His Mistress by Morning Read Online Free PDF Page B

became nearly piercing.
    “Yes, that’s it,” Quince encouraged.
    Charlotte found herself in front of the Marlowe house anew, gazing at Sebastian and giving voice to the one thing she desired above all else.
    I wish I could be the woman he loved.
    “I wished,” she whispered.
    “That you did,” Quince said, letting go of her hand and wiping her palms across her apron. “And here it is.”
    “Here is what?”
    “Your wish!” The lady sat back and grinned, as if she expected Charlotte to start lauding her with high praise.
    “But how?”
    Quince nodded at her hand. “The ring. The one your dear aunt left for you. Gave careful thought to whom she was going to leave it, and I’m so glad Ursula found someone so bonny. Someone who knows how to wish so grandly.” She waved her hand about the splendid room.
    Charlotte wanted to get more to the point. “You knew Aunt Ursula?”
    “Of course,” Quince said matter-of-factly. “Since the day she received the ring.” The lady bit her lip again. “Oh, dear me, when was that? Fifty, no, sixty years ago. She knew how to wish, your aunt did.” The lady sighed. “But she understood the dangerous nature of an imprudentwish and kept the ring locked up all these years. Don’t think I didn’t pester her to pass it along, but she was too fearful of what might happen if—” The lady snapped her lips together and forced them up into a smile. “Oh, what do you care about all that? What is important is that you’ve made your wish and here we are.”
    Charlotte looked down at her inheritance with no small bit of wonder. “And this ring—”
    “Grants the bearer one wish,” Quince said, getting up from the bed and pulling a rag from her pocket. She glanced around the room, then took a few swipes at a chest of drawers. “But only one wish, and I must say, yours is the most romantic wish I’ve heard in…well, let’s just say, a long time.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously. “‘To be the woman he loves.’ Oh, such a fine wish. And here you are,” she said, gesturing about the room. “The woman Sebastian Marlowe loves.”
    Charlotte tried to breathe. It couldn’t be true. Lord Trent loved her? Just like that. In one simple wish, she was the woman he loved.
    Her heart filled with a sense of wonder and joy. Sebastian loved her.
    Lottie, my love.
    Her hands went to her lips as she remembered his kiss, so possessive, so enticing. So full of…passion and desire.
    All because he loved her.
    It explained so much. That was why she was in his bed. He’d fallen in love with her and now they were…
    She rose to her feet. “Married.” The declaration gave her an enormous sense of relief. “I’m his wife.” For heaven’s sake, that was the only explanation for why she’d woken up beside him. Naked.
    However, the bubbling bit of laughter spilling from Quince was anything but reassuring.
    “I’m his wife,” Charlotte insisted. “Lady Trent.”
    “Lady Trent!” Quince waved a hand at her before she clutched her stomach with it, which did very little to hold back the gale of laughter that rose within her. “His wife? Oh, that is a fine one.”
    “But I have to be his wife if I am the woman he loves.”
    Quince hiccupped through a few more guffaws and then went to the door. She pulled it open and laughed once more. “‘His wife,’ she says.” Then she wiped at the tears in her eyes and leveled a deep, serious glance across the room. “You’re not his wife, Charlotte. You’re Lord Trent’s mistress.”

Chapter 3
    H is mistress?
    Before Charlotte could even utter the scandalous words, make sense of what Quince had just told her so matter-of-factly, like it was perfectly normal that she, Miss Charlotte Wilmont, would be some man’s mistress, before she gathered her wits about her enough to demand an explanation (and a retraction), the woman was gone.
    “Quince,” she called, scrambling up from the chair she’d collapsed into when the lady had revealed the