Chapter Thirteen
The next day, when Damien entered the breakfast room after his early morning ride, he was surprised to find Pamela there ahead of him looking delicious in a morning gown of dark rose.
‘Good morning, my dear.’ He kissed her cheek.
She turned a beautiful shade of pink. ‘Good morning, Damian.’
‘You look ravishing, I must say. Good enough to eat. Where are you off to?’
She chuckled. ‘I am going to Covent Garden this morning to see about the floral decoration for the ball.’
The hairs on the back of his neck rose. ‘Send for the nursery man to come to you. Covent Garden is no place for a lady.’
‘Really, Damian. A lady? I have already met with the nursery man. He is outrageously expensive for the particular item I am seeking. I am sure I can get it much cheaper at one of the smaller stalls.’
‘There is no need to scrimp and scrape.’ He browsed the buffet and helped himself to eggs and ham.
‘I am not scrimping and scraping, but I refuse to be cheated.’
When he heard that tone of voice, he knew she would not be put off.
‘Very well. I will accompany you.’
She looked surprised and pleased, then shook her head. ‘Oh, dear, I would not put you to so much trouble. I know you are busy. I won’t go alone, I promise you. I have already arranged for my maid to accompany me.’
‘I will drive you,’ he said firmly. ‘After all, the ball is my project. And I am intrigued as to what it is you need to acquire.’
Her naughty little smile stirred his blood, as it always did. ‘You will have to wait and see.’
‘Because?’
‘Because.’
He frowned. ‘Whatever we do, it must be in the very best of taste.’
‘Of course.’
He could tell from her expression he was not going to get any more out of her, likely because she thought he might try to veto her purchase.
As if he actually would. Unless he was concerned for her safety, he had discovered he could not deny her a single thing she wanted. It pleased him to make her happy, when he knew it should not. He was indulging himself in the short few weeks left to them. Perhaps hoping that they would both have some happy memories, before the sword of Damocles landed. He would feel its cut as much as she would. But he could not stop now. Could he?
Once before he had let his parent down so badly. If he had been less cowardly he would have had all the money he needed to pay for doctors and medicine. They might even have been alive today, living in comfort.
He could not now go back on his word to avenge their deaths. If he did not keep his word, what sort of son would he be?
If only he didn’t like her so much.
Unlike his previous ladies, who wanted jewels or money, Pamela asked for nothing other than what was due to her. But then as his partner, she lacked for nothing in the money department. However, she could have asked for more. Most women would.
He was going to miss her very much when they parted. She was the most honest, sweetest woman he had ever met. And if he allowed himself to think about it, the thought of ruining her made him feel sick to his stomach. She would hate him when the truth came out.
A strangely hollow ache filled him.
It twisted painfully inside him. Devil take it. Sentimentality had no place in his plans.
‘I will get the carriage put to.’
She gave him a puzzled look as if she sensed his disquiet. ‘Very well, it seems there is no dissuading you. I will fetch my coat and hat and meet you at the front door.’
As he strode for the mews, he realised he had barely touched his breakfast. He shrugged. What did it matter that he wasn’t particularly hungry?
Oddy greeted him wildly for the second time that morning.
Damian patted him. What on earth was he to do with the animal when he left for America? Perhaps Pamela would take him.
When the coachman put the horses to the barouche, Oddy immediately jumped aboard.
‘I don’t think I need your company today,’ Damian said. ‘Ladies don’t like dog hair all over their clothes.’
The dog stared at him mournfully, reminding him that he always went with Damien when he took the barouche. It was their agreement. He could not go in the phaeton, but he could go in the carriage.
Damian sighed. ‘Very well. After all, it is her fault that I own you in the first place.’
‘Will you be wanting the canopy raised, My Lord?’ the coachman asked.
He had not bothered purchasing a town coach, since he did not plan to remain in London for more than a year and the barouche had come with the house.
The day was fair, if a little chilly. They weren’t going far and he preferred not to be shut up inside unless it was pouring rain. ‘Leave the front down, but put a couple of extra blankets in, please.’ He could always change his mind if it was too cold.
With the carriage ready to go, Damien returned to the house to get his hat and coat.
Pamela was on her way down the stairs when he reached the front door.
Her coat today was of a bright peacock blue and the way her bonnet framed her pretty face made him want to kiss her. And perhaps forget the trip to Covent Garden.
