Chapter Seven
Safe in her own room, Pamela unpinned her hair and set to work drying it with a towel. Inside, she was shaking. Mortified.
Alan had been right when he said there was something wrong with her. He’d been shocked at what he called her lasciviousness. He said her carnal appetites went far beyond what he would have expected from a lady. And this, after they had engaged in what she had thought was the most wonderous feelings she had ever experienced.
She recalled how in the throes of passions she had taken control of their lovemaking, rolling on top of him and...
She cut the thoughts off.
Terrified that he would not want to marry her, if he found her too unbridled, after that she had tried to restrain her unnatural passion, to be less responsive and more ladylike.
And now she had done it again. She had kissed Damian. The sensation of the brush of his warm firm lips against her skin remained like an indelible imprint.
On her lips. Humming in her body... Reminding her...
How could she feel so much when all he had done was kiss her cheek?
She went hot, then cold at the recollection of his look of shock and the way the atmosphere between them had turned awkward.
There really was something wrong with her. Some sort of aberration in her nature. Other women—other ladies, she corrected—did not rouse the way she did when kissing. Alan had assured her of this.
She had tried her best to control these sensations, to conquer her unnatural yearnings, but as demonstrated in those few moments with Damian, she had failed miserably.
Her hands trembled as she touched her lips. She had not imagined that he had returned her kiss with enthusiasm. Gently, yes. Hesitantly, yes. But there was no mistaking their mutual spark of attraction.
Clearly, she had let a handsome face get the better of good sense. Yet his male beauty wasn’t the source of his allure. Not for her. It was something else. Something she had the feeling he tried to hide from the world. Kindness? Was that what she saw in him?
Certainly, he was kind in his deeds. Look at the consideration he showed for the people who worked for him. And how caring he had been with the dog, despite his denials.
She liked him. A great deal more than she should. And he seemed to like her. But if she gave in to the passions roiling inside her, he would no doubt feel the same sort of distaste Alan had felt and it would ruin everything.
She would lose his friendship. She could not bear the idea of him turning away in disgust.
And since she could not trust herself around him, from now on she really would maintain a proper distance. Keep everything strictly business and avoid any further slips.
A knock on the door brought her to her feet. ‘Who is it?’
Oh, how stupid. They were the only two people in the house.
‘Dart.’
‘One moment.’ She scooped the scattered clothing and bundled them behind the sofa, then opened the door to see him with, one arm resting high on the doorframe, looking down at her, his dark hair tousled, his gaze intense. The man was too gorgeous for words. Breathtaking.
She clung to what little remained of her sanity. ‘Yes, My Lord?’ Her voice shook a little. She sounded breathless. ‘Please, come in.’ She stepped back to allow him to pass. ‘How is the dog? Well settled?’
He paced to the window and then turned with a gesture of defeat. ‘The stubborn animal refuses to remain in the stables. It is now happily ensconced beside the fire in my study.’
‘Oh.’ She tried not to chuckle at his chagrin.
‘I will enquire for its owner in the village tomorrow, but that was not what I wanted to discuss. I came to apologise.’
She stared at him, her heart sinking oddly. ‘For what?’
‘For allowing myself such ungentlemanly conduct—’
‘No, indeed! I turned a brotherly peck on the cheek into...’ heat rushed into her face ‘...into something more.’
‘Brotherly?’ He stared at her. ‘I can assure you, it wasn’t in the least bit brotherly.’
She swallowed. ‘I thought you might think I was far too forward for kissing you back as I did.’
A wicked smile lit his face and sent shivers down her spine. ‘I liked it. I wanted you to do it again.’
Her toes curled into the carpet. Oh, goodness, she hadn’t put on her slippers.
He stalked towards her and brushed her hair back from her face, peering at her expression, and what he saw seemed to take the worry from his gaze.
‘I think you and I have been dancing around each other for quite some time.’
He drew close, took her hand and rubbed his thumb over her knuckles.
‘I think we have. I should probably hand in my notice.’
