Chapter Fifteen
Finally, the evening of the ball had arrived. Damian knew Pamela had been trying to speak to him and he had no doubt it was about young Long, so he had taken an unplanned trip to Rake Hall and stayed overnight, and now, arriving in a downpour in the dark and soaked through to the skin, he had arrived barely in time to change into his clothes for the evening.
While at Rake Hall he’d spent his time wandering the rooms, trying to think of a way of accomplishing his goal without involving Pamela.
No matter which path he began on, it always led to the same place. He could not destroy the Lamb family name, the way his family’s name had been ruined, without Pamela also being dragged down.
The Lambs were not as important to his revenge as the ringleader of the fraud, Long, but when confronted all those years ago, Vicar Lamb had refused to even acknowledge his guilt.
A groom dashed out of the stables to take charge of the horse. Wearily, cold to the bone, he climbed down to discover Pip awaiting him.
‘Mon ami,’Pip said, his face grave. ‘I am glad to see you.’
Damian’s heart skipped a beat. His thoughts went to Pamela. ‘What has happened?’
‘There is this Duke. Camargue. He has been asking for you.’
Damian let go a sigh of relief. ‘Camargue. You don’t need to worry about him. He is pressing me to sell him land.’
‘He is in haste, apparently. He demands that you attend him. I told him you are out of town. He demanded I get you back. “It is urgent,” he said. But he will not say what he wants. So I cannot help him. So now he sends a fellow to camp out in the hall. Awaiting your return. Naturally, he goes to tell his master you have arrived, the moment you pull up. Therefore, if you are hiding from this Duke, you had better hide now.’
‘What the devil? I’m not hiding from him. I will go and see him in good time. Right now, I need to get out of these wet clothes.’
Pip looked at him. ‘Why did you go in an open carriage in December?’
‘I needed some fresh air.’
‘And is Pamela in need of fresh air also? Is that why she looks so pale?’
He frowned. ‘Are you telling me she is ill?’
‘She does not say so. She wanted to know where you were, also with some urgency.’
A cold fist seemed to clutch at Damian’s heart. A sense of something about to go wrong. Nothing would go wrong. He had planned every last detail.
‘Leave me to worry about Pamela.’
Pip nodded. ‘Then all is in train.’
‘It is.’ They walked together into the house. ‘First and foremost, I need a hot bath.’
Damian gave instructions to the butler for water to be brought up and went to his chamber.
He had removed all but his breeches when Pamela strode in. ‘There you are.’
‘Indeed. I am here.’
And there she was, obviously annoyed and very beautiful. He had not seen her so angry before. Her grey eyes were no longer clear calm pools a man could drown in, but dark with storms swirling in their depths.
‘Please. Do not sound so innocent. I have needed to speak with you these past three days and you have deliberately been avoiding me.’
‘Why would I do that?’ he drawled. ‘But if you do not mind, I am about to bathe. I am soaked through from the rain.’
As if to prove his point, a footman entered with the tub followed by a couple more with buckets of hot water.
They ignored Pamela.
‘I don’t mind at all,’ she said, placing herself in a chair and crossing her arms. ‘We can talk while you bathe.’
He waited for the tub to be full and the servants to be gone before he stripped himself off and climbed into the steaming water.
Under other circumstances, he might have invited her to join him, but somehow he didn’t think such an offer would be appreciated.
As the door closed behind his valet, she jumped up and prowled towards him.
He held out the soap. ‘Would you?’
She gave him a blank look. ‘Would I what?’
‘Wash my back.’
‘I need to speak to you about Long.’
He sighed. No back wash then. ‘Again?’
‘Yes. It seems he can repay half the money he owes you and...’
‘He needs to repay all of it.’
‘I am sure he will. But he needs more time.’
‘When he asked me for the money, I did not ask for more time. I gave it to him when he needed it. Now I need it to repay my debt. If I don’t, I will be paying a great deal in interest.’
Or he would be, if he had in fact borrowed it.
She threw up her hands, picked up a washcloth and the soap. Damien leaned forward to give her better access.
She worked up a lather and began vigorously scrubbing his back.
It felt wonderful.
‘There must be something you could do,’ she said. Her tone was matter of fact, not wheedling or whiney.
She was asking him to help because she was a kind and generous woman.
And he had planned her ruination. He felt ill.
