Chapter Eight
When Pamela brought the teapot into the servants’ hall the following morning, she stopped short on the threshold when she realised Dart had arrived and was already tucking into the scrambled eggs she’d prepared earlier, along with a slice of toast and some rashers of bacon. A book lay open beside his plate.
The sight of him was almost enough to make her regret her decision of the previous evening. The morning light from the high windows cast his face into chiselled relief, like that of a sculpture. His lithe elegant figure encased in forest green was a delight to the eye.
Her pulse quickened. While last night she had been determined to resist his allure, this morning, apparently, she was having trouble dredging up one reason why she should. She was no innocent miss with prospects of making a good marriage. Who would know what she did tucked away in the countryside?
Not that she should read much into that kiss. While delicious and enticing, it had been all too brief. He had withdrawn so swiftly she had the feeling he regretted it. Or perhaps—a flush of shame rose up from her chest—he thought, like Alan, that based on her responses she was unnaturally lascivious.
The memory of Alan’s faint air of distaste stung her anew. Never again would she show that side of herself and leave herself open to mockery.
She pasted a cool smile on her face and strode in.
He glanced up from his reading. ‘Good morning, Pamela.’
She jumped at the sound of her given name on his lips. It sounded so warm and friendly. She should never have agreed he might use her given name when they were alone. ‘Good morning, Damian.’
Strangely, she liked the way his name rolled off her tongue.
She poured tea for them both, filled her plate and sat down. It was then that she noticed the dog on his other side. It wasn’t begging exactly, but it did have a hopeful look in its eye.
‘We have a guest for breakfast,’ she said lightly.
‘This animal has not a scrap of good manners,’ Damian said. ‘I will be glad when I find its true owner.’
The dog was probably not going to be happy if that occurred.
They ate breakfast in silence, she sipping her tea and mentally planning menus and a list to send to the butcher as a means of blocking out thoughts about how handsome he looked freshly shaved and the way his hair gleamed beneath the candlelight, while he read his book.
Surprisingly, the silence was perfectly comfortable. Not a scrap of awkwardness.
And not a sly look in sight.
He closed his book and finished his tea. ‘Do you have an answer for me?’
Right up until that moment she had not been sure what she would say to his offer of a partnership, but his calm businesslike demeanour had helped her make up her mind. ‘Yes. Thank you. I would like to accept your offer of a partnership.’
‘Excellent.’ He rose and held out his hand. ‘Welcome to the business. I will have the papers drawn up at once.’
‘There is just one thing before I shake hands on it,’ she said.
His gaze sharpened. ‘What, pray?’
‘The contract needs to include something about the dissolution of the partnership, in case one or other of us wishes to leave. It should acknowledge each person’s investment. In my case, it will be my forgone wages.’
She watched him closely, wondering what he would say to her suggestion. She would never forget how angry her father had been when he had discovered that his wife had foolishly invested in a scheme that left the last ones to join paying their money to those who had set up the venture and there were no business profits to be had. Indeed, there had been no business.
Having no head for figures, her father had trusted his wife to manage the family finances and she had always done exceedingly well. That time, Mother had been completely hoodwinked.
Pamela did not understand it very well. He had not wanted to burden her with the details, but she had understood the concept of taking money from Peter to pay Paul and that in the end someone along the line would be out of pocket.
Damian looked thoughtful, as if considering the practical aspect of her proposal. At least he hadn’t dismissed her suggestion out of hand. If he had, she would have immediately refused to participate.
‘I will consult with my solicitor and show you what wording he suggests when I return,’ he said.
Inwardly, she breathed a sigh of relief. To her surprise, once she had made the decision to join the partnership, she realised she really wanted to be part of it. And the idea of the profits she would eventually make was dizzying.
Not only would she be a woman of substance, one who commanded respect, her future independence would be assured. She would not have to face the prospect of marriage to a man who might, like Alan, call her appetites unnatural.
Heat rushed to her face at the recollection. Her stomach fell away, leaving her feeling nauseous.
How she hated that feeling of shame. It made her feel small and worthless.
The new venture meant she never need endure it again. She would be financially self-sufficient and to the devil with any man who thought to denigrate her for her choice.
Three days later she had the contract in her hand.
‘Well?’ Damian said. ‘Does it meet with your approval?’
Pamela looked up from the contract Damian had presented to her upon his arrival from London. ‘It seems to cover all of the points we spoke of, though the language is rather difficult to follow.’