‘Why?’
‘I am your employee. A servant. It is not fitting.’ Not the full truth. But it would do to keep him at bay. She hoped.
‘Sit,’ he said and drew her down on the sofa.
She perched on the edge. If her heart had been racing before, now it seemed ready to gallop out of her chest. He did not let go of her hand. And she did not pull it away.
She could not, did not want to give up the feel of his skin on hers. Her body hummed with pleasure at his touch.
‘Let me say, firstly, you have become much more than a servant,’ he said. ‘You have become indispensable to the success of my endeavour here. The staff is happier than they have ever been. The guests are happy. The tables are more profitable than ever. You may think I have not noticed the way you have made things run more smoothly, but I have.’
Oh. This was about the club. Not about... She shook off her feeling of disappointment. He appreciated her work. She should be pleased.
She had actually thought he might not like the changes she had wrought, making sure some of the young men did not dip too deeply, teasing them into good spirits when they lost and celebrating the occasions when they won. The very rare occasions.
‘Thank you. Your words mean a great deal.’
‘I wondered if you would like to become a partner, with me and Pip.’
‘A partner?’ She stared at him blankly. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected such an offer. As usual, her thoughts had been focused on far more carnal matters. Shame filled her.
He must have taken her silence for doubt because he quickly added, ‘Don’t answer now. Think about it. We will discuss more at dinner.’
A vision of her little cottage in the country flashed into her head. It was larger than before. A great deal larger. Was it possible that such a dream could become a reality?
He got up with a smile. ‘I should leave you to dress.’
She winced. Right. She was still in her dressing gown.
He lifted a lock of hair from where it draped over her shoulder and rubbed it between his finger and thumb. ‘If I may say so, your hair is quite beautiful.’
Speechless, she watched him leave.
Never in her life had she felt quite so confused. One moment he was talking business, the next he was offering compliments intended to make her blush.
She wasn’t sure if she was on her head or her heels. And, truth to tell, she was feeling like a woman for the first time in a long time.
Was it possible she was losing her heart, when she had sworn she would never do so again? Or was she just missing the pleasures of the flesh?
Knowing herself, the latter was more likely.
Damien put down his knife and fork and lifted his glass. ‘My compliments to the chef. That was absolutely delicious.’
Happiness made her heart feel lighter. ‘Thank you. I am glad you enjoyed it. I expect you are used to a great many more dishes when Monsieur Chandon prepares your meals, but there is no one here to eat leftovers.’
He glanced down at a pair of entreating eyes. ‘Except this dratted dog.’
She smiled. ‘Well, yes. But I don’t think he has a very discerning palate. He would be just as happy with raw meat.’
Damien grinned. ‘Without a doubt. And I am just as happy with a few plates of delicious food, than a whole table full of stuff I do not recognise covered in slimy sauces that taste nasty.’
‘Oh, no. I am sure Monsieur Chandon does not make anything so unappealing.’
He grunted. ‘I like food I can recognise by names I know.’
‘Hmm. Then I hope you don’t dislike the dessert I have made.’
‘Apple pie?’ he said hopefully.
‘Eclair, with a chestnut purée filling.’
She got up and went to the sideboard and brought back two chocolate-topped oblongs.
‘I love eclairs,’ he said. He had spent many afternoons gazing longingly at a tray of them in the window of a nearby patisserie in Marseilles. Watching them disappear and never able to afford a taste—unless he managed to steal one.
He grimaced. ‘I like them with custard inside, though. I don’t know about chestnuts.’
‘You won’t know, until you try them.’ She placed the plate in front of him.
He cut into the pastry with the edge of his fork. ‘Mrs Lamb, or may I call you Pamela?’
‘You may. But only when we are in private, My Lord,’ she said primly. He liked prim. It was very sensual. At least with regard to her.
‘Then you must call me Damian.’ He ate a mouthful of the dessert. It was light, it was chocolate and the creamy filling was like nothing he had ever tasted. It was delicate and rich and nutty. ‘Oh, good Lord.’
