Chapter Twelve
In the inn’s coffee room, Damian sat at a table by the window, waiting for Pamela to join him. Until meeting Pamela, he had deliberately not thought about his childhood before going to France. What had been his had been wrenched away by unscrupulous scoundrels. From then on, he had been forced to think only about survival as his mother’s health declined and his father barely eked out a living from his tutoring.
Walking with Pamela in the grounds of Rake Hall had reminded him of happy times with his family, but the pain of what came afterwards had tainted those memories.
For a moment, he had thought about telling her the truth about his life in Marseilles. No doubt she would think he was looking for sympathy. He didn’t need anyone’s pity. He needed to implement his revenge.
And if it meant losing her, at least he would have the satisfaction that he had done his duty and kept his promise. Perhaps, then, the guilt he felt over what had happened to his family would be less burdensome. How bad would a few years in prison have been, if it would have saved their lives? Every time he thought about it, he felt like such a coward.
He rose when he spotted her entrance. ‘I took the liberty of ordering a light luncheon,’ he said. ‘We breakfasted very early and I thought you might be hungry.’
‘That is kind of you,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
He seated her opposite him. ‘The food here is quite good, actually. I usually stop for a bite on my way through.’
‘I am glad you thought to break the journey,’ she said.
‘From here, we should reach London in about two hours.’
‘I am looking forward to seeing your town house. Monsieur Phillippe says the renovations you have undertaken are a marvel to behold.’
‘Pip is the main architect of those improvements, so I am not surprised he is pleased.’ He grinned. ‘But, yes. The house is much improved.’
‘Will you sell it, when you go to America?’ Her grey eyes held a hint of sadness.
He could not let it trouble him. ‘I will. Fortunately, it is not part of the entail.’
‘And what happens with the Scottish estate?’
‘It isn’t worth much. I would be lucky to find a buyer. There is no house, only a swathe of poor land occupied by a few crofters and a section leased to a sheep farmer. The only other property was a house in Edinburgh that was sold years ago. Rake Hall is the only property included in the entail. I purchased the house in Grosvenor Street when I first arrived in London.’
It had cost him a pretty penny, but he had needed to do it to prove he wasn’t some poverty-stricken bumpkin out to make a splash.
The waiter arrived with a pot of coffee and a tray containing bread rolls, butter, slices of ham and an assortment of sweet pastries.
To her professional eye, it all looked beautifully prepared.
She poured the tea and they helped themselves from the plates set before them.
‘It sounds as if your plans are set then,’ she said wistfully. ‘I envy you going to America, but I do not envy you the journey to get there.’
‘It will be a new adventure for Pip and me.’
‘Will you ever return to England?’
Much as he hated to do it, he had to make it clear that once the ball was over, he would be gone from her life. He shook his head. ‘If we decide to come back to the old world, we will go to France. We both grew up there.’
The pain in her expression almost brought him to his knees.
‘And the title?’ she asked. ‘Your responsibilities as a peer of the realm. If you have a son, he will inherit.’
Clearly she was hoping something would make him want to stay. The irony of it all was a bitter taste. Sadly, eventually she would be glad to see him go.
‘By the time I leave, I will have fulfilled all the responsibilities I deem important. As for the title, it can go into abeyance for all I care.’ That was how he was supposed to feel.
‘You are a republican at heart, then.’ She chuckled. ‘A revolutionary.’
He wasn’t anything so grand.
‘Politics do not interest me. You interest me.’
She blushed. ‘Not enough to keep you here in England.’
‘Would you want to go to America?’ He froze. Why had he asked that question, for heaven’s sake? What would he say if she said yes? His heart thudded in his chest as he awaited her answer. Hope or fear. Either way it could not come about once she realised he had deliberately brought about her ruin.
‘No. I have other plans.’
He breathed a sigh of relief. Or was it regret? No. Not regret. He had no room in his life for more regrets. ‘What will you do?’
‘A small cottage in the country. A few chickens. Perhaps I will bake pies and cakes and sell them at a local market.’
