The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  Pamela shrugged and changed the subject by pointing out a fine house through the trees.

  Pamela had managed to avoid the mention of Jonathan's name, but was not so sure of how she was to behave the next time she saw him.

  In the end, she decided the best thing would be to pretend that nothing had happened. She feared she would not be as adept at playing such a demanding role as Jonathan obviously seemed to be, but she would have to give it her best lest anyone ever suspect she had fallen in love with him.

  Still, with any luck, he would not come up to Town for some time, if at all. His parish duties, the fact that he had overstayed in Bath, all made her hope she would not have to face him any time soon.

  She had a duty to her family to make the most of her Season, and she would make of it what she could without Jonathan interfering and judging her.

  The Earl set them down at the Easton townhouse, and supervised the men as they unloaded all of the luggage. Then he bowed. "I shall be delighted to take you riding at the end of the week. I would make it sooner, but you will need to get settled in here first, and recover from the arduous journey. Shall we say eight o'clock Saturday?"

  "That would be most pleasant, thank you. I shall of course have to see if Miss Easton or her sister Marjorie will join us."

  "Very good." He bowed and kissed her hand.

  Pamela and her aunt said farewell and went in to be received by the Eastons.

  Abigail had been an especially close friend, a fun-loving girl with a good fortune, though not a great beauty. Her parents were the most pleasant of people, solid and affable, with decidedly Tory opinions, but good-hearted. They also had a large circle of acquaintance, and a well-trained staff. If they were surprised at her arriving early, they were too well-bred to show it.

  The house was commodious enough that Pamela and her aunt were given a room each to themselves. Pamela's was a delicate cream with pink-striped wallpaper and Aunt Susan's burgundy, white and gold. Both beds were soon piled with gowns, which had to either be washed, pressed, mended, or altered.

  As her aunt had discovered, often a gown could be rendered into a completely new outfit by the addition of a different-colored trim, or a different overgown, or even just a change of fan, reticule, and other accessories. Aunt Susan would of course keep an eagle eye on what the other ladies of fashion were wearing in London, and adjust their wardrobes accordingly.

  A hot bath and some food were soon brought. Pamela had never been so glad to have a good scrub in her life. After a long soak, she washed her hair, dried herself, and sat in her dressing gown by the roaring fire. She dried her hair with a towel and combed it out, then ran her hands through her tresses to extend them out in front of the heat. It was whilst she was sitting there numbly that Abigail tapped at the door, and came in to catch up on all of the latest news.

  "My dear, so good to see you. And traveling with an Earl, no less. I'm not surprised that you wanted to come to Town as quickly as possible. He will be too good a chance to miss."

  Pamela tried to deny the accusation. "No, you mistake me, Abigail."

  Her friend simply smiled knowingly, and proceeded to rattle off a list of all the things they would do whilst she was in Town.

  "My sister Marjorie can of course accompany us in some cases. She is not yet out, but that is not to say she will not be a useful chaperone. In fact, she quite turns heads wherever she goes. You blond women have all the best beaux." She made a face, patting her own mousy brown hair, and pressed on. "But of course, you cannot be seen anywhere until your wardrobes are in order. That will take days." She smoothed the lap of her own lime green watered silk gown.

  "The Earl would like to take us all riding on Saturday morning, if you can fit me up with a mount."

  She nodded. "Yes, of course, pick any you like from the stables in the mews. That will be delightful. I shall look forward to improving our acquaintance. An Earl. Just fancy. You lucky girl." She patted her own hair once more. "But I too shall have my turn, I'm sure. Anyway, eat your soup before it gets cold. I shall go see if your aunt needs anything."

  "You are too kind."

  "Not a bit of it. Goodness me, we shall have such fun." She grinned like a naughty schoolgirl.

  That night at supper, Pamela was introduced to Marjorie, a pert little thing of sixteen with auburn tresses and a vulpine look that sent a shiver of apprehension down Pamela's spine. She was a girl who would bear close watching if her parents wished to avoid scandal.

  Pamela was correct in her assessment, for it wasn't long before many of her best items had been 'borrowed,' and Marjorie was the center of male attention wherever she went.

  Fortunately, she would not be able to attend many of the evening functions because she had not been brought out yet, nor presented at court. But she was certainly thrusting her way into the London social scene with all of the dash of a Napoleon bent on conquest.

  Pamela herself was to be presented next week, once she was certain that her gown was just the thing, and Mrs. Easton was over the touch of spring catarrh she was suffering from at the moment.

  Other than the excitement of being presented and having her final fittings for the formal, old-fashioned gown and train which was de rigueur for the occasion, there was the thrill of seeing the sights in London and expanding her circle of acquaintance.

  Pamela started her day with a ride in the Ladies' Walk. Occasionally they would ride in Rotten Row, but there was always quite a crush, and Pamela's borrowed mount was a bit skittish and not very tractable in crowds.

