Unmasking the Duke's Mistress

by Margaret McPhee

  ‘I am a grown up boy of five years old,’ said Archie with pride.

  ‘That is very grown-up indeed,’ agreed Gemmell with a smile and gave the little boy the small wooden figure of a horse that he had carved.

  And the maid, Alice, chucked Archie under the chin and gave him a packet of barley-sugar twists that she had made herself and knew to be his favourites.

  Arabella felt her heart swell at their kindness. ‘Thank you,’ she said with meaning. ‘You are very kind to us.’ And today all the shadows of the past and the present seemed very far away. Today they were a proper family—Archie, her mother, Arabella and all of the servants.

  Dominic read the card in his hand and knew there was no way he could refuse Prinny’s invitation without delivering the prince a monumental insult. How recently a night of drunken revelry and fireworks in Vauxhall Pleasure Gardens would have held appeal for Dominic. Now it did not. He wondered how little time he might need stay there before he could slip away.

  He thought of Arabella sitting alone at her needlework in Curzon Street. And he felt that same surge of desire for her that he had always felt. He burned for her, just as he knew he could not take her. It was an absurd situation of his own creation. An insolvable paradox that tortured him more with each passing day. His brain told him that he should go round to Curzon Street right now and ease the ache in his loins upon her, to ride her as he had done in Mrs Silver’s. But even the memory of what had happened in that place soured his stomach. And in his heart he knew that he could not do it. Even if she had been ridden by a thousand men before him.

  He glanced again at the card, Vauxhall and its masked carnival, and an audacious idea popped into his head. An idea that was both daring and ridiculous. To be with her was a torture, but he craved it all the same. The carnival might be easier than being alone with her in a house he was paying for, with a bed too easily within reach. The thought of having Arabella by his side seemed to make the prospect of Vauxhall much more palatable. He slipped the card into his pocket. It would require another visit to Curzon Street.

  Just to tell her of the carnival.

  Nothing more.

  Tonight.

  He anticipated the visit with a combination of dread and impatience.

  It was wonderful to escape the house in Curzon Street and it gladdened Arabella’s heart to watch her son and her mother enjoy the morning in the fresh air of the park. The trip lifted all of their spirits and so too did the little party they had for themselves and the servants that afternoon.

  Normally Gemmell served dinner at four o’clock, which was early for London’s society, but it was an hour that gave Arabella and her family time enough to sit down and eat together before preparing for the evening. The preparation involved checking in each room that there was no evidence of either Archie or Mrs Tatton and ensuring that Archie was bathed, changed and tucked up in bed asleep before the master of the house’s arrival, should he choose to call. But today, because of the park and the party, and the fact that come four o’clock they were still full of birthday cake and lemonade, everything was running late. And Arabella was loathe to bring a close to the day. Not once had she allowed herself to think of Dominic or her circumstances. She had been determined to make this day as enjoyable as possible for Archie’s sake. And it had been. Arabella felt happy for the first time in weeks.

  ‘Have we not had the very best of days?’ she asked as they sat down to a light dinner within the dining room.

  ‘Indeed we have, Mama!’ His eyes were shining and his cheeks had the healthy glow of the outdoors about them.

  Arabella and her mother laughed.

  ‘And Charlie thinks so, too.’ He stroked the little wooden horse that Gemmell had made for him.

  They were in the middle of eating when Arabella thought she heard a familiar-sounding carriage outside. It cannot be, she thought to herself. It is barely quarter past six. But then a very worried-looking Gemmell appeared in the doorway.

  ‘Madam, it is the master!’

  ‘Good Lord!’ said Arabella beneath her breath.

  ‘Oh, Arabella!’ gasped her mother.

  ‘Show him into the drawing room. I will come through and stall him there while Mama and Archie make their escape.’

  Gemmell gave a nod and hurried away.

  ‘What is wrong, Mama?’ asked Archie.