‘I am sure whatever you choose to do, you will do very well.’
She gave him a smile edged with sadness. ‘Thank you.’
They finished their lunch and were soon back on the road.
As they both looked to the future, neither said very much on the rest of the journey.
Sitting at her dressing table, preparing for her day, Pamela could not quite believe she was enjoying herself. The moment she had arrived in London, the whirlwind had begun and she hadn’t once been near a pot or a pan or a sink full of dirty dishes.
She recalled her come out as months filled with stress. This was altogether different.
Sukey stepped back from pinning her wig and nodded in satisfaction. ‘Right as a trivet, Mrs C.’
The two of them had forged a friendship during their time at Rake Hall and Sukey had been more than happy to take on the role of ladies’ maid during Pamela’s visit to London. Apparently, becoming a ladies’ maid had been Sukey’s girlhood dream.
Now Pamela was trying to train Sukey, so she could find a job working for another lady, once Pamela returned to being a cook or whatever it was she decided to do once Damian left. Trouble was, she hated thinking about his departure.
‘You could say it looks perfect,’ she suggested.
‘It certainly does,’ Sukey said carefully in ladylike tones.
Pamela grinned at her. ‘That’s the ticket, Sukey.’
They laughed. ‘I was thinking,’ Pamela said, ‘that you should call yourself Susan, it sounds more like the sort of name a ladies’ maid would use and dressers use their last names only.’
Sukey looked doubtful. ‘I don’t think I can learn all this in three weeks.’
‘Of course you can. You are doing brilliantly. I promise.’
The young woman smiled proudly. ‘We best hurry up, if you want breakfast. You have the dressmaker coming for fittings this afternoon.’
‘I was hoping to visit the glover before Madame Celeste arrives. Do you think you can accompany me? I would sooner you than a footman.’
It had turned out that Sukey—no, Susan—had instinctive, impeccable taste and Pamela had taken full advantage of it.
‘Of course.’
Pamela took a last peek in the mirror, happy with her reflection, though the wig was still taking some getting used to, along with the darkening of her eyebrows and eyelashes, but if she was quite honest, she would not have missed this trip to London for the world. She was having so much fun!
And her nights with Damian were heavenly. She was determined to make the most of these last few weeks with him, and it seemed as if he felt the same way.
Damian was already seated at the dining room table when she entered the breakfast room. He looked up from his paper and rose as she entered.
He took her hand and kissed it. ‘You look lovely this morning.’
Her face warmed at the compliment. ‘Thank you.’ She filled her plate from the buffet with eggs, ham and toast.
‘What do you have planned for today?’ he asked when she was seated.
‘First Bond Street to buy some evening gloves and then a fitting with the dressmaker. Why?’
‘I thought I might take you driving this afternoon.’
They had agreed that they should be seen out and about in Town, so people would become used to seeing his widowed cousin on his arm. When she looked in the mirror and saw how different she looked, she had become sure neither the people she had met at Rake Hall nor her old acquaintances would recognise her. Pip had done an amazing job and Susan had no trouble repeating the effect each morning.
‘Why not?’ she said. ‘My new redingote arrived yesterday and I am dying to wear it.’
‘Perfect.’
‘Pass me your cup, if you would care for more tea.’
He did so. ‘Thank you. How is the rest of the wardrobe coming along?’
They had also agreed that she would wear nothing but clothes of the highest fashion. After all, their masked ball was to be the event of the season. They had already chosen their costumes. They would go as Antony and Cleopatra, the theme of the party being Shakespeare’s plays. The ton was already vying for invitations.
‘I have my last fitting today. Madame Celeste is not only an excellent dressmaker, she is also very quick.’
‘So I should hope at her prices.’
‘I have only ordered what I think I must have, nothing more.’
He reached across the table and took her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze. ‘A man must grumble, must he not? It is expected.’
She laughed. ‘You are teasing. I should know that by now.’
‘I like to see you rise to the bait.’
