Scandal's Mistress by Bronwyn Stuart

Author:Bronwyn Stuart
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-05-06T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“The gossip does her no justice, boy.”

Justin stared at his uncle and waited for an explanation as to why he was there. It was most unlike him to pay early morning calls even to find out if his latest exploit was fact or fiction.

“All right, all right.” Oliver shook his head and shrugged his broad shoulders. “I was curious.”

“You and the rest of the city,” Justin muttered.

“They’ll be here soon too. What did you expect?”

“I’m not really sure,” he admitted with a sigh.

“You do know some are saying you offered her more money than the theatre.”

“I probably did.” If her threadbare gowns and holey shoes were anything to go by.

“Did you ask her not to sing anymore?”

Justin’s head snapped up so quickly his teeth rattled. “I did no such thing!”

“The general gist of the speculation is that the girl was getting too old to sing and has been shopping around for a benefactor.”

Justin’s hands clenched into fists. He had the urge to punch someone. How dare they say unkind things of Carmalina? She’d been as shocked by his offer as he had been to make it. Besides, he was supposed to be the more scandalous topic of conversation, not her.

“It was inevitable, lad.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

“Like what?” Oliver asked, his shrewd gaze narrowing.

“So damned hard!” Justin rose from the couch and started to pace from one end of the garish yellow room to the other. Its cheeriness even under heavy cloud was all too evident and this morning it grated.

“Can’t keep your hands off her, eh?”

“Exactly the opposite.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Justin stopped and rubbed a hand over his face. He debated just how much to tell his uncle. Oliver knew discretion and wouldn’t do anything to hurt him but in that moment Justin felt slightly embarrassed he’d agreed to her stupid bargain in the first place. He was a seasoned rake. A man who knew what he desired and grasped it without all this trouble and rigmarole. He’d never been so hard for a woman and it unnerved and weakened him.

“Well?” Oliver prompted.

“I’m not allowed to touch her.”

“Not allowed?”

“We have an agreement of sorts and I promised to give her one week to get used to the idea of becoming my mistress.”

Instead of the sympathy he’d hoped would be forthcoming, Oliver threw his head back and laughed so loud, Justin had to quiet him. “Dammit, she’ll hear you!”

“She certainly has you backed over a barrel, doesn’t she?”

“It’s not that funny.” Justin sat back on the sofa, his head in his hands.

“It is from where I sit.”

“What the hell am I going to do?”

“What kind of agreement did you make?” His laughter subsided but now the interest in Oliver’s eyes made Justin regret telling him anything at all.

“One that cannot be broken.”

“Maybe not broken. What about bent?”

He’d thought of that, every minute of every hour, but he hadn’t wanted to push her.

Oliver asked another question. “What are the exact terms of the agreement?”

“You don’t want to know,” Justin groaned.

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