Chapter Eleven
Three days later, Pamela, seated in the study, going through the menus for the following day, could not quite believe how easily she had settled into her new life as a partner, both in business and as Damian’s lover.
She enjoyed both aspects of her life. Preparing for the parties at the house, making sure they ran properly, was her first priority. Overseeing both the new cook and the rather dramatic Chandon was a challenge she also enjoyed and tested her organisational abilities to the full. Watching her nest egg grow in the ledger accounting for her part of the profits was especially satisfying.
The cottage she had imagined in her mind was no longer a vague fanciful daydream. It was now a possibility which she would soon turn into reality. If only she did not have such nagging doubts about the amount of money their guests were spending.
At least they were not getting as badly dipped as at first. After the evening when she had expressed reservations about the enormous pile of vowels they had accepted, the number had dwindled to very few.
When she enquired about it of Monsieur Phillippe, he had said that she was right to be concerned about the issue, because when they sold those vowels to a money lender, they were hugely discounted. It really was not worth their while to accept IOUs from those who likely were unable to pay their debts immediately, if ever. The fact that Damian and Monsieur Phillippe had listened to and acted on her concern had pleased her enormously.
One consequence of this new policy was that the number of people attending the parties had fallen. Not dramatically, but noticeably.
She glanced down her list of what was in the pantry and decided that the only thing she need order were peas.
The wine order, which was in Damian’s purview, had arrived the day before and had been safely put away in the cellars. Fresh-cut flowers for the hall had been delivered this morning and she had arranged them in vases herself. Everything else she required was on hand.
‘Good morning, my dear.’ Damian’s deep voice sent a zing of pleasure deep to her core. It always did.
She turned from her papers to see him standing in the doorway, hat in hand, his hair damp and slicked back, cheeks slightly reddened by the weather and his dark gaze warming when she returned his smile.
She had been expecting him and had dressed accordingly. She had purchased several new fashionable gowns now that she no longer wore her servant’s garb and cook’s apron.
‘Good morning,’ she replied, unable to contain her broad smile of welcome. ‘All is well?’
‘It is. Apart from the weather.’ He set his hat and gloves on his desk. ‘I really must get out of these wet things, it is raining cats and dogs out there.’
She realised that while his redingote must have kept his shoulders dry, his pantaloons were soaked to the knees. She began unbuttoning his coat, to help him get if off.
‘Speaking of dogs,’ she said, ‘where is yours?’
‘I left Oddy in town. He and the boot boy have made friends, thank heavens, and since I will only be away for two nights, he will be perfectly all right.’
‘Only two nights.’ She could not keep the disappointment out of her voice, no matter how hard she tried.
‘Tomorrow will be our last party here.’
She gasped and stepped back. That she had not expected. ‘The last?’
‘Before Christmas, at least. Many people will be leaving London for their country estates or be busy with other holiday events. Even this week I received a number of declines to our invitation due to other social events.’ He shrugged out of his coat and flung it over a chair. ‘Besides, I have decided to throw a grand ball at Rake House.’
Rake House was his London town house in Grosvenor Square. That was where he lived when he wasn’t here at the estate. He had told her that it was undergoing renovations and unfit for entertaining.
‘I see.’ Her heart felt heavy. She looked forward to the parties, particularly since it meant he would spend a few days with her. ‘When will the parties here resume?’ And what on earth was she to do with herself until they did?
‘I am not sure they will.’
Her stomach dropped away. What on earth could he mean? The earth seemed to drop beneath her feet. She grabbed his arm. ‘Why? What is wrong?’
He pulled her close, briefly kissed her cheek, smiling cheerfully, seemingly unaware of her surge of anxiety. ‘We can discuss all this tomorrow night when Pip is here. Naturally I will need your assistance at the ball. Let me go and get out of these wet things.’ He hurried off.
Her chest tightened. It was almost as if he was feeling guilty. And what did he mean about her assisting with the ball?
And how typical of a man to make a dramatic announcement of what sounded like the end of their partnership and then disappear without explaining.
It really would not do.
Her mind in a whirl, she delivered her order for peas to the new cook, who would drop it off with the greengrocer on her way home, and went upstairs in search of Damian.
She entered his chamber without knocking, slamming the door behind her.
He was naked and rubbing at his hair with a towel.
He looked magnificent, broad shoulders, long limbs, dark hair everywhere.
He lowered the towel and gazed at her. His male member hardened and lengthened and rose to stand erect against his belly.