He snatched the washcloth from her hand. ‘What is this young fellow to you? Why are you taking such an interest in him?’ The words tasted sour in his mouth, but he could no longer bear to have her this close and not give in to her demands and forgo the revenge he had worked so hard for these many years.
She recoiled. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It seems to me that you are taking more interest in his problem than in mine. There must be some reason for it. I know you met him in secret at the British Museum.’
Her face turned fiery red. ‘What? How do you know?’
‘I asked a footman to keep an eye on you.’
‘How dare you?’
‘How dare I? You were the one who went wandering off to Covent Garden without a moment’s thought. You don’t think I would let that happen again, do you?’
‘You have no business telling me what I can and cannot do. And to answer your question, no, I am not having an affair. Mr Long is engaged. You know that. He is about to be married. But if he cannot repay the debt, he will be forced to leave the country and the marriage will be called off. I simply want to find a way to help him.’
‘At my expense.’
‘You must think I am a complete fool,’ she snapped. ‘I know you could easily afford to forgive part of the debt, if you wished. I am not sure why you are doing this, but I get the feeling you are doing it on purpose. I had no idea you were so cruel and unfeeling.’
Astounded, he stared at her. She wasn’t angry, she was furious. As if it really mattered to her what happened to young Long.
Long’s father hadn’t given a damn about what would happen to Damian’s family all those years ago.
If she knew the truth, she wouldn’t ask. Would she? But then if she knew the truth, she would learn of her own father’s complicity in the scheme.
He hesitated.
‘Well?’ she snapped.
‘This is business. The man owes me hundreds of pounds. You are not being logical.’
‘Logical?’ She handed him the washcloth. ‘I know you could find a way to get your blood without a pound of flesh.’ She stalked out. Left him feeling...bereft. Alone.
Well, he had been alone for years. It was nothing new. She should be grateful that he had decided that only Long would bear the weight of his retribution, not treat him like some sort of ogre.
But then he would never tell her that, would he, or she would guess at his original intentions. Intentions he would not be able to carry through.
Damn. He should have guessed that whereas most women would have given up upon realising he was serious, Pamela would stand by her guns.
And his accusation of unfaithfulness had been a low blow indeed.
Damn it all.
A tap on the door made him look up. Hope leaped in his chest. Had Pamela changed her mind?
His valet entered.
Hope dissipated. ‘Pass me a towel, please. I’m done here.’
His valet obliged. ‘Apparently His Grace, the Duke of Camargue, awaits you in the drawing room.’
Good Lord. What now? Dukes did not normally show up on one’s doorstep like common men. They summoned lesser mortals. Clearly the matter of what the Duke had described a worthless tract of land had become a matter of urgency.
‘Then I must hurry.’
Pamela entered the drawing room and stopped in surprise at the sight of an elderly gentleman rising to his feet. ‘I beg your pardon. I was unaware that Dart was entertaining.’
And she wasn’t prepared for visitors. She’d been coming for her reticule containing her calling cards. She needed to send a message to Mr Long.
She could see it on the table containing her needlework bag.
‘I am Camargue,’ the elderly man said, peering vaguely at her over the top of his spectacles.
Camargue. The Duke. She dipped a curtsy. ‘Mrs Clark.’
‘Delighted to make your acquaintance.’
The Duke spoke with a heavy Scottish burr and leaned heavily on a cane.
‘Please, be seated. I am sure His Lordship will not be long.’
She eyed her reticule. Should she grab it and leave? Come back later or—?
‘Good afternoon, Your Grace,’ Damian said from behind her.
‘Dart,’ the Duke said. ‘Good of you to see me so soon after your journey.’
‘I didn’t realise the Duke had come to call and came to fetch my needlework,’ Pamela said, scooping up both bag and reticule. ‘I will leave you to your conversation.’
‘You are Dart’s hostess,’ Camargue said. ‘I have heard about you.’
She gave Damian a panicked glance.
‘Mrs Clark is a distant cousin,’ Damian said. ‘She serves as my hostess while I am a bachelor.’
Camargue looked from one to the other with a knowing expression. ‘Cousin, eh? Dear me. Is that what they are calling it now?’ He put up a hand when Damian opened his mouth to speak. ‘’Tis no matter. Perhaps Mrs Clark can convince your butler to provide a cup of tea for an old man who is fair drookit after walking here in the rain.’