Her eyes widened. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘I have never tasted anything like it. It is absolutely amazing.’ He finished the rest of it. ‘Is there another.’
She laughed and got up. ‘I thought you said you couldn’t eat another bite.’
‘That was before I tried this.’
She put another one on his plate and sat down. ‘I have a feeling you were going to ask me something before we got on to the subject of dessert.’
He finished the most amazing pastry down to the last crumb. He forced himself not to ask for another.
‘I am sure you guessed I was going to ask if you had considered my offer.’
‘With regard to the partnership?’
He leaned his elbows on the table and leant forward. ‘Yes.’
‘I gave it some thought while I was cooking. I am not opposed to the idea and I certainly appreciate the honour you are doing me by asking...’ She took a deep breath. How did she explain her misgivings?
‘But?’
‘I still do not understand why you would wish to reduce your own profits for no benefit that I can see. I am already undertaking the work you need of me. Usually a partnership requires some sort of equal financial investment. I have very little to offer in that regard.’
Of course. He certainly could not make it sound like some sort of charity. ‘Naturally, you will no longer receive wages, but rather a draw from the profits the same way Pip and I do.’
‘Should there not be some sort of legal undertaking? A guarantee that I would not make any less than I do under our current agreement?’
‘Naturally. If you agree to this plan, I will contact my solicitor and have him draw up the agreement.’
She frowned. Was she going to turn him down? He really hoped not. ‘Do you have other concerns?’
‘There are things going on in this house, other than gambling. I see couples leaving the ballroom and returning throughout the course of the evening. I know they go upstairs and I have strong suspicion they pay for the privilege. There must be something amiss or it would not be done so secretively.’
‘Ah, that.’
‘Yes, that! Not to mention the giggles of the maids when they speak of cleaning and tidying the rooms up.’
He frowned. ‘The girls are not supposed to discuss what goes on in those rooms. Indeed, it is why we all wear masks at my parties. Discretion is the watchword and one of the reasons the ton attend.’
‘They said not one word. Just giggled and shushed each other. And I did not ask them to explain. However, I do not see how I could become a partner in a business when I am not fully informed of what the business is. I will not mince words. I will have nothing to do with loose women.’
Without a doubt, she was nobody’s fool. ‘Of course. As a partner, you would not be kept in the dark about any aspect of the business.’
‘I would need full disclosure before coming to any decision.’
She was definitely intrigued, but would she be shocked? It was a gamble. She might pack her bags and leave. He thought not. Well, it was time to roll the die.
‘Why don’t I show you? Then you can make a decision.’
She looked surprised, as if she had expected an argument.
He rose to his feet. ‘Are you ready? I just need to collect the keys from my study.’
As they walked along the corridor together, he deliberately matched his steps to hers so that she neither felt hurried nor as if he was dawdling for her sake.
In his study, the dog lay on a carpet in front of the fire. The animal opened one eye, thumped its tail in a very desultory manner as a way of greeting them and went back to sleep.
‘He really is making himself comfortable,’ she said.
Dart groaned. ‘He has no shame.’
She laughed.
Her laughter made something inside him feel lighter. He liked it when she laughed.
Damian picked up the ring of keys from the table and a candlestick.
The dog raised its head.
‘Stay,’ Damien said.
The dog lowered its head with a sigh.
Damian escorted her up the main staircase.
Pamela’s heart was beating a little too fast as they climbed the stairs, not the servants’ stairs she had crept up the first time she had visited this floor, but the main staircase. It wasn’t the climb making her breathless. She was about to discover the secrets of this house and she was both excited and worried.
Damian hesitated upon entering the corridor then, rather than choosing the first door they came to, he put a key in the lock of the second one.
She peered into the darkness. Damian plucked a candle from the wall lamp and used it to light several torchières in the corners of what proved to be a room clearly meant for bathing. A large square tub sat on a dais in the middle of the room, with a canopy of heavy red fabric which puddled on the floor at each of its four corners. Towels and bottles of perfumes and oils covered a table against the wall. There were cushions on the floor and an assortment of silk dressing gowns hanging on a stand in the corner.
