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Dominic ignored the bait and bent his head to the columns of numbers on the page before him. Hunter was right, he acknowledged dismally. The page had been clear and legible before Dominic had started his checking.
‘Came by to drop you a warning.’
Dominic felt his stomach tighten. Hunter would not be here right now if it were not something concerning Dominic.
‘You are not going to like it,’ warned Hunter.
Dominic thought of Arabella.
Hunter helped himself to Dominic’s decanter of brandy and filled two glasses. ‘It’s Misbourne. Trying a new approach.’
Dominic released the breath he had been holding as he accepted the brandy from Hunter. He took a sip and watched his friend lounge in the chair on the other side of the desk.
‘He is saying that there was some kind of old agreement made between your father and him years ago. An oath to bind the two families by marriage between you and his daughter.’
The news was not anything Dominic wanted to hear, but at least it did not regard Arabella.
‘Aye, a pact sworn with the earl when the two of them were young, single and in their cups. My father never meant to hold me to a boy’s drunken foolishness. And I’ll be damned if I’m pushed to it by a louse like Misbourne.’
‘Misbourne is risking much with his tactic; he must be very determined to make a match between you and Lady Marianne Winslow.’
Dominic’s gaze met Hunter’s and with the mention of marriage the awkwardness of the past—of what Arabella had done—was in the room between them.
Hunter gave a nod. ‘Just have a care over him, Dominic. He is not a good man to have as an enemy.’
‘I know and I thank you for the warning, my friend.’
There was a silence in which Hunter sipped at his brandy. Then he smiled. ‘To change the subject to a lighter note …’
Dominic relaxed and raised the glass to his lips.
‘You are creating quite a stir with Miss Noir.’
Dominic stilled, then set the glass down on the desk without having taken a mouthful.
‘What do you mean?’ He thought of the lengths he had gone to, to keep the transition of Arabella from Mrs Silver’s to his mistress a secret. ‘You did not tell them anything of it?’
Hunter raised his brows and there was a genuine wounded look in his eyes. ‘I hope you deem me better than that.’
Dominic gave a nod. ‘Forgive me.’
‘I do not know how, but the whisper is out about you and the mysterious Miss Noir. People are intrigued by the story. And they are asking questions.’
‘Then let us hope that they find no answers.’ It should not matter if all of London knew that it was Arabella he had taken as his mistress. After what she had done, it was the very least she deserved. But knowing that and doing it were two different things. He knew what the gossips would do to her if they discovered who she was. They would have a field day with the complete and utter destruction of every last aspect of her character.
‘She must be something special that you are taking such a care to hide her,’ mused Hunter. ‘Who is she, Arlesford?’
‘None of your damn business,’ said Dominic and lifted his glass of brandy to his mouth. He wondered what Hunter would say if he knew the truth.
Hunter laughed. ‘Now I really am intrigued, if you are keeping her secret even from me.’
‘Especially from you, Hunter,’ Dominic said as if in jest, but he had never been more serious.
‘I am not such a bastard that I would steal my best friend’s woman,’ Hunter protested and finished his brandy in a gulp.
Dominic drew a wry smile. ‘Knowing your reputation, I am not about to take any chances.’ Better to blame it on that than let Hunter know it was Arabella.
Hunter laughed. ‘She must be something special.’
All levity vanished from Dominic’s face. He tapped the base of the glass against the wooden surface of his desk as he thought of Arabella.
‘She is,’ he said and glanced away.
‘Dominic?’ Hunter probed. But Dominic had no mind to discuss the matter even with Hunter, so he just shook his head.
‘Do not go further, friend,’ he said quietly.
Hunter gave a subtle nod, then smiled, refilled their glasses and raised his in a toast. ‘Miss Noir, long may the ton fail to unmask her.’
Dominic chinked his glass against Hunter’s, but he did not smile. And as he drank the brandy his mind was filled with Arabella Tatton and what it would mean to them both were she to be unmasked.
It was another reason he should not return to Curzon Street. And yet one more reason that did not relieve the compulsion that whispered to him night and day to retrace his steps straight back there.
