“He wanted me to lie and I would not do it because his wife was a wonderful woman who certainly deserved better than him.” She sniffed, the gesture saying precisely what she thought of the man.
“Even though I had no references, Mr. Smith believed my story and gave me this job. I’ve been with him for six years now and would not stand by and watch someone hurt him.”
Pamela did not have to be brilliant to understand the unspoken words from Mrs. Fletcher.
“I agree, Mrs. Fl-fletcher. I f-find Mr. Smith to be the no-no-noblest of men. I have no idea if h-he is in a position to be hurt by m-me, but I would never d-do that.” She hoped her words softened the woman’s expression.
Mrs. Fletcher smiled. “Oh, yes, my dear. You are definitely in a position to hurt him.” She walked to the bed and smoothed over the covers. “Now it is time for you to rest. And I will speak to Mr. Smith and let him know there will be no sneaking into this room.”
Pamela shook her head. “D-do not concern yourself with th-that. I am not that s-s-sort of woman.”
She nodded. “Good. I thought so.” With those words she turned and left the room, closing the door quietly.
What a strange conversation. But it was nice to speak to someone who thought so highly of Nick. Especially since she was now counting on him to help keep her safe and to find Lizbeth. But she wasn’t too sure if she could keep her heart safe from him.
The laudanum had worked quite well because the sound of the maid, Dorothy, opening the drapes and wishing her a good morning was the next thing she knew after closing her eyes the night before.
“Milady, Mr. Smith would like to know if you are feeling well enough to join him for breakfast downstairs.” Dorothy grinned and shook her head. “Mrs. Fletcher has given him orders not to enter this bedroom again as long as you occupy it.”
Pamela couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing at the thought of Mrs. Fletcher again giving orders to her employer. But at least she had no worries about her reputation being sullied.
“I am a b-b-bit sore and will need h-help in dressing, but I b-b-believe I can manage to m-m-make it downstairs.” At least she hoped she could. She really needed to talk to Nick and if he was banned from coming to her, then she would have to go to him.
Unfortunately, she had no clothing with her since the dress she’d been wearing when she was hit with the carriage had been left behind in hospital. “I’m afraid I d-d-don’t have anything to w-w-wear, however.”
“Mrs. Fletcher has clothing for you. The items belonged to her daughter. They are things she left behind when she married and moved to Dorchester with her husband,” Dorothy said.
“That would b-be w-w-wonderful.” She’d never worn anyone else’s clothes before, but right now she couldn’t afford to be fussy. The nightgown she wore was given to her at hospital. “Do you know if m-my shoes arrived w-with me fr-from hospital?”
The maid thought for a minute. “I am not sure, but if not I’m certain Mrs. Fletcher has something.”
It sounded to Pamela as though Mrs. Fletcher was not only a guardian of young ladies’ virtue, but a veritable miracle worker. “Thank y-you.” Pamela used her good hand to toss the covers aside and slid to the edge of the bed. She stopped for a minute, hit with an attack of lightheadedness.
“Why don’t you wait, milady, for me to help you? I will be back in a moment with the clothing Mrs. Fletcher has.”
While the maid was gone, Pamela examined every part of her body to see what hurt the most. It turned out, everything. She must have been pretty banged up and bruised when she was tossed to the ground. Yesterday, the sprained wrist and head injury had blocked out all the aches and pains in the rest of her body that she was now feeling.
She reached out to the headboard and used that to stand. More swaying and then black dots that had her sitting back down. How would she make it downstairs if she couldn’t even stand without passing out?
Dorothy returned to the room with articles of clothing draped over her arm. “I have everything you need here. Do you want to try to make it to the bathing room? Or just use a pitcher and bowl?”
“Actually, I d-d-do need to m-make it to the t-toilet.” She dreaded the idea of using the chamber pot again.
“I can help you. It’s at the end of the corridor, not too far.”