She looked around in astonishment. ‘You said these were withdrawing rooms, but I did not expect them to contain baths.’
He smiled gently. ‘I believe I said that this is where my guests came when they needed a little privacy.’
‘Couples come here to bathe together?’
He shrugged. ‘Among other things.’
‘Oh.’ It dawned on her what these other things might be. ‘In the bath? How—?’ She covered her mouth with her hand before she said anything she would regret.
He clearly was trying not to laugh. ‘It is challenging, but most enjoyable.’
‘This is the sort of thing they do in a bawdy house. You said—’
‘No. The ladies and gentlemen arrive together. Some are wives. Some are lovers. I do not question them. Whatever arrangements they make, financial or otherwise, are nothing to do with me. They simply pay for the use of the key. That ensures only one couple is in here at a time.’
‘Are all the rooms like this one?’
‘They all have different...themes.’
‘Themes?’
He huffed out a breath. ‘The themes are based around fantasies. There are some common ones and some not so common. I simply provide the venue.’
Themes? She tried to imagine what those might be.
Damian must have taken her silence as disapproval because he gave her a hard look. ‘This is a way for people to indulge in their fantasies, to play sensual games, without the fear of embarrassing others in their lives, such as servants and other family members.’
Sensual games? She had never heard of such a thing. ‘But surely there are other...places they can go for this sort of thing?’ She swallowed. Was she really having this sort of discussion with a man and her employer?
‘It is certainly possible to satisfy certain desires at a house of ill repute. Have you ever been to one?’
Her jaw dropped. She bridled. ‘Of course not.’
‘I didn’t think so. Well, let me tell you, they tend to be none too clean and the women are likely not as healthy as they should be. Whereas here, a couple attending my party can have a nice clean room and they know each other. Some of those who avail themselves of these rooms are husbands and wives.’
Her jaw dropped.
But she knew he was right. She had seen them. Did women enjoy these games? Had Alan been wrong about her after all? ‘I see.’
What did she ‘see’? She certainly looked decidedly flushed and, yes, just a tiny bit shocked. Whether it was at what he was telling her, or her own reaction to it, he wasn’t quite sure. He had a feeling, though, that it was the latter.
Well, she would be shocked, if she felt some sort of response. She was an innocent. And he was intent on leading her down a dark path.
Guilt rolled over him.
He could end this now. Forget the need for justice and send her back to her kitchen, her reputation and innocence intact.
The image of his mother’s face flashed before his eyes. Her sadness. Her bitterness. Her lingering death.
His resolve hardened. It wasn’t right that those who had destroyed their family should live their comfortable lives on the proceeds of what his family had lost.
He had vowed to his father that no matter what, he would see justice done and visit the sins of the fathers upon the children, as was right.
Had not their parents’ wicked deeds been visited upon him as a child? Had any one of them ever given a thought to the pain they had caused him?
Now was not the time to weaken. Not when everything was falling into place. This woman meant nothing to him, apart from being a means to an end.
‘Would you like to see more?’ The expression on her face showed intrigue, even if she remained a little nervous.
He sorted through his keys. He opened the door to the room he always thought of as the most ridiculous, though it had proved very popular. A bed, shaped like a baby’s cradle but big enough for an adult, took up centre stage. There were lacy curtains at the window, rattles and a baby bottle and large-sized nappies folded neatly on a chest. Everything one might find in a nursery except on a larger scale.
‘Here they play mother and baby, or nursey and baby or some such.’
‘Oh.’ She stifled a laugh. Clearly, she also thought it ludicrous.
He continued down the corridor. He stood in front of the door at the far end. It held the most grown-up sort of games. Something he didn’t mind playing once in a while, as long as he was the one in control. It was also very popular.
He paused, key in hand.
This one might be a bit too much.