  ‘Nothing at all, little lamb. Grandmama wants to tell you a very exciting new story. So you must sneak upstairs to your bedchamber as quickly and quietly as you can. And once you are there you must climb straight into bed and be as quiet as a mouse and listen to Grandmama’s new story before you go to sleep.’

  ‘No bathing?’ asked Archie, who was looking as if it was something too good to be true.

  ‘Just for tonight,’ said Arabella.

  ‘Hurrah!’ Archie began to shout.

  Mrs Tatton put her fingers to her lips and hushed him. ‘Shush now, Archie. Fasten that little button on your lips. Quiet as a mouse, remember?’

  Archie nodded and made the button-fastening movement at his lips.

  Arabella heard the front door open. She heard the murmur of Dominic’s voice and the tread of his shoes on the polished wooden floorboards of the hallway.

  Archie was grinning so much a tiny breathy snigger escaped him.

  Arabella’s and her mother’s eyes shot to him, shaking their heads, touching their fingers to their lips in a silencing gesture.

  Her heart was thudding as hard as a blacksmith’s hammer striking against an anvil. She looked at the door, afraid that Dominic would come striding through it, demanding to know what was going on.

  Please God, do not let him discover them.

  But his footsteps walked straight on past the dining room door and on along the passageway to the drawing room.

  A minute later, and without a single noise, Gemmell appeared at the door. There was a glimmer of sweat upon his brow. The poor man looked every bit as worried as Arabella felt.

  She nodded to him. ‘Help Mama and Archie. Wait until I am inside the drawing room speaking with him before you make a dash for it.’ She thought of the infirmities of both Gemmell and her mother—‘dash’ was perhaps the wrong word to use.

  ‘Be a good boy for Grandmama.’ She kissed Archie on the forehead. And to her mother, ‘Take off his shoes that they make no noise upon the floor.’

  ‘I will carry him, ma’am,’ said Gemmell.

  Archie was quite heavy and she worried that Gemmell could not manage him, but she did not want to insult the old butler by suggesting any such thing. So she gave him a grateful, if nervous, smile. ‘Thank you.’

  And then, smoothing down her skirts, she made her way through to the drawing room and Dominic.

  Arabella was looking a little flustered when she appeared in the drawing room.

  ‘Forgive me,’ he said, ‘did I interrupt you?’

  ‘Not at all.’ She sounded slightly breathless. ‘I had almost finished eating when I heard your arrival.’

  ‘I did not mean to interrupt your dinner. It is nothing of importance. I merely wanted to speak with you. Let us go back to the dining room. We can speak just as well there.’

  ‘No. Really.’ She thought of the ribbons that still festooned the mantel, and the three settings at the table and their half-eaten meals…and her mother and son still within. ‘Besides, I find my appetite has quite deserted me.’

  He stiffened at her words, but when his eyes scanned her face there was nothing of disdain or sharpness there.

  She caught his expression and only then seemed to realise what she had said. ‘I did not mean…that is to say…’

  Dominic looked at her in surprise. There was not one sign of her normal cool reserve, nothing of artifice. She was every inch the Arabella he had known and loved. Keeping her here as his mistress had never seemed so wrong, yet he was having trouble tearing his eyes away from her.

  ‘I came to ask if you would accompany me on an evening at Vauxhall Gardens
. The Prince of Wales is organising a masquerade and I am obliged to attend. I thought as it was a masked affair…your identity would be quite hidden. And perhaps you would find it preferable to an evening spent with your needlework.’

  She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again. And something of the mask was back upon her face.

  They looked at one another across the distance.

  ‘You may think about it, Arabella, and let me know your decision.’ He placed the card down upon a nearby table and made to leave.

  ‘Wait.’ She stepped towards him, her hand held out in entreaty. ‘Please.’

  Dominic stopped and looked round at her.

  ‘I would like very much to go to Vauxhall with you.’

  Some of the tension he had been feeling eased. He gave a nod of his head. ‘Thank you.’ His eyes met hers. ‘I will leave you to your dinner.’ He bowed and turned away.