‘Were you thinking we would attend Almack’s?’ she asked. ‘I need to make sure I have a suitable gown, if so.’
Almack’s was always the fussiest of the various events the ton attended. There it would be easy to make a mistake and get oneself excluded from the higher echelons of society. Men were required to wear old-fashioned knee breeches, but for every young miss new on the town it was a must visit.
‘I don’t think so. Neither of us is on the lookout for a spouse.’
‘It will not look odd, if we do not put in an appearance? You, at least, are considered a good catch.’
‘It will not look odd. I have made it clear I am not on the marriage mart. Not this Season. If ever.’
She chuckled. ‘Never say never.’ The girl he chose to marry would be a fortunate young woman. A little sadness stole into her heart. Sadness that it could not be her.
She shook it off. She had given up on the idea of marriage a long time ago. She was quite happy as she was. And would be even happier, once she had her own little house in the country. Would she not?
And yet the thought of Damian leaving, of never seeing him again, left a very empty feeling in her chest. More like a huge hole. What if they had met under different circumstances? If she had been a proper lady, not so wanton, would there have been a chance that he might have wanted more than an affair? Had she kept him at bay, acted the prim and proper miss, would he have thought more of her?
It seemed she had squandered the one thing any lady owned: her honour.
It seemed so unfair.
A man could sow his wild oats without any consequences...indeed, he would be thought peculiar if he did not. But a woman became a pariah. Unworthy.
He said he did not want to marry, but she had no doubt he would change his mind. When he met the right woman. Some young innocent, with stars in her eyes.
Something painful twisted beneath her breastbone.
She squeezed her eyes shut. What was the point in regrets? She could not change her past.
He finished his coffee and rose. ‘Enjoy your shopping, I have an appointment with my man of business, but I will be back in lots of time to take you driving.’
He bowed and left.
She rang the bell and asked the butler to notify Susan she was ready to leave, then finished her second cup of tea.
It didn’t help with the empty feeling inside her heart.
She forced herself to get up and get on with her day.
Susan was waiting in the hall, dressed in a cloak and hat, and she helped Pamela into her dark blue spencer.
Albert, who in London served as the butler, opened the door. ‘I don’t believe it will rain, Madam,’ he said, ‘but I think Susan ought to carry an umbrella just in case.’ He handed one over.
‘I don’t believe that will be necessary and besides we are going shopping. There will be a great many parcels to carry, I have no doubt. Susan won’t be able manage an umbrella also. Besides, you are unfailingly correct about the weather, Albert, so I do not think we need worry.’
Albert bowed. ‘As you wish, Madam.’
Outside, Susan huffed out a breath. ‘Thank you. I half expected him to insist we bring John along when you said I couldn’t carry the umbrella.’
John was Susan’s bane, because he wanted Susan to walk out with him and Susan had developed other ambitions.
Damian drove his phaeton around from the mews and drew up at the front door.
By the time the groom had gone to his horse’s head and Damian had jumped down, Pamela was already on her way down the steps.
He really liked that about her. She never shilly-shallied and was always ready on time, if not a little before.
This afternoon she looked stunning. The new redingote she had spoken of at breakfast was made of dark burgundy wool with black velvet at the collar and cuffs. She carried a black fur muff on one arm and her hat, a small affair with peacock feathers, was set at a jaunty angle. The lip rouge and blush on her cheeks were so subtly applied one could not be sure it was there at all. The light net suspended from its brim to cover her eyes made her look mysterious.
Not to mention that the coat hugged her figure in all the right places. Places he knew all too well. Desire struck him the way it did every time he looked at her and especially when she gave him back glance for heated glance as she did now.
He fought to control the urge to take her indoors and say to perdition with driving in the park.
But driving in the park was all part of his plan. To be seen by the haute monde.
It was beyond a doubt that any man would be proud to be seen with her, although on occasion he found himself missing her more natural self, the chestnut-haired, fresh-faced young woman he had walked with in the countryside.
But that young woman wouldn’t fit with their roles of young sophisticates out on the town.
