Chapter 4 #2
“Hello, darling,” Pauline said, gesturing him close with a slender white hand.
Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him ardently, holding him to her with surprising strength.
Damon jerked his head back and stared at her curiously.
There was a look on her face that he didn't like, a mixture of excitement and triumph, a glitter of anticipation in her dark brown eyes.
It seemed that she was preparing for battle…
and that she possessed a weapon that would guarantee her victory.
“Pauline, there's something I want to tell you—”
“I already know,” she interrupted calmly. “It's rather humiliating, you know, enduring the sneers and false pity of the ton, while they're all trying to be the first to tell me that you've developed an infatuation for some cheap little actress.”
“I didn't intend to embarrass you.”
“How clever of you to plan it for an evening when you knew I would be visiting my sister's family in the country! How was she, darling? It must have been thrilling to have such a celebrated tart in your bed—”
“Nothing happened between us.”
She laughed skeptically. “Really? So she's playing that game. I've used that tactic myself…remember? I made you wait a full month before allowing you to have me. Waiting makes the victory so much sweeter, doesn't it?”
Until that moment, Damon hadn't been certain of what he wanted from Pauline, or what his obligations to her might be.
She had been an entertaining companion for several months.
He had never lied to her, had never taken anything that wasn't willingly offered…
and he had paid handsomely for the privilege of being accepted into her bed.
Although he hadn't come here with the intention of breaking off their relationship, he knew now that his liaison with Pauline had grown stale.
They had never shared anything but physical pleasure.
No deeper understanding or intimacy had developed beyond that, and it never would.
“Why did you send for me?” he asked.
She stiffened at the new note in his voice, a cool disinterest he had never shown to her before. “I want to discuss your intentions, darling. Are you planning to make Jessica Wentworth your new mistress?”
“That isn't your concern.”
“You're going to leave me for a creature like her? She's nothing but a new toy, a pretty bauble that you'll soon tire of…and when you do, you'll return to me.”
Pauline's arrogance annoyed him. He had never allowed anyone to take him to task for anything he did, and he was hardly going to give Pauline that right. “If I do visit another woman's bed,” he said softly, “I'll be damned if I require your approval.”
“Very well, my lord. Am I at least allowed to ask what will become of me?”
Damon raked her with an appraising glance. As beautiful and desirable as Pauline was, she would find a new provider within a week. He had no illusions that she loved him—she showed no symptoms of that particular malady. Ending their relationship would hardly leave her brokenhearted and destitute.
“You'll do very well,” he said. “I doubt a man has ever looked at you and found you wanting, Pauline.” He softened slightly as he continued.
“I've enjoyed being with you these past months.
I'd like to end things on an agreeable note, without spoiling the memories.
I'll make certain all your bills are settled.
I want to leave you with a parting gift…
a new carriage, more jewelry, a house just tell me what you'd like.”
Her brown eyes locked with his. “You've already left me a parting gift,” she said without blinking. Her voice contained an edge of irony that he didn't understand. Slowly her hand crept to her slightly rounded stomach, and slid over the smooth surface in a meaningful caress.
Uncomprehending, Damon watched the movement of her white fingers. His mind would not accept what she was trying to tell him.
“What should I ask for?” Pauline murmured idly, keeping her hand clamped protectively over her abdomen.
“A little extra money, I suppose, and then I should promise not to trouble you about my condition after that.
That's the usual arrangement, isn't it? Men in your position have illegitimate children all the time, and they feel no obligation to the mothers of their bastard offspring.
But I know you, darling. You're not like most men.”
“We took precautions—” he said hoarsely.
“Sometimes precautions fail.”
“I want you to see a doctor.”
“I already have. You're welcome to meet him, of course, and have him confirm the news.” She paused and added with a sudden flash of vulnerability, “You may disbelieve me, or claim that the baby isn't yours, but at least I've told you the truth.”
If it was a bluff, it was a masterful one. Pauline spoke without blinking, without the telltale flush or heightened pulse of a woman who was lying. She was supremely calm and clearheaded.