‘If you are concerned that I am trying to pull the wool over your eyes, please feel free to have your own solicitor take a look at it.’
His voice had a chilly edge as if she had somehow impugned his honour. Which she had, she supposed. Her own solicitor. What sort of cook had her own solicitor? She could ask her stepfather’s lawyer. But she had no doubt that he would be off, hot-footed, to tell her mother what she was up to and that would be the end of her foray into independence.
The thought of being forced into marriage made her shiver.
‘Oh, no,’ she said airily. ‘I don’t doubt it is all as you say.’ She signed it with a flourish.
‘I also took the liberty of visiting the employment agency,’ he continued. ‘I concluded your contract with them on your behalf. I will take the cost of the buy-out from your next draw.’
‘Perfect.’
He smiled and held out his hand. ‘Welcome to our partnership, Pamela. May we prosper.’
A niggle of doubt constricted her chest for a moment. What if she was making a huge mistake? What if she lost what little she had? It was too late for doubts.
She took his hand, warm, large and dry, and shook it. ‘Thank you, Damian. And now I must be getting along. I have a great deal to do before our guests arrive tomorrow.’
‘Since you are now a partner, I was thinking you should not need to cook for the staff and you should move to quarters more suitable for your new position.’
Oh, heavens. She surely didn’t want the world to know she was a partner. What if her mother learned of it? Right now, she was unknown, like the rest of the women who worked for him, and the mask kept her identity a secret. But she knew the ton. They would be far more curious about her if they thought she was of importance.
‘I think I would rather keep things as they are,’ she said. ‘There is no need for anyone to know that I have an interest in the endeavour, is there?’
For a second, she saw a shadow pass through his lovely brown gaze. Had she hurt his feelings?
Then he shrugged in that charmingly Gallic way of his. ‘If that is your wish.’
‘It is. However, I would like a little more help in the kitchen.’
He chuckled. ‘I would say we ought to vote on it, but I know Pip would vote with you, so, yes. Hire more help in the kitchen. And while we are on the subject of duties, I would very much like you to take over the bookkeeping. It is something you can be working on when I am in town. That is if you wouldn’t mind.’
‘It is a fair trade.’
The study door swung open.
The dog, tongue lolling, trotted in.
‘Oh.’ She looked at Damian. ‘You didn’t find his owner?’
Damian winced. ‘According to the innkeeper, he is a stray who showed up in the neighbourhood about a month ago. One of the locals in the taproom offered to shoot him. They say he’s been stealing chickens.’
‘And yet he brought the duck to you.’
‘I know. Very odd. Anyway, it seems he’s mine and he promised he would behave himself from now on since he is no longer starving.’
‘It is kind of you to give him a home.’
He made a gesture of dismissal. ‘It is stupid of me. I find myself needing to walk him in the morning in town, because he won’t let any of the footmen put a leash on him.’
She stifled a laugh. ‘Oh, dear.’
‘I thought I would leave him here with you, when I go up to London.’
She looked doubtfully at the dog gazing adoringly at his new master. ‘I suppose you could try. Have you given him a name?’
‘The Dog.’
‘Very original,’ she said drily. ‘I will see you at dinner. I am off to hire my kitchen maid.’
Damian watched Pamela leave his study with a vague feeling of sympathy.
The mouse had taken the cheese, now all that was required was for the trap to shut. It was too bad he liked her, when he had expected to despise her. Of his two victims, she was the one with the gumption.
He still hadn’t got to the bottom of exactly why she was hiring herself out as a cook. No doubt it was some kind of rebellion against her family, which was exactly the sort of thing a spoiled brat would do. Also likely the reason she didn’t want to advertise her role in their partnership.
Damian was in no hurry. Things like this needed to be accomplished with finesse and he still had one more mouse to catch. The young man was proving elusive.
But now that he had Pamela safely enmeshed, he could focus his efforts on the last of his enemies’ children.
The dog thumped its tail on the carpet.
‘No. I am not going to take you out,’ he said. ‘I have work to do.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘I suppose you do need some sort of name. How about Odysseus? I have a feeling you are a bit of a Trojan horse, old fellow.’
The dog whined.
‘Yes, it is a bit of a mouthful. Oddy for short.’
The dog wandered over to the mat beside the hearth, curled up in a ball and closed its eyes.
‘Oddy it is.’
Damian tucked the contract in his desk and opened his ledger. If he was going to pass the bookkeeping to Pamela, he ought to make sure it was current first. He sorted the bills into date order and began the tedious task of entering the amounts.