Since she really wanted to join Nick downstairs, it was best if she at least tried to make it to the end of the corridor without fainting. “Yes, if y-you would, pl-please.”
Dorothy wrapped her arm around Pamela’s waist, helped her up with a grunt on Pamela’s part.
“Are you all right?” Dorothy eyed her with concern.
“Yes. I n-need to do this, or I will be st-stuck in this b-bed for days.”
Between the two of them they got her to the toilet, and since she was up, she used the bathing room to wash and brush her teeth—with a small piece of linen since she had no toothbrush.
That little bit of effort tired her out, but at the same time raised her spirits. Dorothy helped her dress and once she was ready, Pamela sat on the bed to await Nick to carry her downstairs.
Just as she had expected, Nick arrived with Mrs. Fletcher in tow. He crossed the room and the way his eyes lit up warmed her insides.
“Good morning, Pamela. I must say given what you went through yesterday, you are looking beautiful.” He grinned as he bent to scoop her into his arms.
Knowing how she looked when she viewed herself in the mirror in the bathing room, she was certain Mr. Nicholas Smith must be Irish because he was full of blarney.
9
All the muscles in Nick’s body tensed when he saw Pamela in the daylight. Although he did not lie when he told her she looked beautiful, because in his eyes she would always be beautiful, the scrapes on her face, her wrist in a brace, and the bandage still on her head brought out the roaring beast in him.
Mine. Someone dared to hurt what is mine.
She would be his and someone had the nerve to hurt her. Once this matter was cleared up, he would find the persons responsible for the runaway carriage and make sure they paid the necessary price for it. It was times like that when he was glad he’d remained in contact with his unsavory friends.
It was probable that Pamela did not care for him the way he cared for her but given how she turned to him when in danger and didn’t pull away when he kissed her, it was only a matter of time. Having her here in his home felt so right, but the fact that he was banned from her bedroom was oh, so wrong.
But he agreed with Mrs. Fletcher. It might never become known that Pamela spent the night in his house, but if it did, his housekeeper would be certain to quell any hint of impropriety.
No one would question Mrs. Fletcher on her morals.
He scooped Pamela into his arms and carried her downstairs. The girl needed to eat more; she was light as a bird. He brought her to the dining room where a chair had been set up with pillows on the seat and the back of the chair, and a warm woolen blanket to cover her.
“Th-this is lovely!” She craned her neck looking around and over his shoulder at the large room. He was quite proud of his home, but especially this room. Even though he had a decorator, he had picked out the colors and heavy wooden furniture himself.
“Thank you.” She winced as he sat her in the chair and adjusted the pillows behind her back, being careful not to move her too much since it was obvious she was still in quite a bit of pain.
Unfortunately, the chair was positioned right alongside a window, the direct sunlight highlighting her injuries. His jaw tightened so much he thought he would break his teeth. If he didn’t subdue his anger he would rush from the house and tear Bath apart until he found the driver of the carriage and beat the name of the person who ordered it done out of him.
Instead he sucked in a deep breath and picked up the plate in front of Pamela. “Since you should probably give your sprained wrist a rest, I will be happy to fill your plate. What do you prefer?”
“Actual
ly, I am quite h-h-hungry again. I guess b-being tossed around the p-p-pavement gives one an appetite.” She looked at the display of food. “An egg, t-t-toast, bacon, b-b-beans, and a bit of the p-p-porridge.”
So much for his theory about her having to eat more. Apparently, Pamela was one of those people who could consume a lot of food and not show it. From what he’d felt so far, her curves were quite delectable.
Once both their plates were full, Nick said, “I met with one of my contacts in the less savory part of Bath yesterday.”
Pamela immediately put her fork down and placed her hand in her lap and studied him. “Why d-d-do I think this is n-not going to be g-g-good news?”
Nick sighed. “Because it’s not good news. I believe that your friend, Miss Davenport has been abducted and taken to London.”
Her eyes grew wide and she bit her lower lip. “Oh, n-n-no! F-f-for what p-purpose?”
