The Perfect Mistress. Victoria Alexander
“He would take you in his arms and kiss you long and hard in spite of your protests,” Harrison said. “The way he has wanted to do from the moment he met you!”
“That’s what you think a man like Ellsworth would do?”
“That’s what I know a man like Ellsworth would do.”
“And what about you, Harrison?” She stared up at him, knowing even as she said the words, these were dangerous waters. “What would a man like you do?”
“Me?” His gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips. “I would never take advantage of a beautiful woman on a darkened terrace.”
“Why not?”
“It would be … dishonorable.”
“And you are an honorable man?”
“Most certainly.”
“And you would never take advantage?”
“Never.”
“Not even if you thought that because of her ancestry she wouldn’t protest?”
“Not even then.” He paused. “And I would never think that.”
“But what if she wanted you to kiss her?”
Their gazes locked for a long moment. He turned and her heart sank. He took a step. Then paused. “Damnation, Julia!”
He swiveled back and without warning pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard and long and quite thoroughly until her knees weakened and she thought she might swoon in his arms …
THE
Perfect Mistress
VICTORIA ALEXANDER
ZEBRA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2011 by Cheryl Griffin
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eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-2244-2
eISBN-10: 1-4201-2244-4
First Printing: February 2011
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Contents
The Perfect Kiss
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
The End
I have no true regrets, Dear Reader. You should know that from the beginning. Oh, certainly, I have not always chosen as wisely as I should have. I have taken roads that might have been best ignored and made some decisions that, in hindsight, were not especially wise, but even the most egregious of those inevitably led to grand adventure. Indeed, one might say the more disastrous the choice, the grander the adventure.
I am under no illusions that what I now sit down to write will ever be read. The world is a far stuffier place than it was in my younger days. Still, I would like to have my life remembered in some fashion. So I take pen in hand to record my adventures. I dare not leave these memoirs to my children; they are entirely too proper and too concerned with the opinions of others to be trusted with my remembrances. They have never accepted the passion with which I choose to live my life; there is too much of their father in them to understand. Thus the estrangement between us for far too many years. I confess that perhaps that is indeed a regret, but there is nothing to be done about it now. If I had known my life would have caused such a rift I cannot in good conscience say I would have done anything differently, but I might have. Still, one never knows the consequences of one’s actions until it is too late.
I should add that my realistic view of my children, and their respective natures, in no way negates my love. They are who the world has shaped them to be. I have heard it said that while many qualities are passed from parent to child, it is as often true that some traits skip one or more generations. I do hope that the granddaughter I have never seen inherits from me the joy I have found in life and my spirit of adventure. It is with that wish that I leave this to her. Perhaps she will find a use for it someday, be that public dissemination or private perusal. At this writing, I am in my sixtieth year and she is far too young to understand a lifetime that may at first glance appear to be little more than filled with scandal but was, in truth, quite glorious. At least, I found it so.
I have decided to entitle this in a most immodest manner as my nature has grown less modest through the years. Indeed, I see no need for undue modesty. I am who I am, for good or ill. I hope you take pleasure in the perusal of my reminiscences, but if you find them too scandalous for enjoyment, I make no apologies. As I said, I have no regrets. So I shall call this work what I, for the most part, was: The Perfect Mistress.
from The Perfect Mistress,
the Memoirs of Lady Hermione Middlebury
London, 1885
“…