He only noticed the passage of time when he realised it was getting difficult to see properly as the light outside faded fast. He removed his spectacles and stretched.
Time to call it a day. ‘Come, Oddy, we will go and check on my horse.’ He had driven himself down in his curricle earlier in the day.
Oddy sprang up, keen and eager, his nose scenting the air.
Damian collected his coat and boots from the mud room. The scent of something delicious cooking permeated the air. Oddy headed in the direction of the smell.
‘Come,’ Damian said. If he followed the dog, he might be tempted to kiss his cook again and then he might never get out to see to his horse. Besides, Oddy needed to learn who was master here.
He headed for the stables and, with a last regretful look in the direction of the kitchen, Oddy followed.
Outside, clouds covered the evening sky, and only the dark shape of the stables remained visible. He needed a lamp. He unhooked the one beside the back door and almost jumped out of his skin when a form appeared in front of him.
‘Pamela? What are you doing?’
She held up a bunch of leaves. ‘I needed some sage for the chicken.’
‘You gave me quite a start.’ He glared at Oddy. ‘Why didn’t you let me know she was here?’
Oddy wagged his tail.
‘I am supposed to be here,’ Pamela said calmly and bent to pat the dog. ‘Dogs only warn about strangers.’
Why didn’t he know that? Because he had never had a dog, or at least not since he had left England, and he barely recalled his mother’s pug, who she’d had to leave behind with a friend.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘The stables. To make sure my horse has all it needs for the night.’
She nodded. ‘I meant to ask you earlier how many guests we are expecting tomorrow.’
‘Forty.’
‘That many?’
‘Our parties are so popular I am having to turn people away. I think forty is the maximum number we can entertain comfortably. I don’t want people complaining it’s a squeeze.’
‘Limiting the guest list will only make it all the more popular.’
‘And I can pick and choose who I want for a guest.’
‘The richer the better, I suppose.’
‘No. That would be crass. The key is to invite the most interesting people. Fill the room with a bunch of dullards and our days are numbered.’
‘You are very clever about all this.’
‘I have had lots of experience. Pip and I both have.’
‘While I am a mere babe in the woods. I am still not sure why you want me as a partner.’
‘Because you bring an element of the tasteful to the proceedings.’
She made a choking sound of smothered laughter. ‘You jest.’ Clearly she did not understand her own allure.
‘No.’
She shivered.
It was then that he realised she was not wearing any sort of outer garment except for her shawl.
‘Why are you not wearing a coat?’
‘I only slipped out for a handful of herbs.’
‘And now I have kept you talking. Go inside at once.’
She drew herself upright. ‘You have no right to order me about, My Lord.’
‘It is for your own good.’
She folded her arms over her chest. ‘I will decide what is for my own good, thank you.’
‘I see. I beg your pardon. Do as you please.’
‘I will.’ She moved around him and headed inside.
Damian stared after her for a moment. Up to now she had seemed rather pliant. This stand-your-ground sort of attitude was an interesting development.
Interesting and possibly dangerous.
Through the slits of her mask, Pamela watched Rake Hall’s guests slowly depart for home. As Damian had predicted, they were turning people away, some even arriving at the door without invitations.
Those, she left to Damian.
A couple of young men on the far side of the room raised their voices. She could see they were becoming belligerent. What was it about young men and brandy that made them argumentative?
It was Mr Long again. She’d had to intervene in an argument he had been having the previous week as well.
She sauntered over. ‘Mr Long and Mr Smith,’ she said, smiling. ‘How are you this evening? How nice to see you both again.’
Long, a portly young fellow with an over-long forelock that flopped in his eyes, turned his angry gaze on her. ‘We are having a discussion. Smith here thinks that Oxford is the better university when everyone knows that Cambridge is far superior.’
His words seemed a little slurred. ‘I see. It is a friendly argument then.’ She linked her arms through one each of theirs and steered them towards the nearest table while continuing to talk. ‘So you are both content that you received the best of education?’
They frowned.
‘I mean, I am assuming you are not intending to return to your studies?’ she said.
‘Lord, no,’ Smith said. ‘Glad to get it over and done with.’
‘Me, too,’ said Long. ‘My tutor was an absolute beast. If I saw him again, I would plant him a facer. Make no mistake.’
‘Mine sent me down for putting gin in the water jug in my second year.’
‘What a good lark,’ Long said, chuckling. ‘I got sent down for six months. For fighting. Pater was furious...’
She left them exchanging reminiscences and moved on.