Instead, he took her arm and walked her out of the house and across the pavement to the waiting coach. ‘I hope you don’t mind Oddy’s company. He refused to be left behind.’
‘Not at all. He can serve as our protection.’
Damian chuckled as he handed her up. ‘I am all the protection you need.’
‘I was not thinking about me.’
He laughed. ‘I assure you, I am quite capable of defending both of us. However, Oddy has been known to show his teeth at people he doesn’t like the look of upon occasion, so perhaps he will serve a purpose.’
Pamela beamed. ‘Good boy.’ She patted Oddy’s head and the animal grinned at her.
Damian gave the coachman the go ahead and soon they were wending their way through the city traffic.
Covent Garden during daylight hours was a very different prospect than Covent Garden at night when the streets milled with the carriages of those attending the theatre and rubbing shoulders with those who hoped to take advantage of them.
During the day, the square behind the Church of St Paul was abuzz with a whole different sort of trade and person.
The predominant goods on offer were, of course, fruits, vegetables and flowers. Many of the flower girls one found selling their wares on street corners came here to buy the blooms for the posies they sold. But at this time of year there was not much on offer.
They left the carriage with the coachman and he and Oddy followed Pamela to the far end of the market.
‘You have been here before,’ he said, seeing that she knew exactly where she was headed.
‘Only once.’
A rough-looking fellow edged closer.
Damien gave him a hard look and a grim smile. The fellow shrugged and walked off. But he wasn’t the sort Damian was most worried about. It was the small lads who dodged in and around the stalls who caused him the most concern. Boys who were not unlike what he had been at that age. Boys with quick fingers and bad intentions. Though they also seemed to be giving them a wide berth.
He glanced down at Oddy whose hackles were up and whose ears were pricked. Ha! Here was the reason no one had attempted to pick his pocket or cut Pamela’s purse. And he hadn’t had to raise a fist or grab a collar.
While he did not relax his vigilance, he did welcome the reinforcements. At last, the dog was earning its keep.
Later, he was going to have a long talk with Pamela about coming to a place like this with only her maid for company.
A youngish woman with dark hair neatly pinned under her cap and a bit of sacking for an apron tied around her waist rose from the upturned bucket she was using for a seat to greet them.
On her stall, she had twigs of holly with berries and mistletoe sprigs tied in little bundles ready for hanging and a pile of evergreen boughs.
Relief shone in her smile. ‘I hoped you would come today.’
‘Good morning,’ Pamela said. ‘I promised I would, did I not?’
‘Well, you did. But not all keeps their promise.’
‘Were you able to obtain any?’
‘I was. Me pa skinned both knees he did, shinning up all the trees in the woods.’
She ducked beneath a ramshackle wooden table on one side of her stall. She reappeared with a large, roughly woven carrier loosely rolled around its contents. ‘Here they are.’
She set the carrier on the ground and unrolled it. Inside were a mass of tangled strands of ivy.
‘Perfect,’ Pamela said. ‘Thank you. It is just what I was looking for.’
‘Ivy?’ he asked. ‘What is so special about that? I am sure any nursery could supply you with that.’
The young woman looked anxious. ‘’Ere, it took me da hours to collect that there.’
‘Well, of course we will buy it now you have obtained it, but Pamela, really? Why endanger yourself for anything so common-or-garden?’
‘If the nurseryman could have supplied it,’ Pamela said, ‘I would have ordered it. It is not the sort of thing they grow. Not in the lengths I wanted.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t, but if a huge bunch of ivy made her happy, then so be it. But next time she wanted to foray into the stews of London, she had better request he go with her.
‘How much?’ he asked the woman.
‘The lady already paid, sir,’ the woman said. ‘Though you can pay again if you like.’ She laughed.
‘No. Once is enough,’ Damian said. ‘Thanks all the same.’
The woman rerolled the mat and tied the string. Damian carried it back to the carriage.
Quite honestly, Pamela thought Damian might have made more of a fuss when he saw what she had bought. The idea had come to her while looking at a picture of ancient Greeks at a party.
He laid the bundle on the seat opposite, leaving just enough room for the dog.
‘Was there anything else you needed while we are out?’ Damian asked.
‘Nothing I can think of at the moment.’
‘You could have sent one of the grooms to pick this up,’ he said.
‘When I ordered it, she wasn’t sure she could supply what I needed. No one had ever asked her for ivy before.’
‘And yet you paid her in advance.’
‘She would have returned the money.’
‘You are very trusting.’
