He was also forced to consider the risk that if his intended had tried to lose herself in the slums of London, she might have also lost her virginity. He grimaced at the prospect. ‘Try the taverns and whorehouses; maybe she fell into trouble,’ he added as an afterthought. The idea brought a leer to his dry lips. If he didn’t need a virgin so badly, it would serve the beautiful Julia Prentiss right to be subjected to such embarrassment after shunning him so overtly in front of her uncle.
Once he had her back, he’d teach her how to be humble. His groin stirred at the thought, numerous images passing through his mind. He dismissed his men with bags of gold for bribes and drinks and spent the rest of the afternoon lasciviously contemplating all the different ways he’d instruct the errant Julia Prentiss in the art of humility.
Chapter Seven
‘What do you think, monsieur? La fille est très belle, n’est-ce pas?’ the petite French dressmaker trilled for the countless time that afternoon.
Julia grimaced at the sound of the woman’s ingratiating, high-pitched voice. For the past three hours, she’d been reduced to the role of a doll, standing at attention, draped in fabrics and pins in the middle of Paine’s spare bedroom. The woman had immediately recognised Paine as her benefactor and had ceased asking for anyone’s opinion but his. Indeed, Paine had been in charge all day, a fact that was growing increasingly annoying.
They’d slept late and, after breakfast, Paine had decided it was time to remedy the deplorable condition of her wardrobe. Actually, there was no ‘condition’ to remedy since she technically had no wardrobe beyond the robe of Paine’s she’d worn for the better part of two days.
Two days! Those days seemed to have flown by, melding into each other, and yet two days hardly seemed enough time to countenance all that had passed between her and Paine. She felt she’d known him for far longer than the space of a few days. She twitched and the dressmaker reprimanded her.
Julia rolled her eyes and appealed to Paine. ‘How much longer will this take?’
Paine ignored her. ‘Non, le rose, madame.’ He gave a dismissing wave to the length of soft green muslin Madame held up to Julia’s hair and gestured to a rose-coloured swatch instead.
‘Ah! Très bien, monsieur!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘You have an excellent eye for women’s clothing.’
Julia fought the urge to childishly stomp her foot. With all the aplomb she could collect, she said, ‘I think we have enough for today.’ She tossed her head and stepped down from the impromptu dais of a large square ottoman.
The woman gasped. She appealed to Paine. ‘Monsieur, we are not finished.’
Julia thought for a moment Paine would call her back, but he merely laughed, spearing her with a gaze that held myriad messages.
Julia waited for Paine in the sanctuary of his extraordinary bedroom. This gold-and-crimson room had become her refuge. It was shocking to think of how little she’d been out of this room in the past two days, how little desire she had to leave this room.
But the dressmaker’s visit was a sharp reminder that she had to do more about her situation than sit in Paine Ramsden’s bedroom. The dressmaker was also a reminder that she’d uncharacteristically let someone else take the reins. Since she’d landed in Paine’s arms, he’d decided everything, from the course of action to be taken with Oswalt to the very colour and type of dress she’d wear. Was it really a good idea to let a virtual stranger plan her future? Aside from the pleasure he gave her, what did she know about him?
In some ways, Paine Ramsden was more than a stranger. Not even the rumours she’d heard about him had been accurate, so she didn’t have gossip to fall back on. Paine Ramsden was a conundrum; for starters, it seemed unlikely that a purported gambler would bother buying property and devote the time needed to turn it into a business venture. Such effort spoke of long-term commitments, something she didn’t associate with gamblers who didn’t look further than the turn of a card or the throw of the dice.
Further confusion arose from his foreign but noble outlook on intimate relations—an outlook that permitted copious amounts of sex, but with a strong sense of ethics that was currently lacking among members of the English ton.
The concept was intensely juxtaposed to that of the hypocritical ton, making it impossible for the English mind, steeped in virginal traditions, to countenance. Julia doubted the rakes peopling the ton had the scruples to which Paine ascribed.
