Chapter Nine
Pamela leaned back in her chair with a sigh.
‘Tired?’ Damian asked his voice solicitous.
‘A little,’ she admitted. Bone tired, if she was to tell the truth. It might look as if she might do nothing but float around chit-chatting with the guests, but keeping some of these men civil and in order required a great deal of stamina. As well as diplomacy.
‘Let me escort you to your chamber,’ he said. The kindness in his voice made her feel strangely tearful. It was a long time since anyone had really cared about how she felt. Mother had been too busy establishing herself in London society to really notice much of anything.
Damian helped her to her feet and walked her along the corridor. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘you really ought to move to one of the guest bedrooms. The bed in your current room is small and looks far from comfortable.’
‘I like being near the kitchen. It makes it easier to get up and get the fire going first thing.’
‘Hmmm. That is another thing. I think that you are really doing far too much. I am going to insist that we hire a new cook and relieve you of those duties.’
‘Oh. But—’
‘The cook would be under your supervision, of course. But you go to bed very late after each party and then you must be up very early to make breakfast and such. Lack of sleep must, in time, wear you down.’
It was true. There were some mornings after a party when it was hard to make herself rise and get on with her day. ‘Well...’
‘There is a chamber in the west wing of the house you could use. It is in pretty good shape. Your scullery maid can make it up and the London staff will add it to their bedmaking duties.’
The west wing was on the other side of the house to the rooms their guests used. It was the wing where he and Monsieur Phillippe slept.
Cooking first thing and then spending the evening tending to their guests was tiring, especially since they continued their work far into the early hours after everyone left. She glanced up at him. There was only concern in his expression. Concern for her. It warmed her. She had the urge to hug him for being so thoughtful.
‘You are right. It is tiring. Very well, let us hire a cook to replace me, if you think it is not too expensive.’
‘Not too expensive at all since we can’t have you looking haggard when our guests come, can we?’
‘What will the other girls think?’
‘It is not their business to think anything.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Besides, they are fully aware that you hold quite a different position in the household than you did when you first arrived.’
‘Hiring another full-time servant to work for what is really only three days a week seems unnecessarily expensive. I can continue to look after the stocking of the pantry and so on. Why don’t I hire someone from the village to come and cook on those evenings when the staff need feeding?’
He chuckled. ‘Always so careful with our money. But, yes, if you think that would work, I agree.’
They had reached the door to her chamber. She turned to face him. ‘Thank you for being so thoughtful.’
A faintly guilty look passed across his face. ‘I don’t deserve your thanks. It is more about what is good for our endeavour.’
He would never admit to being kind. He was the same when he was kind to the staff. He always brushed off any thanks.
Without thought, she rose up on her toes, put her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you all the same.’
In a second, his arms were about her waist. He pulled her close and covered her mouth with his in a deliciously gentle kiss.
His breathing was harsh in her ears, his arms strong around her back, but tender, holding her as if she was some sort of delicate flower.
She felt womanly and feminine.
She leaned into him, kissing him back, opening her mouth as their tongues tangled in a dance of passion. Heavenly, heavenly kisses. Her heart beat far too fast and she fell into the dizzyingly lovely melding of mouths and felt the hardness of his body pressed against hers.
It was all too brief.
He broke away, gazing down at her. His gaze was hot, but also stormy, as if he were angry. His shoulders were rigid.
Had her unbridled desire caused her to ruin things between them? ‘I am sorry,’ she whispered breathlessly. ‘I should not have...’
He gave a short sharp bow. ‘You are right. It was ill done of me.’
‘Oh, no. I did not... I mean...’ Why on earth was she stuttering and stammering as if her tongue was too large for her mouth? Perhaps because her heart was still hammering in her chest.
‘I will be driving up to London in the morning, please hire the cook as we discussed. Also have a woman from the village come and make up your new quarters while I am gone.’
‘Oh.’ Disappointment slowed everything to a crawl. ‘When will you return?’
‘In time for the next party, as usual.’ His tone was frigid, almost arctic, as if he resented her questioning him. It wasn’t as usual. He often stayed a few days after each party, having dinner with her each evening. It seemed that her kiss, her unwanted kiss, had ruined everything.
He reached around her and opened her door. ‘I had forgotten how small this room was. Barely space enough to swing a cat.’
‘I have been allocated worse,’ she blurted. ‘I find it cosy.’ It was private, which was always a luxury when you were a servant.
