Minx

"Oh?"

"I understand—that is to say, I've heard that many men keep mistresses."

Belle slowly nodded. "That is true."

"And that many of them continue to keep their mistresses after they are wed."

"Oh, Henry, is that was this is about? Are you afraid Dunford is going to keep a mistress? I can assure you he won't, not when he loves you so much. I imagine you'll keep him so busy he won't have time for a mistress."

"But does he have one now?" Henry persisted. "I know I cannot expect that he has led the life of a monk before meeting me. I'm not even jealous of any women with whom he might have had liaisons before he met me. I certainly cannot hold it against him if he didn't even know me at the time. But what if he still has a mistress now?"

Belle swallowed uncomfortably. "I cannot give you anything less than complete honesty, Henry. I know that Dunford was keeping a mistress when he left for Cornwall, but I don't think he has seen her since he returned. I swear it. I'm sure he's broken it off with her by now. Or if he hasn't, he's going to."

Henry licked her lips thoughtfully, relief sinking into her bones. Of course, that was it. He was planning to see this Christine Fowler woman on Friday night to tell her she would need to seek another protector. She'd rather that he had taken care of the task when they first arrived in London, but she couldn't censure him for putting off what was probably an unpleasant chore. Henry was sure that his mistress wouldn't want to part with him. She couldn't imagine any woman wanting to part with him.

"Did John keep a mistress before he met you?" Henry asked curiously. "Oh, I'm sorry. That was frightfully personal."

"It's all right," Belle assured her. "Actually, John was not keeping a mistress, but he also wasn't living in London. It's quite a common practice here. I know Alex kept one, though, and he stopped seeing her the minute he met Emma. I'm sure it's the same for you and Dunford."

Belle sounded so convinced that Henry couldn't help but believe her. It was, after all, what she wanted to believe. And in her heart she knew it was true.

For all her certainty in Dunford's innocence, Henry still found herself oddly jittery on Friday. She was startled every time someone spoke to her, and the slightest noise made her jump. She spent three hours reading the same page of Shakespeare, and the thought of food made her sick.

Dunford collected her for their daily walk at three in the afternoon, and the sight of him left her tongue-tied. All she could think about was that he would be seeing HER that evening. She wondered what they would say to each other. What did SHE look like? Was she beautiful? Did she look like Henry? Please, God, don't let her look like me, Henry thought. She wasn't entirely certain why this meant so much to her, but she thought she might be ill if she found out she resembled Christine Fowler in any way.

"What has you so preoccupied?" Dunford asked, smiling down at her indulgently.

Henry started. "Just wool-gathering, I'm afraid."

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Oh, they're not worth it," she said with unnecessary force. "Believe me."

He looked at her oddly. They walked on for a few paces before he said, "I hear you have been making use of Lord Worth's library."

"Oh, yes," Henry said with relief, hoping that a benign topic would help to take her mind off Christine Fowler. "Belle has been recommending some of Shakespeare's plays to me. She has read them all, you know."

"I know," he murmured. "She did it in alphabetical order, I believe."

"Did she? How odd." Another silence, and Henry's thoughts were back to precisely where she did not want them. Finally, knowing she was absolutely, positively doing the wrong thing but unable to help herself, she turned to him and asked, "Do you have any special plans for this evening?"

The tips of his ears grew red; a sure sign of guilt, Henry thought. "Ah, no," he said. "I was just planning to meet some friends at White's for a game of whist."

"I'm sure you'll have a lovely time."

"Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "Curiosity, I suppose. Tonight is the first night in weeks that our plans for the evening don't coincide. Except, of course, for when I was ill."

"Well, I don't expect to be seeing quite as much of my friends once we're married, so I'm rather obligated to join them in a card game now."

I'll just bet you are, she thought sarcastically. Then she berated herself for thinking so badly of him. He was going to his mistress's house that evening to break it off. She should be happy. And if he was lying to her about it, well that was only natural. Why would he want her to know he was going there at all?

"What are your plans?" he asked her.

She grimaced. "Lady Worth is forcing me to attend a musicale."

Horror slid across his face. "Not..."

"I'm afraid so. Your Smythe-Smith cousins. She feels I ought to meet some of your relations."

"Yes, but doesn't she understand...? Henry, this is too cruel. Never in the history of the British Isles have there been four females less gifted with musical talent."

"So I've heard. Belle has flatly refused to accompany us."

"I'm afraid I dragged her to one last year. I don't even think she'll walk down their street anymore for fear she might hear them practicing."

Henry smiled. "Now I'm growing curious."

"Don't," he said, very seriously. "If I were you, I would endeavor to have a serious relapse this evening."

"Really, Dunford, they can't be that bad."