The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Pamela decided that since she could do nothing about it, she might as well enjoy her remarkable triumph. She smiled, chatted, flirted her fan and fluttered her eyelashes. Every man became charmed by the delightful little golden-haired creature who was part of the Earl's group.

  The Duke of Ellesmere actually approached Pamela purposefully to ask for the fifth dance. She was surprised, but gladly stood up with him at the very top of the Upper Rooms.

  However, he was not there for the sheer enjoyment of it. After the barest of pleasantries about the weather, he launched into his lecture.

  "I don't mean to sound reproachful, but I can't fathom your, well, your performance here this evening, Miss Ashton. I had always thought you a sensible enough girl, one whom I would not be ashamed for my wife and sister to keep company with.

  "But really, this evening is just too bad of you. If you don't tread carefully, you will get yourself talked about. This is most unlike you. Has Jonathan offended you in some way?"

  "Why on earth would you presume to think that my mood, and my enjoyment of the excellent company and the dances, have anything whatsoever to do with Mr. Deveril?"

  "Please, Miss Ashton, I would like to consider you a friend. Do not take this awry. My eyes and instincts may deceive me, but I'm sure that the two of you have a fondness for one another. Only think what you do. All of this giddy laughter and flirtation only sets you up as a figure of fun, if not scandal."

  "Or someone worth knowing," she said with an irritated flick of her fan.

  He shook his dark head. "Only by people equally frivolous and shallow. You're neither of those things, though you're in danger of becoming so if your aunt has her way and arranges for you what she would deem to be a good match."

  "I thank you for the words of warning. But I'm old enough to tend to my own interests."

  "Just so long as you take away the lesson Jonathan tried to teach you with The School for Scandal. There are many ways to wound a person with just one blow of the tongue. And appearances can be deceiving."

  She studied his handsome, somber features carefully. "All of you dislike the Earl. Why? Is it because he's only newly come into his title?"

  The Duke's emerald eyes glittered. "I'm shocked that you should think all of us such snobs that that would make one particle of difference to us. Let us just say that while I can appreciate that some of us mend our ways due to experience, many leopards can never change their spots."

  "Yet I know that you and the others were called Rakehells. Did you all live up to that name?" she asked with asperity.

  He shook his head. "You will also know it had to do more with our politics than our pursuit of women. I'm happy to say we have not substantially changed. We still believe passionately in a better world, and we look after our own. The only huge change in any of our lives has been forced upon us by circumstance, but we are in all essentials still the decent men we have always tried to be. Jonathan most of all. And sometimes to his detriment."

  She raised her brows. "Detriment? How so? Surely doing the right thing is reward in itself?"

  The Duke laughed shortly. "Not in his case. If he were a less honorable man, he would be far more happy."

  The set having come to an end, he bowed to her, and left her pondering upon his cryptic remark.

  But not for too long, as the Earl claimed her for yet another dance, and kept up a running commentary on everyone in the room, their clothes, their affairs.

  "I must say, sir, you're in fine form tonight. I've never seen you so animated," Pamela commented at one point.

  "And I've never seen you looking so captivating. Really, Miss Ashton, your inestimable beauty leads me to avow that I should like to get to see more of you, here in Bath and in London. Alas, though, I shall be leaving tomorrow. Urgent business takes me up to Town. But the prospect of not seeing you for another month or so until the Season proper begins is almost more than I can bear."

  "My, sir, you do believe in being candid," she said, her cheeks taking on a rosy hue.

  "As I discovered in the Army, life is too short to waste a moment of it. Every time I see you, my regard for you increases."

  "I'm sorry there's nothing I can do to alleviate your distress. We're committed to remaining with the Duke until the end of the month, and then shall be staying with my school friend, or at the Duke's townhouse. He's been a most gracious host. I couldn't possibly offend he and his wife."

  "I do understand. Promise me you'll look me up as soon as you get to Town." He pressed a paper into her hand, and she giggled in embarrassment.

  "I shall be leaving my lodgings in the North Parade in the morning, Miss Ashton, but I shall wave at your window as I pass."

  "Too kind of you, I'm sure," she said, smiling up at him and hoping he did not take her laughter amiss. It just seemed too absurd. He had changed from a caterpillar to a butterfly. It was a pleasant change, but nevertheless unexpected, and rather hard to get used to.

  As the dance ended, he made a great show of kissing her hand before leading her over to a pillar to rejoin her friends. She got about halfway there when a familiar face hove into view, and her hand was taken in a firm grip.

  The Earl and Captain exchanged looks fraught with meaning.

  Pamela was surprised that they appeared to know each other so well.

  "I don't care if you are engaged. The next dance is mine." Captain Breedon bowed over her hand, then kissed it warmly.

  "My goodness, Captain, what are you doing here? I'm delighted to see you, of course, but I thought regimental business prevented you from enjoying the delights of Bath for very long."