‘You walked?’ Damien sounded astonished.
‘No sense in spending an hour putting the carriage to for the sake of a ten-minute walk.’
‘Perhaps you would prefer something stronger,’ Damian said. ‘I have whisky if you prefer.’
‘No, no. Tea will be perfect.’
‘Of course.’
Pamela rang the bell and ordered tea. No doubt the Duke would expect her to pour it also. She looked at Damian whose expression was one of resignation.
She sat down and waited for the tea to arrive.
Damian seated himself on the sofa near Camargue’s chair.
‘To what do I owe the pleasure of your call, Your Grace?’ Damian said.
‘My man of business said you returned our offer unsigned. I came to find out why. You won’t get more elsewhere. It is more than generous for such a scabby bit of land.’
Damian smiled briefly. ‘Possibly.’
‘If you think you will wring more out of me, my boy, you are off by a mile,’ the old man growled.
‘I have no intention of selling the lands at the moment.’
‘Is that right?’ The old man chuckled. ‘Then you are a fool. There is no access to that land except by way of mine.’
Damian’s shoulders stiffened very slightly.
If she had not known him so well, Pamela might not have noticed.
Damian expression remained mild and polite. ‘Not fool enough to believe you are going to so much trouble for a half a dozen sheep.’
‘A half-dozen, is it? More like a hundred dozen. There’s money in wool.’
The butler entered with a tray followed by a footman with a plate of petit fours.
The Duke rubbed his paper hands together. ‘Tea. Just what I need.’
Pamela poured him a cup. Damian waved his off and she poured one for herself.
‘No, lad, I will not be put off. You will sell me the land and the longer you wait the lower the price will be.’
Damian’s eyes twinkled. ‘Your Grace, I believe you are neglecting one salient fact.’
The Duke looked up sharply, the vague, decrepit old man seeming to disappear in an instant. ‘And what would that be, pray? Oh, is it the future of a few miserable crofters now occupying the land? My man tells me most of them haven’t paid their rent in years. I have a plan to solve that problem.’
‘And that would be?’
He grinned triumphantly, revealing a mouth full of broken teeth. ‘Send them to America.’
Damian’s face revealed nothing of his thoughts. ‘I see.’
‘Well? Will it serve?’
‘What about the coal?’ The calm in Damian’s voice was so cold it made Pamela shiver.
The Duke waved a dismissive hand. ‘Coal? Who said anything about coal?’
‘I sent a man north to take a look at the land after you approached me in Hyde Park. He says the locals believe there is a seam of coal that runs from your pit right under my land.’
‘Not such a fool after all,’ the Duke muttered and took another swig of his tea.
‘The price you offered for the land is a pittance and I will not sell.’
‘It won’t do you any good. Your access to the sea is blocked. If you mine it, I’ll not give you permission to cross my land.’
‘Then I suppose I will have to go around it.’ While Damian sounded calm enough, Pamela had the sense he was furious with the old fellow for trying to dupe him.
The Duke gave a nasty chuckle. ‘Then you will lose more than ye gain. That land is not worth a penny more than I offered. I bid you good day, young fellow. When you are ready to talk business, you may send word to my man of affairs.’
The Duke snatched up his walking stick and rose to his feet.
Pamela got up to ring the bell.
‘No need, Mrs Clark,’ Damian said with a grim smile. ‘I will show the Duke out myself.’
Pamela watched the two men leave. All that animosity over a little bit of coal. She had not been able to help feeling pleased that Damian had not wanted to dispossess the people who lived on his land. But now it seemed that he was holding out for a better offer, since, as far as she could tell, Damian cared for no one but himself, given the way he was behaving towards Mr Long.
‘There,’ Susan said, putting the finishing touches on the glossy black wig Pamela had chosen for the evening. This one fell long and straight down her back. ‘Is it to your satisfaction?’
‘It looks lovely. Thank you.’ If only she felt more confident that no one would see through her disguise. To her eyes it looked patently false.
Still everyone would be wearing wigs and masks and other forms of disguises this evening so she would not stand out.
‘It is I who should be thanking you,’ Susan said. ‘Without your help, I would never have even dreamed of becoming a ladies’ maid. I am very grateful for everything.’
Pamela had written her an outstanding reference letter and Susan had already landed another position, starting after Pamela and Damian’s planned departure.
‘It is nothing that you do not deserve,’ Pamela said.