His gaze hardened. ‘I bid you goodnight, Pamela.’
He bowed and stalked away.
She watched him go. So tall. So manly.
What an idiot she was. The moment an attractive man came into her orbit, she could not control her desires. No wonder he had turned so cold. He must think her a wanton.
Heat washed through her at the thought of losing his good opinion as he must surely realise she was no lady.
Once more, embarrassment mixed with shame made her feel ill.
Clearly, she had done the right thing by leaving society. No doubt by now she would have made a fool of herself with some gentleman or other and caused her family a terrible scandal.
Obviously, she could not trust herself to behave in a ladylike fashion.
And now, located so close his bedroom, she was asking for trouble. The man was far too tempting for her carnal self.
And that was the problem. She was the problem. Something about her made a man forget he was a gentleman. And judging from the way he had withdrawn from her so abruptly, Dart also found her passion unnatural.
Unless she got herself under control, she was going to ruin everything.
No. She could not allow her proclivities to ruin her life. Would not.
No more kisses. No more passion. From now on it must be nothing but business.
Rain on the drive down to Rake Hall from London had soaked Damian to the skin.
Good.
He didn’t deserve comfort.
He had almost let a sweet little kiss make him change his mind about the future, to divert him from his purpose.
A few days away from Rake Hall had helped him put things in a proper perspective.
Pamela was attracted to him, as he had intended. The fact that he found her alluring, that he liked her, had no bearing on his objectives. He could not afford to be soft-hearted. He had promised his father that those who benefited from the destruction of their family would be suitably punished.
He forced himself to recall the way his mother had looked those last few terrible months and how his father had sunk into despair. He had been unable to do anything for his parents while they lived, but he could certainly keep his promise to them now in death.
He finished making his horse comfortable, made sure it had food and water and strode for the house.
Stripping off his wet cloak as he entered the front hall, he made for his study and a nip of brandy to warm him up.
He stopped on the threshold.
Pamela, head bent over a ledger, was occupying his chair.
Instead of her cook’s cap, her head was bare and her hair braided and twisted into ropes of gleaming chestnut.
Sensing his presence, she looked up. Her smile was hesitant, as if she was trying to judge his mood. ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You are a day earlier than I expected. I hoped to have this done before you arrived.’
‘This?’ he asked,
‘Yes. I have been working on these ledgers. They are a bit of a mess and I thought to sort them out for you.’ She frowned. ‘There are some odd entries that I do not quite understand, but I am sure you can explain.’ She turned the book towards him.
He glanced down and saw that she was talking about Long. The son of the man who, along with her father, had stolen his family’s wealth. He had been keeping track of the young man’s loans from the moneylender Damian had recommended. A man who acted for Damian and who was actually using Damian’s money to make the loans. And because of this, Long received a better rate of interest than he could obtain elsewhere. Thus ensuring Damian held all of his debts.
How very clever of her to notice those entries as being different.
‘What about them?’ he said casually.
‘I don’t understand how he can be in this much debt. It doesn’t seem to tally with his IOUs.’
Far too clever.
‘I do not know anything about it. We will have to ask Pip. Do not worry about it.’
She looked inclined to argue.
‘Did you manage to find a woman to do the cooking for the staff?’ he asked.
‘I did.’
‘Is she to your liking?’
‘She seems very competent. And she was very pleased to have the work. She does not mind at all that she will not live in.’
‘Excellent. I hope she cooks as well as you do or the staff will be disappointed.’
She brightened at his compliment. It pleased him more than it should have to see that sweet smile.
‘I actually had her make a couple of meals for me as a test before I offered her a position. She prepares good plain food. I am sure the staff will love it. And she is a very nice woman whose children are grown and who was very pleased to have a few days’ work every week.’
‘And have you settled into your new quarters? Are they to your liking?’
‘I have. Thank you. The bed is exceedingly comfortable.’ She flushed, as if embarrassed.
A buzz of excitement zinged through his veins at the thought of her in the middle of what he knew to be a large four-poster bed. He imagined all that gloriously coiffured hair of hers un-braided and free around her shoulders with that sweet smile on her face.
Too beautiful to bear thinking about.
‘I see.’
She looked a little puzzled. Probably because he had sounded too gruff. Too uninterested when normally he had no trouble striking exactly the right note with the ladies.
