‘Excellent. But why now? We could have used this ammunition weeks ago.’
He gave an impatient shrug. ‘Now that Marchmain has well and truly caught her, it will be so much more effective. Always keep your powder dry until you really need to use it, my dear.’
The duchess said nothing, but her smile broadened.
* * *
By this time a number of couples had been encouraged back into the salon where the chairs had been cleared and a small dance floor established. The musicians were striking up for a cotillion and Joshua, still by Domino’s side, immediately offered his arm.
‘Will you join us mere mortals?’
‘Are you asking me to dance with you?’
‘Yes, Domino, I’m asking you.’
The look in his gold-flecked eyes made her body turn to water. She stood gazing wonderingly up at him until light pressure on her arm encouraged her forwards and they joined the lively procession of couples already assembled. Her first dance with Joshua would forever stay in her memory. It was as though she moved through it in slow motion, every moment etched indelibly into her soul. The feel of solid muscle beneath her hand, the musky male scent filling her breath and the heat of his body as he drew close to her, their figures touching and parting in the graceful movements of the cotillion.
The dance meant they were separated for long periods, but always eventually they came together, their limbs warm and eager, their hands caressing fleetingly. For Joshua it was torment. Each time they were forced apart by the pattern of the dance, a voice screamed through his head that this was the stupidest thing he had ever done, but then—the wonderful moments when they came together again, the voice obliterated and his body touching hers, lightly, gently, promising delights he must not think of.
Eventually the music stopped and partners were bowing graciously to each other, but they stood motionless and silent, in thrall to the spell that encircled them. It was Joshua who gathered his wandering wits and realised the spectacle they were creating. Hastily he ushered Domino from the dance floor. By now, the room was very hot; he led her towards one of the curtained windows overlooking the wide spaces of the Steine. Its bay formed a small enclave and, as they entered, the crimson and velvet curtains closed behind them, cutting them off from the rest of the room.
‘The temperature must rival that of the Pavilion,’ he managed to joke, pushing the casement doors wide open so they were able to walk out on to the small ironwork balcony.
She smiled a little shakily. After the intimacy of their dance, her knees felt ready to buckle. He was feet away, though, and seemed intent on keeping a distance between them.
‘Domino,’ he began and then he was beside her and she had walked into his arms. His lips were on her hair, brushing the stray tendrils aside and then gently trailing kisses down the line of her cheek until his mouth found hers. As though in a dream she reached up and buried her hands in his hair, destroying its modish style in an instant, pulling him ever closer. Her eyes darkened with pleasure and her lips parted invitingly. Again and again his mouth found hers, kissing her long and hard, his tongue gently exploring at first, then growing more urgent, until she tasted him to the full. He undid the small crystal fastenings of her bodice, slowly and carefully, and his lips on her bare skin flickered fire through every nerve, every fibre. His hands cradled the gentle swell of her bosom and then his tongue was there, teasing the dress aside, closing over her breasts, bringing her aching flesh to an ecstatic hardness. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to rapture.
Once again, he was the first to come to his senses. What madness! In the middle of the Cunninghams’ drawing room with a hundred people just a curtain’s thickness away. And after he had sworn never to touch her again! Her dancing had aroused an elemental passion in him and, once they were close and alone, he had felt himself powerless: powerless to stop his arms from enfolding her, powerless to keep his lips from her mouth and from her body. It was ridiculous. A man of his experience, to be overwhelmed by emotions he could not control. He had to fight this insane desire or he would wreck her on the rock of scandal. For himself, the gossip mattered not a jot. The whole world knew him for a rake; people would simply shake their heads and say what else could you expect? For Domino, though, it could mean utter ruin.
But the more he saw her, the more he wanted her, and this after years of indifference, years of ensuring that he felt nothing. With every encounter his emotions deepened and he knew, even if she did not, where it would inevitably lead. He must stop. While she remained in Brighton, he must remain her friend, and nothing more. Yet he had never before felt such raw hunger as when she’d pressed her slender body into his and offered herself to him. Blame the dress for that, he muttered silently to himself, but he knew it to be a poor excuse.
He led her back into the drawing room as discreetly as he could and went to procure drinks, but her father was before him. Alfredo had been unnerved by the sensuality of his daughter’s dancing; watching her disappear into the window embrasure with Joshua Marchmain, he became thoroughly fearful. He had been on the point of following the couple when they emerged from their shelter. He noted the tell-tale flush on Domino’s face and Joshua’s dishevelled hair, and suspected the worst. He must remove her from Brighton immediately. First that unpleasantness with the Prince Regent and now this man—less exalted, perhaps—but still of questionable morals. He knew enough of Marchmain to fear for his daughter’s reputation. The aunts had been right. He had been too indulgent. Carmela had been right. She had been warning him of just such a disaster for weeks, but he had refused to believe her. Now he had seen the truth with his own eyes. Domino must leave for Spain immediately.
Joshua, returning with glasses of fruit punch, was in time only to receive a hurried curtsy from Domino and a curt nod from her father. In a moment they had bid Lady Cunningham goodbye and were on their way home.