Chapter Six
‘He did not call upon you again last night?’ Mrs Tatton enquired over the toast. ‘That is the fourth night in a row.’
Four nights during which Arabella’s initial relief at Dominic’s absence was beginning to turn into something else. A niggle of worry that would not be stilled. She nodded, trying to let nothing of her true thoughts show upon her face, and spread some honey upon another slice of toast for Archie.
‘Who did not call?’ asked Archie.
Arabella’s mother met her eyes over his head. The two women looked at one another.
‘Your mama’s friend,’ said Mrs Tatton. ‘Now eat up your toast, Birthday Boy, before it grows cold.’
Archie, mouth filled with toast, started to pretend two of the spoons were horses galloping across the tablecloth.
Arabella felt her cheeks heat from the deception she was weaving, but knew she had no choice. It would all be so much worse if the truth came out.
‘Perhaps if his first visit was not entirely to his satisfaction he has changed his mind over the arrangement.’ Embarrassment flushed Mrs Tatton’s cheeks as she voiced the fear that had been gnawing at Arabella.
‘Let us hope not, Mama.’ God help them if he had, for Arabella did not think she could go back to Mrs Silver’s. But the manner of their parting lent her little confidence.
A knock sounded at the door and Gemmell entered with a letter from Dominic upon a silver salver.
‘Delivered first thing, ma’am,’ he said and left again.
Arabella felt a stab of dread, wondering if it contained her congé.
Mrs Tatton looked on in anxious silence as Arabella opened the letter and scanned its contents.
‘He enquires as to my happiness with the dressmaker,’ Arabella said with relief.
‘Then all is well?’
‘It appears so, Mama.’ As Arabella read the rest of the bold script she could not keep the surprise from her voice. ‘He writes to say that he has given me the use of a carriage and a purse of money to spend so that I will not have to buy on credit using his name.’ She glanced up to meet her mother’s eyes. ‘So no one need know of our … situation.’
Her mother’s eyes widened. ‘He is either a most thoughtful gentleman, or …’ she raised a brow ‘… one who has much to lose if you are discovered.’
As far as Arabella could see Dominic had nothing to lose by her discovery. Indeed, she would have thought he would have been crowing it from the rooftops. A most thoughtful gentleman. Not a description that could ever be applied to Dominic Furneaux. Or so she had thought.
‘Much as I detest that he must pay for us …’ She glanced across at her mother’s shabby dress. ‘You and Archie are in dire need of some new clothes.’
‘We should be saving the money so that we may leave this situation as quickly as possible. Archie and I can manage just fine as we are, Arabella.’
‘Both of you have only the clothes upon your back, Mama, and nothing more. Your shoes have holes in the soles. And your hands have been paining you. His payment is generous.’ She pushed away the thought of what it was he was paying for. ‘I will ask Gemmell to organise new wardrobes for you. And I will visit the apothecary myself to fetch you something for your joints.’
Mrs Tatton worried at her lip. ‘You are sure he will not notice? About the money?’
Arabella glanced again at the letter. ‘He makes it clear he does not wish for an account of my spending.’
‘Well, I suppose in that case …’ Her mother nodded, but the furrow of worry between her brows lifted only a little.
Arabella pushed the thought of Dominic and her situation aside. There were other matters to be considered today, and she intended to apply herself fully to them. ‘Let us talk of more pleasant matters. It is a certain boy’s birthday.’ She raised her voice so that Archie would hear and looked over at her son. ‘And as a special treat I thought that we might take a trip to the park. Robert, the groom, has a little mare called Elsie. Would you like to sit up on Elsie’s back while Robert walks her around the park?’
‘Oh, yes, please!’ Archie’s eyes were wide with delight and he slipped down from his chair and started to gallop around in excitement. ‘Can we leave right now?’
‘We had best get ourselves ready first!’ Arabella laughed.
‘Are you sure about this, Arabella?’ Mrs Tatton asked.
‘It is still early, Mama. There should be few enough people about to notice us; even if they do, there is nothing to associate us with this house or its master.’