  ‘Dominic!’ There was an urgency in her voice he had not heard before. ‘Will you not stay for a little while?’

  He peered round at her, hardly believing this sudden change in her.

  She gestured to the sofa. ‘Let us sit down and…talk.’

  There was such earnestness in her face he could not refuse. Besides, if she wanted to talk then he wanted to listen. Maybe she would tell him the answer to the question that had weighed heavy in his mind for every single day of the last six years.

  ‘Tell me about your day.’ He could sense the nervousness running through her, see it in the way she wetted her lips and clutched her hands together that bit too tightly.

  ‘You wish to know about my day?’

  ‘Yes. I am interested to hear it. You have not told me anything of your life.’ She perched herself on the edge of the striped green sofa.

  ‘You have not asked,’ he said and sat down beside her.

  ‘Then I have been remiss in my duty.’ She smiled, but Dominic could not help but notice that the smile did not touch her eyes.

  Her fingers were gripping the edge of the sofa. He laid his hand gently over them.

  ‘I do not want you to ask out of duty, Arabella,’ he said quietly.

  Her gaze met his and the smile dropped away from her face.

  A loud clatter sounded from the hallway and Arabella jumped.

  ‘What on earth…?’ He got to his feet to go out and see what was going on.

  But Arabella was already on hers and standing before him. ‘Gemmell is a little clumsy. Do not be harsh with him, Dominic, I beg of you.’ Her face had paled and she looked almost frightened.

  ‘I have no intention of chastising anyone, Arabella. I mean only to check that there has been no mishap.’

  ‘Dominic…’ She stepped towards him. He saw the intensity of her expression, the uncertainty in her eyes. Slowly she reached her hand out and brushed the tips of her fingers against his face.

  And everything in Dominic’s world seemed to stop.

  She touched her fingers over his cheek as if she were reassuring herself that it really was him.

  Dominic held his breath and did not move.

  She traced down the line of his nose, omitting his mouth to move over the angles of his chin, first one way and then the other, before coming back to linger within its cleft. Her fingers were chilled as ice against his skin.

  Not once did he move his gaze from her, just watched her following the path her finger was drawing.

  And then slowly she inched her fingers higher…

  Dominic’s body tightened. And higher…

  His breath shook.

  Until at last, her fingertips touched against his lips and stilled. They were light as a feather and trembling.

  Dominic ceased to think. He responded in the only way he knew how with Arabella. He kissed those sweet delicate fingers, kissed each one in turn. And when she came into his arms and her body cleaved to his it seemed the most natural thing in the world to kiss her mouth.

  Arabella kissed him and forgot that she was only doing this to prevent the discovery of Archie and her mother. She kissed him and everything else ceased to be. He held her as if he cared for her, kissed her as if he loved her. He was the same man she had known, the same man she had loved. And in this moment as she felt the fast beat of his heart beneath her hand and the warmth and the strength of his body, she felt everything that she had done as a girl of nineteen. He worshipped her with his lips and she believed the illusion his tenderness wove—of love and of protection. She slid her hand up around his neck and gave herself up to the kiss, revelling in it, wanting it all the more. All of these years without him. Her heart clung to his and refused to let go.

  Lies, all lies, the little voice in her head whispered. And she remembered all that he had done. And her son who had no father. And the memories cooled her ardour like a bucket of iced water.

  She stumbled back, clutching a hand to her mouth, appalled at what she had just done.

  ‘Arabella?’ Dominic’s eyes were dark and dazed. His voice sounded low and confused.

  ‘I…’ She backed away and shook her head, knowing that there were no words to explain how she was feeling. She did not know what to say to him. She could not even begin to pretend that she was unaffected by what had just happened between them or by anything of this situation.

  ‘I…’ she tried again and as her gaze lowered she saw the evidence of his arousal within his close-fitting pantaloons and realised that she had seduced him just like the courtesan she was. What she had done meant he would take her now. And she trembled at the thought of it.

