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‘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 (#ulink_49e7a1b5-0ddc-5c53-a6db-cc5a3c30b37e)
‘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.’