He handed her up into the carriage.
‘Congratulations on your choice of costume, my dear,’ he said as they started off for Hyde Park.
‘Thank you. It was very costly, but Madam Celeste gave me a discount, because I promised to let everyone know where I purchase my gowns.’
‘Do not bother your head about the cost.’
‘Why should I not? I think you forget that the cost eats into my profit as well as yours. I prefer to consider it as an investment and I need to get the best value for my money.’
Such an independent woman. She deserved... He forced himself not to think about what she deserved. That had already been decided. ‘I beg your pardon. You are right, of course. And what do you plan to do with your ill-gotten gains.’
‘Ill gotten? I thought you said—’
He put up a hand. ‘I speak figuratively. In jest. I mean, what will you do with your share of our profits when we part company? Invest it?’
He shouldn’t be asking, shouldn’t care, since he was the one forcing them apart, but he couldn’t help caring.
He was going to miss her when they parted. Badly. Far more than he ever would have expected. Somehow he had allowed her to get under his skin, to steal a part of him he hadn’t known existed. His heart. Too often he found himself wondering what she would think about a particular matter he was dealing with. Or how she would react to something someone said. It gave him an odd pain in his chest to think of leaving her behind.
It should not matter one whit.
Her father certainly hadn’t worried about his family. And yet... The thought of her destitute and alone had recently reared its ugly head and he found it disturbing.
‘I will buy a house, somewhere close to the sea. I have always wanted to live near the coast. And if there is anything left over, perhaps invest it.’
‘So you will not continue as a cook?’
‘I will continue cooking for myself. I suppose it will depend on whether I will have enough to live on, as to whether I will hire out to cook for others.’
Wouldn’t humiliating her family be enough of a revenge? After all, she had not been directly involved in his family’s downfall. Did he really need to ruin her utterly?
Devil take it, he did not need to be having second thoughts at this stage of his plan. Everything was set. Nothing would stop it now. Nor did he want to.
Well, he might want to, but that would be letting his family down, yet again. By being selfish. By thinking about himself instead of thinking of them. The guilt from his decision not to take the risk of imprisonment, a risk that if successful would have saved his family, was a heavy weight in his chest. The only way he could make up for it in some small measure was to keep his promise.
‘I see,’ he said steering them through the busy streets of Mayfair and to the entrance of Hyde Park.
Carriages were lined up along the street waiting their turn to enter.
‘It is busy today.’
‘The dry weather has brought everyone out.’
It was dry and crisp, if somewhat smoky from all the surrounding chimneys.
They followed a barouche through the gate and made their way along Rotten Row. Several gentlemen on foot tipped their hats when they saw him. These were men who had visited Rake Hall, but he also knew them from White’s, a far more respectable gentlemen’s club.
He waved a hand in greeting.
When their gazes fell on Pamela, however, their expressions turned puzzled. Would they eventually realise where they had seen his cousin previously?
He hoped not. Not yet.
A young couple waved a greeting. Long and a young lady, with her maid trailing them at a discreet distance.
‘Dart,’ the young man said.
Damian leaned down to shake his offered hand.
‘Have you met my fiancée, Miss Frome?’
A fiancée. This was news. ‘I have not had the pleasure. Miss Frome, I am honoured.’ He bowed to the lady. ‘Allow me to introduce my cousin, Mrs Clark.’
Pamela inclined her head.
Long, all smiles, bowed and Miss Frome dipped a curtsy. ‘Pleased to meet you, Madam,’ Long said with not a glimmer of recognition. He grinned shyly. ‘I received your invitation to your ball, Dart. I did not expect it.’
‘Did you not?’ Damian said. ‘I cannot think why.’
The young man looked relieved and slightly embarrassed. ‘I was wondering if you would also invite Miss Frome.’
Whereas Damian could not have been more delighted. ‘Of course. If you would be good enough to furnish me with your address, Miss Frome, it will be my very great pleasure to send you and of course your parents an invitation.’
