Lady Pamela and the Gambler: The Merry Misfits of Bath - Book Three

by Hutton, Callie

  Some would say with his background growing up on the streets of London as a cutter and mudlark made him unworthy of such a fine woman. But very little stopped Nicholas from getting what he wanted. And he wanted Lady Pamela Manning.

  As a babe, he’d been found in a rubbish bin and then sent to the foundling home where he escaped almost as soon as he could walk. He was taken in by a lads-man and joined his group of young thieves.

  Once he had realized he had an unusual head for numbers, Nick cleaned himself up and entered into an agreement with some of the London doffs. Nick would go with them to gambling clubs as the doff’s son and instead of just observing would offer tips to balance the odds in favor of the gamer.

  That started his rise from the gutter to the owner of the most exclusive gaming hell in all of Bath. He left London behind and reinvented himself from the scrubby lad, Reece, with no last name, to Mr. Nicholas Smith.

  At the mere age of eighteen, a young Mr. Smith bought a small building in Bath and began his club. His rules: no women allowed, no women sold. Plenty of the best liquor and games began to attract the upper classes, and he was on his way.

  Now, as he watched the woman he wanted hurry away from him, he set himself a new goal.

  Lady Pamela Manning, you are mine.

  2

  A few weeks after the Assembly, Nick adjusted his ascot, smoothed his hair back and dropped the knocker on the front door of Mrs. O’Leary’s Boarding House for Young Women of Good Repute.

  That was truly a mouthful.

  “Good afternoon, sir. How may I help you?” The older man who greeted him barely opened the door, guarding his domain like a sentinel.

  “Yes. I would like to call on Lady Pamela Manning.”

  The man stood for a few moments just staring at him. “And you are?”

  “I am a friend of Lady Pamela.” He moved forward a bit, causing the guardian to move back just enough for Nick to enter the house. “Will you please notify Lady Pamela that Mr. Nicholas Smith has called?”

  Giving him a thorough perusal and apparently not finding anything wrong with the lady’s caller, the man sniffed and pointed to a doorway on the right side of the entrance. “You may wait there, and I will see if Lady Pamela wishes to see you.”

  Nick wandered into the small drawing room over to the window that faced another boarding house. There were several boarding houses on this street.

  In the time since the Assembly dance and he had tried his best to forget Lady Pamela. No such luck. When he wasn’t thinking about her, he was dreaming about her, and those dreams were enough to make him grouchy with his employees.

  Luckily, he’d visited Carter and had no trouble convincing him that he didn’t want Lady Pamela’s information for nefarious purposes. Even though she had told him at the Assembly that calling on her was not a good idea, he refused to believe that would be the end of their association.

  He turned at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. He smiled when Lady Pamela, and not the supercilious man who admitted him to the house, entered the room.

  If anything, the girl looked confused. “Mr. Smith?”

  Had she really thought he would just walk away after showing interest in her? If so, she had a lot to learn about Nicholas Smith.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Pamela.” He gave her a slight bow and held out the small bouquet of roses he carried. “These are for you.”

  Obviously well mannered, she accepted them and smiled back. “Th-thank you.” She seemed to be at a loss which told him she was not used to gentlemen callers. Strange.

  He waved to two chairs next to each other, facing the fireplace. “May we sit down?”

  She sat and placed the flowers on her lap. “W-why are you h-h-here?”

  Disturbed that she seemed sincere, he said, “I would think a beautiful young lady such as yourself would know precisely why a gentleman bearing flowers would call.”

  “B-b-but I s-s-said I d-d-didn’t want you t-t-to c-c-call.” She shook her head furiously, obviously annoyed with her stumbling.

  He knew very little about stuttering, but it appeared Lady Pamela’s stutter grew worse when she was nervous and agitated. Which she appeared to be at this moment. Certainly not something he wanted to cause.

  “I hoped you had changed your mind. If you are free at the moment, I’d be honored if you would accompany me on a ride in the park. Or perhaps a trip to the ice cream parlor on Milsom.”

  He couldn’t believe that Nick Smith, brought up on the streets of London, owner of a gambling establishment, and feared by many men, was asking a woman to accompany him to the ice cream parlor. If any of his club employees heard him, they would laugh themselves daft.

  She shook her head, maybe not trusting herself to speak again. Then taking a deep breath, said, “No. I am e-e-expecting a s-s-student s-soon.”

  “Ah, yes. Miss Danvers said you taught piano.”