  After the ride, there was her bath, breakfast and correspondence. After taking care of her letters, they paid calls upon the Eastons' particular friends. Most were very pleasant people, though she was always wary of running into the Duke and his entourage, or spending too much time with the Earl, and so confined her visits to the regulation fifteen minutes which the Ton dictated. They usually paid calls about three mornings per week, and were at home themselves the other two.

  On the Thursday a week after they had arrived, Pamela was told that the Duchess of Ellesmere and her sister-in-law had come to call. She steeled herself for a confrontation, but Charlotte could not have been more charming.

  "I wanted to see how you had settled in, and to remind you not to be a stranger now that you are here."

  "I had not thought you would be pleased to see me after my abrupt departure from Bath," Pamela said in a low voice, while her aunt renewed her acquaintance with the charming young Elizabeth Eltham.

  "Don't be silly. Jonathan has told us something of the matter. We quite understand. I'm so sorry things have come to such a pass. But Thomas and I are very fond of you. If there's anything we can do, you have only to ask."

  "That's very kind of you, and more than I deserve," Pamela said, feeling near tears.

  "Nonsense." Charlotte patted her hand with true sisterly affection. "In any case, I understand you are to be presented at Court shortly. I wondered if you might allow me the honor of presenting you. Unless the Honorable Mrs. Easton would object?"

  "No, I am sure she would be delighted for me. A Duchess is more than I could ever have hoped for."

  "Not always a Duchess, as you well know. You recollect me when I was plain old Charlotte Castlemaine."

  "Never plain, and certainly not old."

  The dark-haired woman smiled. "Ah, but I'm to be a mother in the late autumn. That will put years on me, I'm sure." She patted her stomach with a look of pure joy which belied her words.

  Pamela offered her congratulations. "I'm sure not. Vanessa Stone looks lively and happy enough as a mother."

  "And is also expecting another little visitor in the summer."

  Pamela clapped her hands. "Wonderful news! The best."

  "Now if only Jonathan could be so happy."

  Pamela was relieved to see her aunt approach to speak to Charlotte, and switched places with her to talk to Elizabeth.

  "Are you to be presented after all?"

  She shook he
r raven locks. "My brother will not let me enter the Marriage Mart until I am at least eighteen. I shall have a bit longer to wait."

  "Still, it seems so unfair."

  She shook her head. "Not at all. I'm content with my lot. I want to get to know the world a bit better before I rush into anything. My poor sister-"

  She made a choking sound, and stood up. "Forgive me, I quite forgot myself."

  Charlotte rose from her seat, and said, "Oh dear. Elizabeth is rather overcome with the rigors of London society. In any event, we shall pick you up tomorrow at nine. Unless of course you can join us for supper?"

  "No, I shall be too excited to eat anything. Another time, though?" Pamela asked eagerly.

  Charlotte patted her on the shoulder. "Of course, my dear. Any time you like. Au revoir for now."

  She took Elizabeth's arm and led her out.

  Pamela watched them go, and wondered why, in all the times they had spoken, no one in the Duke's household had ever mentioned another sister...

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Clifford and Jonathan carried the last of the valises out of the house, and took a final look around.

  "That's everything?" the tall blond man asked.

  "Aye, though it's little enough."

  "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

  Jonathan gave a short bark of laughter. "I should be asking you that."

  "I agreed to help for Thomas's sake. I only wish you would spare yourself--"

  "Thomas is her brother. I am--" He sighed. "I wish I could say I was nothing to her. But that isn't true either. It's bad enough when she doesn't remember me. But lately she's grown so much worse. Now most days she sounds as though I'm her worst enemy. As though she hates me."

  "Now I'm sure that's not true--"

  Jonathan gave an impatient wave. "It doesn't matter now. She doesn't actually know who I am any more most of the time. She hates just about all men. And better for her to loathe me than her own brother. I can't take it personally. I would go mad myself if I did."

  Clifford's blue eyes rested on his friend's steel gray ones sympathetically. "I'm so sorry."

  "Never mind. God works in mysterious ways--"

  "I doubt there will be any wonders performed in this case, though," Clifford said with a sad shake of his head.

  "Oh, I don't know," Jonathan sighed, then motioned for the third occupant of the carriage to join them. "Sophie is a little miracle, is she not? Beautiful, untainted, thank God."

  "Amen to that. But still, the poor child--"

  "Thomas and I will see she never wants for anything. But for now, she must go with her mother. If Jane is to have any chance of recovery, she needs to get settled properly."

  "Yes, but to send the child to such a place as--"

  Jonathan's jaw set. "She will be well looked after. Jane may be mad, but Sophie loves her mother. And I think Jane loves her."

  He swallowed hard. "Damn it all, Jane should have waited for me. Sophie should have been--"

  Dapper middle-aged Dr. Gold stepped up into the hall. "Are you sure about this?"