Her body stirred the way it always did when she saw him in all his glory and ready for her.
‘Oh, you are pleased to see me,’ she murmured, her anger dissipating, her breath quickening.
He laughed and in two strides was across the room and holding her in his arms. ‘What a naughty wench you are.’
She reached down and cupped his testes, revelling in their delightfully heavy weight.
He groaned and rubbed his shaft against her hip in an explicitly suggestive thrust.
Feeling the surge of wetness between her thighs, she widened her stance in invitation.
He pulled up her skirts and entered her with one swift thrust. She leaned back against the door and held tight to his shoulders as a pleasure flooded through her body.
With him naked and her fully clothed it felt so erotic.
She reached down to squeeze his hard round bum with one hand while holding tight to his shoulder with the other. She kissed his neck, then nipped it.
With his hands flat on the door, and her pinned against it, he thrust into her hard and fast and...
Pleasure flooded through her even as he reached his own climax.
Somehow he managed to stop her from sinking to the floor and carried her to the bed. They lay side by side, panting.
‘Devil take it,’ he said. ‘I had intended to make love to you after dinner. Long and slow.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘You undo all my good resolutions.’
‘There is no need to forgo your plan,’ she teased. ‘I am sure you will be ready again by then.’
Oh, goodness, what was she doing? She had almost forgotten her purpose for coming up to see him. As always passion was her master.
But she was calmer now. And ready to listen to his explanation of his earlier remarks.
She trailed a finger through the crisp curls on his chest. ‘What did you mean about never having any more parties here?’
‘Oh, so that is why you came is it? Not to ravish me.’
She chuckled softly. She loved the way he accepted who she was. ‘I was actually going to suggest you might want me to bring up hot water to bathe, since you got a soaking. But, yes, I did have an ulterior motive.’
He grabbed her wandering hand and brought her fingers to his lips. ‘At least you are honest.’
‘Would you?’
He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Would I what?’
‘Like me to fetch water for a bath.’
‘If anyone is going to fetch water, it will be me,’ he growled, nibbling her ear. The arousal he had satisfied a few moments before stirred again.
‘Don’t,’ she whispered. ‘You know what that does to me.’
He chuckled. ‘All right. But only because it is too soon for me. Although there are all those other ways we can resolve the problem.’ As he had shown her more than once.
Whereas Alan had been horrified by how easily she was aroused by the slightest touch, even suggesting there might be something wrong with her, Damian thought it wonderful.
‘And you won’t be entertaining here any more?’ she asked tentatively, with a feeling of dread rising up to clutch at her heart.
He sighed. ‘The parties are losing their cachet. It is no more than I expected. What was wicked and interesting has become pedestrian and ordinary. Soon enough the ton will move on to some new novelty. I would sooner leave them while they still want more than become a has-been.’
She shivered at the thought. Both at the tawdry image he invoked and at the thought of what this news meant. Their business partnership would end. But what about them? Their future. She had not looked beyond each day, until now, preferring to enjoy what she and Damian had, rather than look to what might lay ahead. Would he want her to remain here? Cook for...for whom, if there were not to be any more parties? Her heart seemed to miss a beat. ‘What will we do?’
‘You may do whatever you wish.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You are rich now. You have choices.’
Was he saying they would no longer be together? The thought shocked her. Sent a piercing pain straight to her heart as if she had been struck by something sharp.
He had never made her any promises. Indeed, if she thought about it, he had almost deliberately avoided talking about the future until now. As she had. Because they both knew there was no future. She was not the sort of woman a nobleman could marry. She had been mistress to two men now. And thoroughly enjoyed it, if she was to be honest.
But now, when it was clear they would likely soon go their separate ways, she could only wish things could be different. That she could be different.
Choices. He made it sound as if it was a good thing. But there was one choice she did not have. To go back and start again. She tried to sound happy, not miserable. ‘So I do.’
She hoped her misery did not colour her words.
Damian hadn’t thought breaking the news to Pamela would be easy, but he had not expected it to be so damnably difficult. Or that he would feel quite so guilty. Or feel a sense of loss. But then he had glimpsed all of the future.
She took a deep breath as if steadying herself. ‘Let us make sure your Christmas ball is the best party any of them have ever attended. Really leave them wanting more.’ The bravery in her voice caused his heart to seize as if it had been stabbed by a knife.
He wanted to hug her and tell her everything would be fine. But that would be an outright lie. He never lied when he could tell the truth. Or at least some of it.