Archie paused as he galloped past the mantel piece to stroke a hand against the ribbons that Arabella had festooned there. She smiled at the pleasure on his face and knew that the decorations had been worth it, even if she would have to take them down and hide them away just in case Dominic arrived.
‘And remember that we are to have a special birthday lunch,’ said Mrs Tatton. ‘Cook is making a cherry cake and lemonade and some biscuits too.’
‘Hurrah!’ shouted Archie. ‘I love birthdays.’
Gemmell came in to organise the clearing of the breakfast plates. ‘And how old are you today, young master Archie?’ he asked.
‘I am a grown up boy of five years old,’ said Archie with pride.
‘That is very grown-up indeed,’ agreed Gemmell with a smile and gave the little boy the small wooden figure of a horse that he had carved.
And the maid, Alice, chucked Archie under the chin and gave him a packet of barley-sugar twists that she had made herself and knew to be his favourites.
Arabella felt her heart swell at their kindness. ‘Thank you,’ she said with meaning. ‘You are very kind to us.’ And today all the shadows of the past and the present seemed very far away. Today they were a proper family—Archie, her mother, Arabella and all of the servants.
Dominic read the card in his hand and knew there was no way he could refuse Prinny’s invitation without delivering the prince a monumental insult. How recently a night of drunken revelry and fireworks in Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens would have held appeal for Dominic. Now it did not. He wondered how little time he might need stay there before he could slip away.
He thought of Arabella sitting alone at her needlework in Curzon Street. And he felt that same surge of desire for her that he had always felt. He burned for her, just as he knew he could not take her. It was an absurd situation of his own creation. An insolvable paradox that tortured him more with each passing day. His brain told him that he should go round to Curzon Street right now and ease the ache in his loins upon her, to ride her as he had done in Mrs Silver’s. But even the memory of what had happened in that place soured his stomach. And in his heart he knew that he could not do it. Even if she had been ridden by a thousand men before him.
He glanced again at the card, Vauxhall and its masked carnival, and an audacious idea popped into his head. An idea that was both daring and ridiculous. To be with her was a torture, but he craved it all the same. The carnival might be easier than being alone with her in a house he was paying for, with a bed too easily within reach. The thought of having Arabella by his side seemed to make the prospect of Vauxhall much more palatable. He slipped the card into his pocket. It would require another visit to Curzon Street.
Just to tell her of the carnival.
Nothing more.
Tonight.
He anticipated the visit with a combination of dread and impatience.
It was wonderful to escape the house in Curzon Street and it gladdened Arabella’s heart to watch her son and her mother enjoy the morning in the fresh air of the park. The trip lifted all of their spirits and so too did the little party they had for themselves and the servants that afternoon.
Normally Gemmell served dinner at four o’clock, which was early for London’s society, but it was an hour that gave Arabella and her family time enough to sit down and eat together before preparing for the evening. The preparation involved checking in each room that there was no evidence of either Archie or Mrs Tatton and ensuring that Archie was bathed, changed and tucked up in bed asleep before the master of the house’s arrival, should he choose to call. But today, because of the park and the party, and the fact that come four o’clock they were still full of birthday cake and lemonade, everything was running late. And Arabella was loathe to bring a close to the day. Not once had she allowed herself to think of Dominic or her circumstances. She had been determined to make this day as enjoyable as possible for Archie’s sake. And it had been. Arabella felt happy for the first time in weeks.
‘Have we not had the very best of days?’ she asked as they sat down to a light dinner within the dining room.
‘Indeed we have, Mama!’ His eyes were shining and his cheeks had the healthy glow of the outdoors about them.
Arabella and her mother laughed.
‘And Charlie thinks so, too.’ He stroked the little wooden horse that Gemmell had made for him.
They were in the middle of eating when Arabella thought she heard a familiar-sounding carriage outside. It cannot be, she thought to herself. It is barely quarter past six. But then a very worried-looking Gemmell appeared in the doorway.
‘Madam, it is the master!’
‘Good Lord!’ said Arabella beneath her breath.
‘Oh, Arabella!’ gasped her mother.
‘Show him into the drawing room. I will come through and stall him there while Mama and Archie make their escape.’
