To Claim His Mistress: Mistress at a Price / Mother and Mistress / His Mistress's Secret

Susan Adamson stroked her cheek almost absently. ‘No, my dear, but thank you for offering. I have a lot of thinking to do, and I need to be alone for that.’ She paused, forcing a smile. ‘I may even go away myself for a while. I need a rest after all this—chaos.’ She gestured around her at the littered tables, but Cat knew she wasn’t merely referring to the wedding.

‘I’ll be in touch,’ she promised quietly.

With the departure of the bridal couple a sense of anticlimax had set in, and people were already beginning to drift away. As Cat went towards the stairs she glimpsed her uncle in a shadowy corner of the foyer, talking with soft urgency on his mobile phone.

No prizes for guessing who he was calling, she thought, remembering bitterly her aunt’s quiet, contained expression.

Even now people were stopping her. ‘So good to see you again, Catherine.’

‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t even try any more to match names to faces.

‘What a marvellous day it’s been. Gone without a hitch.’

‘Yes, fantastic.’

‘So lucky with the weather.’

‘Perfect.’

Were they all blind? she wondered incredulously as she finally won free and went upstairs to her room. Hadn’t they realised what was going on in front of them? Or were they too carried away by vintage champagne and their preconceptions of married bliss to care?

And what would they have done if she’d stood up and shouted the truth aloud?

Ignored me, probably, she decided with a wry twist of her mouth.

But everything that had happened simply confirmed and hardened her resolution to stay clear of entanglements—es pecially the emotional kind.

They’re not worth the suffering, she told herself.

Sighing, she unlocked the door of her room and went in. The deep sunlight of early evening was pouring through the window, bathing the pastel walls and the charming flower-sprigged fabrics in a mellow glow.

Cat found herself sending the wide, canopied bed a regretful glance as she discarded her wedding finery and put it into her case, after extracting clean underwear and a plain white skirt, to be teamed with a short-sleeved knitted top in dark blue silk. She’d been looking forward to spending the night here and waking to the sound of birdsong instead of London traffic.

She examined her sandals minutely before packing them, but apart from a tiny fleck of mud on the inside of the heel, which she removed with her thumbnail, they were as good as new. Apart, of course, from the memories they evoked. She wouldn’t rid herself of them quite so easily.

On the whole, rural peace offered rather too many opportunities for brooding, she decided, particularly over things that she could not change.

For an uncomfortable moment she found herself remembering the way her mother had spoken of grandchildren, and David’s immediate reaction when Vanessa had caught the wedding bouquet and smiled up into her lover’s face.

But they were actors, she reminded herself with sudden harshness. So who could say if the emotions she had glimpsed were genuine?

Apart from that, the Anscote Manor Eden had its own built-in snake, she thought, her mouth twisting. So it would be far more sensible to get back to the city, real life and sanity, and avoid unnecessary temptation. Because this Liam was simply not for her—and for all kinds of reasons.

She bit her lip. She was still ashamed of her unguarded response to his touch. And for all the other emotions he’d made churn inside her.

He knew exactly what he was doing, she thought bitterly, as she reached for the phone to call Reception. And I allowed it. Even though I am not—repeat not—into one-night stands.

‘This is Miss Adamson in Room Ten,’ she said briskly, when her call was answered. ‘I’ve decided not to stay the night after all, and I’d like my bill to be made up, please.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll be leaving in about three quarters of an hour.’

She went into the bathroom, cleaned off every speck of make-up, then took a leisurely shower, letting the warm water stream over her.

Washing away, she hoped, the residue of the day. And any lingering resonances there might be.

She towelled herself down, applied some of the lily-scented skin moisturiser she’d found in the array of toiletries provided, then, wrapping herself sarong-like in a fresh towel, she wandered back into the bedroom.

Collecting the hairdryer, she seated herself on the broad cushioned seat under the window while she finger-dried her hair into its usual sleek shape. The view below was of formal gardens, with gravelled paths bordered by teeming summer flowers.

The local Lothario seemed to know a lot about his job, too, she thought with an inward grimace, her eyes straying half-unconsciously to the golden gleam of the lake in the distance. He’d certainly created the perfect romantic backdrop for a little intimate adventuring.

So it would do him good to find himself ditched and left high and dry.

And it would make her feel better too, knowing that her moment of weakness had passed and she was back in control again.

She dressed, added a touch of blusher to her face and a hint of lustre to her mouth, slid her feet into low-heeled navy pumps, then collected her bag and jacket and went downstairs.

The place seemed deserted, she thought, looking around her. Everyone had disappeared, off in their different directions, and Belinda’s wedding was well and truly over at last.

There was no one at the desk either, so she rang the small silver bell. After a minute a girl in a dark suit emerged from the inner office, looking harassed.

She checked when she saw Cat. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Are you the lady from Room Ten who wants her bill?’

Cat’s brows lifted. ‘Yes,’ she acknowledged. ‘Is there some problem?’

The girl’s colour deepened. ‘We’re having problems with the computer. It’s a new system, and it’s swallowed some of our data. We’ve got an engineer coming, of course, but we can’t make your bill up just yet.’ She moved her hands awkwardly. ‘I—I’m very sorry.’

Not half as sorry as I am, Cat thought, glancing at her watch with inner dismay. Time was passing rapidly and she needed to be gone.

‘Don’t you have some kind of back-up?’ she asked. ‘Or couldn’t you just calculate what I owe you with a paper and pencil? Anything?’

‘I’m afraid not, but I hope we won’t have to keep you too long. The engineer is on his way.’ The girl hesitated, looking uncomfortable. ‘Would you like to wait in the lounge?’ she suggested. ‘Or the bar, maybe?’

‘No,’ Cat said. ‘I think I’ll go back to my room.’ She paused. ‘And if anyone enquires, will you tell them I’ve checked out and gone, please?’

The receptionist looked wary. ‘Yes,’ she said slowly. ‘I suppose we can.’

Well, don’t knock yourself out, Cat thought, torn between annoyance and amusement.

‘And can you send up a tray?’ she requested. ‘Just coffee and some sandwiches. A selection of what’s available would be fine,’ she added, with a shrug.

‘Certainly, Miss Adamson.’ The girl spoke more confidently. ‘I’ll see to that right away.’

This has not been my luckiest day, Cat told herself ruefully, as she let herself back into her room.

She found the paperback novel she’d brought to read in bed, and curled up with it on the window seat, trying to relax. It was going to be a glorious sunset, she thought, promising more fine weather tomorrow. She might go out somewhere—to Kew, perhaps, or on the river.

She returned her attention to the book, but found it difficult to focus. She felt too edgy—too restless to give it the concentration it deserved.

She got up and walked round the room, eyeing the telephone and wondering if Reception would have the wit to tell her once the computer was working again.