The thunderous look on Señor de Silva’s face meant only one thing, Joshua decided. Domino would be shipped back to Spain before she had time even to pack her wardrobe. In a day she could be gone and he would never see her again. He quickly downed the punch and as swiftly bid his hosts a gracious farewell. In a moment he was in the Steine and strolling towards the sea. He wanted fresh air and he wanted space. The evening was closing in, but the heat of the day had not yet disappeared. Lightly clad couples were hastening to and from the different entertainments on offer and the town had a subdued hum.
He needed to think. He had to see Domino again before she left, had to tell her…what, exactly? He hardly knew. Only that her kisses had marked him enduringly, that their lovemaking had mattered to him. He stood stock still, an arrested expression on his face, neither seeing nor hearing the constant murmur of water as it greeted the pebbled shore. It had mattered, truly mattered!
He’d been charmed from the start by her youthful beauty and intrigued by her boldness of spirit. She was fascinating but nothing more than a passing whim, he’d thought, and he had known plenty of those. He had sparred with her, flirted with her, but always made sure to keep his distance. Until that moment in the studio. Afterwards he’d convinced himself that their kisses had simply been a reaction to the drama with Prinny, a fragile moment to treasure, which would soon be forgotten. But tonight? How was he to explain that?
Was it possible that he was falling in love with her? He hardly dared think it; he could not, must not, lose his heart. He had loved before, just once, and the affair had ended in catastrophe. She, too, had been young and passionate and given herself willingly. Together they had broken every rule in the book and made themselves pariahs, cut dead in the street by friends and enemies alike. They had lost reputation, lost the world they knew, and broken their parents’ hearts. And for what? A few months of madness, for he had not the guts to see it through. He had betrayed his best friend, provoked social mayhem, but finally lacked courage; he had lef
t his lover to face the music alone. After that, how could he live with himself? The answer, of course, was that he could not. He had become a different person and lived with him instead. And now, after he’d deliberately suppressed every painful memory of that time, had thought himself forever incapable of tenderness, indeed hoped that it was so, he found himself in danger of loving this enchanting child.
It was foolish to imagine that allowing his feelings the licence they craved would change his world in any way. His reckless, empty life would continue; Domino’s youthful innocence was not his to spoil. She would never be a mistress and he would never be a husband. The man she married should be as carefree and innocent as she. He knew himself well enough to recognise that he would not stop wanting other women once Domino was no longer with him. He thought cynically of all the females who had literally passed through his hands. No, his life would continue along the self-same path. But he would never again feel untrammelled pleasure, for Domino’s sweet face would always be before him and her firm, young body always entwined with his.
Dusk had fallen and the lights of the small boats anchored just offshore winked out at him. The gentlest of breezes had whispered itself to a stop. But he made no attempt to move. Instead his hands began to drum against the promenade railings in an impatient tattoo as his mind beat in unison. Whatever she might feel for him, she was still willing to return to Spain to marry a man she did not know. He would not try to persuade her otherwise, for he could offer her nothing but the shell of the man he had once been. They were destined to play roles already determined for them and there was to be no deviating from the script. Nevertheless, he had to see her again, if only to bid her a final farewell.
Chapter Seven
Domino cast a concerned look at her father as the carriage rolled its way homewards to Marine Parade. His face was impassive. She wished he would say something, anything, but he remained mute. It was clear that he judged her conduct unbecoming, but his refusal to discuss her crime meant she could not defend herself against the charge he was silently bringing. He might not say anything, but she was sure that he would act: her return to Spain appeared imminent.
And what exactly was her crime? The answer was simple: she had fallen in love with a rake. She was in love with Joshua and that was improper. Stupid, too. It didn’t feel so—it felt warm and wonderful. Naturally it would, she counselled herself. Rakes don’t become rakes by not giving pleasure. They don’t become rakes by not being able to kiss. And he could certainly kiss. Moments ago she had burnt in a firestorm of passion and she had wanted more, much more. She had wanted to throw reputation to the winds and satisfy that fierce consuming desire. And she still did. She could no longer marry the nameless husband; she could no longer marry anyone.
Hunger for Joshua must remain unfulfilled, but anything less was now unbearable. In retrospect the love she’d had for Richard had been mere baby steps on the pathway to maturity. This was what it felt like to belong to a man, body and soul. Joshua would not change. He would remain the restless, untamed creature he had always been. He would never wish to marry, but that made little difference. She could not wed another. On the morrow she would go to her father and tell him she would not be returning to Madrid to choose a bridegroom.
* * *
When the morning arrived, however, it brought two surprises. A letter had been delivered the previous evening and sat waiting for her on the hall table. Neither she nor her father had noticed the envelope on their return from the Pavilion, for they had been too absorbed in their own thoughts. But this morning it was the subject of animated discussion between Flora and the upper housemaid. Such personal missives were rare in what was an official residence. Flora placed the letter carefully on a tray alongside her mistress’s hot chocolate and made haste to the bedroom, eager to hear its contents. But Domino was not in a confiding mood. She thanked her maid prettily and, ignoring Flora’s evident disappointment, told her she might go.