‘I just wish I could continue working for you. I will miss you.’
They had become friends long before Susan had become her maid.
‘Once I am settled you must come to visit me when you have some time off. Promise me.’
‘Oh, I will. You will send me your address the moment you know it.’
Pamela’s stomach sank a little. She had no idea where she might end up next. ‘Of course I will, but give me yours now so I can reach you.’
Susan wrote out her address on a piece of paper and tucked it into Pamela’s jewellery box.
‘Time for us to get you into your dress,’ Susan said. She picked up the gown laid over the bed and stroked the silky gold material. ‘Queen of Egypt. You will make a fine queen.’
They both laughed.
She couldn’t wait to see Damian as Antony. Though she was still angry with him, she had come up with an idea to solve the problem, if Damian wouldn’t change his mind.
This was the last evening she would appear as Mrs Clark, the Earl of Dart’s cousin. After today she would simply continue her life as herself.
Strangely, she had the feeling she would miss it. She had already begun to miss Damian. These last few days she had hardly seen him and when she did they had argued.
She stepped into the tunic-like dress and held still while Susan fastened it down the back.
She still didn’t know how she would fare living alone in the depths of the countryside. Nonsense. She would manage as she had for years, only this time she would be pleasing only herself.
‘Where does this go?’ Susan said, holding up a belt fashioned to look like a snake.
‘It ties around the hips, quite low. Look, here is the picture of what it is supposed to look like.’ The dressmaker had drawn up the design for her and Damian’s approval.
‘Oh, yes. I see now.’ Susan fastened the belt around her hips.
‘Now for the jewellery.’ Susan fastened bangles around her arms and a golden headband across her forehead, then stood back to admire the effect. ‘This is so much fun. I don’t think I would recognise you if I didn’t know you.’
Pamela laughed. No one actually knew her. Not any more. Except perhaps Damian and he really didn’t seem interested any longer.
‘Now for the make-up.’
Susan looked at the picture. ‘I can do it like this, if you wish.’
Kohl-rimmed eyes, ruby lips and darkened eyebrows. ‘Perfect.’ If only her eyes weren’t such a distinctive shade. They were the only thing about her that she could not change.
When Pamela went downstairs an hour later, she felt certain she would not have recognised herself, but still she was glad of the mask she held in her hand. She would put it on before their guests arrived.
Tonight there would be several people here that she knew well, including her mother. Quite possibly, they would be a lot closer than they had been when they passed each other in the carriage.
Damian was in the drawing room, looking like a god in his Roman robes and the crown of olive leaves on his brow. It was the first time he had ever appeared in costume. Clearly, he was set on making this event a success.
He also had not yet donned his mask.
He gazed at her for a long moment and nodded his approval. ‘You look like every man’s dream of Cleopatra.’
She wasn’t quite sure if it was a compliment or not, he sounded so grim. ‘Thank you.’
He handed her a glass of sherry. ‘Fortifications before the hordes arrive.’
She smiled and swallowed a mouthful. ‘I need it. I just hope I haven’t forgotten anything important.’
‘Everything is just as it should be. And I have to say that the ivy-clad columns are a very nice touch.’
‘I am glad you like them.’
He tossed back his brandy and held out his hand for her glass. She finished it and handed it over.
How distant they were with each other, how restrained. No doubt he did not want her losing her temper the way she had the other evening.
Together they climbed the stairs to the ballroom.
They stood at the double doors waiting to greet the guests as they arrived and she gazed at him. Soon they would part and would never see each other again. ‘I am sorry if I have been a bit of a trial to you recently,’ she said.
He closed his eyes briefly. ‘I am sorry, too. Very sorry. I hope you will remember that.’
He turned away to speak to one of the footmen at the drinks table.
What on earth did he mean?
But there was no time to enquire. The butler was announcing the first of their guests.
And if an evening’s success was to be judged by how many people could fit in a ballroom and the various antechambers, the ball was definitely the event of the Season.
There was just enough space left for people to dance and that was only by dint of footmen judiciously moving people back from encroaching on the dance floor from time to time.
All evening she had tried to find Mr Long to let him know about her lack of success with Damian, but so far she hadn’t seen him or his fiancée. Either that or she hadn’t recognised them.
She should have asked him about his costume. There were a great many Romeos and Juliets, a quantity of Macbeths, not to mention Titanias and Oberons, with the odd donkey-headed Bottom thrown in.
