He heaved himself out of bed and, to Delphine’s relief, pulled on his trousers. ‘Such cruelty. And if I don’t?’ he teased, walking round the bed to stand in front of her, hands on hips, not touching, but near enough that she was trapped and could not move without coming into contact with him.
‘I’ll scream the place down.’ Tall though she was, he topped her by a full head.
‘I doubt that would do any good.’ He grinned quite devilishly. ‘Oakley knows better than to interrupt me when I’m entertaining a lady.’
‘A lady is exactly what I was—my life one of chastity and restraint, before I encountered you,’ Delphine cried wretchedly, pushing him away and beginning to pull on her underclothes, though she found it impossible to stop her violent shaking and her thin petticoat offered little protection. How she wished he would complete his dressing and put on a shirt. ‘What you have done to me makes me feel like a…a scarlet woman.’
The silver, early-morning sunlight drifting through the window glowed on his bare chest, showing him lithe and dangerous like a panther. Her nerves stretched taut, she raked her trembling fingers through her hair, combing it as best she could before securing it in a knot in the nape of her neck. Leaning on the bedpost with his arms folded across his chest, Stephen continued to watch her. When her gaze fell on the blood that stained the rumpled sheets, her cheeks flushed scarlet: her shame was complete.
Stephen shifted his gaze from her angry face to the bed, then back to her, and their eyes met. She was a most desirable young woman, but with a subdued, ladylike composure. The bold ones always drew immediate attention, yet they could not always keep it. Delphine Cameron was of prime quality and, until her encounter with him, unsullied. His awakened passion had made him more forceful than he’d intended and he did not recall her saying no.
‘I now understand the truth of your inexperience, Delphine. I do not know why you agreed to let Oakley bring you to me—that is your affair—and if you are now full of regret then that, too, is your affair, but I cannot regret trying you before other men. Nor do I feel any guilt over the pleasure you have given me—although if you choose to be a woman of pleasure, then you need to be taught the finer arts of the profession. You are very beautiful. Such spirit and passion—a woman worthy of being loved. It would be a task for any man not to want to make love to you.’
Delphine’s face reddened at his words, at what he incorrectly imagined she aspired to be. But she could not escape the fact that the second time he had made love to her had held some surprises, for she had not found him quite so loathsome then. And now, at this very moment, she wanted more than anything to run her hands across his muscled shoulders and down his chest. Her gaze lingered about his narrow waist and hips and taut, flat stomach. She trembled, her eyes darkened and instantly slid away from him, as if the temptation was more than she could bear.
She reeled with self-disgust at what she threatened to become—that most despised of all women: a loose woman. She had sampled the pleasures of the flesh, craved it. She was dissolute, wanton—but it was this stranger who had made her so. He had unleashed that wantonness within her and now she was afraid of herself.
‘You were like a breath of fresh air,’ he went on softly, ‘after an evening spent in an overcrowded tavern. You have the kind of beauty that would tempt a saint.’
‘In matters of debauchery you don’t need anyone to lure you.’ She bestowed on him an accusatory glare before lowering her gaze, reluctant to meet his eyes as she hurriedly fumbled with her bodice. She turned aside to hide her nakedness from him, but his hands came to assist, fastening the catches of her gown. When his fingers lingered on her neck she gasped and moved away, casting a quick nervous glance at him, fearful of what might happen if he came at her again, for she was absolutely certain she could not withstand his persuasive, unrelenting assault.
‘Please do not touch me again—I beg of you,’ she pleaded. ‘You have done me a grave injustice. Have you no conscience? I am not a strumpet, nor do I wish to be.’
Stephen’s eyes narrowed at her words, the seeds of doubt beginning to take root. ‘But Oakley found you in a whorehouse, did he not? That was his intended destination last night.’
