Mistress By Mistake by Maggie Robinson Page A

heard voices and thought there might be an intruder.” Her explanation sounded lame even to her own ears.
    “Don’t you be worrying about the safety of Jane Street, Miss Fallon. Sir Michael will be here most nights to protect you. And the Jane Street gentlemen hire a night watchman. No one visits who doesn’t belong, if you get my meaning.”
    Oh, she got it. If people couldn’t get in without an entrée, people couldn’t get out without notice, either. She was already in a prison cell, only with tasteful décor—except for the paintings.
    Bay stood, rolling down his sleeves. “Well, if I have no takers, I’d best be off. I’ll see you ladies tomorrow. Late. I’m afraid Miss Fallon doesn’t care to dine with me, Mrs. Kelly, but I’ll probably rustle up a midnight snack. Good night.” He blew them all a kiss and let himself out the tradesmen’s door.
    Mrs. Kelly’s lips were set in disapproval. “That man needs to eat proper after all he’s been through, Miss Fallon. He has a fool of a French chef at the other house. Muck and rubbish he cooks and calls it gourmet .” To Charlotte’s amusement, Mrs. Kelly pronounced the ‘t’ at the end of the word. It was clear she disliked the chef and his language.
    “I might change my mind about his dining here, then,” Charlotte said, remembering the bit about knives. Mrs. Kelly looked sweet, but one never knew. “I’ll go upstairs now so you can go to bed.”
    Mrs. Kelly clucked. “Oh, sit down, dearie. I may be old, but I’m not deaf. Your belly’s empty. Irene, poke at the fire a little. It gets damp down here at night, Miss Fallon, but Sir Michael likes to come down anyway. Reminds him of home.”
    Charlotte stacked up the naughty cards. “You’ve know him since he was a boy?”
    “Oh, no. Not me. But my sister cooked for his grandmother for years before she passed. My sister, not his grandmother, although she’s gone now, too. Irene, the milk jug if you please.”
    “It’s terribly late,” Charlotte said, upset she was causing so much trouble. “Really, I know my way around a kitchen. I can get my own food.”
    “Nonsense. Sir Michael has hired us to take care of you and so we shall. Sit.”
    Charlotte sat and swallowed. “You don’t mind working here? Jane Street and its women are—are notorious.”
    Mrs. Kelly slathered butter on a chunk of bread. “Everybody needs to get by, dearie. Sir Michael’s ladies have all been easy to do for, except your sister if you’ll forgive me for saying so. I can’t like it that Mr. Bannister came around.”
    “How did he get by the night watchman?” Charlotte topped a slice of chicken with a sliver of cheese and chutney, folded it into the bread and chewed. Divine.
    “Came in the daytime, he did. That’s the hole in their grand security scheme. As if men can control themselves and their tallywags until dark. Of course, most of the Janes respect the gentlemen who’ve set them up here and don’t dally unless that’s what their gentlemen want them to do so they can watch. But your sister had other ideas.” Mrs. Kelly put the tart down on a linen napkin. “I suppose I can’t really blame her. She saw her chance to catch a husband. Lord knows, Sir Michael might never marry again, and he’s sure not to marry a whore. No offense.”
    Bread stuck in Charlotte’s throat. “Bay is married?”
    “Not anymore. The less said about that, the better.”
    Damn. This was not the time for Mrs. Kelly to rediscover her discretion. But the housekeeper kept busy and quiet putting platters and bowls away as Charlotte ate. Mrs. Kelly had already sent Irene off to bed, but was yawning herself.
    “Please let me do the washing up,” Charlotte said once she had drunk the last of the milk and eaten every morsel. “I live alone at home, you know.”
    “Well, if you’re sure—”
    “I am. And tell Irene not to worry about me in the morning. I don’t need chocolate in bed or anything. You should both sleep