‘Too trusting, you mean?’
He seemed to freeze for a moment. As if her words had struck an unpleasant chord. A twinge of anxiety tightened her stomach. The only other person she had trusted was him.
‘It seems on this occasion your trust was well founded, but I would suggest that you take a little more care about who you trust with large sums of money. Even if you do not care about the money, it is highly reckless to endanger your person in that way.’
‘I thank you for the advice.’ She grinned. ‘I told her if she cheated me, I would send you after her and she would highly regret it.’
‘You didn’t?’
‘No. I didn’t. Actually, our housekeeper knows the family. They are from the same village and it was she who recommended I go there with my special request. She recalled a copse full of ivy nearby the village. She also told me they were well respected and honest.’
‘I am sorry I called you reckless.’
‘I probably should have explained.’
‘Yes. You should have.’
While his words were harsh, his voice and gaze were soft as butter. The look in them melted her insides. Her heart picked up speed as he took her gloved hand and raised it briefly to his lips. ‘I cannot help but be concerned about you.’
How was it that he made her feel so feminine? And cared for. ‘I am well able to take care of myself.’
She didn’t mean to sound defensive, but she was afraid she was beginning to rely on him, on his caring, on his protection, far more than she ought.
After all, very soon he would be departing for distant shores and she would once more be alone. She had only herself to rely on. She would never ever go back to live with her mother.
Besides, she had grown used to her independence. She liked it. Most of the time. On the other hand, she had enjoyed these few weeks of companionship.
He released her hand and she felt the loss of his touch.
‘I am sorry,’ she said quietly, thinking she might have hurt his feelings.
‘I am sorry, too.’
‘You have no reason to be sorry. I shall never forget your kindness. You and Pip. If not for you I would never have had the opportunity to—’
‘Hush.’ He touched a finger to her lips. ‘Do not say any more. I think you may regret it if you do.’
Puzzled by the note in his voice, as if the words hurt him to say, she gazed into his eyes.
He looked away. ‘Have you ever been to Vauxhall Gardens?’ He gestured across the river.
‘Is that where it is? I have never been there. My mother did not think it suitable. Have you been there?’
‘I went there this past spring. It is quite the experience. It is too bad it is closed or I would have taken you.’
She laughed. ‘Just my luck to come to London in the winter time.’
‘Perhaps there are other places you would like to go that are open.’
‘I would like to see the Elgin Marbles at the British Museum.’
‘Ugh. Just a bunch of broken old statues. I’ll take you if you wish.’
He made it sound as though she was asking him to undergo torture.
‘I thought I might like to see it after I read about it in the newspaper, but I won’t trouble you if it is not something you would like to do.’
‘What about taking in a play? Would you like to go to the theatre?’
‘That I did do when I was here and I enjoyed it immensely. I have never been to the opera.’
‘Very well. The opera it is. I will see if I can borrow a box. I know a couple of people that have them.’
‘Do you know what is playing?’
‘I do not. I will find out.’
‘Oh, dear. I am not sure I have anything suitable to wear.’
‘Then you must order something right away.’
‘Perhaps I should not go. An opera gown is a great extravagance and I will likely never need it again.’ She sounded sad.
‘All the more reason to purchase it. A memory to savour when you retire to the country. Do you think you will miss living in London?’
‘I think it is the people I will miss, rather than the place.’
I will miss you.
The words hovered on her tongue, but they had always avoided speaking of feelings.
She smiled brightly. ‘I am a country girl at heart. London is exciting, to be sure, but, no, I will not miss living here.’
‘I’m glad.’
The fervency in his voice was genuine, and she was grateful that he cared that much.
‘Will you miss England?’ she asked.
He grimaced. ‘I have spent so little time in England, missing it would not be logical. I may have some regrets, I suppose.’ He sounded slightly wistful, then laughed. ‘I think I will miss France more.’
He didn’t say anything about her being one of those regrets. Hurt stabbed at her heart. But she knew he did not care for her the way she had come to care for him, so she would do well to keep such feelings at bay. What was the point of longing for something that was out of reach? Nothing could change the choices she had made in the past and she needed to accept that, enjoy what moments she had with him and when he was gone move on with life. As hard as that would be.
Oddy jumped up and scented the air.
‘It seems we are almost home,’ Damien said drily. ‘He always knows.’
‘Clever boy,’ she said. ‘What will you do with him when you leave?’
‘I haven’t decided.’