The young woman blushed and handed over her calling card. ‘You will find Father in Debrett’s,’ she said primly.
Pamala was delighted that Damian had invited Long. Since their altercation in Rake Hell, he had been back only a few times and was more subdued and polite towards her, having imbibed less of his drink, clearly atoning for his awful behaviour that night, although he had not been seen there recently. Likely because of his engagement.
Perhaps he deemed that he had sown all of the wild oats and now it was time to settle down. He was one of those who initially had been getting deeper and deeper into debt. One of those on Damian’s list.
They bid the young couple farewell and the carriage moved on.
Aware of many curious stares and some of outright disapproval, she kept her back straight and her smile firmly pinned on her lips. No one would possibly recognise her as Vicar Lamb’s shy, awkward daughter.
Not even her mother.
She hoped. Fervently. For that theory was about to be tested. Mother and her new husband were headed straight towards them.
She resisted the urge to tell Dart to turn the carriage around and gallop out of the park.
He glanced at her, clearly sensing her concern. ‘Look them straight in the eye,’ he said with a pleasant smile as if he wasn’t discussing her immediate ruin. In a moment the two carriages passed each other and Pamela was proud that she met her mother’s haughty gaze without flinching. There certainly wasn’t a hint of recognition in that frosty glare. And if her mother didn’t recognise her, no one else would.
A few moments later, a gentleman on horseback drew alongside them. ‘Monsieur Phillippe,’ she said, beaming at his handsome face and warm expression. ‘Good afternoon.’
‘My dear, Mrs Clark. May I say how delightful you look?’
‘You may,’ she said. And blushed at her boldness. Something about this disguise made her say things she would never have dared say as herself.
‘I do wish you would call me Pip, as Damian does. We are friends, are we not?’
‘Very well, Pip it is.’
Pip beamed and accompanied them along the Row when Damian set his horse in motion.
Pamela did her best to ignore some of the rather pointed looks askance. Once the party was over she would never see any of these people again.
She certainly would never tell her mother or anyone else for that matter about this adventure, but she did not regret it. Meeting Damian had added something to her life that had been lacking for a long time. Affection.
She was fond of Damian.
More than fond. He seemed to be the only person who valued all the parts that made her who she was: her skill in the kitchen, her organisational abilities and, of course, their compatibility in the bedroom. His passions seemed to match hers perfectly. He had given her a sense of accomplishment. A feeling of pride in herself as a person.
When she thought about him leaving, of never seeing him again, something hot and painful rose up in her throat. She was desperately trying not to let him see how the thought of losing him was hurtful, but it was getting more and more difficult each passing day.
If she said anything, she was sure he would be astonished.
Apart from their mutual passion, she had no real sense that he felt anything deeper than a mere liking for her. For him, theirs was a primarily a business partnership, with additional benefits.
For her, it had definitely become something more. What had begun as mutual passion had gradually changed into a deep-seated need that had grown tendrils around her heart. The idea of saying goodbye was almost too painful to contemplate.
She still could not believe that in two weeks’ time their association would end.
She forced herself to be practical, calm, exactly the same as him.
‘Do you know anyone who could assist me with the purchase of a property?’ she asked.
‘You are thinking about your cottage in the country.’
‘I am.’
‘My man of business ought to be able to help you, if you would like me to ask him?’
‘Do you have an idea of where you would like to buy this cottage?’ Pip asked.
‘Somewhere quiet, near the sea. Perhaps Dorset.’
‘A long way from London.’ He shook his head. Such a waste. ‘How sad.’
She laughed at his nonsense.
An older man driving in the opposite direction doffed his hat and smiled at them. Pamela recognised him from the club. Lord Luton. Would he have acknowledged her if he had recognised her? Likely not.
They turned at the end of the Row and Pip left them to greet some others who had gathered there, while they promenaded back.
A dashing woman driving her own phaeton drew up with a flourish of her whip. Her hair was jet black and her eyes bright blue. She wore a coat the same colour as her eyes. She was stunning.
