The Rakehell Regency Romance Series Boxed Set 1

by Sorcha MacMurrough

  At the thought of Bath, she cheered. The difficult last half-hour she had spent with Jonathan evaporated like the morning mist. It would be such fun. The teas, the dances, the public readings, the Assembly Rooms. It would be so fine staying with the Duke and Duchess. And with a handsome, charming escort such as Jonathan, she need not be ashamed, even if her fortune was not quite as good as some girls'.

  All thoughts of the Millers and the village school were forgotten completely as she contemplated her next social occasion. "What do you think I should wear to the ball tonight?"

  "Well, my dear, what about your..."

  Chapter Three

  The rest of Pamela's evening was spent preparing for the Assembly Ball, which would take place in the Parish Hall at Brimley.

  She had had many new gowns made for her Season, but she did not want to appear too fine in their sleepy little Somerset village. So she chose a simple gown of pale blue muslin, trimmed with a darker blue ribbon, with a white lace over-gown completing the ensemble.

  The Hall was an elegant neo-Classical building of red brick and white stucco. This was their regular monthly Ball, not as elegant and refined as the private ones, but an excellent place to see and be seen. The Earl of Ferncliffe would not attend, but handsome Captain Breedon would.

  Pamela was in the mood for laughter and a bit of mild flirtation. The Captain was tall, blond and jovial, a decided contrast to the Earl, who was handsome in a dark brooding sort of way, but who for all his loftiness seemed to have little interesting conversation.

  By the time Pamela and her aunt arrived in their small gig, Pamela wondered if she ought to have exercised common sense and stayed at home, rather than venture out again in the icy weather.

  But the thought of missing the ball had been too much to bear. She assumed that Jonathan would be there, but if he were going to be so severe upon her for falling asleep and Mrs. Miller's and for enjoying herself, she would just be civil to him.

  On the other hand, she had to admit that his company was certainly the most stimulating in the district, even if she did not understand everything he spoke about.

  But there were others certain to keep her amused. Peter and Toby Stephens, Timothy Bridges, Percy Parke and Michael Jarvis were all jocular and attractive, said to be promising young men with modest fortunes. They loved a good hunt as much as she did, and when not flattering Pamela, regaled her with their exploits riding to hounds.

  Pamela, delighted to be the center of attention, danced until she was exhausted. After a while though, even dancing and an interesting topic could become wearing. She thought once again of her rudeness at the Millers.

  "Ah, you blush, Miss Ashton. I hope my words of warm appreciation for your most wonderful self have not embarrassed you unduly," her brown-haired companion declared, leading forward intently in a manner which made her feel cornered.

  "Er, not at all, Mr. Jarvis. I was just recollecting a duty I've neglected to perform. Pray excuse me."

  She rose from the settee and made her way over to the new arrivals in the hall, Jonathan and his sister Sarah.

  "How nice to see you," she said warmly, helping the young woman off with her snow-encrusted cloak.

  "And you, Pamela. Are you well?" the dark-haired woman inquired.

  She did not look much like her brother in terms of coloring, for he was far more fair. But with regard to politics and religion, they were similar in every respect.

  "I am, Sarah. You?"

  "Very well, thank you, though I long for spring."

  "It will be coming soon enough, Sister," Jonathan reassured her.

  To Pamela's chagrin, Jonathan did not linger to speak with her, but moved over to chat with some of the men gathered by the fire. She watched his retreating back and wondered at his coolness. He had not even asked her to dance! Pity, really, for even though he was only a vicar, she felt he was far and away the best dancer in the room.

  "And I hear you are to stay with the Duke of Ellesmere and his wife in Bath?" Sarah asked.

  "Yes, indeed. I'm looking forward to it eagerly."

  "They're the best of couples. So interesting, and entertaining, without a hint of superiority."

  "How nice to hear it. Charlotte I know slightly, but I imagine him a most exalted gentleman."

  Sarah shook her head, then dusted the snow from the front of her bronze silk gown. "Not a bit of it. The Duke took his hereditary seat as one of our Radical members in the House of Lords as soon as he inherited. He's done wonders to help sway public opinion on the slavery question. He also takes an active interest in prison reform."

  "Oh, my, he sounds fascinating, but far too intelligent for me," Pamela sighed, flicking open her fan.

  Sarah smoothed the skirt of her elegant gown once more. "That's what his own wife might have said once. But Charlotte has a lively, inquiring mind. I would say they're ideally suited to one another, though many people thought it was a complete mismatch at the time."

  "Well, there's no explaining things in a rational manner when people fall in love."

  "That's most certainly true," Sarah said with an odd smile on her face.

  "And how does your brother come to be so close to such a paragon?" Pamela asked, fishing for further information.

  Sarah took the bait. "He and Thomas were at school together at Eton and Oxford, and served in the Peninsula with the British Army for a number of years, along with Clifford Stone."

  "Oh?" Pamela said, trying not to reveal her surprise.