‘I will take him, if you wish.’ It would be something. A reminder of their time together.
‘Would you? I would certainly feel better knowing he was with someone I trusted to look after him.’ There was a note of longing in his voice.
And he trusted her. Even if it was only in the matter of his dog. Well, that was something, wasn’t it? They would still have a connection. Perhaps he might even return to see how the dog was doing, some time in the future.
‘Wonderful. Thank you. I can always rely on you, can’t I?’ He pulled her close and kissed her, hard, as if it was the last kiss they would ever know.
When they broke apart, she gazed up at him. And for one brief moment she was sure she saw regret in his gaze.
He looked away, as if he saw more in her face that he wanted to see. ‘Now, what do you want done with this greenery?’
Jolted back to earth, she looked around. ‘Perhaps the servants can find a cool place to keep it, until we decorate the ballroom. So the leaves don’t drop?’
‘Did you hear that, Sam?’ he said to the coachman.
‘Yes, My Lord. I will speak to the gardener about it.’
‘Good.’
While she and Damian entered the town house through the front door, the dog seemed perfectly happy to go with the coachmen. When she said this to Damian he laughed. ‘He knows he will get a bone or some other treat the moment he arrives.’
‘Ah, like a man, the way to a dog’s heart is through his stomach.’
‘Is that why you became a cook?’ He was teasing as he so often did, he knew she was not in the market for a husband.
She smiled brightly. ‘How did you guess?’
He helped her out of her coat and handed it to the waiting footman.
‘Well, if I am to have an opera dress made, I need to get in touch with Madame Celeste right away.’
He looked a bit disappointed.
‘What? Did you have other plans?’ she asked.
‘They can wait until later.’ The wicked gleam in his eye caused her cheeks to heat.
‘That is good,’ she said repressively, ‘since the opera was your suggestion.’
‘Oh, I thought it was your idea,’ he said mildly, but his eyes were smiling.
She laughed. ‘Whosever idea it was, I need to get the gown ordered right away, if we are to go.’
He tipped her chin and kissed her lips. ‘Then later will be worth the wait.’
Feeling suddenly hot, she fled upstairs.
Excitement stirred Damian’s blood as he waited in the drawing room for Pamela to come downstairs. He just hoped she would be pleased and not disappointed tonight.
She had been startled when he had asked her to come as herself and not as his cousin.
He had promised not a single soul would see her in the box he had rented and the hood of her opera cloak would keep her hidden from prying eyes, especially since they would enter the theatre by way of the stage door.
The doubt on her face made him wonder if she would do as he asked or ignore his request.
Footsteps on the stairs alerted him to her imminent arrival. He tossed back his drink and went to greet her.
On seeing him, she paused a few steps up.
He gazed at her in awe.
She was a vision of loveliness.
‘Will I do?’ The breathiness of her voice betrayed her nervousness.
‘You look stunning.’ He held out his hand and she continued on down.
‘It is too bad it is not raining,’ she said. ‘It might have been easier to hide.’
‘I am glad it is not raining,’ he said. Glad and grateful. His plans would have been ruined. He took the white velvet-lined cape he had purchased for her from the footman. ‘Have them send the carriage around, please, Jeffrey,’ he said.
He held out the cape.
‘Oh, my. Where did that come from?’
‘It is a gift from me. You may need it this evening. It is a little chilly.’
She stroked the soft material. ‘It is far too fine for a cook.’
‘But tonight you are not a cook. You are my guest.’
She looked a little sceptical, but let him put it around her shoulders. She snuggled into the deep pile like a kitten seeking somewhere warm to sleep.
The cape fitted her perfectly.
‘It is beautiful, thank you.’ She stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his in a gesture of affection.
It warmed him from his head to his toes.
Damn, he was going to miss those little kisses of hers. Not just those. All the kisses. All the loving.
So it was a good thing he was leaving soon, or he might be diverted from his purpose.
It was not long before the footman returned to say the carriage awaited them at the kerb and they stepped out into December’s cold evening air and climbed aboard.
He had hired a town carriage for this evening’s outing. His grooms had spent the afternoon making sure it was spotless inside and out.
‘How was your day?’ he asked.
‘Busy. What with cooking dinner and getting ready to go out.’
‘Sacre bleu, why did you say nothing? I could have hired someone in to help.’ He should have thought of it for himself, if he was honest.