At the core of her conundrum was the reality she’d personally encountered in Paine. She’d deliberately gone looking for a man who wouldn’t take an interest in her affairs after the initial act was done. Instead, she’d found a man who had his own reasons to stay interwoven in the current events of her life. In a city of thousands, she’d managed to find the one man who wanted revenge on Oswalt.
Julia did not fool herself into thinking that Paine allowed her to stay out of any romantic attachment. He let her stay because she could assist in his retaliation. She was useful to him for that reason alone.
The rest of it—the love play, the instruction in intimate arts—meant nothing particular to him. He was a man used to a different code of conduct, a different code of honour. The English gentleman’s code of honour abhorred the deflowering of virgins. Apparently, Paine’s foreign codes didn’t abhor the deflowering so much as it abhorred a poor bedding.
It would be too easy to misunderstand his intentions, to view his actions through English eyes. She must be careful to remember how Paine saw the world or else she’d start entertaining impossible notions about a future with Paine Ramsden—a man who would be easier to love than he would be to forget.
She would have to forget him. Eventually, this gambit would end in some fashion and she’d have to move on. Paine Ramsden certainly would. He’d go back to his cryptic lifestyle, his exotically conducted affairs and forget about the viscount’s niece who had begged him to deflower her. The vision was a difficult one to stomach.
Downstairs, a door shut at the back of the house, signalling the dressmaker’s departure. Within moments, Paine’s footfalls sounded on the steps and shortly afterwards the bedroom door opened.
‘Julia, love, you have the patience of a flea!’ he proclaimed in high spirits. ‘That is Madame Broussard, the finest dressmaker in the city by many accounts. One does not order her about like a common servant. She might leave pins in your gowns.’
Paine came to sit beside her, pulling the tails of his shirt out of his trousers’ waistband. ‘But you were right. That was enough for the day. I didn’t think I could stand another minute of looking at your delectable body clad in nothing more than a shift. I thought my trousers would burst.’ He tugged on her hands. ‘Come, relieve me, Julia. I’ll show you “the splitting of the bamboo”. You’ll like it.’
He looked boyish and carefree; it took an enormous amount of will power to resist. ‘Wait, Paine.’ Julia shook her head. ‘We need to talk. It’s been two days and I’m no closer to knowing what my future holds than I was the night I walked into your club.’
Paine shrugged and lay back on the pillows, hands behind his head. ‘Go ahead, then, talk,’ he offered expansively.
‘What’s the meaning of all this?’ Julia began. ‘What’s the purpose of all the gowns? Why am I staying here? What’s to become of me? This is not what I had planned at all.’ She could hear the frustration rising in her voice and resented it. The last thing she wanted to do was sound like a hysterical girl.
Paine tried for humour. ‘Well, I will want my robe back at some point in the future.’
‘Not funny. Really, tell me, what am I doing here?’
Paine sat up. ‘You are staying safe until I have all my pieces in place, Julia. Oswalt is dangerous. We cannot rush out and challenge him. He’s too smart for that. I have asked my investigators to make inquiries about Oswalt’s business. We need to know what he is up to and plan accordingly. I’ve asked for inquiries about your uncle, too. I know you say he’s an honest fellow, but I am a bit more cynical.’
‘Inquiries! I did not give you leave to pry into my family’s private matters,’ Julia protested, further exclamations silenced by the soft press of his finger against her lips.
‘As for the dresses,’ Paine went on, overriding her dismay, ‘we’ll need the backing of the ton, some of them at least, for what I have planned. I mean to reclaim my good standing.’
‘Good lord, that could take years!’ Julia cried without thinking.
Paine chuckled. ‘Again, your trust in me is overwhelming, my dear. I think you’ll see it will only take a matter of weeks.’
‘And you’ll be wearing the dresses while you reclaim this good standing?’ Julia probed wryly, not following his logic in its entirety.
‘You’ll be by my side, Julia. You’re the key to my reform. The influence of a good woman’s love is a powerful source of conversion.’