‘Yes, that was where he found me,’ she confirmed, her voice ragged with emotion, ‘but I was there looking for a missing child. Working at the orphanage and treating young and old for minor ailments is my profession, Colonel Fitzwaring, not prostitution. Your Mr Oakley led me to believe you were sick and in need of attention. I now fully comprehend the misunderstanding—on both our parts. Mr Oakley was looking for a woman by the name of Delphine, a woman at the bordello who has assumed my name for no other reason than because she happens to like it. It is unfortunate for me that I did not comprehend this at the time.’
Stephen nodded his head slowly as he began to understand the mistake. ‘Yes, it was—and very stupid.’
‘How could I know that I was about to fall prey to a degenerate, unprincipled libertine?’
Stephen scowled. ‘That bad?’ he asked softly. ‘No matter. It’s too late for recriminations now. The deed is done and there is no going back.’
‘And I am totally ruined,’ she said, her voice thick with recrimination. ‘You callous beast. I am flattered that you found a romp on the bed with me entertaining, Colonel, but I truly wish you had sought a woman who would appreciate your advances rather than one who loathes you. Does it not concern you that you raped me and that I do not wish to be here?’
Stephen studied her with a great deal of interest. ‘It is beginning to and I cannot say that I blame you. Although, as I remember it, you had plenty of time to warn me of my error before we got to bed.’
He stared down at her. He was sorry for what he had done, for not bothering to find out more about her and for not taking the time to make love to her properly as she deserved. He longed to explain away the extraordinary circumstances and his own behaviour, to lay the blame elsewhere, but he could not. He shook his head and the shamefaced, penitent cast of his features softened. His eyes were steady and honest, and he did not avoid her gaze as he spoke.
‘I will not lie to you, but last night I truly believed you were—’
‘A whore,’ she provided for him coldly.
‘Yes—that. Men are weak creatures, Delphine, when their manhood is involved, and cannot resist a beautiful woman. But I swear I would not have touched you had I known you were chaste.’ A small smile broke across his features and he moved to stand closer to her. Before she could protest, he took her hands and drew her to him. ‘However,’ he murmured, his eyes lingering on her lips, ‘I did touch you—and more than that. And now I am reluctant to let you go. So a kiss before you leave me, Delphine—something I can remember you by. Let us see if I can thaw some of that ice from your lips.’
So saying, he lowered his head and placed his lips on hers, kissing her long, almost lovingly, arching her body against his. He ravished her mouth, savouring the honey sweetness of her lips and the intoxicating nearness of her body, and all logical thought flew from his mind. He held her to him, luxuriating in the feel of her, the warmth of her, her desirability. One of his hands rested in the small of her back, holding her to him, fusing their bodies together so that Delphine was aware of his arousal. It was becoming increasingly difficult to imagine her leaving him just yet. Damned if it wasn’t. But Delphine had other ideas and took his bottom lip between her teeth to nip it fiercely. Cursing, he set her away from him, tasting blood in his mouth.
‘And you call yourself a soldier—a commander of men?’ Delphine exploded in disgust, choking on sobs and angered by the tears that blurred her eyes. ‘Where have you learned your manners, Colonel? In the hovels of Spain?’
Ignoring the pain from his injured lip, with his hands on his hips he stared into her tear-bright eyes. ‘So the kitten has found its claws. You have a sharp
tongue, Delphine, and teeth to go with it. You cut me to the quick. I do not recall any such protestations when we were in bed.’
‘You wouldn’t,’ she uttered derisively. ‘You were disgustingly drunk.’
His gaze travelled the length of her slim, lissom body, her breasts rounded beneath the tight bodice of her gown. The tall, shapely figure could not be hidden even when she was fully clothed, nor could her natural grace be disguised.
‘Not so drunk that I did not know what was happening,’ he replied, softening his tone. ‘The second time I made love to you, I would go so far as to say you found pleasure in the act.’
Infuriated, Delphine swung her bag at him, missing his face by a mere inch when he sprang back. He had not expected physical violence from her.
‘Next time I shall not miss,’ she promised heatedly.