A child…his, and Pauline's. Every part of him rebelled against the idea.
For his entire adult life, he had never overindulged himself where women were concerned.
He had chosen his partners carefully, and to his knowledge he hadn't sired bastards by any of them.
Pauline was right; men seldom felt they owed anything to their pregnant mistresses except financial support for the children.
This didn't have to be a trap…but for him it was.
He felt cold all over. He turned away from the bedside so that Pauline couldn't watch the sickening realization sweep over his face.
He couldn't abandon her now, no matter what he felt for her personally. He was linked to her forever through this child. Pauline knew him well enough to understand that he couldn't live with himself if he didn't take care of her and the baby. From now on his life would be entwined with theirs.
He knew that Pauline wanted to become his wife, she expected it of him…and he would have expected it of himself, if not for one obstacle. A bitter smile twisted his lips, and he heard himself say aloud, “I can't marry you.”
“I understand your reluctance, darling. However, there are some facts to consider. You have need of an heir, or your brother will have the title after you. And there is the welfare of the child—”
“I'm already married.” It was the first time Damon had ever admitted it to anyone except his brother. He closed his hands into fists, while impotent rage swept over him. Damn his father to hell for bringing him to this!
Silence descended over the scene, so absolute that he finally turned to look at Pauline. She was gray-faced, whether from shock or fury he couldn't tell.
“What?” she wheezed. “The rumors are true? I never would have believed it—not of a man like you—”
“It happened a long time ago. I was a boy of seven. My father arranged it.”
“If this is a trick—”
“It's the truth.”
The gray left Pauline's complexion, replaced by a rush of crimson. “My God…why has it been such a bloody secret? And where have you kept your w-wife all this time?”
“I haven't seen her since the day we were married. The families agreed that we would be raised separately, and ‘introduced’ when we were of suitable age.” Damon took a deep breath and forced himself to continue.
“But that never came to pass. I don't know how the facts of the matter were told to her.
My father chose to emphasize how fortunate I was, being tied to a wealthy family and never having to go through the trouble of choosing a wife for myself.
I hated him for what he had done, no matter what his reasons were.
I resisted my family's attempts to bring the two of us together, and Julia—”
“Julia,” Pauline repeated blankly.
“—she appeared to be equally reluctant to meet me. By the time I had finally decided to take the matter in hand and confront her, she had disappeared. That was three years ago. I still haven't been able to find her.”
“What do you mean, disappeared? Doesn't anyone know where she is? Her family?”
“If any of her friends or relations know, they're not going to admit anything. I've hired detectives who have searched all through Europe without finding a trace of her.”
“But why would she vanish like that? Something must have happened to her.” A hopeful note entered her voice. “Perhaps she's dead! Yes, that or disfigured by an accident…or perhaps she's taken her vows and is hiding in a convent—”
“All of those possibilities have been considered—but there's no evidence to support any of them.”
“If she were alive, she would come forward to take her place as the next Duchess of Leeds.”
Damon shrugged. “It's possible that the idea of me as a husband doesn't appeal to her,” he said dryly.
There was a visible struggle on Pauline's face, anger and desire making small blue veins prominent on her temples and throat. “What will you do about Mrs. Wentworth?” she asked in a voice that shook. “Or must you have an entire collection of women at your disposal?”
“She has nothing to do with Julia Hargate, or with you.”
“She's to be my replacement,” Pauline snarled. “Regardless of what you've done to me, and what you owe me!”
As he gazed at Pauline's enraged features, another image appeared in Damon's mind…Jessica Wentworth's clear turquoise eyes, and the gleam of moonlight on her skin. I have no interest in an affair with you, she had said, and that is the only thing you would be able to offer me.
“I'm not going to see her again,” Damon said quietly. “She deserves far more than I can give her.”
“What about me?”
“You'll be taken care of. You and the child. But it won't be the same between us, Pauline.”