Temptation In Regency Society: Unmasking the Duke's Mistress

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Dominic set his glass down upon the mantelpiece with a thud that threatened to fracture the crystal stem. ‘Hell, Sebastian, what kind of man do you take me for? I found her in Mrs Silver’s that night! What did you expect me to do? Walk away and leave her there?’ he shouted.

‘After breaking your betrothal to run off and marry some other man? Yes. That is exactly what I would have done.’ Hunter shook his head again. ‘I thought you were over her. I thought you had learned your lesson from her. Lord, but she made a damn fool of you!’ Hunter peered closer at Dominic’s face. ‘But you still want her,’ he said slowly as if the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place to reveal the answer.

‘Yes, I want her,’ admitted Dominic. ‘I have never stopped wanting her. Any sane man would. I do not have to like her to bed her.’

Hunter was still looking at him. ‘Were that true you would not give a damn who knew she is your mistress. The shame would be on her, Dominic, not on you. No, there is more to it than that.’ His eyes narrowed with speculation.

‘Leave it alone, Sebastian,’ Dominic warned.

But Hunter never could take a warning. ‘You still care for her,’ he said quietly.

The glass within Dominic’s hand shattered, sending the splinters of glass flying across the mantelpiece and spilling the brandy to pool with the blood, but Dominic felt nothing of the pain.

Hunter pulled a clean white handkerchief from his pocket and appeared by his side. First he checked there were no glass fragments in Dominic’s hand, then used the handkerchief as a bandage to staunch the bleeding. He eyed Dominic with concern. ‘This is worse than I thought,’ he said, and Dominic knew Hunter was not referring to the cut upon his hand. ‘You do not want me to, but I will say it anyway. You are making a mistake with her, Dominic.’

‘Be that as it may, I will not give her up,’ said Dominic; he knew he sounded stubborn and bad tempered and that he should relax and pretend that she did not matter to him in the slightest.

‘I did not think that you would,’ replied Hunter quietly. ‘You do care for her, Dominic.’

‘I care only that she warms my bed,’ said Dominic and knew that he was not fooling Hunter for a minute, yet his pride would not let him admit the truth. He did not think he even understood himself what the truth was any more.

He tensed against any more of Hunter’s questions, but his friend let the matter drop, clapping a hand of support against Dominic’s shoulder. ‘I think you are in need of another brandy.’

‘It is just an arrangement for sex,’ he insisted. Except Dominic knew that he was lying. Even Hunter knew he was lying. There were other aspects to what was between Arabella and him that he did not wish to think about. Depths he had not yet come to terms with. ‘I know what I am doing, Sebastian.’

‘I hope so, Dominic.’ But Hunter did not look convinced.

A fortnight had passed when Arabella awoke with the sunlight streaming in through a crack in the curtains. The bed was still warm from Dominic’s presence although he had left before dawn, as he did every morning. Whatever else Dominic was, at least he was discreet.

From the chamber above she heard the scurry of little footsteps. Archie. She smiled as she pulled on her dressing gown and went to find her son and her mother.

‘You two slugabeds had best get yourselves up and readied, for today we are going out.’

‘Is that such a good idea?’ Mrs Tatton glanced round at her in surprise.

‘I have heard tell of a wonderful new apothecary in Oxford Street who can mix the best of liniments for the joints. Besides, we have not been out of the house since our outing to the park and such confinement is not good for Archie, or for you. The weather is fine and an outing will do us all good.’

‘What if we are seen by your gentleman while we are out?’ said Mrs Tatton.

‘We will be very careful. And he hates shopping.’ She doubted Dominic had changed in that respect. ‘I cannot think that we would meet him in the apothecary.’

‘But after that last time, when he almost caught us … My stomach has been sick with nerves.’

‘We will make sure we return here in plenty of time.’ Arabella placed a reassuring hand on her mother’s shoulder. ‘Please come, Mama. I think it would do you good. And I promise you, nothing will go wrong.’ Arabella felt a shiver of foreboding as soon as the words had left her mouth. She turned to her son, and lifted him on to her knee. ‘What say you, Archie? I thought we might visit Gunter’s for some ices before the apothecary.’

‘Oh, can we, Mama?’ His eyes shone with excitement.

She kissed Archie’s cheek and then her mother’s. ‘Chop chop, then,’ she said with a smile.

There really was very little chance of something going wrong, she told herself again and again, but that stubborn feeling of unease sat right there in her stomach and refused to shift.

She would only later learn that the feeling was called instinct and that she should have listened to it.

Chapter Ten (#ulink_0075bb96-4f4f-5062-a05d-88019ae13d89)

‘I am so glad that you persuaded me to come. It is a lovely day and Archie is having such a fine time.’ Her mother smiled as she and Arabella strolled along arm in arm, with Archie running before them breathless with excitement.

‘Ooh, do look at that display, Arabella!’ Mrs Tatton pulled Arabella over to admire the array of perfume bottles in the shop window. ‘All the way from Paris and with matching scented soaps. How lovely.’

‘This is the place of which I was speaking to you of—the apothecary who is highly recommended. Gemmell was telling me that he bought some liniment for the stiffness in his joints and it has worked wonders for him. And Cook swore that a tonic brought her sister back to health when she was dreadfully weakened following a fever. I was thinking we could buy some remedy for you, Mama.’

‘If you think it would help.’

‘There will be no hurt in trying.’ Arabella raised her eyebrows. ‘And perhaps we might treat ourselves to some of that fine French soap while we are on the premises.’

Mrs Tatton laughed. And when Archie copied her, even though he did not understand what his grandmother was laughing about, Arabella could not help but join in.

The bell rang as they entered through the door, making the women who were standing in the middle of the shop floor beside a display of glass bottles glance round and notice Arabella and her family. The bottles which the women were inspecting were the same expensive Parisian perfumes as displayed in the shop’s window. On seeing that Arabella was no one that they knew, the ladies ignored her and went back to choosing their perfume. Arabella watched them taking great pains over sniffing the scents that the shop assistant had touched to their hands using a variety of thin glass wands.

Two of the women were older; Arabella would guess of an age similar to her own mother’s. But they were as haughty as Mrs Tatton was not. One look at their faces and Arabella could not help but draw a less-than-flattering conclusion as to their characters. The third woman was much younger, barely more than a girl. In contrast to the older women, one of whom Arabella was sure was the girl’s mother due to a faint family resemblance, the girl seemed very quiet and eager to please.

‘What do you mean, you like the sandalwood, Marianne?’ demanded one of the formidable matrons. ‘It is quite unsuitable for a young lady. Whatever would Sarah say were she to receive that as her birthday gift?’ The matron looked quickly to her companion. ‘Forgive Marianne, Lady Fothergill, she can be such a silly goose at times. I am quite certain that she will admit that the rose fragrance is quite the most appropriate scent for her friend, albeit one of the most expensive choices.’

Arabella felt a pang of compassion for the girl. Life with a mother like that could not be easy, she thought as she turned her attention back to the apothecary who had arrived at the counter to serve them.

In the background she could hear the drone of the women’s conversation, but Arabella was not listening. Rather she was concentrating on showing the apothecary her mother’s hands and explaining about her mother’s lungs. He suggested a warming liniment for Mrs Tatton’s joints and a restorative tonic for her lungs, and disappeared off into the back of the shop to prepare them.