Society's Most Scandalous Rake

by Isabelle Goddard

  Joshua caught sight of their reflection at the same time as she and smiled back at her. The scar on his cheek was hardly noticeable, but it gave him distinction, she thought softly. Not that he needed it, he was so beautifully made. Guiltily she caught herself up; from now on, such thoughts were taboo. She must focus on a very different future.

  Once in the Long Gallery amid the noisy buzz of chatter, he stopped and turned to her, a serious expression on his face.

  ‘Remember my warning. There are those close by who wish you ill. If you need me, I am here.’

  She saw her father rapidly approaching, a worried look on his face, and had no time to reply.

  ‘We have been looking for you everywhere,’ Alfredo fussed. ‘Carmela is even now questioning every footman in the building.’

  She was startled. ‘Please stop her, Papa. As you see, I am well. Mr Marchmain was kind enough to offer me his escort from the Prince’s apartments.’

  It was Alfredo’s turn to look startled. ‘The Prince’s apartments?’

  ‘His drawing room, sir,’ Joshua said soothingly. ‘He wished to show Miss de Silva his magnificent collection of brooches.’

  Her father’s expression remained uneasy. ‘I am sure his Highness was most gracious, but the time has come to leave.’

  His tone was severe, and in a short while they had collected Carmela and were bowling down the driveway towards Marine Parade.

  * * *

  Joshua was left looking after the carriage, a prey to uncertainty. Domino was to be sacrificed on the altar of family duty—indeed, she was willing to be sacrificed—and there was little he could do. He was a disreputable man and could have no voice in her future. That kiss—those kisses, he corrected himself reminiscently—could only ever be an interlude, but what an interlude! It was ridiculous that his heart still sang. How many kisses had he known in his lifetime? Not like this, a small voice within him argued, not like this. She had been a revelation, all her youth and vitality poured into those moments of pleasure. He had known instinctively that she was a girl of strong emotion, that beneath her modest exterior lay a sleeping passion waiting to be roused, and he had been right. He had wanted to kiss her until she begged him never to stop, and she had wanted him to. She desired him as much as he desired her. Another conquest to add to the many, he thought acidly. All the more reason, then, to keep his distance. Otherwise he would hurt her, and hurt her badly. It was inevitable—for didn’t he damage everything that became dear to him?

  An unbearable restlessness seized him and he knew he had to get away from the chattering foolishness all around. He turned on his heel and strode back the way he had come. Once in his studio, he threw off his black evening jacket and shrugged himself into the spattered smock. A blank canvas was before him and he picked up his brush. In his mind’s eye he saw her as she had stood just minutes before. His painting would capture that moment, would capture her lovely young face as he kissed her into mutual submission. It was as close as he would ever get to possessing her and with that he must be content. For her sake his heart must remain well defended: she was too young, too trusting, too innocent. For his own sake, too. The life he had fallen into was predictable, often unlovely, but always free from the pain of feeling; it was a life he intended to keep.

  Chapter Six

  It was a long time before Domino fell asleep that night. The visit to the Pavilion had proved a kaleidoscope of sights, sounds, happenings, that tossed and tumbled through her mind without settling. The strange architecture, the exotic furnishings, the overpowering heat, had all contributed to a strong sense of disorientation even before she had been assailed by the Regent’s clumsy advances. For a while she had truly feared for her virtue; then came the sweet relief of rescue. It seemed it was her destiny to be saved from disaster by the one man who should have spelt the greatest danger to her.

  Yet it was some time since Joshua had played the rake, if indeed he ever had. When she thought back to their first meeting on the beach, she had to acknowledge that it was her peace of mind that he’d threatened rather than her person. In fact, she had never felt seriously threatened in his company. Ruffled, irritated, occasionally shocked by his unconventionality, but never genuinely alarmed. He was simply adept at provoking her. But this evening he hadn’t provoked; he had seemed almost a different person. From the outset hints had surfaced that more lay beneath the devil-may-care exterior than he cared to admit; but seeing him in his studio tonight, so much a part of his setting and among the things he valued, a serious and interesting man had assumed control. She’d felt a powerful connection to the paintings he loved and a powerful connection to him.

  In her imagination she returned to his studio. She was flicking through the stack of canvases once more, then stopping abruptly. That picture of her! She saw it clearly in her mind’s eye and pondered long over what it meant. He had said it was her foreignness that captured his interest, but the intimacy of the painting seemed to say far more. And the kisses that followed—what had they meant to him? They had certainly turned her life upside down. She had melted under their onslaught, every worldly consideration banished; all she had felt or known in those moments was him. She had never before experienced such emotion: her heart, her body, her whole being had shaken with the pulse of feeling.

  Richard had never kissed her; if he had, she suspected that any kiss would have been but a poor reflection of what she had felt tonight. In retrospect her sentiments for Richard had been just what he had always said they were, a schoolgirl crush, painful and deep, but a mere rehearsal for the real thing. Was tonight the real thing? The thought scared her mightily, for if so it blew to pieces the future she had ordained for herself. She had left the Pavilion vowing never again to lose control, never again to succumb to her desires so shamelessly. She would block the moment from her mind as if it hadn’t happened. Yet here she was thinking of it again and again, endlessly repeating those kisses, endlessly drowning in their delight.

