He took Pamela's arm and Vanessa's basket, leaving Vanessa to walk by his side, but not as closely as Pamela. Pamela felt as though they were the only two people in the crowded street as he led her across carefully, steering her around anything unpleasant underfoot.
He opened the carriage door and placed the basket inside, and then helped Vanessa in. She took up her place next to all her parcels, once again deliberately but seemingly inadvertently leaving the attractive young couple together on the backward seat.
He turned to Pamela and smiled. She took his hand and stepped up, and did not slide too far over in the seat, the better to be closer to him once he climbed up and sat down.
If he thought it strange, he said nothing. He settled back against the squabs as they resumed their conversation, this time discussing their plans for the rest of the evening.
"There is a concert this evening at the Octagon. Some Italian arias," Vanessa said.
"Would you like to go?" Jonathan asked Pamela. "Or did you have your heart set on the card party at the Elliotts'?"
"The concert sounds delightful, but my Italian isn't very good."
"No matter. I can translate for you."
"If you would be so kind."
"Very well, it's all decided," Jonathan said, pleased and surprised she did not fancy the more raucous card party. "Vanessa, you and Clifford will accompany us?"
"We should be most pleased to."
Pamela was in heaven for the rest of the day, for she sat next to Jonathan at dinner, the result of them having arrived a bit late. She listened carefully, observing him from under her lashes, and trying to make intelligent remarks as they discussed the letters to the paper, always a favorite pastime of the three Rakehell friends whenever they got together.
Once the meal was over, they retired for coffee. In most households, the men would have retired for port and cigars, but the Duke did not indulge in either habit. He also believed that any conversation which could not take place in front of a lady should not take place at all.
So Charlotte sat to pour for them all, while Pamela made herself useful by handing round the cups. She observed the way each took theirs, so if she ever had to pour, she would be appropriately attentive.
Jonathan was black, one drop, the Duke white, two drops, and Clifford black. She tried to be pleasant to everyone in the room, particularly Elizabeth, who said she would be delighted to attend the concert. Her aunt had little musical inclination, however.
Vanessa shot the Duke a look.
He said, "Well, there's no need for either party to feel deprived. Your niece and my sister can go to the concert at the Octagon with the Stones, and if you will be so kind, you can come with us to the Elliotts'."
He winked at Vanessa as soon as no one was looking. Shortly thereafter, Charlotte rose and told everyone it was high time they bathed and changed if they were to go out that evening.
Pamela could hardly restrain herself. A whole evening with Jonathan, without her aunt! She couldn't wait.
Chapter Eighteen
Pamela sped up to her room to prepare for the concert at the Octagon that evening. She donned the gown she had chosen the night before, a sumptuous pale blue silk with fine lace edging around the bodice, sleeves, and hem. The lace was a full six inches at the bottom, of finest cream-colored Brussels lace, and was so sheer as to expose her ankles to view. The sweeping train enhanced the slender elegance of her figure. A matching shawl and fan completed the ensemble.
She pinched her cheeks and pressed her lips together, and allowed herself a light dusting of power on her face and bosom, and a tiny bit of kohl around the eyes. Her hair she swept up into a gold fillet, and wove it into a complicated plait at the back which she then pinned to the top of her head.
Assessing herself in the mirror, she was sure she had never looked so fine. Her opinion was mirrored in Jonathan's eyes as she descended into the vestibule, where he was waiting for the carriage to take them to the Octagon. His gray eyes positively glowed as he looked at her, and not for the first time, he found himself cursing his self-imposed restrictions.
Jane had been lovely but uncomplicated, girlish. Pamela was a woman worth having indeed, in every sense of the word. But he had his duties, his obligations, however much Thomas said he should let go of the past and act upon his desires where Pamela was concerned.
He had not been able to keep his interest in her secret from his two oldest friends. He had reassured them both that he did not intend to change his state in any way in relation to her. Pamela was expected to marry well. While he was an extremely wealthy man in his own right, that fact was not widely known.
Nor did he wish it to be. He had been subjected to his own share of fortune huntresses in the past, and did not want to have to constantly beware again. Very few people expected a vicar to be well to do, so he was safe. Also, he was proud enough to want Pamela to fall in love with him for himself, not his money.
Fall in love? But to what end? He sighed. No, there was no point. He had given his word. While there was any hope at all, he had to cling on to it. That meant turning his back upon Pamela, however hard it might be.
But it was a beautiful evening, and she was his charming companion. If he could get to sit next to her at the concert without too many other people crowding around them, he would be the happiest of men. It was only one night. What could be the harm?
He could never have her for his own. He and his sister had already stayed too long in Bath. He had duties back in Brimley that needed tending to. In fact, he had even mentioned to Sarah his intention to arrive back in his parish in time for the Sunday services. He would pay one more call on Jane and her daughter Sophie in the small house on the outskirts of the next village, and head back to his duties.