‘Everything all right?’ a deep voice asked from behind.
She turned and smiled at Damian. ‘Yes. Just the usual disagreements about nothing. All forgotten in the blink of an eye. Mr Long seems a bit on the quarrelsome side tonight, though.’
Damian narrowed his gaze on the topic of their conversation. ‘Is he giving you trouble?’
‘Not really. He is easily distracted as seems to be typical of a young man feeling his oats.’
‘Don’t hesitate to call me if you need help.’
‘I will. He is a recent addition to the guest list, I think. I don’t recall seeing him before last week.’
‘You are right. His family is very well connected. It would have been difficult to refuse him. Though I will, if you deem it necessary.’
‘Not at all. If it happens again, I will have a quiet word with him.’
‘Great men stand in dread of your quiet word,’ Damian said with a twinkle in his eyes.
‘No. Surely not.’
‘Lord Stanley said he’s terrified of one of your garden bear jaws about his drinking.’
‘If he was terrified, he would stop,’ she said drily. ‘But I notice that he stays well within reasonable bounds since I had that talk with him.’
He put his arm through hers and they perambulated around the room. ‘He’s a sensible man.’ They stopped at the table where Long and Smith had started to gamble. The croupier deftly handled the die.
All seemed well. She smiled at Damian and he nodded and moved on.
Without warning, Long grabbed the croupier by the wrist. ‘Let me see those,’ he said.
‘Is there a problem?’ Pamela asked brightly.
‘She has been winning an awful lot,’ Long said truculently.
A mutter of disapproval rippled around the table.
Pamela winced at the belligerent tone. This needed to be nipped in the bud.
‘Perhaps you would like me to have the die broken open?’
Long must have caught the note of anger in her voice. ‘I...er...no. I was simply commenting on the bank’s good luck.’
It was a dreadful thing to accuse a gentleman of cheating at games of chance. It was a slur against his honour. Indeed, any man caught cheating could expect to be ostracised from polite society. And, whether innocent or guilty, was quite likely to issue a challenge to save face.
In this case, since the profits of the tables went to Damian, he was actually the one being accused of cheating, even if the girl was the one in charge of the table.
Pamela put a hand on Long’s arm, a light touch of her fingers. ‘I am sure your luck will change.’
Long turned his gaze on her and his lip curled slightly. ‘Well, it won’t, since I won’t be betting any more tonight.’ He swayed as if he was having trouble standing. He had clearly had more to drink that she had originally thought.
‘The dancing will start soon,’ she said. ‘Have you secured a dance with the lady of your choice? Ladies always get claimed very quickly.’
His gaze sharpened somewhat. ‘I choose to dance with you.’
‘I am sorry,’ she said, smiling at the drunken fool. ‘I do not dance.’
She didn’t need him tripping all over her feet. Or, worse yet, falling down. Besides, now she was a partner in the business, she never danced. Only the girls who worked at the tables danced with the gentlemen. And only if they wanted to. She doubted any of the girls would want to dance with this fellow.
‘Perhaps it is time you went home. Shall I have your carriage brought round?’
‘I came with Smith. He told me about the rooms upstairs. But I couldn’t find anyone to bring.’
Those blasted rooms. While she knew it was a draw for some of the men and that they often spent more money trying to impress the woman they brought, sometimes they were a source of conflict.
‘Perhaps you will bring a lady another time,’ she said.
He peered at her from under the hank of blond hair. ‘You and I could be a couple.’
‘No, we could not. I need to look after the guests.’
He leaned closer. ‘I am a guest. I want you to look after me.’ He grabbed her wrist and started pulling her towards the door.
In all these weeks, it was the first time any of the men had challenged her and certainly none had laid a hand on her.
She glanced up to find Damian already heading her way.
She smiled at him rather shakily as he drew close. ‘Mr Long, you know Lord Dart, do you not?’ she said, trying to make it sound like an ordinary introduction.
Long glowered at Damian. ‘Yes. It is in your pockets where my money ends up.’ His voice grew louder. ‘I was warned that the house always wins at Rake Hell.’
A few people close enough to hear gasped. And others began to draw closer to see what was going on. The ton loved a good scene as long as they weren’t the ones involved.
Damian eyed the flushed young man standing before him. He was going to deserve every bit of his comeuppance.
Indeed, one more word and he was going to find himself being called out. And that would suit Damian’s purpose even better than simply costing him his fortune. Not that he intended to kill the lad on the field of honour. He would simply make him look a complete and utter fool. It wasn’t hard to do, with such a spoiled brat.