There were even two other couples dressed as Antony and Cleopatra, but neither of the men looked anywhere near as gorgeous as Damian, who stood head and shoulders above the crowd.
She had danced a good few dances, too, none with Damian though, sadly. He had been busy charming their guests.
As he should, of course.
‘He is magnificent, is he not?’ Pip said, handing her the glass of champagne he had offered to fetch.
He must have seen her staring at Damian like some sort of lovesick fool. ‘As always.’ She hoped she sounded light-hearted, not miserable.
‘And yet you are not as happy as I have seen you.’
Clearly she was not much of an actress. She took a deep breath. ‘I suppose I am a little sorry we will soon go our separate ways.’
Pip glanced across at where Damian was in the middle of a group of ladies and gentlemen, regaling them with some story or other. They seemed to hang on his every word.
‘I do not think he is so glad about it either.’
‘Really? He seems perfectly happy to me.’
‘Yes. He wears his mask well.’ He gave her a look. ‘A quiet cottage by the sea will be welcome after all this excitement?’ He sounded doubtful.
‘Indeed.’ Strangely the cottage was a good deal less appealing than it had been as an impossible dream. Perhaps she had become too accustomed to all the excitement around Damian. Or perhaps it was the thought of living there without the man himself.
She tried to shake off her sadness. ‘I am looking forward to it immensely.’
‘It is a bargain incroyable, according to my agent. You must finalise the purchase before another snaps it up.’
‘First thing tomorrow.’ she said, realising that he had noticed she had been procrastinating.
She sipped calmly at her champagne. He was right, it was an incredible bargain. To keep the agent waiting was unfair.
She smiled at him. ‘I think you better dance with Lady Simpson, she has been staring at you for the past five minutes.’
He grinned. ‘Ah, yes. We have an assignation later. She does not like me to speak with other ladies.’
‘You are going to miss your lady friends when you depart.’
‘There are always new friends to be made,’ he said with a wink and headed for the lady in question.
She took a deep breath. It was time to go back into the fray. Once last round of being charming and then she would leave, she did not want to be around for the unmasking. There was really no point—with or without her mask she was not herself.
Finally, there was Mr Long. Alone. His fiancée must be elsewhere.
She eased her way through the crowd to Romeo’s side. ‘Have you made your arrangements with Lord Dart?’ she asked.
‘Mrs Clark, I scarce knew it was you,’ he said.
‘Good. But did you?’
‘I haven’t been able to see him, but I sent a message saying I could come up with half of it...’
A gentleman dressed in Tudor robes, muttered something to his companion wearing a tricorn and powdered wig. ‘It is Long,’ his companion replied. ‘The effrontery of the fellow.’
They made a show of turning their backs.
A gap opened up around her and Mr Long. A circle of disdain.
Long turned fiery red. ‘Someone must have learned about me not meeting my obligation. Did he not agree to receiving a partial payment?’
Pamela’s stomach fell away. ‘No, but I have thought of a plan. I did not expect people to know...’
‘Everyone knew tonight was the deadline.’ Long looked mortified. ‘I would not have come if I had known he refused to wait. You should have let me know.’
‘I had no idea the deadline was tonight. You did not tell me.’ Her mind raced. She had to do something. ‘I will speak to him.’
‘It is too late.’ Long strode away, his head held high, but the view of the ton was made perfectly clear as they moved aside as if his touch could cause contamination.
She felt slightly ill. Only one person could have let fall that Long had failed to discharge his debt of honour by the appointed time. Damian. She scanned the room, looking for his imposing presence. There. Near the orchestra.
She started towards him.
The clock struck midnight.
Oh. No. She did not want to be here for the unmasking. She would have to speak with him after the ball. She was not going to allow this to happen to poor Mr Long.
It would be even more of a disaster if she was recognised.
She turned to make her way out of the room.
A hand caught her arm. Pip.
‘Where are you going?’ he asked.
She tugged to free her arm. ‘Pip. You know I always leave before the unmasking.’
‘Not this time, I think.’
‘What?’
She glanced down the room to where Damian was already making his way up on to the dais with the orchestra. About to announce the unmasking.
‘Pip. Let me go. What are you doing?’
But he wasn’t looking at her. His grasp remained firm and he was watching Damian.