As for Pamela, she would meet a good man with a sizable fortune, marry well, and be happy. She need never know what dwelled in his heart. She would look back upon her association with a fond smile, and recollect him as nothing more than the sanctimonious prig who had once tried to educate her.
"Are you ready?" he asked.
"I am. I just need to put on my cloak."
He helped her with the garment, allowing his hands to rest upon her shoulders. They both shivered with delight, but sprang apart guiltily as the Duke turned and looked at them.
The others in the party proceeded out the door, and entered the first carriage, which was destined for the Elliotts' card party. Once it was filled, it drove off, and the second one pulled up for the rest of the party to climb in.
Once again, Pamela was seated next to Jonathan in the carriage, with Sarah on the other side of her brother. The intimate contact was almost more than both could bear, but a few jolts soon had them relaxing against one another, with their shoulders and hips pressed together lightly. She couldn't very well pull away into the corner-it would look either too peculiar or particular. She had to suffer the joy and anguish of being so close to him and prayed no one noticed her high color.
Her consternation only got worse in the concert, when Jonathan sat with her and leaned near to explain the libretto. They had arrived late, and there were only pairs of seats available for the party.
Sarah and Elizabeth, looking very well in their fine cambric gowns with silk sashes in green and blue, were the target of several male admirers, and were made room for. Vanessa and Clifford sat behind Pamela and Jonathan for the sake of propriety, but also helped shield them from view. They were also placed near a pillar, which concealed their closeness well.
There was little chance for ordinary conversation, but the music was so sublime Pamela did not care to initiate any other talk. At the interval, Jonathan stood up to fetch her some punch, but Clifford told him he would bring some back for them both, and went off with Vanessa to mingle.
"Should we not go socialize as well? I see the Jenkins twins over there."
"Can't abide them."
She jumped at his abrupt comment. "I thought you liked the girls."
"Gig
gling little chits. Please spare me."
She stared at him. "It's not like you to be so, well, rude and outspoken."
"It was they that were gossiping about Elizabeth."
Pamela stiffened. "In that case, I shall avoid them too."
But she felt uneasy, for she knew they were particular friends of the Earl's. She tried to recollect whether she had ever had a private conversation with them, or even mentioned Elizabeth to them. But why would the Earl want to cause trouble for her? Jonathan had said he was untrustworthy in the past. She wondered what he had done to merit this opinion.
As if by magic, the object of her thoughts suddenly materialized before her, and made a beeline toward Elizabeth. The word fortune hunter immediately sprang to mind. She told herself she was being unfair. The girl was perfectly delightful if very young.
In any case, Pamela need have no fear, for the Duke's sister was far too sensible a girl to let herself get carried away at her age. Besides, the Earl was an earl; it was no mean thing for her to be matched with him, though there was still something about Ferncliffe...
Jonathan saw her staring at the Earl, and misconstrued her feelings. He felt himself burn with jealousy, and allowed his knee and leg to touch hers as if by accident. She looked into his eyes, and her mouth went dry. If she moved just a little closer, she would be able to kiss him.
She might get away with it behind the pillar... Why not?
Pamela steeled herself to move forward a bit more, but just as she was about to lean into him in open invitation, Clifford returned with the punch.
"Thank you so much, Mr. Stone."
Clifford smiled down at Pamela good-naturedly, and was genuinely sorry he had interrupted them. Well, it would have long-lasting consequences if they were seen kissing in the Octagon, so it was probably just as well he had come along when he had.
The musicians began to tune their instruments as a signal that the concert would start again shortly. There was the usual scramble back into seats.
The Earl saw Pamela as he moved toward the back. He bowed gallantly.
She nodded her head, but Jonathan did not respond.
Pamela stared at her companion. Really, he was behaving so oddly this evening. To cut a nobleman in so ostentatious a manner? It was unthinkable. What on earth could be amiss?
She looked at him, but his eyes had resumed their normal steely-gray coolness.
Pamela enjoyed the second half of the concert, particularly the love songs. She felt a warm shiver of passion run through her as Jonathan touched her arm, gripping it above her elbow, his hand scorching upon her bare flesh. Either he had forgotten to put his gloves back on, or he had left them off by design. The effect was electrifying for them both.
He made no apology, however. When the concert was over, he helped her rise from the chair and assisted her with her cloak. He stroked her velvet-clad shoulders as if she were a kitten. He caught himself in time, and prayed no one had seen him.
Then he pulled back on his gloves, condemning his absent-mindedness aloud, and they were ready to depart. Pamela did not dare look him in the eye. If both of them seemed breathless, they did not risk any comment upon the matter.
