Mistress By Mistake. Maggie Robinson

perilously close to losing her own mind as well. She simply looked well-tumbled. She sponged her face and body quickly, for who knew when she would be free again? Lifting her chin and straightening her spine, she returned to the scene of his crime, holding her hands before her.

      “See? No weapons of any kind.”

      “I wouldn’t say that, Charlie. Some might say just looking at you like that is enough to make a man lose all his sense.” He pulled open a drawer and tossed her night rail at her. “See? I’ve relented already. Put it on. I had planned, you know, to keep you tied up and at my mercy for a week.”

      “A week!” she squeaked, scrambling into the threadbare lawn. It wouldn’t afford much protection, having been washed so often it was practically sheer. If she could see the shadow of her nipples, then so could Bay. She clapped an arm across her chest.

      “Yes. Consider the alternative. Death by hanging, and the ropes would not be silk, my dove. But I find I cannot do it.”

      She looked down at her bare feet. It was too much to ask for her boots back. “Th-thank you.”

      “Don’t thank me quite yet. I’ll come up with some alternative, but I find it’s difficult to think on an empty stomach. In a few minutes Mrs. Kelly is bringing the dinner you so thoughtfully planned.”

      Charlotte realized she was starving. She’d been too nervous to eat much breakfast and had to watch Mr. Peachtree tuck into his lunch with one hand as he held his little gun on her with the other. He’d had difficulty cutting his meat, which only served him right. She heard the rattle of dishes as Mrs. Kelly climbed the stairs.

      “Here, Mrs. Kelly, let me help you.” Bay sprinted from the room to take the heavy tray from the housekeeper. Charlotte snatched a brass candlestick from the mantel, concealed it under her voluminous nightgown and sat down at the cozy little table in the corner. Who knew when she could access enough poison to fell a man Bay’s size? Nothing ventured, nothing gained, her mama always said. Bay came back carrying a silver tray heaped with all the delicious things she had requested. Charlotte kept her lips pressed together so her drool would not escape.

      Mrs. Kelly stood in the doorway, giving her an accusatory eye. “Sir Michael, I hope you don’t mind I served these courses all at once. A woman my age can’t be too careful on the stairs, you know. The desserts are downstairs chilling. Please ring when you’re ready.”

      “I can go down and fetch it,” Charlotte said, her voice scratchy.

      “Aye, and stab me with one of my own knives and run off, no doubt.”

      “I’d never harm you,” Charlotte said truthfully.

      Bay began to place morsels of food on a plate for her. As if she were still in the nursery, he cut everything into bite-size pieces with the one knife that had come on the tray. Charlotte hoped she would be allowed a fork, but she was hungry enough to eat with her fingers and lick them off to get every last smear and crumb.

      “I was going to feed you as you lay tied on the bed.” He handed her a silver fork.

      “I would have spit the food back at you.” Charlotte shoved an inch of asparagus in her mouth. Crisp, the very taste of green. Divine.

      “I was rather afraid of that. I don’t know where you learned your manners.”

      “My manners are perfectly unobjectionable!” Charlotte said through a mouthful of salmon and puff pastry. Or they would be if she were not trapped here. Her mama had been a stickler for propriety. She watched as Bay held a rough shell between his fingers and slipped an oyster into his mouth. His eyes half closed, he swirled the meat around his tongue, making a little sucking sound. Perhaps it was he who had the abominable manners. She closed her legs together tight to stop the betraying ache between them. She knew perfectly well what else Bay could do with that tongue. And rather hoped he would do it again.

      Mrs. Kelly had outdone herself on this lovers’ supper. Each portion was small yet perfect—six succulent oysters each, one fillet of chicken, a tender salmon pie the size of her fist. Champagne fizzed in the flutes that had been wrapped in their starched napkins. Charlotte fingered the fabric. Should Bay destroy all her caps, she could fashion something out of the table linens.

      The food was so delectable there was little opportunity for conversation. Bay reveled in each bite, pausing only to give her looks that were steeped in sin. When their plates were empty, he stacked the dishes on the tray. “I’ll fetch the dessert. You won’t do anything stupid, will you?”

      Charlotte brushed against the cold candlestick that was lodged against one thigh. “Of course not,” she said, as scornfully as possible. Let him think he had won her over with a hot meal and a few sultry gazes, not to mention the hours she’d spent lashed to the masts of the bed.

      As soon as he left, she stationed herself behind the door, testing the weight of the weapon. Charlotte would need two hands for the job. She didn’t plan to kill him, just whack him a bit to make him insensible so she could dress and escape. Then she’d have to make a detour into the back garden for her footwear. It was inconveniently dark now, but she supposed if she had to, she could run through the streets of London barefoot.

      She racked her brain thinking of whom she might turn to in her hour of need. George, perhaps. True, he was very married with several children, but it was indirectly his fault that she was in Jane Street to begin with. If he hadn’t ruined Deborah, she wouldn’t have chosen a career as a courtesan and dragged Charlotte along with her.

      She could never go to Robert.

      Whistling! Bay was whistling as he came up the stairs. How very considerate of him to give her sufficient warning. She gripped the candlestick over her head. In a second it would come down on his.

      “Charlie? How did you know my favorite—”

      With a ferocious cry, she struck out. She would have been more accurate if only she had kept her eyes open, but she had ever had a distaste for blood and mayhem. She managed only a glancing blow on his shoulder, enough for the figs to bounce from their bowl and roll to the floor in a creamy puddle instead of Bay’s body. She found herself pressed up against the wall by man and silver tray, the scalloped edges of which dug into her stomach. “Ouch!”

      “I can see,” said Bay, his face thunderous, “I was mistaken taking you at your word about refraining from stupidity. Let’s see now. Perpetration of fraud and entrapment, two instances of theft, and now attempted murder. I begin to think you have a low opinion of me, Charlie.”

      “I wasn’t going to murder you, just knock you out,” Charlotte said sullenly. “It’s only what you deserve, keeping me a prisoner here and torturing me.”

      “Torture?” His smile was wide and terrifying. “You haven’t begun to see torture yet. Did I tell you I was a guest of some French outlaws for a week? A very long week. It was most instructive.” With a vicious little shove, he pushed the tray against her, then brought it to the table. He popped a petit four into his mouth and chewed.

      Charlotte stayed rooted to the floor, knowing if she tried to run he’d be on her in a minute. She realized she still clutched the candlestick in both hands. Bay was so confident of her clumsiness he hadn’t even bothered to take it away from her. Lifting her chin, she glided across the floor to put it back on the mantel, lessening the effect a bit when she squelched a fig under her left foot.

      “I want to be arrested,” she announced. “Newgate will be a haven of respectability compared to Jane Street. Keeping company with the lowest criminals for a lifetime is preferable to spending one more day with you.”

      “You wound me.” He was eating a slice of almond torte now, licking his fingers. “Care for some dessert? Mrs. Kelly really is a treasure.”

      “I want nothing from you but my freedom!” she cried. “You are inhuman! I assure you I am completely innocent of conspiring with Deborah. And she won’t give tuppence to get me out of here. She’s got what she wants now. I doubt she even remembers she has a sister.”

      “Now,