Gemmell gave a nod and hurried away.
‘What is wrong, Mama?’ asked Archie.
‘Nothing at all, little lamb. Grandmama wants to tell you a very exciting new story. So you must sneak upstairs to your bedchamber as quickly and quietly as you can. And once you are there you must climb straight into bed and be as quiet as a mouse and listen to Grand-mama’s new story before you go to sleep.’
‘No bathing?’ asked Archie, who was looking as if it was something too good to be true.
‘Just for tonight,’ said Arabella.
‘Hurrah!’ Archie began to shout.
Mrs Tatton put her fingers to her lips and hushed him. ‘Shush now, Archie. Fasten that little button on your lips. Quiet as a mouse, remember?’
Archie nodded and made the button-fastening movement at his lips.
Arabella heard the front door open. She heard the murmur of Dominic’s voice and the tread of his shoes on the polished wooden floorboards of the hallway.
Archie was grinning so much a tiny breathy snigger escaped him.
Arabella’s and her mother’s eyes shot to him, shaking their heads, touching their fingers to their lips in a silencing gesture.
Her heart was thudding as hard as a blacksmith’s hammer striking against an anvil. She looked at the door, afraid that Dominic would come striding through it, demanding to know what was going on.
Please God, do not let him discover them.
But his footsteps walked straight on past the dining room door and on along the passageway to the drawing room.
A minute later, and without a single noise, Gemmell appeared at the door. There was a glimmer of sweat upon his brow. The poor man looked every bit as worried as Arabella felt.
She nodded to him. ‘Help Mama and Archie. Wait until I am inside the drawing room speaking with him before you make a dash for it.’ She thought of the infirmities of both Gemmell and her mother—’dash’ was perhaps the wrong word to use.
‘Be a good boy for Grandmama.’ She kissed Archie on the forehead. And to her mother, ‘Take off his shoes that they make no noise upon the floor.’
‘I will carry him, ma’am,’ said Gemmell.
Archie was quite heavy and she worried that Gemmell could not manage him, but she did not want to insult the old butler by suggesting any such thing. So she gave him a grateful, if nervous, smile. ‘Thank you.’
And then, smoothing down her skirts, she made her way through to the drawing room and Dominic.
Arabella was looking a little flustered when she appeared in the drawing room.
‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘did I interrupt you?’
‘Not at all.’ She sounded slightly breathless. ‘I had almost finished eating when I heard your arrival.’
‘I did not mean to interrupt your dinner. It is nothing of importance. I merely wanted to speak with you. Let us go back to the dining room. We can speak just as well there.’
‘No. Really.’ She thought of the ribbons that still festooned the mantel, and the three settings at the table and their half-eaten meals … and her mother and son still within. ‘Besides, I find my appetite has quite deserted me.’
He stiffened at her words, but when his eyes scanned her face there was nothing of disdain or sharpness there.
She caught his expression and only then seemed to realise what she had said. ‘I did not mean … that is to say …’
Dominic looked at her in surprise. There was not one sign of her normal cool reserve, nothing of artifice. She was every inch the Arabella he had known and loved. Keeping her here as his mistress had never seemed so wrong, yet he was having trouble tearing his eyes away from her.
‘I came to ask if you would accompany me on an evening at Vauxhall Gardens. The Prince of Wales is organising a masquerade and I am obliged to attend. I thought as it was a masked affair … your identity would be quite hidden. And perhaps you would find it preferable to an evening spent with your needlework.’
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. And something of the mask was back upon her face.
They looked at one another across the distance.
‘You may think about it, Arabella, and let me know your decision.’ He placed the card down upon a nearby table and made to leave.
‘Wait.’ She stepped towards him, her hand held out in entreaty. ‘Please.’
Dominic stopped and looked round at her.
‘I would like very much to go to Vauxhall with you.’
Some of the tension he had been feeling eased. He gave a nod of his head. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I will leave you to your dinner.’ He bowed and turned away.
‘Dominic!’ There was an urgency in her voice he had not heard before. ‘Will you not stay for a little while?’
