The Prince's Mistress

The earl's footsteps echoed loudly throughout the foyer, swept down the salon and met Honor's ear with muted thuds. Nervous energy shot through her, making her hands tremble slightly. She clasped them in front of her at the waist to still the tell-tale quiver. She strode determinedly towards the sound, but slowed as she took in the visage that was the new Earl of Carlisle. Mikhail Petrovich Howard, Earl of Carlisle was beautiful. His thick black hair was a touch too long to be fashionable and his indigo eyes were shot with a starburst of white that gave them an air of frost. He had a straight Roman nose that would have looked too large on any other man, but it suited him perfectly. His lips were full and dark, almost as though he had just finished kissing someone. He was tall, much taller than the men that stood on either side of him. His skin was lightly tanned and his body was muscled, which indicated that he spent more time pursuing active pleasures instead of the more sedentary activities that plagued the upper classes.  His clothing was dark, expensive, and tailored to perfection. A lazy arrogance seemed to emanate from him, as if the world bowed to him and owed him its very existence. He was the ruler of all he surveyed and in the wilds of Northumbria, there was no one to gainsay him. His eyes met hers and his steps halted for the briefest of moments, then continued at a slower gait, but just as sure as before. She heard one of his companions say jovially, "Carlisle, you didn't say you had a mistress installed here." The earl looked down at his handsome companion and replied, "I don't. I believe she is a servant of some sort." The friend's smile grew wider, "I do love good service." His friend's comment stopped Honor abruptly, but the earl closed the last space between them until he was close to her; so close that when she met his eyes, she could see the lines of frost in them. He lifted one eyebrow and asked, "And who might you be?" The men at his side had halted as well, both looking on with interest. Before Honor could reply, Davenport, Castlemaine's erstwhile butler, appeared from the adjoining salon and introduced her, "My lord, this is Mrs. Reed, your housekeeper. Mrs. Reed, Mikhail Howard, Earl of Carlisle." Honor curtseyed politely, "My lord." The earl inclined his head towards her and turned to his friends. He gestured toward the first of his companions who despite the fact that it was immaculate, was brushing a speck of invisible dust from his sleeve as if Honor and Davenport were not worth his time. "This is Lord Tremayne," Carlisle next indicated a very solid looking man with dark brown hair and a bushy mustache, "And this is Lord Humphreys." Carlisle instructed Davenport to see to his guests comfort. Davenport escorted the two men up the grand staircase, leaving Honor alone with Carlisle. He regarded her with blank eyes that indicated nothing of what he thought. "Mrs. Reed, please have tea sent to the library. I will need to see you there in half an hour to discuss some arrangements for this week." "Yes, your lordship." Honor curtseyed once more and set off to the kitchens. The cook, Caron, was busy directing his small army of helpers and didn't see Honor at first. She stood quietly, politely allowing him to finish speaking before clearing her throat loudly and drawing his attention. His face clouded immediately before he thundered, "Why was I not told his lordship was arriving with guests! I have nothing prepared--nothing!" Honor gave him a pleading smile and cajoled, "Caron, I know that you've had no warning and I am sorry, but I had none either. I know you're brilliant and will have little trouble creating something that will do on such short notice. Just keep it simple with elegant touches and no one will be unhappy. In the meantime, his lordship would like tea in the library." He scowled, threw up his hands and began cursing under his breath in French. Honor didn't turn a hair at his profanity. Her father and his dissolute friends had said far worse and in English. In Honor's opinion, cursing was almost elegant in French. Hurrying down the stairs, Honor stepped into her quarters, which were lavish compared to the other servants. She had her own sitting room, bedroom and even a small water closet, a luxury for a servant. The old earl had spared no expense when rebuilding Castlemaine after a fire had destroyed the old manor house. He installed indoor plumbing and electricity that was powered by the lakes on his property. If it were not so remotely located, the house would have been the object of much wonder and speculation. As it was, it was a source of pride for the village surrounding it, but was too far from civilization to cause much of a stir. The old earl hadn't liked to entertain, despite the beauty and wonder of his home. He preferred to work in his laboratory or his greenhouse. Castlemaine was his private world and few had been invited to share it. He died over a year ago. It had been rumored that the house and title would revert back to the crown. The earl's sons had died without issue, one in a riding accident and the other