  Three years. He must have seen a great deal of action, and suffered all sorts of privations. Most men who had served against Bonaparte would have boasted of the matter at every opportunity. Yet Jonathan had never once said a word.

  "Yes, indeed. They're all like brothers, the Rakehells, as they call themselves, but especially the three founding members."

  "I had no idea he'd served. Did he meet Wellington himself?"

  Sarah nodded. "When he was promoted. He covered himself in honor, but sold his commission and left the service shortly thereafter to take up his studies in divinity. He speaks of meeting the Viscount as one of the proudest moments of his life, next door but one to his being ordained."

  "Oh, do tell."

  Sarah shook her head. "It's not something to be gossiped and chattered about. If my brother chooses to tell you, that's his decision."

  Pamela raised her brows in surprise, but did not press her friend. "Very well, if we can't speak of his gallant and dashing Army days, what would you like to discuss?"

  "Did you see that item in the local paper about crop rotation? Clifford and his wife Vanessa wrote it."

  She hoped her face did not fall too far. It was not the ideal subject for a ball, but anything had to be better than foxes and hounds at that point. "I must confess, I skipped over it," she said, giving her fan another flutter. "His wife writes? How interesting."

  Sarah nodded. "She's a great scholar, raised by a maiden aunt with very advanced ideas about the education of women."

  "She must be very plain, then," Pamela said in a rather dismissive tone.

  "Vanessa?" Sarah gave a little laugh. "She's one of the most beautiful women in England. But you shall see her for yourself, I'm sure. I have no doubt that once Clifford hears Jonathan and Thomas are to be reunited in Bath, they shall wish to join them."

  "I'll look forward it. And I hope you'll be coming with us also?"

  "I shall save the article for you if you like. And yes, I shall be only too pleased to come. It will be such fun."

  Pamela grimaced at the offer of the article. "No, that's quite all right. I've had a hard enough time keeping up with all the books your brother loans me, without plying through the papers."

  "I know, there's rarely enough time for all one's duties," Sarah said sympathetically.

  Pamela sighed and fiddled idly with the tassels of her reticule. "Yes, by the time I break my fast, dress, have my hair done, receive visitors, or go out to pay calls myself, then dine, play cards or wha
tever entertainment is organized at the houses I visit, then take tea, and so on, the hours just fly by. Then supper and parties, masques, balls, well, my days and nights are quite taken up."

  "If you're intent upon reading, you might do it whilst having your hair dressed, or better still, wear your hair more simply," Sarah pointed out mildly.

  Pamela sniffed. "Easy for you to say, when you have such naturally wavy hair. My maid is at me with the tongs night and day to keep my ringlets absolutely perfect." She patted her blond locks with a proprietary air.

  "It's hard being a Society maiden," Sarah said gently. "But not nearly as difficult as the life Mrs. Miller leads."

  Pamela tossed the aforementioned ringlets pettishly. Her cornflower-blue eyes sparkled. "Oh, don't you start going on about Mrs. Miller as well."

  "Pardon?"

  Pamela stuck out her lower lip in a decided pout. "I suppose Jonathan told you that we visited, and I behaved badly."

  Sarah shook her head. "Er, no, he didn't mention he'd seen you."

  Pamela nodded. "Well, he did. We went to the village together. Hard as I tried to listen, I fell asleep. I'm sorry. I was just so tired."

  "With the schedule you just described, I can see how you would be," Sarah said, hoping she kept the sarcasm from her voice.

  "Oh, no, you don't approve of me either," she cried, feeling hot tears of mortification springing up.

  Sarah patted her shoulder. "Now I never said that."

  "But I can tell by the way you're looking at me."

  Sarah sighed. "I can see a perfectly charming and lovely young woman wasting her life in idle frivolity. I hope you can find a man who will keep you in the style to which you are accustomed. You certainly have enough suitors.

  "In fact, it's a wonder that you've troubled to stop to speak to me for so long, when they're lining up behind six deep for the privilege of dancing with you. Just guard yourself, my dear. Too much pleasure is as much of a bad thing as too little. And if you encourage every young man who comes to pay court to you, you'll soon earn yourself an undesirable reputation."

  Pamela squared her shoulders belligerently. "I've done nothing wrong. I'll thank you not to preach to me. Only your brother has that right, by virtue of his being a man of the cloth. You aren't that much older than myself that you can take on maternal airs. I'm out of short skirts and can do as I like."

  Sarah shook her head. "I cry your pardon. It was not my intention to offend or argue with you, merely to caution you against the pitfalls I perceive as strewn in your path."

  Pamela flicked her fan open impatiently to cool her flaming cheeks. "Thank you for your concern. But I shall be fine, truly. And if you can't keep your envy of me to yourself, then it's best we don't speak at all."

  She turned to the first man behind her, Toby Stephens, and took his proffered hand. "Delighted."