‘I am glad you find it meets your needs.’ That didn’t sound much better. He needed to call a halt to the awkwardness. ‘I hope you will excuse me, I have some letters to go through and some bills to pay. I am sure you have things to do elsewhere. I will see you at dinner. I assume Cook will be sending our dinner to the small drawing room as you did?’
She shivered very slightly, perhaps chilled by his cool tones.
Chill was what he needed, distance, if he was going to keep his sanity. At least until he was prepared for the final act of her downfall. And that required careful orchestration.
‘Yes, of course,’ she said hurriedly.
‘And you will join me, naturally.’ There, that sounded a little more like himself.
‘If you wish. Let me leave you in peace. I need to read through the menus I have prepared for Chandon. I can do that in my room.’ She hesitated. ‘That is, unless you would like to look at them. You know, approve them.’
‘I am happy to leave the issue of menus in your capable hands. Why keep a dog and bark oneself?’
He winced. Not exactly the jolly quip he had intended.
With a cool nod, she picked up a couple of pages from the desk and bid him farewell.
Curse it. He had not intended to sound dismissive, where was his easy address? His charm? When it came to her, when he needed it most, it seemed to desert him. It was because of her. She didn’t giggle or simper, the way many other ladies did. She was all business.
And yet, despite her air of competence and complete calm, he sensed a vulnerability in the depths of her gaze. Something, or someone, had hurt her in the past, though she tried very hard to hide it. Her bravery made him want to shield her from anything that might offer harm.
Though as far as he knew, the only person offering her harm was him. And he certainly had no intention of forgoing his revenge.
Absolutely not.
He had decided, had he not, that it was time to cease procrastinating and to forge ahead with his plan.
He just wished the idea didn’t make him feel quite so uncomfortable.
Pamela gazed at the remains of her dinner, trying to ignore that the gentleman opposite her had barely spoken a word to her throughout the meal. She would have done anything to have been able to turn the clock back and undo their kiss. That brief moment of madness outside her chamber door had ruined everything.
Perhaps if she had not kissed him with such fervour, then they would have continued on in the easy manner they had developed in the weeks since she had arrived. A professional and friendly relationship that she had come to enjoy. No, not only enjoy. That she had come to rely on.
Now it almost seemed he was regretting offering her a partnership. She’d kissed him twice now—he probably thought she was a woman of loose morals who likely should not be trusted in his business. Perhaps he would worry that she would respond in the same way with other men and somehow put their enterprise at risk.
Was she even sure in her own mind that she would not?
The idea was like a hard cold fist squeezing the air out of her lungs.
They had eaten most of their meal in an uneasy silence, apart from the obligatory polite niceties.
‘You are right, Pamela. It was ill done.’
She had gone over and over his words in her mind. He had ignored her forwardness twice now, but clearly she would not be given a third chance. Likely, if it was not for their written agreement, he would have been sending her on her way.
Well. She would make sure nothing like that ever happened again and, no matter how he behaved, she was going to continue as if nothing had happened.
‘Did you find dinner to your liking?’ she asked, unable to bear the heavy weight of silence any longer. ‘I thought our new cook, Mrs Maize, did very well.’
She winced at the tentative tone in her voice. She sounded as if she wasn’t actually sure. And she was.
‘Clearly you have informed Mrs Maize of my preferences.’
She had taken great pains to do so.
He put down his knife and fork and gazed at her intently. ‘The meal...’ his eyes twinkled briefly ‘...was not a patch on the food you yourself prepare, but I am prepared to accept it, if it means your spirits are revived. Judging by your looks this evening, this is indeed the case.’
For a moment she did not quite take his meaning. As his words sank in, her face heated. Oh, my Lord, she was blushing. And there was a stupid sort of girlish giggle lodged at the base of her throat.
She swallowed. ‘Thank you, My Lord.’
‘Come now, Pamela, did we not agree to used our given names?’
‘Yes, we did, Damian. I thank you for your compliment and for your forbearance. I agree there was a little too much salt in the soup and the chicken should have been a little more tender, but Mrs Maize is very willing to learn, so I am sure everything will soon be exactly to your liking.’
He leaned back. ‘If her desserts are anywhere near as good as yours, I shall be a happy man.’
Happy.
That had been her goal, had it not, to make him happy. Or at least satisfied that he had not made the wrong decision.
She was determined to make this new venture a success. Determined to save enough to make her dream a reality.
He rose and went to the side table. ‘May I help you to some trifle?’
‘You may indeed.’