  "I have completed my duties, and am looking forward to some time here and in London with my relatives."

  "What have you been doing since I last saw you?" she asked as she promenaded around the circle with him.

  "Oh, the recruiting drive is going admirably. The men around Brimley have been so patriotic that I've not only met my quota, I've exceeded it."

  Her face fell. "It was you recruiting around Brimley? I had no idea."

  "Yes, why? Where's the harm? I should think anyone able-bodied would want to fight for their country."

  She struggled to breathe evenly. It would not do to launch into a diatribe about the evils of the recruiting system and press-ganging in the middle of the Bath Upper Rooms. All the same, though, she could not let his actions go unchallenged. She recalled a favorite phrase of her father's: it was easier to catch flies with honey than with vinegar.

  So with her eyes wide, and her lips moist from licking them with the tip of her tongue in an almost feline fashion, and her lashes fluttering all the while, she explained to him why she thought the system so unfair.

  "Upon my soul, Miss Ashton, I had no idea you were such a Radical," Breedon declared, knitting his brows.

  "Is it Radical to want to keep people in their appropriate sphere?" she said with a simper which would have done her aunt proud.

  He frowned slightly. "No, I suppose not. But even so, King and Country, you know."

  "Those farm lads can serve their country far better by making sure we don't have a shortage of food. Really, it is too bad. Even if they don't get killed, think what hardship their absence from their families will cause."

  The dance at an end, Captain Breedon importuned her for another. Since Pamela felt she had not exhausted her opportunity to get him to stop carrying out his duties quite so enthusiastically, she agreed. He was a nice enough man, if she could overlook what he had done to the town of Brimley. He certainly was intelligent and very handsome. He compared favorably with both the Earl and Jonathan. He really was a wonderful conversationalist, even if he was very fond of drink.

  But as much as she was enjoying herself, and trying to do good by persuading the Captain of the error of his ways, Pamela began to grow tired of being with every other man in the room except the one she longed for.

  She was also not sure that her display of having a wonderful time had succeeded in making hi
m jealous. Jonathan had been standing by a pillar engaged in conversation with several men throughout the course of the evening, and only once had she found his gaze upon her.

  Jonathan stood and seethed. He forced himself to participate in a conversation about repealing some of the worst laws in the next session of Parliament, which the Duke of Ellesmere was going to have to attend shortly. But all the while his eyes were following Pamela. The only time he relaxed was when his friend Thomas danced with her.

  Clifford said to him quietly, "This is tearing you to shreds, Jonathan. I love you like a brother, and would not see you hurt for all the world. Don't you realize you're only injuring yourself? She's a lovely girl, and not without sense, though she doesn't seem to be exercising very much of it at the moment."

  "I can't. I gave my word," he said in an agonized whisper.

  "It was all years ago, before things changed. And Jane broke faith--"

  Jonathan shook his head bitterly. "You know the wedding vows. I was there when you married Vanessa. When Thomas married Charlotte. I know them by heart. I repeat them wedding after wedding for my parishioners. In them people promise to love, honor and cherish, in sickness and in health, 'til death do they part. Nowhere does it say you will do all those things so long as it is convenient, easy. So long as nothing vast changes in your life. Sickness is no one's fault, least of all the sufferer's."

  Clifford shrugged. "I can't disagree with you, but you know how Thomas and I feel. We will not think any the less of you for breaking off the engagement. Jane isn't fit to be anyone's wife now and truly never will be, even if she regained her wits tomorrow."

  "But I will know I broke my word. Yielded to temptation. And in any case, am I to compromise my soul, and everything I am, for that, that light-skirt?" he asked, gritting his teeth, as he watched Pamela flirt and laugh, a magnet to which all male eyes were drawn.

  "She's trying to make you jealous, man! You promised her the first dance. To give it to her friend Belinda and thus let her down was badly done. It was slap in the face she could not accept meekly."

  He nodded grimly. "I couldn't trust myself with her, do you not see?" Jonathan confessed.

  Clifford shook his head. "Then best to not have come at all, my dear fellow. You should have returned to Brimley today just as you had planned. If you have no intention of offering decently for Pamela, then keep away. Don't make her fall more in love with you than she already has.

  "And don't even think about letting your loins rule your head. She can't be trifled with in so disgraceful a manner, and you can't possibly be even thinking about ruining her after all Jane has suffered."

  "Ruin her? No, never!" Jonathan protested, outraged.

  "Truly? For I can see the love and even lust written plainly on your face even if you are trying to hide it from yourself," Clifford pressed in a low tone.

  "I would never compromise her, I swear it." The sandy-haired young man sighed raggedly. "All right, I admit it. I love her. There, I've said it now. But must never say it again. Perhaps it was wrong of me, but I wanted one last day and night with her, one memorable ball, one romantic evening when she was all mine. When I could hold her in my arms and pretend that it would be forever, then let her go. At least I would have a memory of one perfect evening with the woman of my dreams."