  “And v-v-voice.” She sighed. “As s-s-strange as th-that might s-s-seem.” Her flushed face told the story of her anxiety and humiliation. Someone in her life must have made her believe she was somehow wanting because of her affliction.

  Ignoring her discomfort, hoping she would be more at ease if he didn’t react to it, he said, “Not so. Miss Danvers also said you sing like an angel.”

  “It s-s-seems Miss D-Danvers had a l-l-lot to say about m-m-me.” She smiled at those words and that encouraged him.

  “Perhaps tomorrow afternoon?”

  Lady Pamela took in a deep breath. “I’m s-s-sorry, Mr. S-smith, but I am n-n-not suitable f-f-for comp-pany. It m-m-makes me t-t-too uncomfortable. As I’m s-s-sure you noticed.”

  “If you are referring to your stuttering, it doesn’t bother me in the least. I have found you to be a lovely young lady, beautiful, smart and witty. And I also noticed you stutter more when anxious.”

  She didn’t respond but just watched him warily.

  “And I would like for you get to know me well enough that you are not anxious around me.”

  Her sad eyes told him her answer. She stood and gave him a slight dip. “Th-thank you f-f-or the f-flowers. I m-m-must return to m-my room to await m-m-my st-st-student.” With those words she turned and fled the room.

  “I will show you to the door.” The annoying doorman was back again. As if Nick was unable to find the door which was about five feet from where he stood watching Lady Pamela escape.

  He nodded and left the house.

  His next stop was Once Upon a Book, the store owned by Lady Berkshire. He knew Berkshire from one of his clubs. Whenever Nick felt the need to escape the confines of his gambling club, he would spend some time drinking brandy and reading the newspaper at The Bath and Country Club. His final step in becoming the man he wanted to be was being accepted as a member of the club.

  Westbrooke told him Lady Berkshire no longer ran the shop since she was about to give birth in a few months. Nick planned to speak to whoever was running it now, hoping there might be a book on stuttering, if there was even such a thing.

  He laughed, remembering that was how Berkshire met his wife. He’d gone to her bookstore looking for a book on deafness for his son, Michael.

  He let another almost three weeks go by before he presented himself to Lady Pamela’s boarding house once again. This time he carried a bouquet of daisies. The same man answered the door.

  “How may I help you?” He looked down his nose at Nick again.

  Nick held his temper. “I would like to speak with Lady Pamela.”

  The man sniffed. “And you are?”

  It had almost become a comedy. But at least he knew Lady Pamela was safe in this house. “The same man I was two weeks ago. Mr. Nicholas Smith.”

  “If you would wait in the drawing room,” he pointed to the doorway as if Nick didn’t remember where the room was. “I will see if her ladyship wishes to speak with you.”

  Nick walked into the same room, stood at the same window and waited.

  “Mr. S-s-smith?”

>   “Yes. It’s me.” He walked toward Lady Pamela, held out the flowers, and bowed. “These are for you.”

  Every time he saw her, he was taken with her beauty and innocence. Others might believe he wasn’t good enough for this sweet woman, but Nick had spent a good part of his life preparing himself for just such a lady. He’d always known when he married it would be someone far above him in class by birth.

  “You are looking lovely today, Lady Pamela.” She wore a buttercup yellow dress with pale green piping around the neckline, the sleeves, and hem. Her hair was pulled back, but instead of her usual chignon, it was secured with a yellow ribbon, the wavy locks falling down her back. His hands itched to run his fingers through it.

  “Th-thank you, Mr. S-s-mith.” She waved him to a chair and then she sat. “What brings y-you here to-today?”

  He leaned back and rested his foot on his bent knee. “The same thing as my last visit. I would like to escort you on a ride in the park, or to a tea shop, or the ice cream parlour.”

  She looked at him with regret. “I am s-s-sorry, Mr. S-s-smith. But I must again r-r-refuse.”

  He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, linking his fingers together. “Why?”

  “I d-d-don’t do well in p-p-public. I’m v-very sorry, but I w-would not want t-t-to embarrass you.” She hurried away before he could stop her.

  “You would never embarrass me.” However, those words did not reach Lady Pamela, but unfortunately, they did the obnoxious doorman. Nick didn’t need him to come into the room to remind him where the front door was.

  But he did anyway.

  Pamela hugged Addie as she entered the Berkshire townhouse. She glanced down at the large bump under Addie’s dress. “Your stomach is growing, Addie.” She laughed and held her friend at arm’s length to study her pregnant form.

  “I know. If I keep eating the way I’ve been eating, I will give birth to a cow.” Addie took her arm and led her to the drawing room.