He hesitated, wishing he did not have to tell her, but it was important for her to know. “To be forced into prostitution.”
Pamela reeled back as if she’d been slapped. “P-p-prostitu-tution?”
He gave her a slow nod. “I’m afraid so. I have reason to believe that all the young, unmarried women who occupied the room you deemed as ‘cursed,’ and then vanished, came to the same end.”
“Th-that’s t-terrible.” Her eyes filled with tears and she grew quite pale. “We m-must save her.”
He covered her hand with his. “We will try our best but there’s a chance she might not even be in the country any longer.” He wished he could have protected her from that information, but if they were to work together on this, she had to know what they were up against.
Pamela lowered her head as tears slid down her cheeks. “I will n-n-not rest until I f-f-find her.” She looked up at Nick as she brushed the tears from her face. “She is sw-sweet girl. Very friendly and c-caring, an artist. She c-c-came from a very g-g-good background but f-f-found herself all alone in the w-w-world when influenza t-t-took both her parents and her t-t-two brothers.”
It was tearing him up to see her so upset. He rubbed the inside of her wrist which seemed to calm her. He wanted more than anything to reach out and place her on his lap, and hold her close, but that would be awkward with her sprained wrist brace. And Mrs. Fletcher would somehow sense it from whatever room she was in and barrel through the dining room door with righteous indignation.
She took the handkerchief he handed her. “Is Mrs. O’Leary in-involved with th-this?”
“Yes. However, from what I’ve learned, your landlady is only one source this organization has used to provide a supply of clean, young women for the brothels in London, and in some cases outside the country.”
“Wh-what d-do you mean by cl-clean?”
He hesitated for a minute, realizing as an innocent young woman this would cause her even more stress. “A virgin. Those women would not carry diseases.”
Her chin dropped and she stared at him, the blush rising from above her neckline to her hairline. “Wh-what are we g-going to do?”
“I will be doing what needs to be done. You will stay out of it. However,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak—most likely to object—"I want you with me in London. I don’t trust anyone here to take care of you. As you mentioned, neither Mrs. Westbrooke nor Lady Berkshire are not in a position to help with them being in a family way. Their husbands would certainly not appreciate the stress for their wives.”
Were he totally honest, he would have told her how very important it was for him to have her within arm’s reach. Just the thought of her being injured, or possibly killed was enough to cause him to break into a cold sweat.
Grateful that she didn’t insist on being involved in the matter, he breathed a sigh of relief. He could never conduct the investigation the way he needed to with the chance that Pamela was in harm’s way. If he was totally honest with himself, however, he merely wanted her with him.
“P-perhaps I sh-should st-st-stay with my b-b-brother?”
He knew nothing of her family and was quite surprised to hear there was a brother. “Your brother?”
She nodded. “Yes. My br-brother is the Earl of M-m-mulgrave.”
He knew that for her to be Lady Pamela, she had to have come from nobility. But her brother was an earl? How the devil did she end up earning her own way miles from family in a boarding house? If anything, that alone convinced him her brother would not be the best one to protect her from any future attacks.
Deciding this was not the best time to raise that subject, he said, “No. I think it best if you stay with me—and Mrs. Fletcher,” he hurried to add, “—at Mr. Montrose’s house in London. He is a friend of mine who allows me to use his townhouse when I am in London. Montrose lives in Scotland and is rarely in England. Even if he were to be there now, the place is large enough for the three of us to be easily accommodated.”
Pamela picked up her fork and continued to eat. “Wh-when d-do we l-leave?”
“As soon as possible. However, since you arrived at hospital yesterday with none of your belongings, I can give you a couple of days to purchase what you need for the next few weeks.”
Her mouth dropped open again. It appeared he continued to shock her. “Y-y-you cannot b-b-buy my clothes.”
“Pamela, we have no choice. I don’t think you would want to travel to London with only the clothes on your back. And considering the fit of what you’re wearing now, I assume this was lent to you from someone in the house?”