from a fever. After the earl's death, the line had been traced and re-traced to find a legitimate heir until finally one was located in the most unexpected place--St. Petersburg, Russia. The story of how a Russian prince inherited an English earldom began with the old Earl of Carlisle's youngest brother, Charles Howard. He had married a wealthy Russian princess by the name of Sophia Petrovich. She came with an enormous dowry, but Charles died not long after the wedding under mysterious circumstances. There was no mention of offspring. The princess moved back to Russia immediately after his death. It was discovered that he had fathered a son by the name of Mikhail Petrovich after careful research and luck. Since the earl's brother had not been the heir nor the heir presumptive, his death was not looked into closely. His bride had been largely ignored, as her dowry returned to her after his death. However, when the attorney in charge of executing the earl's vast estate realized that he was in jeopardy of losing an enormous commission, he went to work hiring investigators to scour the countryside and beyond for any legitimate heir. No heir was brought to light within the first month of searching and he sent a man to St. Petersburg in desperation, but not expecting anything. The investigator had met stony silence at the palace and was told by a secretary that Charles Howard had no issue, but the investigator had felt a cold animosity behind the gaze of the secretary that didn't make sense. Why the angry disdain at the mention of Charles Howard? The investigator decided to check church records. After days of meticulous research he found a birth certificate for Mikhail Alexander Petrovsky Howard who was born in Saint Petersburg six months after Charles Howard's death. The parents were listed as Charles Howard and Sophia Petrovich. He had found the heir to the earldom. Locating the young man had been simple. Prince Mikhail Petrovich was well known for his lavish tastes, philandering ways and devastating charm. At eight and twenty, he should have been marrying the German princess he had been betrothed to since he had turned five, but instead he made his way through the beds of the Russian nobility. He was unimpressed by the news that he had inherited an English earldom. However, he did like the thought of visiting London and agreed to see to his inheritance. London had proven to be a welcome change for the handsome prince and he stayed on, ignoring his grandfather's urging to come home and marry. He had no desire to be saddled with a wife and insisted that he had responsibilities in London that needed attention. In truth, he did have responsibilities, but having been freed of his grandfather's prying eyes and having all the wealth, property and influence of an English earldom had proven to be too intoxicating for him to ignore. There were lovers to accumulate and adventures to be had. His exploits were known all throughout England and made their way to even the remote Northumbrian coast. It was whispered among the staff that he was a bastard and not entitled to the last name Howard, but such talk was discouraged by both Honor and Davenport as disrespectful. Still, the rumors about the young new earl persisted. Talk of his exploits in London abounded, most relating his affairs with beautiful and married women. The latest gossip detailed his affair with the Duchess of Shrewsbury and the duel that had resulted. The duke had lived, but talk of the illegal duel could not be silenced and prompted the hasty exit of the earl from London. Honor suspected that had it not been for the duel, the earl might never had visited the estate at all. It was just her bad luck that he had come. He had not sent anyone ahead to alert the staff of his arrival, but fortunately Honor kept the manor house immaculate at all times. She had closed the north wing because it was rarely used, but even it was thoroughly cleaned once a month to keep it from decay. No, it wasn't the house that worried Honor. It was the earl himself and his reaction to her. Honor was not the usual housekeeper and she had a sinking feeling that she was about to be taken to task over it and perhaps, lose her place. Many things made her an unlikely housekeeper. Her education could be overlooked or even thought of as useful, had she not been quite as beautiful as she was. Her lack of humility had been thought of as quirky and the old earl had been charmed by it. These things only made her a somewhat unique housekeeper. The thing that disqualified her from service and that she had to hide no matter what was that she was the daughter of a marquess. Honor hadn't aspired to be a housekeeper, nor had she wanted to deceive every person she met. She would have been happy to have a season in London, to marry, or even to have remained a spinster. She didn't have great aspirations in life, only simple ones that involved finding love and having children. She wanted a home and it didn't need to be grand. It only had to be happy. Unfortunately, any dreams she might have harbored had been destroyed when her father died and left her to the mercy of her uncle.