‘That’s the ticket,’ he said. ‘You do not know what the future will bring.’ He knew. Some of it.
‘When is your ball to be held?’
‘In three weeks’ time. It will be one of the biggest social events of the season. A masquerade, of course.’
It would also be the last time anyone in London would admit to knowing him, if it all went well.
‘You will act as my hostess, of course.’
She rose up on her elbow, looking down at him, her expression angry. ‘Certainly not. That will not do at all. Everyone will recognise me as the woman who runs your gambling hell. Your ball will be considered beyond the pale, should you attempt to foist me off on the ton. No one will attend.’
He sat up with a frown and cupped her cheek in his hand. ‘None of my guests has ever seen your face.’ He kissed the tip of her nose.
She jerked away. ‘It will take them but a moment to recognise me. It is impossible.’
He lay back down and stretched. ‘Leave it with me. Nothing is impossible.’
‘I mean it. I will help you from behind the scenes, but that is all I will do.’ She lay down with her head on his shoulder and was quiet for a while. ‘Will there be gambling, the same as here?’ She wrinkled her nose, no doubt thinking there were those among the ton who would likely not be impressed.
‘There will be a card room. It is expected. But nothing like our parties here. Just tables available for people to play cards. No croupiers.’
She chuckled. ‘No special rooms upstairs, either. We don’t want to shock all the old denizens.’
But that was exactly what would happen, but for a completely different reason.
She snuggled closer, her lithe body fitting along his side, her leg resting on his thigh in a most erotic manner.
His body hardened. ‘We will go over the details later—right now I have other things on my mind.’ He rolled towards her and kissed her cheek.
She glanced down at where his erection pressed against her thigh. ‘So I see.’
Such an earthy woman. Direct. Honest. Incredibly passionate. He was going to miss her terribly when they parted. And that was not all he would miss. He would miss her companionship. A strange pang caught at his heart.
Not once in his adult life had he felt any regret about ending an affair.
For some reason Pamela was different. It was almost as if they were made for each other. He shook his head at himself for his maudlin thoughts.
She was not the woman for him. Their pasts made it impossible.
She reached for him.
‘Slowly does it,’ he murmured. He wanted to savour what might be some of their last moments together. ‘Let us take our time. I want you out of those clothes first.’
The next evening, the three of them sat in his study counting the proceeds of the last party Damian would ever hold at this house.
‘What will you do with Rake Hall, now that you won’t be holding any more parties?’ Pamela asked once the ledgers were closed.
He couldn’t sell the house, because of the entail. ‘The farm already has a tenant, so I suppose I will put in in the hands of an agent and try to rent it out also.’
‘You do not want to live in it yourself? You must have so many memories of your childhood here.’
Pamela had an uncomfortable way of getting to the heart of things that troubled him.
‘I was very young when I left here. Most of my youthful memories are from France.’
A stricken expression crossed her face. ‘Will you return to France, then?’
‘Perhaps. I am not sure when, though. I thought I might travel to the Americas.’
‘America is a wonderful country,’ Pip said. ‘I have a cousin in Canada. He writes of its vastness. There is a lot of opportunity, I think.’
‘It is so far away. It will take weeks to get there.’ She sounded sad.
‘Many weeks,’ Pip agreed.
‘Especially during the winter,’ Damian added. ‘I hear the Atlantic storms are quite fierce.’
A shudder shook her slight frame. ‘I prefer to remain on dry land.’ She looked unhappy.
As unhappy as he’d begun to feel these past few days. He half wished she hadn’t been so easy to find. It would have been easier if the Vicar had left behind a son, instead of a daughter. A very beautiful daughter who... Regrets had no place in his thoughts.
There was nothing he could do, even if he wanted to, except take comfort in the fact that she would not be left destitute. What he must do was focus on his plans
‘Pamela, you will travel to London with me tomorrow,’ he said. ‘There are a great many arrangements to be made if the ball is to be a success. In addition, you will need several new gowns.’
‘Why? I told you, I do not plan to go out in public.’
‘Damian tells me that you fear you will be recognised,’ Pip said.
‘I do not fear it, I know it. Many of your guests have met me over these past few months.’
‘Not if you listen to me. Wear a dark wig. A touch of make-up, a change of accent, not even your mother will know you. Trust me in this.’ He looked very pleased with himself.
She looked to Damian for his opinion.
‘It will only be for a couple of weeks,’ he said, with an encouraging smile. ‘I will introduce you to all as a distant cousin acting as my hostess. I certainly hate to think of you shut up in the house, when we could be going about together.’