  Dominic looked right into her eyes, as if he could see every thought in her head, then walked away without saying a single word.

  There was the thud of the front door shutting, and Arabella’s eyes closed in anguish.

  Chapter Seven

  The night of the Vauxhall masquerade came around too quickly.

  Arabella slipped the silver-beaded and feathered mask into place and turned to face Dominic. He had barely said a word since entering the drawing room of the Curzon Street town house and there was an atmosphere in the room thick enough to be cut with a knife.

  Dominic’s gaze perused her face, lingering for seconds that seemed too long, so that it was almost as if she had only just touched her fingers to his lips, only just kissed him with such wanton abandon. The sweat prickled upon her palms and the butterflies were flocking in her stomach.

  It was not only the mask she was worrying over. ‘My dress…’ She had been so very determined to thumb her nose at him during its ordering; now she was aware that its very respectability might reveal more of her identity when she was by Dominic’s side. ‘It will not attract…’ Suspicion. Speculation ‘…attention,’ she finished, ‘will it?’

  She watched his gaze drop to the bodice, then sweep down to the skirt and she bit her lip in worry.

  It was a dress like none that Arabella had ever owned. Plain yet elegant. Pale silver silk cut to fit her body perfectly. With its small capped sleeves, bodice scattered with small crystal beads that sparkled in the light and décolletage that teased rather than revealed, the dress was beautiful but pure in a way that made it unsuitable for any courtesan. The irony of its styling was not lost on Arabella.

  ‘How could you think it would fail to attract attention, Arabella?’ he said in a quiet voice.

  Her stomach gave a churn and her gaze shot to his, waiting for his anger.

  ‘It is beautiful. You are beautiful.’

  She gaped in surprise, and blushed and could think of not one thing to say.

  Dominic swept the long black velvet domino around her shoulders. She jumped at the brush of his fingers against her collar bone as he fastened it in place, feeling nervous both at Dominic’s proximity and the prospect of the night ahead.

  Out there before all those people. At his side. As his mistress.

  A wave of uncertainty swept through her. She bit again at her lip.

  ‘No one will know your true identity, Arabella,’ he s
aid gently, and carefully pulled up the domino’s hood to cover the curls piled high upon her head.

  And then he took her hand in his and led her out to where the carriage waited.

  The night was cool, but clear and dry. Tiny stars studded the blackness of the sky as they walked down the grassy bank towards the boats and barges that would carry them across the Thames to the carnival. They crossed the river in silence. Nor did they speak when they arrived at the other bank and the pleasure gardens that were Vauxhall. Dominic was too aware of Arabella by his side, and of the tension that flowed between them.

  The gardens were more crowded than usual, with guests who had come to witness the Prince of Wales at the masquerade. Dominic made his meeting with the prince and, when he saw how Prinny was looking at Arabella, steered her away again just as quickly.

  She had taken hold of the arm that he offered and they strolled together through the night, in a parody of all the other couples around them. But even in the lightness of her touch he could feel the tension that hummed through her body. He took her to the section of the gardens where there were shows and jugglers and acrobats. And something of the strain between them seemed to lessen as they stood there together and watched. Her grip even tightened a little as she watched with fascination a man who could swallow the blade of a sword. And when that display was done, he moved on, wanting to show her all there was to see.

  There were jesters and gypsy women selling lucky white heather and offering to read their fortunes.

  Near to the supper booths a group of musicians were playing, filling the surrounding gardens with the sweetness of their music. An area close by was ringed with tables and chairs in the middle of which a wooden dance floor had been laid down upon the grassy surface.

  ‘Shall we dance?’ He realised that he wanted to dance with her, to hold her close in his arms, very much.

  She touched a hand against her mask, in the same gesture she had used that very first night in Mrs Silver’s drawing room.

  ‘No one will recognise you,’ he reassured her and slid the dark voluminous hood down to reveal the glory of her hair. ‘Even like this. Trust me.’