He cocked a sleek black brow. ‘Is there to be a next time?’
‘Only if we should have the misfortune to meet,’ she cried, angrily wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Touch me again and you will be singing in soprano for the rest of your life. Now kindly call your Mr Oakley and have him order me a carriage. The sooner I am gone from this place—and from you—the better I shall feel.’
Deeply touched by her obvious distress and cursing himself for being the cause of it, in an attempt to ease her wretchedness he said, ‘As a gentleman I can hardly send you on your way without escort. I do not wish to pry, but if you will name your destination, I will deliver you there without further ado. I assure you most humbly that you need have no fear of me.’
‘Indeed? Forgive me, but I must disagree. I prefer to see myself home.’
‘As you wish. You are not my prisoner. You may leave directly if you so wish.’
‘I cannot do that. I entered your room unobserved; I would die of shame if anyone should see me leave.’
‘Then I will get Oakley. I would go myself, but I fear these tight breeches leave nought to the imagination. The embarrassment would be all mine.’
Delphine’s eyes travelled downward innocently and she was immediately sorry. Blood rushed to her face and she turned away. He was right; his physical state could not be concealed. She was thankful when a hesitant knocking came at the door.
Stephen smiled, amused by her discomfort, and went to open it. ‘I must pay recompense to the time you have given me, Delphine. What is the going rate?’ As soon as the words had left his mouth he regretted them. Hurt and humiliation filled her eyes.
‘How would I know that? As I have told you, I am no whore. You owe me nothing. I have my pride, Colonel, and will take nothing from you. However, a generous donation to the orphanage on Water Lane would not go amiss.’
‘I will see to it.’ His eyes darkened and he frowned slightly, his gaze holding hers. ‘For what it’s worth, I do not blame you for being angry. I feel wretched about the way I treated you. My conduct was inexcusable.’
His frankness startled Delphine and for a moment she was caught off guard. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said softly.
‘Subtlety is not my strongest suit, I fear, but if you wish to slap my face, it is at your disposal.’
Delphine slowly shook her head, still startled.
‘I would not blame you.’
As they stood silently looking at each other, Delphine felt a curious sensation for this man stir deep inside her—this man she had every reason to despise. He would escape retribution for what he had done to her, for she knew she could never speak of the shameful night past. Her body trembled so violently that she almost swayed off her feet. Last night she had suffered the depravity of a man. Last night had also provided a chilling insight into her own body and how wanton she could be.
When Stephen turned from her, Delphine saw her reflection in a cracked mirror across the room. Rage and fury roiled within her and bitter tears stung her eyes. Traitor, she silently spat at her image. You let him bed you. Shameless hussy! Have you no honour?
No answer came.
Stephen opened the door to admit Mr Oakley, who smiled sheepishly at her, but she returned the smile with a glare, whereupon he turned to his master, quite confused. A penitent smile curved Stephen’s lips. Perplexed, Mr Oakley glanced at the bed, his eyes widening when he saw the stains on the sheets. Stephen met his gaze and nodded the silent response to his unasked question.
‘It would appear you were mistaken, Oakley. This Delphine is not the Delphine you sought. It is unfortunate, but there we are. Arrange some transport for her, will you, and I am sure she will appreciate it if you see that she leaves the inn without being observed.’
Putting on her bonnet and picking up her bag, Delphine couldn’t exit the room quickly enough. She followed in Mr Oakley’s wake, hoping never to have the misfortune to see Colonel Fitzwaring again. A fierce hatred for the man burned inside her with an all-consuming intensity. She would never forget what he had done—and certainly never, ever forgive him.
She was still in a state of considerable shock after what she had endured, but seated in the hackney on her way home to Mayfair, she had yet to comprehend the full magnitude of what had transpired. A conflict raged inside her between shock and anger. Shock that such a thing should have happened to her, and anger against Colonel Fitzwaring for having done it—the most dreadful thing that could happen to an unmarried girl of her class. She froze as the situation and the seriousness crystallised in her mind. It seemed, suddenly, as if all her innocence had vanished. Indeed, there was a fearsome new depth to life that she had never known before.