Once alone she examined the envelope with curiosity. The handwriting was vaguely familiar, but it was not until she had extracted the two sheets of stiff paper and spread them flat on her lap that she realised the identity of her correspondent. The charming note had travelled the long distance from Cornwall and brought unexpected news of Lady Christabel Veryan. Since Christabel’s marriage to Richard, Domino had communicated with her from time to time, although never easily. Three years ago she had been the one to bring the couple together; she had known even before Richard himself that his happiness lay with Christabel and she had wanted him to be happy. But her own rejection at his hands had remained raw and she had resolutely refused all invitations to Madron Abbey, contenting herself with the occasional letter addressed to Christabel alone.
Now all sense of strain had miraculously disappeared. Her feelings for Richard had faded into insignificance and she re-read the letter with genuine pleasure. Lady Veryan, it seemed, was in an interesting condition and her husband and family were most anxious for her to consult a doctor in London’s Harley Street. Her father would accompany her to Brighton, she wrote, and she hoped that her dear friend, Domino, would lend her support for the short journey up to the capital. Before that it would be a great treat to spend a few days in the Regent’s seaside paradise.
For the first time in their acquaintance, Domino felt that she could meet Lady Veryan without pretence and make a true friend of her. She badly needed to confide in someone and Christabel, a seasoned married woman, would be the very best confidante. She wanted to tell her about Joshua.
* * *
When, later, she knocked at the door to her father’s office, it was not to tell him that she no longer wished to marry a man of her aunts’ choosing, but to request that she entertain a friend she had made during her previous stay in England. For a brief moment her father looked nonplussed. Overnight he had perfected a plan to despatch his daughter immediately to Spain and had been on the point of sending a courier to warn the aunts of her arrival. But he could not be inhospitable. It was an annoying hiccup, but when he thought more about it, he could see advantages to the visit. Lady Veryan was a mature and experienced woman, and a pregnant one at that. She was likely to offer sensible advice to her younger friend and their time together would be spent largely within the confines of Marine Parade and not on the dangerous territory beyond its doors.
It would be beneficial for his daughter to enjoy new company: Carmela was hardly the most joyous presence, nor was a middle-aged parent who had too much work. The lack of suitable companionship, he reflected, might be one of the reasons that Domino had gone a little astray. A woman nearer her own age, but sensibly married, might be just what was needed. Lady Veryan could help prepare the girl for the wifely role that lay in front of her. If she were able to bring Domino to a more rational frame of mind, he might never have to raise the distasteful subject of her conduct last night. He would infinitely prefer to forget the whole disturbing series of events that had culminated in their tense ride home together.
Feeling happier than he had for days, he made his way to Raggett’s, the town’s most prestigious gentleman’s club, and a useful place for garnering the latest political gossip. Equally happy, Domino returned to her bedroom to reply to Christabel’s letter. How fortunate that Carmela was laid up with a chill and that the invitation could be issued and accepted before she was up and about again. She would almost certainly object to any unknown guest.
Domino had just laid down her pen when the second surprise of the morning arrived. A scratch at her door revealed Marston, looking perplexed.
‘A caller is below, Miss Domino.’
‘A caller?’
‘He asked particularly for you, miss.’ She noted the reproachful expression that the butler could not quite conceal.
‘And does this caller have a name?’
‘He is Mr Joshua Marchmain.’ The voice was expressionless, but she knew
that very little went unnoticed by Marston; he would be well aware that Joshua was not a welcome visitor.
Without wasting further words, she slipped past the butler and tripped lightly down the stairs, her heart beating a little too loudly. But when she reached the hall, it was empty. The front door was open to the sound of a booming sea and she crossed quickly to the doorway and looked along Marine Parade. Sure enough, there he was at the corner of Chapel Street and about to retrace his steps. He was leading two horses, walking them up and down to prevent them taking cold, for the day was sunless and there was a chill in the air.
In that instant he saw her and waved cheerfully. ‘I’m glad to find you at home. I took a chance in hiring a horse for you. See, it’s the pretty mare that you rode before.’
She blushed slightly at his reference to the ill-fated race, but there were more important concerns. She was bemused by his presence and needed some answers.
‘What are you doing here? And with horses?’
‘Riding! I thought you might appreciate a morning on the Downs. It should blow the cobwebs away.’
‘But I’m not dressed for it,’ she said weakly, indicating the simple dress of jaconet muslin that she had donned in anticipation of a day at home.
‘I will walk the horses for ten minutes—I’m sure you and Flora can work wonders in that time.’
Aware of a disapproving Marston in the shadows, she ignored this sally and sought a further pretext. ‘My father is away from home and I should not leave the house without his knowledge.’ It was convenient to forget all the times she had done just that.
‘We won’t be gone long,’ he said encouragingly. ‘And no one will be around to tell tales—it’s too early for most people. We might even manage a gallop!’ She wavered. After her father’s severity last night, it would be prudent to ask his permission, but he was not in the house and Joshua was on the front steps. He saw her hesitation and pressed home his case.
Society's Most Scandalous Rake Page 14