Mistress at Midnight Read Online Free PDF

Lord Hawkhurst and Elizabeth Berkeley excused themselves to take to the floor, his arm around the young woman’s waist in a careful ownership, the height and colouring of each exactly complementing the other.
    ‘Did you know Hawk well when you were married to his cousin, Mrs St Harlow?’ The question was from Cassandra Lindsay, eyes full of curiosity as she moved to stand directly beside Aurelia.
    ‘No, I never once met him. His uncle, however, was a friend.’
    A smile lit up Lady Lindsay’s entire face. ‘Alfred is rather picky about who he accords friendship to. Take Elizabeth Berkeley, for instance. I doubt he realises she exists.’
    ‘She is very beautiful.’
    ‘And quite lovely with it, which is a relief beyond measure if Stephen should decide to offer for her.’
    ‘Which he will?’ Aurelia had not meant to ask the question, and from the sharp interest in green eyes knew she had made a mistake by doing so. She was glad of the barrier of thick glass.
    ‘Lord Hawkhurst has never taken a wife and his estate is more than healthy, so it behoves him to provide heirs. How long were you married to Charles?’
    ‘Three years, my lady.’ The tone of her voice was flatter than it should have been but tonight, with Leonora’s face alight with possibility and hope, Aurelia was finding it hard to feign her usual pretence.
    Cassandra Lindsay’s next words were therefore unexpected. ‘We are having a house party at our country estate in Kent in early September. Would you and your sister like to join us for the weekend?’
    Her heart began to beat a little faster, the rhythm of it imbued with an unfamiliar kind of joy. It had been so long since a stranger had reached out a hand in friendship. Still, she could not quite accept the gift without honesty.
    ‘Perhaps Leonora could attend with a chaperon, Lady Lindsay. My presence may be detrimental to the success of your gathering, you see, for there are many stories about me—’
    Cassandra Lindsay broke in. ‘There are always rumours, Mrs St Harlow, and there are always detractors, but anyone whom UncleAlfred takes a shine to I would trust with my life.’
    ‘Thank you.’ The ache in her throat was surprising as she glanced around, the heavy frowns of others less intimidating after such a conversation.
    As the music ended the party regrouped. Elizabeth Berkeley had joined her mother to one side of the room, chatting with a group of other young women all dressed in differing shades of yellow. Stephen Hawkhurst unexpectedly walked back to Aurelia’s side.
    ‘Are you promised for this set, Mrs St Harlow?’
    His question came quietly and in response Aurelia showed him her dance card without a scribble upon it. ‘I seldom garner partners, my lord,’ she returned, ‘and certainly never the same man twice.’
    His mouth turned up as he observed the empty page, and with the gracious strains of Strauss from the orchestra at the head of the room Aurelia felt disorientated.
    Something else lingered there, too, but she did not care to examine those feelings as his fingers lifted the battered spectacles from her nose and held them away for a moment.
    ‘Is that better?’
    The faces of those around them came into full focus. ‘Disfavour is often easier to stomach when it is barely seen, my lord.’
    ‘Many here have their own skeletons should one bother to dig deeper, Mrs St Harlow. Take heart, for you are not the only person in the room with a past.’
    Aurelia glanced away as he replaced her looking glasses. Did he speak about himself?
    His hair was draped long across the nape of a snowy, crisp white collar, strands of midnight reflecting blue, the sense of danger and menace that she associated with him heightened here.
    Charles had been a man who had promised everything and delivered nothing, a liar and a cheat who used those in positions of less power ruthlessly. Stephen Hawkhurst appeared to be the very opposite. She could not imagine him striking fraudulent bargains