* * *
Delphine was the daughter of Lord John Cameron and his wife, Evangeline, and they lived in one of the elegant houses lining Berkeley Square. Delphine was on the point of letting herself in when, as if on cue, the door was opened by Digby, the butler Delphine had known all her life.
‘Good morning, Digby,’ she said, entering the hall. She had no doubt that, like everyone else in the house, he would be curious to know her reason for remaining out all night—and with not a word to anyone. God help her if the truth came out. ‘Is anyone risen, or are they still abed?’
‘Lady Cameron is in the drawing room. She was most concerned when you failed to come home last night and rose early. She instructed me to tell you to go straight in the moment you arrived.’
Delphine’s heart sank. She had wanted to bathe and change her clothes before she faced her mother’s wrath, but it would seem there was nothing for it.
‘I see. Then I shall go in. In the meantime, have one of the maids prepare me a bath, will you, Digby?’
Delphine’s mother was seated in her favourite chair by the window. Although it was still early, the day promised to be as hot as the one before; the room was already sweltering and her mother was fanning herself. Of medium height and slender, her greying dark hair perfectly arranged, Lady Cameron’s anger was palpable to Delphine the moment she entered the room. With compressed lips the older woman looked her over in a strained, suspicious manner and began wielding her feather fan more swiftly, a sure sign of exasperation. Its quiet swishing in the silence of the room jarred Delphine physically. She crossed the room and clung to the back of a chair to steady herself.
‘Good morning, Mama. I apologise for giving you cause for concern.’
‘Concern?’ she snapped crossly. ‘You knew perfectly well that I wanted you to attend my musical evening last night. Not only did you fail to attend, but you didn’t even bother to send word that you would be out all night! This is most improper. Where have you been? I demand to know. And just look at you. Your clothes look as if they have been slept in.’
‘I—I was at the orphanage until quite late. Two of the children have gone down with something. I stayed to help. By the time I’d finished it was too late for me to get home, so I decided to remain there the night.’
Her mother’s eyes narrowed with angry suspicion. ‘I do not believe a word of it, Delphine. You are lying; I know that for a fact. When you failed to come home I sent a footman to the orphanage to fetch you. He was told that you had already left. I shudder when I think of the type of people you consort with. Celia has a lot to answer for.’
‘It wasn’t Aunt Celia’s fault.’ Having been caught out in a lie, Delphine knew she would have to tell her mother some of the truth. ‘I—I went in search of a child who’d gone missing.’
‘And did you find her?’
Delphine nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘Where?’
‘She—she had run away to be with her mother—at Mrs Cox’s bordello, at the other end of Water Lane.’
‘I see. So her mother is a fallen woman. And are you telling me that you actually entered that establishment?’
‘Yes,’ Delphine answered quietly. Her mother was a woman who had led a sheltered life in the exclusive part of Bath until her marriage. Her world consisted of daily promenades around Mayfair, shopping and sipping tea with her friends in the pleasure gardens, her evenings one long round of entertainment. She had never been to places like St Giles or Seven Dials, those stewpots of disease and depravity. She had never seen women like Meg or children like Maisie. She would never understand as Delphine and Aunt Celia did that Meg and women like her were driven to sell themselves on the streets out of desperation. She would never know how those women suffered.
‘The fist attribute of a lady is ladylike conduct, whether in public or in private, and conduct of all kinds must be governed by good manners. You, Delphine, have shown neither. Why do you have to be like this? Why can you not look to your sisters for example?’
‘I am not like my sisters, Mama.’
‘No, you are not. You are too outspoken, too disobedient—too much of everything, and you do things that no respectable young lady would contemplate doing. Courting danger, traipsing about the streets at night with cut-throats and ruffians on the loose and suffering all weathers.’
Miss Cameron's Fall from Grace Page 4