He peered round at her, hardly believing this sudden change in her.
She gestured to the sofa. ‘Let us sit down and … talk.’
There was such earnestness in her face he could not refuse. Besides, if she wanted to talk then he wanted to listen. Maybe she would tell him the answer to the question that had weighed heavy in his mind for every single day of the last six years.
‘Tell me about your day.’ He could sense the nervousness running through her, see it in the way she wetted her lips and clutched her hands together that bit too tightly.
‘You wish to know about my day?’
‘Yes. I am interested to hear it. You have not told me anything of your life.’ She perched herself on the edge of the striped green sofa.
‘You have not asked,’ he said and sat down beside her.
‘Then I have been remiss in my duty.’ She smiled, but Dominic could not help but notice that the smile did not touch her eyes.
Her fingers were gripping the edge of the sofa. He laid his hand gently over them.
‘I do not want you to ask out of duty, Arabella,’ he said quietly.
Her gaze met his and the smile dropped away from her face.
A loud clatter sounded from the hallway and Arabella jumped.
‘What on earth …?’ He got to his feet to go out and see what was going on.
But Arabella was already on hers and standing before him. ‘Gemmell is a little clumsy. Do not be harsh with him, Dominic, I beg of you.’ Her face had paled and she looked almost frightened.
‘I have no intention of chastising anyone, Arabella. I mean only to check that there has been no mishap.’
‘Dominic …’ She stepped towards him. He saw the intensity of her expression, the uncertainty in her eyes. Slowly she reached her hand out and brushed the tips of her fingers against his face.
And everything in Dominic’s world seemed to stop.
She touched her fingers over his cheek as if she were reassuring herself that it really was him.
Dominic held his breath and did not move.
She traced down the line of his nose, omitting his mouth to move over the angles of his chin, first one way and then the other, before coming back to linger within its cleft. Her fingers were chilled as ice against his skin.
Not once did he move his gaze from her, just watched her following the path her finger was drawing.
And then slowly she inched her fingers higher …
Dominic’s body tightened.
And higher …
His breath shook.
Until at last, her fingertips touched against his lips and stilled. They were light as a feather and trembling.
Dominic ceased to think. He responded in the only way he knew how with Arabella. He kissed those sweet delicate fingers, kissed each one in turn. And when she came into his arms and her body cleaved to his it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her mouth.
Arabella kissed him and forgot that she was only doing this to prevent the discovery of Archie and her mother. She kissed him and everything else ceased to be. He held her as if he cared for her, kissed her as if he loved her. He was the same man she had known, the same man she had loved. And in this moment as she felt the fast beat of his heart beneath her hand and the warmth and the strength of his body, she felt everything that she had done as a girl of nineteen. He worshipped her with his lips and she believed the illusion his tenderness wove—of love and of protection. She slid her hand up around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss, revelling in it, wanting it all the more. All of these years without him. Her heart clung to his and refused to let go.
Lies, all lies, the little voice in her head whispered. And she remembered all that he had done. And her son who had no father. And the memories cooled her ardour like a bucket of iced water.
She stumbled back, clutching a hand to her mouth, appalled at what she had just done.
‘Arabella?’ Dominic’s eyes were dark and dazed. His voice sounded low and confused.
‘I …’ She backed away and shook her head, knowing that there were no words to explain how she was feeling. She did not know what to say to him. She could not even begin to pretend that she was unaffected by what had just happened between them or by anything of this situation.
‘I …’ she tried again and as her gaze lowered she saw the evidence of his arousal within his close-fitting pantaloons and realised that she had seduced him just like the courtesan she was. What she had done meant he would take her now. And she trembled at the thought of it.
Dominic looked right into her eyes, as if he could see every thought in her head, then walked away without saying a single word.
There was the thud of the front door shutting, and Arabella’s eyes closed in anguish.
Chapter Seven
The night of the Vauxhall masquerade came around too quickly.
Arabella slipped the silver-beaded and feathered mask into place and turned to face Dominic. He had barely said a word since entering the drawing room of the Curzon Street town house and there was an atmosphere in the room thick enough to be cut with a knife.