  "No, damn it, I'm not," Jonathan snapped. "But Thomas has given the order, and I can't think of any other way."

  "I meant, are you sure you want to be here," the doctor said gently. "You can wait around the corner--"

  "No, John, I can't," he said, bestowing a bitter smile on the silver-haired doctor. "I need to see this through to the end."

  "Very well. Let's get on." He opened his bag to remove a needle and bottle, and placed them in his brown jacket pocket. Then he handed a stiff white canvas garment to Jonathan.

  Jonathan stared at it in horror, and swallowed hard. He just couldn't allow himself to be ill again. He had already vomited twice from nerves this afternoon. One more time and he would be unfit to assist at all.

  A sudden howling from beyond the bolted door steeled his resolve. He straightened his back. "All right, let's go. It will be dark soon. We need to get on the road as soon as possible."

  He turned the key in the lock. The portal swung open with an ominous creak. Clifford and the doctor sprang forward.

  Jonathan thrust the straitjacket towards the wild woman's flailing arms.

  "I hate you! I hate you! I won't let you have me! Or my daughter! I hate you!" She bolted for the door, which Jonathan had foolishly left open.

  Like any other caged animal, she sought freedom, sunshine, escape...

  Jonathan tumbled to the ground, flattened by the mad woman in her eagerness to flee.

  "Damn it," Clifford exclaimed. "After her!"

  Jonathan clutched his chest, gasping for breath, sure his heart had broken inside. The tears streaming down his cheeks unheeded, he got up and ran as though from the gates of Hell itself.

  "Oh, God, Jane. Oh please, Pamela," he heard himself wheeze. "Oh God, please forgive me. Help me."

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  The Duke and Duchess of Ellesmere arrived promptly at the Eastons' at nine the following evening to fetch Pamela, and were most cordially welcomed.

  Pamela hoped that she would be able to glean some information about Jonathan as they made small talk over a glass of sherry, but not one word of news about the vicar passed their lips, though they spoke often of the Stones.

  They admired her dress, a dazzling white with a gold stomacher which cinched in her already slender figure, making her look like a goddess.

  Their kindness helped to subdue the roiling nervousness in the pit of her belly. She knew she looked well, for had not everyone told her in Bath that white and gold suited her? The gown put her in mind of the gold braided gown she had worn in Bath that fateful evening when she had kissed Jonathan. The recollection brought up all sorts of associations she could have done without.

  But with an even more fine set of gold and pearls around her neck, and matching diadem and veil, she looked every inch a queen. She would recover from her dashed hopes. She simply had to.

  The Royal Family, assembled on a dais at the top of the palace audience room, looked her over most carefully, and pronounced her a decided beauty and an absolute treasure. T

  he Prince of Wales himself invited her to take a turn about the room, and Thomas and Charlotte stayed close, keeping an eye on the old roué, often referred to as Prinny.

  After that triumph, everyone in the room wanted to know her, or pretended they did. Pamela grew heartily sick of gossip in the ensuing days, which seemed to pair her with every man in London no matter if she had ever met him or not.

  Pamela thought of Jonathan's lesson from The School for Scandal, and yearned for the days when her life had been uncomplicated, and when she and Jonathan had been friends.

  After her presentation, the invitations came in thick and fast. Pamela attended breakfasts, balls, parties, soirees, the opera and ballet, with a variety of company. Captain Breedon was present for many of the more mundane events.

  For the more prestigious ones, the Earl of Ferncliffe insisted upon escorting her. His clothing had not improved greatly, and his conversation was more racy than ever, but he was a fine escort to have, and her aunt encouraged him, even when Pamela would have held back.

  He also seemed to pay particular attention to Marjorie Easton whenever they were together, which she ought to have felt jealous over, but merely worried about. The child was really too bold and forward for a girl of her age.

  Even she herself had been worldly, but not quite that bad. Pamela admitted to herself that she could have ended up much worse had Jonathan not taken her in hand.

  But the Earl ought to have known better than to encourage her in her scandalous behavior, Pamela decided, and determined she would try to nip in the bud the forced intimacy which had sprung up between them.

  Even more troubling than the Earl's flirtations with the young girl were the assumptions people seemed to make about her own relationship with the tall, dark-eyed nobleman. Once it was known that she had helped him to redecorate his Castle, it was simply assumed that there was a
n understanding between them.

  She tried to correct the assumption, but they would simply smile at her knowingly, and change the subject. He had never behaved in a lover-like manner towards her, and it was not until the third week they were in London, on a fine day in early April, that he came right out and declared his intentions, in the most unexpected manner Pamela could ever have imagined.

  He called early in the morning, just as she and Abigail and Marjorie were about to go out riding.

  It was unusual for anyone to call at the house at such an hour, especially when it was one of the days they were not at home. Even more peculiar was the fact that he was not dressed for riding.