‘I prefer to cook myself. What I don’t prefer is last-minute invitations that require heaps of visits to the dressmaker and last-minute requests to change my appearance.’
That told him. He laughed.
He took her hand, turned it over and pressed a kiss to her pulse. Her little shiver of pleasure caused his blood to heat. He ignored his desire and said in teasing tones, ‘I apologise for inviting you to spend the evening with me.’
She laughed ruefully. ‘You are not the smallest bit sorry. And neither am I.’
‘I want this evening to be special. I want you to enjoy every moment.’ He put his arm around her and she leaned into him.
‘How can I not when I am with you?’
A pang in the region of his heart made his breath catch. The knowledge that eventually she would hate him nigh brought him to his knees.
He cursed his ill luck. Why was she the one woman he had come to care for so deeply?
It wasn’t until they turned on to the bridge that she noticed they were not headed for the Haymarket.
Pulling free of his arm, she leaned forward to look out of the window in the door. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Oh,’ he said casually, ‘didn’t I tell you? There are no operas on offer tonight in Town, we have to go a little further afield.’
‘No. You didn’t mention it. Are they playing in Southwark?’
‘We are not going to Southwark. This is Regent Bridge.’
She turned and stared at him. ‘Regent Bridge? So we are going to...?’ She tilted her head. ‘We are not going to the opera, are we?’
‘No. I hope you will not be too disappointed.’
‘But... I can’t believe you would...’
‘Take you to Vauxhall Gardens? Believe it because I am.’
She shook her head. ‘You said it was closed.’
‘It is closed to the public, yes. But I have rented it for the evening.’
Her eyes widened. ‘That must have cost a fortune.’
He shrugged. ‘Since tonight will be our only opportunity to visit the gardens, I thought the price well worth it.’
‘You spendthrift.’ She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. ‘But I love you for it.’
They both froze.
His heart pounded in his chest. Usually, with such a demonstration of affection, he would have nuzzled her neck, kissed her silly and who knew where it might have led, but right now he felt as if there was a hole in his chest where his heart ought to be.
He straightened. ‘Good,’ he said stiffly. ‘I am glad you are pleased.’ God, that sounded so stilted. He forced himself to smile, but even that felt stiff and awkward. He cleared his throat. ‘Wait until you see what else is in store.’
She took a deep breath as if to steady herself. ‘Who else will join us? People who know me from the club? Do you think they will put two and two together when they see me in all this finery? Oh. I should have brought a mask. They only ever see me with a mask.’
‘Do not worry. We are the only guests.’
The coach drew to a halt and the door opened to reveal a man in red livery. ‘Welcome to Vauxhall Gardens.’
They stepped down and went through the entrance. Thousands of multi-coloured lanterns swinging in the branches of trees and on lamp posts lit the buildings and the Grand South Walks ahead of them.
Damian glanced at her face, trying to judge her reaction. Why the hell had he turned into a block of wood when she had said those words? It wasn’t as if they actually meant anything more than she was happy with his surprise.
They were lovers, yes, but love, true love, didn’t enter into it. How could it, given what he had planned? His throat dried.
She would hate him once the truth came out.
He felt as a huge hole had been carved in his chest. And he deserved it. He certainly didn’t deserve love. He had proved that when he had decided to save himself rather than save his family.
An emptiness hung between them. There was nothing he could think of to say.
‘They lit all these lights for us?’ she said, finally breaking the silence.
‘Yes.’
‘How pretty it is. Magical.’
His shoulders loosened. ‘It is quite the sight.’
She cocked her head on one side. ‘Do I hear music?’
‘You do.’
‘Come, let us see.’ She quickened her pace.
They entered the grove, and gazed at the Gothic Orchestra pavilion where a quintet was playing a waltz. He had given the order that they play nothing but waltzes.
She spun around, looking at the supper boxes and the lights in the trees strategically placed on the dance floor. ‘I can just imagine it full of people.’
It should be full of people. He would take pride in showing her off.
Devil take it, where had that thought come from?
His stomach fell away. He would be showing her off at the ball. But he knew without question that there would be no pleasure in keeping his promise to his father. There would only be pain.
He pushed thoughts of the future away, caught her in his arms and they effortlessly came together into the dance, twirling and gliding among the trees, her face glowing in myriad coloured lanterns.
It was as if they had been partners all their lives. Of course, he was holding her closer than he ought, but there was no one here to see or care.
When the dance ended he led her away from the orchestra to one of the overlooking supper boxes.