made her excuses and hurried away, but not before he extracted a promise from her to meet him at the park the next day at the same time. Sophie
didn’t
know why she’d said yes; the man had insulted her, and she should be shocked.

But
she wasn’t.

Sophie got up and paced.
If she
were
truthful with herself, she would admit that the idea intrigued her. She wondered what it would be like to be his mistress, how it would feel to have those strong hands
strip
the clothes from her body and lay her down
naked
in his soft feather bed.
She blushed to the roots of her hair with the thought,
wondering where it came from. A
hot flush
rushed through her and
made parts of her ache in a way that she
hadn’t
felt in a long, long time.
Her pulse thumped, she
felt weak, and yet she
couldn’t
be still.
She paced some more, her mind working furiously.

When
she’d
arrived home, the first thing she’d heard was Delia screeching at the cook
yet again.
When Sophie went in to see what the problem was, the
poor woman
was
sobbing
piteously, her apron over her face
.
She’d
led her sister away, throwing the crying woman a sympathetic look over her shoulder. Delia fell asleep on her bed just a few minutes later, and Sophie went back to work with a sigh of relief.
She had taken a tray of food up to her sister later, and Delia had only grunted at her and told her to get out, her face glum. Sophie put it on the massive chest of drawers and scurried away like the mouse
she’d
become, despising
both
herself and her sister. 

Sophie
looked around
now at her room.
At the time,
she’d
been so grateful for someplace to stay that it had never occurred to her that Delia wanted to hide her from the rest of the world.
If
she’d
been thinking clearly, she would have known
that
it was a servant’s room, and a sparse one at that. Delia had stuck her in
a corner room no bigger than a closet, and
it was so bare that it
looked as if no one lived here.
The mattress on the rope bed
was
lumpy and thin
, and
it
squeaked
every time she moved.
It was uncomfortable, too: She woke up in the mornings with an ache in her lower back that
didn’t
go away until midday.
T
he only other furniture was a small
dresser to hold her meager collection of things, and a bedside
table
that held
a pitcher of water and a bowl to wash
in
.
 

“But you are
n’t any man’s
doxie
,”
she thought to herself
.
“
You don’t have to pay for your upkeep by sleeping in some man’s bed.”

But
it was a hollow thought;
didn’t she pay for her upkeep with all this drudgery, anyway?
And
what good
did that do her,
when Delia
was sure to ru
n out of money and
then thro
w her into the streets?
She’d
end up being some man’s
doxie
anyway
if she couldn’t find a job
…
if she was lucky. Getting a job
didn’t
seem likely
,
since she had no references and Delia
surely
wouldn’t give her one
. Sophie
didn’t
even
w
ant to think about what might happen
if Delia thr
ew her out in the middle of
winter.