Pamela was surprised Jonathan did not linger to speak with anyone. He stepped directly out to the carriage with her. She looked back to make sure that Clifford and Vanessa were following, but Clifford was making certain that Elizabeth and Sarah were ready to leave.
"You might wonder at my departing so quickly. It's quite a crush in there. I did not want to linger. The fresh air will do us both good. I do so miss the countryside."
"As do I," she said sincerely.
"You don't have to work so hard to be agreeable, Miss Ashton," he said in clipped tones.
"I'm not. I miss being able to ride, the birdsong, oh, a hundred things about Brimley."
"The society?"
"Well, yes, if you're talking about good people like the Millers. But otherwise, everyone I truly care for is here with me in Bath." She wanted to bite her tongue for saying something so obvious.
He smiled at her, and took her hand. "It is kind of you to say so."
"It was kind of you to organize this trip for us. We wouldn't have been able to enjoy Bath half so well if we hadn't been in such excellent company. Our accommodations are of course more than we could have hoped for."
He stepped even closer. His warmth and male aroma filled her senses. "I'm only too pleased to help. We're good friends. If you ever find yourself in need-"
She did not get a chance to hear the rest of his offer, for it was bitten back with a muttered oath that sounded very unlike the language vicars tended to use.
The Earl had descended upon them from nowhere. "I say, Miss Ashton, I was sorry I didn't get a chance to speak to you during the interval. You're coming to the ball tomorrow, aren't you? I should very much like to engage you for the first dance."
"You'll have to wait for the second, old chap. The first one is mine," Jonathan asserted, holding her even more closely to him.
"Thank you for asking, though," Pamela said quickly, in an effort to cover up the awkward moment and conceal her own surprise. She had not thought that Jonathan would even be attending.
In fact, she was sure he had mentioned something about heading back early to Brimley to be there in time for Sunday services in the morning.
The Earl stared at them both inscrutably for a moment. "The second dance it shall be." Ferncliffe took her hand and kissed it, gave a tight smile, and departed as suddenly as he had come.
Pamela was not sure what to say after Jonathan's unaccountable display of bad temper, so opted for silence as the best course of action. He handed her up into the carriage, and then assisted the other ladies. Thus he and Clifford entered last, and were furthest away from her.
She cursed her bad luck, whilst he chastised himself for behaving so rudely, and going back on his resolve to return to his duties in Brimley the following day. But the idea of that boorish lout Ferncliffe having Pamela all to himself was more than he could bear.
All of the women chatted animatedly about how much they had enjoyed the concert, and then mentioned what they would be wearing to the ball on the morrow. It was agreed that they would all attend, all except Sarah, who had assumed she would be going home and had already begun to pack.
"We can stay, Sister. Mr. Evans the curate will not mind one more Sunday."
Sarah was surprised but pleased. "Thank you, Jonathan. I shall have to press my best dress. I fear most of my things have been put away, ready for an early start in the morning."
"Give any dresses which need pressing to the abigail before you go to sleep tonight, and all will be well in the morning," Vanessa advised.
When they arrived back at the house, Pamela tried to find an excuse to linger downstairs, hoping to get him alone for just a moment. But Jonathan stood in the vestibule to say goodnight to everyone. He kissed his sister, then Elizabeth asked for a brotherly embrace. Pamela tried to quell the unreasonable jealousy she felt surge through her.
Vanessa tried to make light of it by giving him a peck on the cheek as well. She only succeeded in making the situation worse, for Clifford said teasingly, "Now, Jonathan, you can't leave Miss Ashton unkissed. It would be most ungallant."
Jonathan dutifully leaned forward, and saluted her cheek. She blushed bright red and did not dare look at Jonathan's expression. A hurried good night escaped her lips before she nodded to the others and went up her own staircase.
Pamela was relieved to find that her aunt was still out, so she would not have to answer all of her questions about who she had seen at the concert. She wanted the peace and quiet to recollect the evening in all its glory, and to replay the kiss in her mind.
The more she thought about it, the more she decided that he really had shown her especial regard. It was not possible that he could be indifferent to her. The question was what to do about him? He never would have kissed her if he had not been goaded into it. But that was
not to say that he would not if she offered him some encouragement. And where better than a ball to entice a man?
Tomorrow would be the night that would decide her future. Pamela could barely wait a moment longer. She had no idea how she was going to get through the day tomorrow in such a state of eager anticipation.
Chapter Nineteen
The morning dawned crisp and cold. Pamela sprang out of bed early, eager for a bath and an opportunity to go over her gowns for the day to ensure they were perfect.
She went into the nearest bathroom and lit the hot water heater. When the tub was full, she soaked in the scalding water until her fingers were wrinkled. She had scented the water with rose oil, and washed her hair thoroughly, so that anyone who came near would smell the light fragrance with her slightest movement. She smoothed rose-scented lotion all over her body, and put on her finest undergarments.
The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1 Page 86