‘Dart,’ she said. ‘Back in Town, is it?’
A faint Irish accent, Pamela thought.
‘I am.’
The woman eyed Pamela up and down and seemed to dismiss her. ‘Call on me tomorrow. I will be at home.’
She cracked her whip and the horses moved off.
‘Who was that?’ she said.
‘Lady Leis.’
‘She is beautiful.’
‘Do you think so?’
His voice was casual. Too casual. Pamela had a strange feeling in her stomach. ‘Is she—?’ She did not know how to phrase it.
He glanced at her face and then back to watching the traffic ahead. ‘Is she what?’
How did one ask such a question?
‘Someone you know...well.’
‘Well enough.’
Now what on earth did that mean? And why would it matter?
Somehow it did. She felt bruised.
Oh, now she was being stupid. They were lovers. No doubt he had other lovers in his past. As she had Alan in hers. And if he had others in his present, why would she be surprised? Had she not seen how men behaved away from their wives while working at the club? Why would she expect him to be any different? Especially since she was not even his wife.
To give it a second’s thought was foolishness. Besides, from his perspective, their relationship was based purely on lust. It would be better if she thought of it that way also. Perhaps that way she could stifle the ache around her heart.
And if she had a twinge of jealousy now, it was because of the other woman’s beauty, not because she had a place in Damian’s life.
‘A penny for your thoughts,’ he said.
Not even if he offered her a hundred pounds would she tell him what she was thinking. ‘I was admiring that woman’s hat,’ she said, nodding towards a lady wearing a high poke bonnet festooned in silk flowers.
He grimaced. ‘I prefer yours.’
And from that she had to draw what little satisfaction she could.
They were almost out of the gate when a town coach cut them off.
Pamela couldn’t see its occupant, because the blinds were drawn down.
She looked at Damian to see what he thought of it.
‘The Duke of Camargue,’ he said softly. ‘I wondered if he would be here today. Excuse me for a moment.’
He handed his reins to the driver of the other coach and climbed inside.
The Duke’s coachman sat with impassive expression as the two carriages remained blocking the carriageway. Other drivers began complaining loudly.
A constable strode over to see what the commotion was about.
‘Move along,’ he said.
The driver looked at him down his nose. ‘When the Duke is ready to move on, he will do so.’
The policeman backed away.
Oh, goodness.
‘Perhaps if you moved a fraction to the side...’ She began to suggest.
The driver shot her a scathing look and she subsided into silence.
A good five minutes passed and Pamela felt her face getting hotter by the minute.
One passer-by even reached for the bridle of the Duke’s lead horse, but the same look from the coachman that had defeated the police officer sent the fellow scurrying away.
Finally, the carriage door opened and Dart jumped down.
In a trice both carriages were moving and the traffic began to flow.
‘Wasn’t that a bit rude?’ she said as Damian guided his horse into the street.
‘When you are the Duke of Camargue, one of the wealthiest men in the world, no one ever calls you rude.’
‘Well, I do,’ she said.
Damian laughed. ‘You would. The Duke wants to buy my land that adjoins his property. He wasn’t exactly pleased when I didn’t jump at his offer.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘He says he will put the crofters off the land to run more sheep. I am not keen on the idea. Those people have lived on that land for centuries. In truth, the land is more theirs than mine.’
He cared. About people he had likely never met. Her heart seemed to stop beating. A painful awareness swept over her. It wasn’t just that she cared for him, she had fallen in love. If they hadn’t been in so public a place, she might have blurted it out without thinking.
They had both made it very clear there were no strings attached. He might think she was trying to hold on to him. Or trying to get him to admit to something he really did not feel. It would spoil the rest of their time together, when she only wanted him to have good memories.
He was leaving for the New World. She had her own plans. And he had never shown any sign of feeling anything but mere fondness. How could he? After all, she was a fallen woman.
‘Besides, he isn’t offering nearly enough,’ Dart said.
She didn’t believe him. His words were merely a front. She would not let him make her think he cared only about money.