‘This one is a little more risqué. Perhaps we should save it for another day.’
Wide-eyed, she stared at him.
Clearly she was tempted, but also concerned. He certainly did not want to scare her off. He waited for her decision.
‘It is getting rather late,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Perhaps another time would be best.’
‘I don’t want you to think I am hiding things from you.’
‘No. No. Not at all. This has been most illuminative.’
In a way, he was disappointed that she had retreated, but it really was probably just as well. ‘Then it is enough for tonight?’
‘Yes. I think I would like to retire now. You have given me a great deal to think about.’
‘Please do not take too long to consider my offer. I should like to have this settled before I return to London tomorrow. I will need to see my solicitor and arrange to have the necessary paperwork drawn up.’
‘You are leaving tomorrow?’
She sounded regretful. As if she would miss him. Good. ‘For a day or so. As is usual.’
‘Of course.’
He held out his arm. ‘Let me escort you to your chamber.’
After a little hesitation, she took his arm and they walked back down the way they had come up.
He wished he could tell what she was thinking. Perhaps he should have waited to show her these rooms. Yet his instincts said she would have baulked at his offer if he had tried to put her off.
They arrived at her door.
She smiled up at him. ‘Will you take the dog to London with you? He will miss you when you’re gone.’
He gazed at her hopeful expression. ‘I was thinking I would drop into the village shop and see if anyone knows who owns him.’
She nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Did you want me to leave him with you? For company?’
‘No. I don’t think he would stay. I was just wondering what you were planning. What if no one claims him?’
‘Then he will travel to London with me, I suppose.’
‘I am sure he will enjoy that.’ She chuckled. A low husky sound that strummed chords in his body and made his blood run hot.
‘And what about you? Will you miss me?’
Her gaze dropped to the floor.
He tipped her chin up gently with one finger. ‘Will you?’ he murmured, his voice huskier than he expected as a sense of longing twisted deep in his chest.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. ‘I prefer it when you are here.’
‘Because you are lonely?’ He ought to have thought about that.
‘Not at all. I do not mind my own company. But I find myself wondering about what you are doing when you are in London.’
As he found himself wondering about her from time to time. Too many times.
‘Did I tell you how much I enjoyed our walk today? I don’t think I have enjoyed a day so much in a long time.’
Even the flickering light of the candle in the sconce by the door could not hide the way she coloured up at his words.
‘I enjoyed it also,’ she said softly.
Was she remembering their kiss? It seemed to hover between them. A memory filled with joy.
Her lips parted slightly on a sigh. He could not resist. He bent his head and brushed those delicate lips with his own. When she angled her head for better access, he tasted her lovely mouth with the tip of his tongue.
She made a small sound in the back of her throat and to his utter delight she wound her arms around his body, pressing close and kissed him back.
His body responded instantly. Hardening with desire. A desire long pent up and simmering beneath the surface almost from the day they met.
Not something he wanted to admit.
He moved his mouth over hers, gently encouraging, and her lips parted, welcoming him to taste and explore the delicious depths.
Even through their layers of clothing he could feel her hands moving over his back, while her soft breasts pressed against his chest. He flicked her tongue with his and heard her slight groan of approval.
Her stance widened and he pressed his knee into the space, aware of her body arching into him.
Moments passed in deep sighs and heat.
He found the doorknob behind her and turned, kicking open the door with his foot, backing her into the room.
He raised his head, looking for... Reason came flooding back. He drew back a little, staring down into her face. Dazed eyes full of sensual promise gazed back at him.
‘Oh, my,’ she said.
Overcome by a strong desire to kiss her again, he closed his eyes briefly. He needed to take this slowly. She was, above everything else, a lady. An unmarried one at that. If he rushed his fences now, she would run like a startled hare.
He drew in one or two deep breaths, smiling down at her. ‘The perfect end to a perfect evening. Now I will bid you goodnight.’
‘I... Yes. Goodnight,’ she said, in barely more than a whisper.