Despite being clearly tempted, Pamela still looked doubtful. ‘Your distant cousin?’
‘My distant widowed cousin. We will give you a new name, change your appearance, and no one will know the difference.’
‘I can darken your eyelashes a touch and your brows, add a beauty spot,’ Pip continued, clearly enthused. ‘Indeed, you will not know yourself.’
‘Do not forget,’ Damian added, ‘you have been masked all this time. It is quite likely you would not be recognised even without these changes.’
‘You sound as if you have experience in such matters,’ Pamela said to Pip, clearly intrigued by the idea.
‘Ma mère, she was an actress,’ he said. ‘I spent many hours as a child watching her put on her maquillage. Sometimes even helping her.’
‘Oh. I see.’
‘I see you think I am not respectable,’ Pip said with an easy chuckle.
‘Not at all. For some reason I thought you were of noble birth.’
He shrugged. ‘It is possible. On my father’s side. But how is it one could know?’
‘It doesn’t matter one whit to me,’ Damian said. ‘You are my friend.’
‘New clothes will make a difference, too. They must be the height of fashion. You will see. You will dazzle them into blindness.’
She smothered a laugh as if the idea was madness, but Damian could see she was beginning to weaken. After all, it was a chance for her to shine.
He felt slightly ill at the thought of all that brightness he saw in her eyes being snuffed out in an instant.
Dammit. He would not think like that.
She hesitated, then finally nodded.
Instead of feeling delighted, he felt...sad.
‘So,’ Damian said, forcing himself to sound carefree, ‘it is decided. We will close the house for the season and you will travel up to town with me tomorrow.’
‘The furniture should be put under holland covers,’ she said. ‘The pantry emptied and the remaining food donated to those in need.’
‘Do not worry about it. I will put all in the hands of my agent.’
‘Wonderful,’ she said. ‘Then all I need to do is pack.’
‘Exactly,’ Damian said. He pulled her close and kissed her lips. ‘But not tonight. It has been a long day and I need you in your bed.’
Her gaze turned hot.
Pip threw up a hand. ‘Excuse me. I will retire. I bid you goodnight.’
He closed the safe, locked it and left.
‘Poor Pip,’ Pamela said. ‘He needs a wife.’
‘I think he would be horrified by the very idea. He is too much of a butterfly to ever settle down.’
Pamela laughed.
Damien reached for her hand. ‘Come here, my lovely. I have been looking forward to holding you in my arms all day.’
And that really was the absolute truth.
Pamela clung to the side of Damian’s curricle as they bowled along the frosty country lanes with high hedges and tight corners at a pace she could only describe as foolhardy. His vehicle was of the high-perch sort. Exceedingly fashionable among young blades, but, in her view, exceedingly unstable.
Damian must have sensed her concern because he snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer. ‘Do not fear, my dear, I am an excellent driver.’
‘You cannot possibly know what is around the next corner.’ she said, ‘You are going too fast.’
‘If there is something around the next corner, there is lots of room to pass. I have travelled this road many, many times and not once have I run into problems.’
Even so he slowed their pace.
For which she was grateful.
She was grateful for a lot of things. The improvement in her financial stability, the passion she had found in his arms, the joy she had found in his company, even though it was coloured by the sadness of loss. She could not deny she would miss him. Or that the thought of him leaving made her heart ache.
She could not imagine wanting another man, the way she wanted Damian.
What she had felt for Alan paled in comparison for the emotions twisting her heart every time she thought of Damian’s departure.
Then she really must not think. It was simply too painful.
At the next junction, a finger post pointed one way to London and the other to Brighton. They had reached the main road. Twenty miles to London. By mail coach the journey always seemed interminable, but in this vehicle it would take no time at all.
The highway was wider and straighter than the country lane and she felt able to relax in her seat and enjoy the journey.
A mail coach lumbering in the other direction reminded her of the discomforts she had endured travelling from one position of employment to another. Now she was enjoying the comforts of a well-sprung vehicle that ate up the miles and provided lovely views of the countryside.
The horse settled into a trot and Damian manoeuvred around several slower vehicles with ease and skill.
‘It is a long time since I was in London,’ she said to fill the silence.
‘Did you miss it?’
‘Not at all. I prefer the country.’
He grimaced. ‘I prefer the city.’
‘Why is that?’
‘There is too much solitude in the country. I like people. You never speak of your family. Do you not miss them?’