  * * *

  After a restless night, she dragged herself from bed the next morning, feeling tired and dispirited. Doubts crowded out the euphoria of last night’s lovemaking. She no longer knew what to think or how to behave. When she could label Joshua a rake, it had been easy to ignore the promptings of her heart. She could ignore them no longer and her heart lay exposed, raw and vulnerable. She tried to give it covering by dwelling on his past iniquities and telling herself how foolish it was to believe in his caresses, but the attempt was flimsy.

  Without doubt he was a sexual buccaneer. It was not just his past relationship with the duchess: mistresses were a fact of life in the ton, never openly acknowledged, but discreetly tolerated. No, not just the duchess. His name had been linked to half a dozen others currently residing in Brighton; though she did not know the truth of these insinuations, the old adage of no smoke without fire came to mind. In short, he was a wholly unsuitable person to consort with. And how she had consorted! She had been utterly brazen.

  With her mind torn this way and that, she was undecided whether to hide herself at home or fight the blue devils that threatened by venturing into town. Carmela made the decision for her. Her cousin was in a particularly disagreeable mood and it looked likely to last for hours.

  ‘I do not understand why you felt it necessary to disappear last night,’ she greeted Domino crossly as the latter took her seat at the breakfast table.

  ‘The Regent wished to show me his collection of jewellery,’ she replied in a tired voice. ‘Papa knew where I was.’

  ‘He did not, or else why would he have been looking for you everywhere?’

  ‘But he took me himself to meet the Regent.’

  ‘In the Music Room, Domino. You were to stay in the Music Room and not wander off to goodness knows where without a word.’

  ‘The Prince wished to escort me to his drawing room. I could h
ardly refuse and there was no chance to let you know where I was going.’ She thought it wise not to disclose that the Regent had resisted her plea to send for her cousin.

  But Carmela had not yet finished her scolding. ‘Your lack of thought caused both your father and I much worry and also a great deal of talk. What must people have thought when you left the room with the Regent and without a chaperon?’

  ‘I imagine my absence would have gone unnoticed if you had not taken it upon yourself to alert every footman in the palace.’ Domino’s response was tart.

  Her cousin bit back a retort, appearing to concede silently that she had been at fault in broadcasting Domino’s truancy. But it was clear that she blamed her charge for the evening’s troubles and for falling into one mischief after another. Doubtless she was counting the days until the family could leave Brighton and all its shocking attractions.

  Domino left the breakfast table before her cousin could continue the harangue, but her father, encountered in the hall, proved no more benign. He was making his way to his office and the daily round of papers and, though he greeted her courteously enough, it was evident from his distant manner that he was far from happy. Her relatives appeared suspicious that she had conducted herself ill last night, but their suspicion fell squarely on the Regent. What would they think if they knew about Joshua?

  The cloud that hung over Marine Parade spurred her to leave the house as soon as possible. In an effort to brighten a day which had started so badly, she slipped into the white figured muslin newly arrived from the dressmaker, and chose a charming gypsy straw bonnet, embellished with cherries and trailing matching ribbons. Flora, who was assisting her to dress, was delighted to learn that she was to accompany her mistress.

  ‘It will be good to be on one of our adventures again, miss,’ she squeaked excitedly.

  Not much of an adventure, Domino reflected; a walk to the Level and back would have to suffice, but at least she would be in the fresh air and safe from any further recriminations. And there would be plenty to see, for the Level was a popular leisure area, frequented by local people as much as by the members of visiting London society. It was spacious and grassed, with a variety of attractions, even a cricket ground that had been laid out years before for the Regent when he was still Prince of Wales. The broad avenue of elms, their branches almost interlocking overhead, made a soothing walk and she could imagine herself in the country while the town thronged busily around her.

  Today they had hardly reached the beginning of the walk when music came drifting to them on the breeze.

  ‘Oh, Miss Domino, do let’s go and look.’ Flora was jigging up and down in her eagerness. ‘It’s the military, I’m sure. I can hear the drums.’

  The Prince’s own regiment, the 10th Light Dragoons, was based at the Church Street barracks and, in the absence of another French invasion, spent their time mounting guard on the Prince’s estate and occasionally taking part in parades, grand reviews and mock battles as part of the town’s seasonal entertainments.

  Domino felt a surge of interest. Italian opera might leave her cold, but a military parade was another matter.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Flora,’ she said happily. ‘The soldiers must be practising for the Regent’s birthday—it can only be days away now.’

  ‘What do you think they’re planning to do?’ The maid screwed up her face in concentration, as though by sheer force of will she could conjure up the mystery entertainment.

  ‘My father said there was to be the usual parade, but he thought something quite special too, possibly a re-enactment of the Battle of Waterloo.’

  At this intelligence Flora could contain herself no longer and began tugging at her mistress’s arm in a fashion which Carmela would instantly have decreed unseemly.

  ‘Quick, miss, let’s go and see!’