‘I haven’t converted you,’ Julia said carefully. A man who knew such colourful expressions and methods for lovemaking like ‘splitting the bamboo’ was in no way reformed. ‘When did you decide on this story?’ Here was yet another example of Paine Ramsden’s managing ways.
‘Yesterday afternoon when I was taking care of some correspondence, I started thinking about it. Today, somewhere between the blue silk and the green muslin, it all seemed to come together. The ton will like the story, it’s a fairy tale come to life and it will make a good explanation for how I turned up with you.’
Paine’s eyes glinted with the excitement of the drama. ‘We’ll tell everyone it was love at first sight. When I saw you, I knew my erring days were over. It’s a plausible reason for being together and it will give me a valid excuse to keep you close. Once Oswalt learns that you’re with me, the game will be fully engaged. He’ll stop at nothing to have you back. We just have to draw him out into the open and expose him for what he is.’
Julia recognised the plan wasn’t quite that simple. They needed the ton to accept them, or rather to accept Paine, so that there would be support for exposing the issues with Oswalt. That support would be needed to bring Oswalt down. Apathy could be a powerful non-weapon. If no one cared enough to buy into their cause, the status quo would remain the norm. That norm would see her wed to Oswalt, the contract with her uncle upheld. For Julia, that outcome was unacceptable.
‘And until then?’ Julia asked, moving back towards the bed.
‘Until then, all we have to do is pretend we’re in love.’ His eyes were mesmerising in their persuasion. Who could resist those blue eyes, dark with desire? ‘Are you ready to split the bamboo?’ he whispered, nipping at her neck with soft kisses.
‘I see this has nothing to do with trees,’ Julia managed to flirt between kisses.
‘No, not trees, love, but it has everything to do with your deliciously long legs.’ Paine moved and knelt before her on the bed, running a hand down the length of one leg and gently lifted it over his shoulder. ‘Make your legs into a raised V for me, Julia. We’ll start with the “yawning position” and take our “bamboo” from there.’ He leaned forwards to kiss her mouth. ‘And no quips about the “yawn” being boring. I assure you it is not. In fact, it’s quite exciting.’
‘Why?’ Julia murmured.
‘You’ll find out,’ Paine offered in cryptic reassurance.
After that, she had no more thought for questions. Julia gave herself over to Paine’s exotic instructions. In the wake of his persistence and passion, Julia found it wasn’t hard to convince herself his plan made sense. Neither was it hard to do her part and pretend she was in love with him. As he knelt before her and showed her how to alternately raise her legs to his shoulders, thus ‘splitting the bamboo’, she suspected she was already half way there.
There was no question of Julia going to the gaming hell with him, although it was the devil convincing her of that. He might have been able to take one night away from the club, but he could not afford to be absent another night. Not only would it deprive him of valuable information, but his absence was sure to be noticed. Julia had finally consented to be left behind on the condition that he bring her back a wig.
Thinking of her saucy demand as he left brought a smile to his lips even now. Bringing Julia with him had a certain appeal. He might even teach her a few of the club games. Just the thought of Julia’s bosom leaning over the dicing table stirred him and he’d only been gone from her an hour. Paine set the tantalising image aside. Tonight, he had work to do, work that mattered to him and to Julia.
John, the doorman, was waiting for him when Paine arrived at the club shortly after eight-thirty. ‘We all missed you last night.’ He gave a short nod to the group of dandies led by Gaylord Beaton, talking too loudly in the corner. ‘They want to play faro with you. The bunch of them came in last night.’
Paine nodded, sizing up the rowdy group. He’d bet they would be in more sombre spirits by midnight. He’d hoped the earlier loss at Commerce would have taught Beaton a lesson about playing beyond one’s means. Apparently not. ‘Anything else?’
‘The gel that came looking for you has a man looking for her.’ John lowered his voice. ‘That man over there has been asking about her. She matches the description he’s been giving, anyway.’
Paine’s eyes narrowed, taking in the burly, unkempt man by the wall, slumped over a glass of cheap brandy. ‘What did you tell him?’
John shook his head. ‘Nothing. I didn’t like the looks or smell of him. The gel doesn’t fit with him, so I thought the worst.’