‘Release Mrs Lamb’s arm, there’s a good fellow,’ he said softly, but with a voice full of icy determination.
Long wobbled on his feet. He took one look at Damian’s face and dropped Pamela’s arm as if it were hot.
So much for Long being any sort of worthy opponent.
Damian curled his lip. ‘Now, what is the problem?’
Long looked around at the staring faces. ‘I was saying that the bank here always wins.’
Damian shook his head and looked around at the gathering crowd. ‘Not true.’ He found the person he was looking for.
‘Lord Norris, did you not win one hundred guineas just last week?’
Norris grinned. ‘I did. Losing it all tonight, though.’
‘I did tell you last week to stop while you were ahead,’ Damian said, grinning at the fellow. ‘Not one to take advice, are you?’
Norris shook his head. ‘It will turn about, you will see.’ He headed back to the tables.
Others drifted away.
Pamela, who had looked frightened just moments before, now looked far more relaxed. She had been obviously glad to see him.
‘But that wasn’t what you were arguing about with Mrs Lamb, was it, Long? You were having a different kind of conversation.’
Pamela slipped away and left him to it.
Long hung his head. ‘I wanted her to take me to the rooms upstairs.’
Damian’s stomach tightened at the obvious insult. He wanted to throttle the fellow.
To his surprise, Pamela returned with Smith in tow. Long’s friend.
‘I am going home,’ Smith said, clearly primed by Pamela as to his role. ‘I have another party to attend.’
Long looked at him owlishly. ‘You do?’
‘Yes. A private party.’ He winked.
‘All right,’ Long said. ‘I will come with you.’ He gave an exaggerated bow to Pamela and Damian and left.
‘Young idiot,’ Pamela said.
‘I think he’s the sort that is likely to come to a sticky end. Did he lose a lot?’
Pamela shook her head. ‘I won’t know until later.’ The clock chimed midnight. ‘Anyway, it is time to start the dancing now.’
And just like clockwork, the tables emptied and the orchestra began to tune their instruments.
Pamela hurried off to make sure everything was in order and he and Pip collected the money they had won.
‘What was happening?’ Pip asked, clearly referring to the contretemps from a few minutes ago.
‘A bit of rudeness from one of our very important guests. I think it is almost time to call an end to the game,’ Damian said.
He didn’t want it getting out of hand.
When all the guests had departed, the three partners sat in Damian’s study with a glass of whisky in hand, while Pip counted the money and Damian worked on the IOUs. It had become a ritual with them since Damian had done it the first time so Pamela could see exactly what was going on. It had worked so well, they had continued meeting and counting after each party.
‘So many vowels,’ Pamela said, looking at the pile of scraps of paper scrawled with numbers and signatures.
Damien wrote down the numbers alongside the names.
‘I see Long lost a hundred pounds,’ he said. ‘That makes close to three hundred he owes us. I wonder if he can afford to pay?’
Damian hoped not. A man who couldn’t pay his debts had to leave the country.
Pip looked up. ‘He will have to borrow if not.’ He wrote an amount in the ledger and pushed the bundle of notes and coins to Pamela to double-check his counting.
Damien could not help watching the businesslike way Pamela tackled the task. Businesslike and incredibly feminine.
Pamela put down a pile of twenty-pound notes. ‘I don’t think he should be invited again. I am guessing he drank so much because he is scared.’
Damian shrugged. ‘As you wish. But my guess is he will take it very ill if he is not given the opportunity to win back some of what he lost.’
She looked concerned. ‘Perhaps you should speak to someone in his family about what is going on.’ She started counting the pile of guineas.
Damian gave her a hard look. ‘Why do you care so much about the fellow? He came close to insulting you.’
‘I believe the Longs were once friends with my family. It has been a great deal of time since I have seen any of them, of course, but I do not feel comfortable about letting him fall into a debt he might never be able to repay.’
‘He must repay,’ Damian said. ‘It is the rule.’
Either that or be forced to flee the country. What a satisfying result that would be.
Pip looked from one to the other. ‘Well, my dears, I am finis.’ He took the register from Pamela. ‘It is time for my bed. I am off to Town early tomorrow. If you have finished, Madame Lamb, I will put the money in the safe and collect it in the morning to take to the bank.’
Pamela compared his total with hers and nodded. ‘Please leave me twenty pounds in small denominations for purchases for the kitchen.’
He bowed. ‘Very well. It shall be as you wish.’