  They hurried along the wide avenue until it suddenly opened on to a large clearing. Here a dazzling display of deep blue and gold met their eyes. The soldiers were a moving panorama, the brilliant gold braiding of their tight fitting jackets glowing in the morning sun and their ebony shakos sitting proudly atop their heads. Raised in the air, a cluster of curved swords gleamed wickedly. A band played nearby, the drum they had heard earlier beating out an insistent time as the soldiers moved smartly first one way, then another, wheeling and spinning in such orderly fashion that to the dazed spectator they seemed not five hundred single men, but one dashing entity.

  ‘Ain’t that just a sight, Miss Domino,’ Flora breathed, forgetting her acquired polish in a moment of wonder.

  ‘It certainly is,’ said an amused voice a short distance away. ‘Flora, isn’t it?’ and a smiling man doffed his high-crowned beaver hat in her direction.

  ‘Yes, sir.’ She bobbed a nervous curtsy.

  Joshua must have been at the far end of the parade ground where officials from the Prince’s household were gathered and she had not noticed him until he was nearly upon them. As always the deep blue coat he wore was moulded like a second skin to his powerful shoulders. Beneath she glimpsed a paler blue, ornamented Venetian waistcoat and the palest and most close fitting of fawn pantaloons. On his feet were glossy black Hessians with little gold tassels, which swung jauntily as he came towards them. Her eyes drank him in: he was a pleasure to behold.

  ‘And Miss de Silva,’ he said, his voice coolly welcoming. ‘How delightful to see you here.’

  She took her cue from him. They were to meet as acquaintances, nothing more. Was this for Flora’s benefit or was he refusing to acknowledge the kisses of a few hours ago?

  ‘So what is to be—soldiers or sopranos?’ His golden eyes, now laughing, smiled down at her.

  ‘Soldiers, I fear.’ Flora looked perplexed but Domino glowed inwardly. The mutual joke brought them closer.

  ‘Why fear? They are a splendid sight, are they not? And so much easier on the ear!’

  Laughter bubbled up. ‘I doubt the ton would agree.’

  ‘They would not, or at least they wouldn’t admit to it. A preference for low pursuits denotes an instant loss of face. I seem to recall that when the circus visited town, opinions were most scathing!’

  ‘When was that?’ Her face lit up at the mention of a circus.

  ‘It was a while before you arrived in Brighton, but I would place a heavy wager that if they were to return, you would be first in the queue.’

  She was the most enchanting child, he thought, all youthful eagerness despite the womanly curves, which even now filled the figured muslin so becomingly.

  ‘I would! I visited Astley’s when I was in London a few years ago and saw an equestrian ballet,’ she added guilelessly.

  ‘And you enjoyed it?’

  ‘Immensely. It was an amazing spectacle.’

  ‘I imagine it would be. I have never managed to visit Astley’s myself, but I’ve heard legendary tales of their performances.’

  Her cheeks flushed with remembered excitement. ‘I think it was the very best event I ever attended.’

  She was adorable, but he must keep a sharp watch on himself. He had painted through the night and emerged serene; all he need do now was to keep his distance.

  ‘Did Lady Blythe take you?’ he asked, disconcerting her for a minute. ‘I would not have thought it to her taste.’

  ‘Do you know my aunt?’

  ‘Only very slightly,’ he said smoothly. ‘So who was brave enough to escort you?’

  ‘Just a friend.’

  Her tone was awkward and she seemed keen to change the subject. He wondered if it was the same friend who had spurned her youthful love and married elsewhere. She was a girl of great spirit, but also intensely vulnerable; he must tread very carefully.

  ‘Flora and I were speculating’, and she gestured towards the soldiers who had now come to a s
tandstill and were awaiting commands from a scarlet-sashed officer. ‘We thought the soldiers must be practising for the Regent’s birthday celebrations. Do you know what they intend to present?’

  ‘There will be the usual parade, of course, but I am not allowed to discuss the pièce de résistance—it’s a state secret!’

  She laughed out at him, her dark eyes alive with mischief, and he gazed back at her for as long as he dared; then, seeing Flora’s enquiring expression, looked quickly away.

  ‘Have you had a hand in this great surprise, Mr Marchmain?’

  ‘I was dragged into the early planning and I am supposed to oversee rehearsals, but other than that I cannot claim to have taken a very active role. I enjoy the dash and colour of the military and that’s about it. I am looking forward to seeing the final performance, though. It will mark a splendid end to the summer season.’

  She looked at him questioningly and, when he responded, his voice was stripped of expression. ‘Prinny is planning to leave Brighton the week after his birthday, you know. I am due to accompany him back to Carlton House and from there travel on to Norfolk.’

  He saw the shadow skim her face and there was a part of him that rejoiced. ‘You will be leaving for Spain at the same time, I imagine.’

  ‘I will.’

  Silence fell. They stood side by side, looking blankly into the distance, hearing their own words, but not quite able to accept them.

  ‘Our stay has passed very swiftly.’ Her tone was wistful and her high colour betrayed her feelings. He pretended not to notice, and almost immediately she continued in a much brighter voice, ‘I am surprised that you intend to visit Castle March so soon. I thought you would make a stay in London.’