She froze. How to answer such a question? ‘There is only my mother left and she married again. I do not particularly like her new husband.’
‘Because he replaced your father?’
She sighed. ‘Perhaps. It annoys me, how she fawns over him. She never did so with my father. They were always arguing.’
‘About what did they argue?’
‘I was not party to their discussions. I mostly heard heated voices, but I believe it was about money. Father was a hopeless spendthrift. For the most part, Mother managed the finances. Except now and then and he would spend money without discussing it with her. Then they would argue. Anyway, Mother does not approve of me and my choices, so I am better off as I am.’
‘I would give anything to speak with my mother again.’ He sounded terribly sad. ‘She died not long after we arrived in France.’
She touched his arm in sympathy. ‘How old were you?’
‘Ten.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘It was a difficult time. My father never got over the loss.’
‘Whereas my mother happily skipped on to the next man who would keep her in the style to which she had become accustomed.’ She could not keep the bitterness out of her voice.
‘You resent her for marrying again.’
She huffed out a breath. ‘I thought at the very least, she should have waited out the mourning period. I can’t even think where she might have met him, to be honest.’
‘She did well to capture an earl. He doesn’t seem like a bad man to me.’
Startled, she stared at him. ‘Do you know my stepfather?’
‘I have met him once or twice at social events.’
Why had he never said anything? ‘And my mother?’
‘We were not introduced, but she was pointed out to me quite recently as being the widow of the late Reverend Lamb. There is a family resemblance and I put two and two together.’
‘Oh.’
‘She looked to be in fine fettle, if you are wondering,’ he said.
‘I was not.’ She tried to rein in her anger.
‘So you do not think she chose well?’
He seemed to understand her concerns without her saying anything. She sighed. ‘I do not know what to think. I feel as though it is a betrayal of my father. And yet she has a right to be happy. Perhaps in time I will get used to it.’ While she had seen no evidence of it, she sometimes had the sense that her mother and the Earl had known each other for a long time. As if they had secrets.
She could never forget how her father had collapsed during their last argument. It was hard not to blame her mother for his untimely death.
And then there was the way Mother had tried to marry her off to a rather elderly friend of her new husband. A man in need of an heir. Her mother could at least have stood up for her against her stepfather.
There was a pause, as if he was waiting for her to tell him more. For a moment, the full story was on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed the urge to unburden herself. While her mother might have sided with her husband against Pamela, making her life with them untenable, it was none of Damian’s business.
‘This part of the country is very beautiful,’ she said, instead ‘But rather hilly.’
‘It is. We will stop at Streatham to rest the horse and for us to take some refreshment.’
An extravagance. No doubt he could afford it, given how much he won from his fellow peers. It was too bad that she had joined his enterprise such a short time before he brought it to a conclusion. Still, all good things came to an end eventually and she had put away a nice little nest egg. One that would keep her comfortable for a long time into the future, if she was careful.
‘Will you miss Rake Hall when you leave?’
She really could not understand anyone wanting to abandon their ancestral home. Her father had been a younger son and had never owned a home of his own. The vicarage had been theirs as long as Papa lived and it had been very dear. Being forced to leave had been a terrible sadness.
‘I haven’t spent enough time there to miss it,’ he said.
‘But you did live there as a child.’
‘I think I mentioned before that I scarcely remember those days.’
‘Or you do not wish to?’
His grip tightened on the reins and the horse broke stride. ‘Easy,’ he said softly.
The horse settled.
‘I do not remember them,’ he said, his voice tight, ‘because they are more like a dream than reality. My life changed a great deal when we arrived in France.’
‘In what way?’
‘It is a long story of little interest and here we are at the Red Lion.’
They had indeed arrived at the inn. As they pulled into the courtyard of the old Tudor building with its timbered walls and red-tiled roof, an ostler ran to the horse’s head.
The man touched his forelock. ‘I got him, Yer Lordship,’ he said, looking at Pamela with curiosity.
How stupid of her. She should have asked Monsieur Phillippe to help her with her disguise before she left for Town. Or travelled in a closed carriage. Stupid indeed.
Damian jumped down and helped Pamela to alight.
The innkeeper bustled out and his eyebrows rose to his hairline as he saw Pamela.
‘Mrs Clark and I would like a private parlour,’ Damian said, using the name they had decided upon for his widowed cousin. There were several branches of Clark in his family.
The innkeeper bowed. ‘Certainly, My Lord.’
They followed the innkeeper inside.