The Once-a-Mistress Wife

The Once-a-Mistress Wife
Katherine Garbera

HIGH-SOCIETY SCANDALMary Duvall came back to Eastwick to claim her inheritance—not to rekindle a romantic relationship with millionaire Kane Brentwood! Years ago, she'd been content as the English lord's mistress. But when he took another woman as his wife, she swore she'd never surrender to him again.And now she has no choice but to resist his attempts at seduction: to gain her millions, she must avoid any hint of scandal. Kane may be used to getting what he wants, but Mary has no intention of giving in and facing the truth about her past—or the lies she once told…

The Once-a-Mistress Wife

Katherine Garbera

This book is dedicated to the ladies of Nation Drive—

Kim, Michele and Kathy—who’ve made me feel

welcome and at home in Texas.

Contents

Acknowledgments

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

Coming Next Month

Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to

Katherine Garbera for her contribution to the

SECRET LIVES OF SOCIETY WIVES miniseries.

Acknowledgments:

Thanks to the other Society Wives ladies

who made working on this book such a pleasure…

Maureen, Metsy, Pat, Alison and Bronwyn.

Also a special thanks to Wanda Ottewell and

Melissa Jeglinski, for asking me to participate

in this fun series!

One

Mary Duvall stood over the open casket of her grandfather, David Duvall. Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she kept them in check, very conscious that Grandfather David had always wanted her to be composed in public. That’s why she’d closed the doors to the viewing room and entered it alone.

The old Mary would have wept loudly and cried her grief with sobs and moans, doing everything in her power to get those emotions out. But now she buttoned them down. Ignored everything but the need to touch his face one last time.

She touched his cold, makeup-covered skin and shivered inside. She felt so alone. She was all alone now. Her parents had died years ago in a car accident—not that they’d ever been close. And her younger brother, their perfect child, had been in the car with them—also gone.

She liked the new life she was carving for herself in Eastwick, Connecticut, at her grandfather’s behest. She’d returned from Paris when she’d learned his health was failing. He’d offered to make her his heir if she proved she was no longer the rebellious wild child he remembered.

“I’m going to make you proud, Grandfather. No more embarrassment over my behavior.”

She leaned down, brushing her lips over his dry forehead and wishing for just one second that he could embrace her. Her childhood had been difficult to say the least and Grandfather David had been as disapproving as everyone else in the Duvall clan, but he’d always hugged her as she left.

He was the only one to ever do anything like that. She would miss him more than she’d realized.

A knock on the door interrupted her farewell.

She glanced at her watch. Damn, it was almost time for the public viewing. No doubt her cousins would be outside demanding some private time with a man they cared about only for his money.

Mary wanted to use the Duvall estate to benefit others. She intended to establish a trust that would be used to create neonatal units at hospitals in lower-income areas. She also hoped to sponsor an art-focused summer camp for underprivileged children. She had never been encouraged to paint as a child, even though her earliest memories were of having a paintbrush in her hand. She loved to create new worlds on canvas.

Her work was garnering attention in Europe and she enjoyed the money she’d made selling the serial rights to several of her pieces for a print series.

But for now, she had the viewing to get through. Before opening the door, she tucked the short note she’d written last night into the breast pocket of his suit, under his handkerchief, right over his heart.

Then she wiped the moisture from beneath her eyes and confronted her second cousins. Channing and Lorette Moorehead were the children of her grandfather’s sister.

“How touching. I almost believe you cared for the old man,” Channing said, escorting his sister Lorette to the casket.

“I did care for him,” Mary said.

“Then why did you spend so many years breaking his heart?” Lorette asked.