  Clifford let out a short laugh. "Except that you've made a complete muddle of it. You haven't spoken one word to her in hours, and she hasn't stopped long enough for you to get in one dance."

  "Let her go her own way," Jonathan said with a wave of his hand. "I can't keep her. I can't stop her. She's not mine, Clifford. She can never be mine. I have to let her go. You know all she and her family want is for her to marry well. I'll do whatever I can to stop her from becoming any further involved with that bastard who calls himself Ferncliffe now. But I will have to be careful that my interference does not seem as if it's motivated by selfishness and jealousy."

  Clifford asked in a low voice, "Have you found out anything useful yet?"

  "My people have come up with nothing. But I'm sure between them and Thomas's all will be revealed."

  "Let's hope so. The more I see of the shifty earl, the more he worries me."

  "Me too. Though I'm even more worried about our old friend and his brothers."

  "As am I. I don't know Jason as well as you, but he's a good man. We can only do our best to find him and his family. Or information about them. And try not to fear the worst," Clifford added, seeing his friend's grim expression.

  Jonathan said nothing intelligible, just growled.

  "Ferncliffe is bad enough. That toad Breedon isn't any better," Clifford observed, seeing them finish their first dance, and launch straight into their second.

  "No, he's not. In his case, though, I feel sure that Pamela won't be so foolish as to have her head turned. He has nothing to recommend him except his good looks and charm. I'm sure her Aunt Susan will forcibly remind her that looks fade, and charm does not put a roof over one's head, or food on the table."

  "I can hear a sermon coming up," Clifford teased lightly, trying to ease his friend's tension.

  Jonathan's nostrils flared. "Well, in that case, you can leave me to my own devices."

  "I shall. But just think about what I've said about Pamela."

  Jonathan sighed. "The sad thing is, my dear Clifford, I can't seem to think of anything else but her. However, I must tamp down my inclinations, however strong, and do the right thing for all concerned."

  "There's little pleasure in tamping them down."

  Jonathan rolled his eyes heavenward. "Please, spare me, or I shall have to throw myself into the nearest freezing river to tamp them down!"

  Clifford laughed sadly, and went to join his wife and the Duke and Duchess. Charlotte was feeling a bit fatigued, so they planned to head home shortly.

  The second dance with Captain Breedon having ended, Pamela asked him to take her for some punch. Since the tables were behind where Jonathan was standing, she would have to walk past him. Good manners dictated he would have to ask her to dance. Then she could make her move.

  As she had hoped, her gambit succeeded. As they came near the pillar, Jonathan bowed to her and her companion.

  "Captain Breedon, good to see you again."

  "Vicar," the captain acknowledged coolly. "I hope you're well."

  "I was wondering if I could prevail upon Miss Ashton to honor me with the next dance."

  "We were just going to get some punch," the Captain replied.

  "We shall join you in a moment," Pamela said with a smile. "There is quite a crush at the tables, and the musicians are so fine tonight, it's a pleasure to dance."

  She placed her hand on Jonathan's arm and allowed him to lead her to the nearest set, about half way up the floor.

  It was a moderately lively reel, and she commented upon the many sets and the fact that the music was one of her favorite pieces.

  Jonathan merely grunted in reply.

  She tried to draw him out, asking if Belinda was enjoying herself, but he merely shrugged.

  Deciding mere conversation was not going to work, she renewed her assault upon him via the flirtatious mode.

  "Why, Mr. Deveril, you do dance so divinely, if you will pardon the pun." She fluttered her eyelashes coyly, and then cast him a sidelong, calculating glance from under them.

  He gripped her arm so hard that she gasped with pain and shook her angrily. "Don't, Miss Ashton. Don't try your flirtatious wiles on me. It is most unsuitable behavior, and inconsiderate of you to treat a friend thus. Even if you are so careless of your own position, I can't afford to be so cavalier about mine. No one would ever trust me again with their daughters if they discovered me responding to your artifice. You would only embarrass yourself by having your name linked with a mere clergyman.

  "So please do me the common courtesy of treating me with some respect. I am not to be trifled with. I only hope you do not make this error with a more, shall we say, demanding and forward
man, or you will find yourself in far worse trouble than you did with Mr. Prine."

  Pamela's eyes filled with tears, and she missed a step in the dance. She would have turned her ankle badly if Jonathan had not caught her more firmly around the waist. But in doing so, he brought them together practically chest to chest, hip to hip.

  That was more than either of them could bear. He halted abruptly in his turn, and half-carried, half-dragged her over to a chair. He placed her in it, and began to kneel in front of her.

  Oh good Lord, what have I done? He's going to propose to me out of a sense of obligation, she thought in a panic. She sought to rise from the chair.