“Yes, Mrs. Fletcher was k-k-kind enough to loan me clothing that h-her daughter left be-behind when she married and m-m-moved away.” She smiled at Nick. “Mrs. Fletcher is tr-truly a wonderful woman. You are f-f-fortunate to have h-her.”
He grimaced. “Yes. However, right now I could do without her.” He couldn’t help thinking that even though he had planned on having Mrs. Fletcher act as chaperone for Pamela, she didn’t have to be so very enthusiastic about it. A quick kiss here and there wouldn’t hurt Pamela’s reputation. But then the time would come, no doubt, when a kiss would not be enough.
Pamela did not answer his comment but her raised eyebrows and slight blush to her cheeks told him she suspected what his words meant.
Pamela’s head was spinning with the major changes that had taken place in her life in a mere twenty-four hours. She had been a young woman living in a quiet boarding house, giving piano and voice lessons to young girls, with two best friends whom she loved.
Now she was homeless, friendless—except for Nick—without any belongings—not even under garments—and ready to escape to London to investigate a prostitution ring. She’d learned her landlady was evil, the young woman she’d grown fond of had been kidnapped, and her own life was in danger—and had practically ended when she’d been run down on the street.
The only steady presence in her current life was Mr. Nicholas Smith, who she never even knew a few months ago. Add to all those disturbing facts the idea that Mr. Smith had a fancy for her, and she was afraid that she was slowly developing one for him.
He was a very nice man, caring, protective and well-thought of by his staff which was always a good indicator of one’s character. He was certainly easy to look at, with his muscular build, deep brown eyes and wavy hair that landed on his forehead with regularity, but she still stuttered and would embarrass him once he grew tired of her stumbling over everything.
Nick wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin alongside his plate. “I have accounts at several stores in Bath where you may purchase items.”
“I can’t d-do th-that! How can I walk into a st-store in the t-t-town where I’ve lived for th-three years and order cl-clothing and tell th-them to put it on your bill? Good h-h-heavens I might as well w-walk around with a r-r-red letter on my dress.”
“Of course. What was I thinking?” He studied her for a minute. “Besides you are not in any condition to be out shopping anyway. You need to rest for at least a few days. I will have Mrs. Fletcher visit a
few stores and have them come out here with various things you can select from.”
This was not an unfamiliar process for her. Given her brother’s station, her sister-in-law had oftentimes requested merchants to come to the house when she felt too tired, sick, or suffering from ennui to shop.
There were many times Pamela felt sorry for her brother. Their marriage, while not exactly arranged, had been strongly encouraged by both sets of parents. Someone must have gained something, but Pamela never knew what. Her brother, while fond of her, had always been a very private man and had never confided in her.
“That w-would be very nice b-b-because I find I am already f-f-feeling a bit tired.”
Nick stood and pushed back his chair. “All right, up you go.” He bundled her into his arms and walked to the door. “Off to bed with you. While you are resting, I will have Mrs. Fletcher visit various shops and arrange to have some clothing and other items brought back here for you to consider.”
She rested her head on his chest bringing her warm tender feelings. She had a sense of being in the right place at the right time, as foolish as that sounded given how she ended up here.
He climbed the stairs and made a right turn to the bedroom she’d been given. He deposited her gently on the bed. “I think a bit of laudanum might be helpful. I can tell by your face that you are feeling poorly.”
While he got the medicine from the table across the room, Pamela thought about the clothing and other items Nick intended to pay for her. She couldn’t help but wonder how many other women Nick had bought clothing for. Or jewelry. Or possibly even a townhouse or a carriage. Isn’t that what men did for their mistresses?
Not that she was his mistress, nor would ever be, she hurried to assure herself. Although she felt the blood rush to her face at just the thought. But certainly, a man as virile, wealthy and attractive as Nick would have had his share of beautiful women.
Lady Pamela and the Gambler: The Merry Misfits of Bath - Book Three Page 8