He set a dish before her and sat down. ‘They say the proof of the pudding is in the eating,’ he said with a boyish smile.
Just like that the atmosphere changed. They were easy with each other again, as if the kiss had never been.
‘They do. You try it first. I will wait with bated breath.’
He chuckled. ‘Are you worried I will send you back to the kitchen, if it does not pass muster?’
‘I would like to see you try.’
He laughed heartily and raised his spoon to his lips.
‘You will give your honest opinion,’ she said with mock severity.
He tasted the confection. For a second, he paused, looking at her, laughter in his eyes like some sort of naughty lad bent on mischief. ‘Excellent. All is as it should be.’
She let go her breath. ‘As I expected. You must know I would not hire anyone who was not up to scratch.’
He reached across to where her hand rested on the table and took it in his. ‘I trust you implicitly, my dear. You will pardon my teasing. You were looking just a fraction anxious.’
‘Because you are so unpredictable.’ She gasped. She had not intended to speak her mind right at that moment.
His eyes widened. Surprise, not anger. ‘In what way?’
Heat travelled up from her chest to her face. But she had started this and it was too late to stop. ‘One minute you are, well, all warm and friendly. The next you are as cold as ice. I do not know whether I am on my head or my heels.’
He leaned back and picked up his glass of red wine, looked at it reflectively and put it down again, as if he had come to some sort of decision.
‘I find myself in somewhat of a quandary. I—’ His voice was little more than a murmur.
She leaned forward the better to hear.
‘You are a beautiful woman, Pamela. I was your employer and now we are business partners, yet against all social mores, I find myself drawn to you. I was trying...’ There was a long pause.
‘To protect me.’ she put in.
‘To protect us both, I suppose. I have a position in society to uphold.’
She frowned. Bewildered. ‘As the owner of a hell?’
He chuckled. ‘Of course not. I told you. This is not a hell. These are parties, to which only the noblest of families are invited. To receive an invitation to one of my parties is to be recognised as a member of la crème de la crème.’
She shook her head. ‘I do not understand.’
‘As one of the wealthiest men in England, I have no need to win their money. Therefore, they can trust that I will not cheat them.’
How could that be when this house was decaying from neglect? And if he didn’t need the money, then why do it at all? Why count every penny they won as if it was precious? ‘Wealthiest?’ She could not help the disbelief in her tone.
‘Are you giving me the lie?’ he asked mildly, but there was an edge to his voice.
‘I simply do not understand why you would hold gambling parties if you do not need to make money from them. Why not simply go to White’s or Boodle’s or any one of a number of respectable gentlemen’s clubs?’
‘There. You see. You have identified exactly why.’
‘I have?’
He got up from his seat, came around to her and helped her out of the chair and led her to the sofa by the fire. ‘Let me pour you a brandy.’
She occasionally took a brandy with him after dinner, so his offer did not come as a surprise. ‘Yes. Thank you.’
He went to the console and selected one of the decanters. ‘You said,’ he said as he poured, ‘gentlemen’s clubs’. No ladies allowed. Some friends and I were discussing this one evening at a ball and one of the ladies indicated that she thought it unfair that ladies were excluded. From there, we talked of opening places like White’s to the ladies, much to the horror of the other men present.’
He handed her the glass and sat beside her with a brief lift of his glass in a toast.
She sipped at the brandy and savoured the smooth flavour.
‘One lady suggested that they open a ladies’ club,’ he continued. ‘No men allowed. Tit for tat. But where is the fun in that? I wagered that I could open a club where both sexes could mingle and enjoy together what normally they must enjoy apart.’
‘But they have card parties all the time. Routs. Drums. Balls. There is always gambling.’
‘Under the watchful eye of matchmaking mamas, dowdy dowagers and worried wives. Social strictures. Society’s reins. Here, there is only fun in elegant surroundings and no questions asked. Anonymous fun that otherwise can only be had in sordid surroundings. The French are masters of it.’
‘The rooms upstairs.’
‘Indeed. Discreet rooms for couples who wish to avail themselves of the delights within them.’
‘Those silly games are really such a draw?’
‘Now you are a partner, I suppose you ought to be aware of all we have on offer.’
The dark note in his voice sent a shiver of awareness down her back. She took a quick sip of her brandy and realised she had swallowed it all in one mouthful.
It slid down her throat, warm and bracing. ‘Yes. I suppose I should.’
She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt.
He finished his drink. ‘Come.’ He took her hand and together they walked upstairs.