‘You’re right about that. The girl’s from a good family. Until I instruct anyone otherwise, we’ve never seen her. Make that clear to everyone—the dealers, the bartender, the other girls.’ Paine bounced on the balls of his feet, organising the evening’s business in his mind.
‘John, send a bottle of our best brandy to the dandies with my compliments. I’ll join them for faro at ten. I’ll be in my office settling accounts until then. When Brian Flaherty comes in, I want to see him directly.’
Flaherty was a stocky Irishman with a balding pate and good humour in spite of his dark career as a private investigator. In the past year, Paine had come to trust the Irishman implicitly when it came to the business of the gambling hell.
The man was a veritable bloodhound, able to sniff out the backgrounds of Paine’s sundry clientele. No credit was extended, no deal struck, without Flaherty’s stamp of approval. The man’s ability for research had saved Paine countless pounds. Tonight, Paine was hoping Flaherty had information regarding Oswalt and his search for Julia.
‘The man is definitely looking for her,’ Flaherty said, easing himself into a chair in Paine’s office. ‘Oswalt has his men everywhere. The three coaching inns I asked at indicated others had inquired about the same girl early yesterday. The good news is that it appears he didn’t think to start searching gaming hells and other such establishments until tonight. That means he’s still guessing with nothing substantial to go on,’ Flaherty reported.
Paine nodded. He’d expected as much, but it was good to have those suspicions confirmed. ‘And the uncle?’
Flaherty shook his head. ‘I am still working on that. It’s hard to say. Oswalt had visited the uncle, but to my knowledge the uncle has not been asking around for the girl except for inquiries at the Farradays.’
‘Thank goodness for that at least.’ Paine sighed. He’d take all the luck he could get. He’d hoped the man had enough sense to keep Julia’s disappearance quiet and it seemed he had. If no one was aware of her disappearance, it would be far easier for her uncle to cover it up, explain it away with a believable story, or even with Paine’s story that he and Julia had fallen in love at first sight. As things stood currently, only Julia’s family and Oswalt knew she was gone.
Paine preferred it that way. ‘Can I trust the uncle?’ Paine mused out loud. The man had shown surprising discretion so far. Perhaps he’d judged Barnaby Lockhart too harshly, too soon. He’d thought he might go to the uncle and assure him of Julia’s safety.
Paine also had other reasons for seeking out Uncle Barnaby. Paine wanted to ‘help’ him concoct a safe story that explained Julia’s absence. It would be easy enough to use the sick relative in the country story and neatly tack on that while there she encountered him, under the watchful eye of chaperons, of course. Romance bloomed, allowing their ‘courtship’ in London to take place upon her return.
Paine most definitely wanted to have a hand in that alibi if he could manage it. Julia’s situation demanded concentration if one was to avoid a scandalous misstep. It could not be left to an amateur.
So far, his luck was holding. The uncle hadn’t raised the hue and cry. But his silence wouldn’t last long. Even if the uncle didn’t say anything, people would be asking for Julia. Like any busy débutante, she was no doubt committed to events ahead of time. When she didn’t appear at the places she was expected, people would miss her and her uncle would have to explain. Paine wanted an alibi in place before that happened.
As much as Paine wanted to pay Uncle Barnaby a visit, Paine worried that Oswalt’s hold on the man would be too strong for the keeping of any secrets. The last thing he needed was to face Oswalt’s henchmen in an unequal fight. It was a daunting reality to acknowledge that he was literally the only person standing between Julia and Oswalt. If he fell, Julia would be entirely at the man’s mercy.
Flaherty affirmed his misgivings. ‘No, the uncle is under too much pressure. He sees Oswalt as his only way out from under the burden of his debt. Already, Oswalt is bargaining for the girl’s return. He says he’ll marry her anyway if she’s found, but he’ll pay less than the originally promised sum. If she doesn’t reappear, he is seeking a return of the funds he’s already advanced.’
Bronwyn Scott's Sexy Regency Bundle Page 40