  A few lively polkas with him, and later Captain Breedon, who was being most attentive, soon put her in a more even temper. But Pamela sensed that this ball was not going to be one of her more memorable triumphs.

  Drat both those Puritan Deverils, she declared inwardly as she saw Jonathan looking across at her and quickly glanced away. She gave a defiant lift of her chin. I shall do as I like.

  Chapter Four

  Pamela spent the rest of the evening trying to avoid Sarah, and watching Jonathan seemingly ignoring her. It did not improve her frame of mind. She regretted having spoken so hastily to Jonathan's sister.

  She relented as the evening drew to a close. When she saw the pair getting ready to leave, she went up to Sarah and said bravely, "I'm truly sorry I was so pettish before. I know you meant well. I beg your pardon for the unkind things I said."

  Sarah gave her a genuine smile. "I'm sorry you don't seem to be able to distinguish between envy, and disinterested and concerned friendship. But I accept your apology."

  "You both make me feel, well, quite small sometimes," Pamela confessed with a blush.

  A small crease appeared between Sarah's fine dark brows. "It's never our intention, I assure you. Jonathan is a kind man, if I do say so myself. And I hope I haven't been too severe upon you, though my age does give me some excuse for trying to give you the benefit of my wisdom and experience. Perhaps you should look within yourself to discover why you have concluded thus."

  Pamela admitted, "Because you seem so accomplished. So at ease in the world. As if you couldn't care less who you marry, or what will happen to you."

  Sarah patted her shoulder. "I do worry about that at times. But I have other things to do with my life. I'm sure you can find other things too. Besides, it is as God wills it. I'm a great believer in destiny. God has a design for each one of us. If it's meant to happen, it will."

  Pamela shook her head. "I can't be so calm about my fate."

  "Why not?" Sarah asked, her brows curving upwards in surprise. "You have your own fortune, and can do as you please. Forgive me for speaking so candidly," she added when she saw Pamela's look of surprise.

  "I merely meant that it is given out that there are no conditions attached to your fortune. Whilst it's only cash and not property, it's still not a mean sum, and one you can live on without having to worry about a husband to support you."

  Pamela nodded pensively. "I suppose you're correct. But a single woman on her own? It's not possible in our society."

  "That's true, I'm afraid. However, you do at least have your aunt."

  Pamela shook her head. "She means well, but she drives me to distraction. All she talks of are gowns and matrimony."

  "Now I know who you take after," Sarah rejoined dryly, then winked.

  Pamela groaned. "I suppose I deserve that."

  "Please don't be cross with me again--"

  The Earl of Ferncliffe came up just then and bowed to them both.

  Pamela was surprised to see him there, and he was moving toward her side so purposefully that she felt sure he had come expressly to see her. That he was about to offer her the last dance.

  Jonathan took her hand instead. No sooner had the Earl opened his mouth to utter his request than the vicar declared, "Sorry, old chap, she's mine."

  The Earl glared as the vicar led the lovely blonde onto the floor for the last quadrille.

  Pamela stared as they took their proper places in the set. "What was that all about?" she asked at last.

  "All what?"

  "You and Sarah were leaving. Now you've forced her to stand up with the Earl. Not that she minds, but you didn't even ask me."

  "Did I not? How remiss of me. I meant to," he said in a bland tone.

  She stared at him, resplendent in a dark evening suit and russet waistcoat and cravat. "Just what game are you playing, Mr. Deveril?"

  Jonathan smiled at her as if he had not got a care in the world. "Game? None. Am I not allowed to dance with the liveliest young girl in the room?"

  "I suppose," she said doubtfully.

  "Unless of course you really did want to stand up with the Earl?" he asked quietly, a tic suddenly appearing in his cheek as if he were suppressing some raw emotion.

  But that was absurd, Pamela thought. He never showed emotion, except good humor and kindness. He was always perfectly composed.

  She shook her head. "I didn't have any strong preference one way or the other. I just wondered at your abrupt decision to dance, and the manner in which you took me over. Especially since you seem to have been punishing me all evening for our quarrel this afternoon," she added boldly.

  A small smile played upon his lips. "I'm sorry, I shan't do it again. Obviously you would rather dance with any other man in the room than an elderly, paternal chap like myself."

  "Oh, please, don't start another quarrel," she begged. "I never said-"

  "I know. I was teasing. I do apologize."

  Her blue gaze met his gray one, and she could see a jovial twinkle.

  "I'm sorry, Pamela," he said quietly. "I should never have brought it up again. In future, I shall most certainly give you advan
ce notice before I drag you on the dance floor and step all over your feet."

  "You know full well that I find you the best dancer in the County, of all the men I've ever had the privilege to stand up with, of course."

  "Why thank you. You've never spoken so warmly to me before. If I may, I'd like to return the compliment. You're the best dancer of all the women in my acquaintance. Now, if you can only recognize that there's more to your life and character than dancing and the latest gossip, we shall all be very happy."