  “Lottie! I didn’t expect to see you h-here.” Pamela hurried across the room and hugged the new bride. “I haven’t seen you s-since your wedding.” Arms around each other, they sat on the sofa in front of the fireplace.

  Pamela looked over at Lottie’s husband. “Good evening, Mr. Westbrooke.”

  “Please, I hope we are passed the formal titles. Please call me Carter.” He bowed to Pamela and sat on the other side of his wife.

  Addie watched them all with a bright smile. “I decided I wanted to have all my friends here for dinner tonight. I’ve been feeling sorry for myself since my condition keeps me close to home since my dear husband won’t let me out of his sight.” She settled on the settee next to her husband, Grayson who handed her a handkerchief. “I haven’t even been to my bookstore.”

  He placed his arm around her shoulders and patted her hand as she dabbed at the corners of her eyes.

  Grayson replenished the brandy glasses for him and Carter, then poured a small sherry that he brought over to Pamela. She took a sip of the sherry and closed her eyes. “This is very good.”

  Noticing how cozy Carter and Lottie sat together, Pamela said, “Lottie, you look wonderful. Apparently, marriage agrees with you.”

  Lottie glanced at Carter and blushed. Pamela grinned at Lottie’s reaction. Despite being the daughter of a courtesan, Lottie was one of the most pure and innocent women Pamela had ever known. But then, being raised in a private girls’ school in France probably had a lot to do with it.

  Addie took a sip of her sherry and addressed Pamela. “We were considering inviting Mr. Smith to dinner tonight.”

  Pamela froze and her heart thumped. “How odd. I d-didn’t know Grayson was friends with Mr. S-smith.” She tried her best, but the blush that started in her middle rose to cover her face.

  Lottie and Addie exchanged amused glances. “They are friends, of a sort, but we thought perhaps you would enjoy having him attend.”

  Pamela raised her chin. “I h-h-have no id-d-ea why you w-w-would th-th-think th-that.” She cursed herself for how broken her words were. Both her friends knew she stuttered more when anxious. Now they would assume Mr. Smith meant something to her.

  He did not.

  Not at all.

  That is, if one discounted his full lips, always in a smile it seemed, wondering what it would feel like pressed up against her lips. She’d seen him exactly three times, once at the Assembly and twice at her boarding house. All three times she had rejected him.

  She’d loved the feel of his arms around her when they danced and knew he was not the sort of man who sat behind a desk all day. Even the scent that emanated from him was strong and masculine. She did not wish to ruminate on why those things remained in her memory after only three encounters with the man.

  “Are you referring to the Nick Smith who owns The Lions’ Den?” Grayson’s question interrupted her thoughts.

  “The very same. We met him at an Assembly dance a couple of months ago. It was obvious he was taken with Pamela.”

  She shook her head. “N-n-no.”

  “Anyway, a short time after the dance I met Nick at our club. He tried, unsuccessfully, to pretend he wanted more information on Pamela because he’d never seen her before.”

  “That part is true,” Lottie said.

  “Yes. But I’m willing to bet Mr. Smith paid you a visit, did he not?” He smiled at Pamela.

  She felt as though her clothes would burst into flames from the blush that had taken over her entire body. Curses on being so light skinned that every emotion resulted in a red glow. “Y-y-yes.”

  “And then, of course, once Carter told me, I had to tell Addie, and that is probably why she considered inviting him tonight.” He downed the rest of his drink.

  Lottie looked over at Addie. “Why did you not?”

  Addie sighed. “Because I didn’t want to embarrass Pamela, but it seems we’ve managed to do that anyway.”

  Pamela gulped the rest of her sherry down and wished for another, but Grayson was busy listening to everyone talk about her as if she wasn’t there. What she really wanted was to hear more about Mr. Smith. She knew very little, except that he owned a gambling club. But she would not ask and only stir more interest in her direction.

  What also bothered her more than thoughts of him, was the way her body reacted when he was near. Her breathlessness, the tingling in her lower belly, and thoughts of what it would feel like to have his large hands roam her body.

  “Nick’s story is a very interesting one.” Carter leaned back and rested his foot on his bent knee.

  Pamela perked up. ‘Twas almost as if Carter had read her mind.

  “He was one of those street kids in London about twenty or so years ago. Worked for one of those lads-man—”

  “What’s that?” Lottie asked.

  “It’s a man who takes in children from the street. Feeds them—barely—and gives them a place to sleep and teaches them how to steal.”

  “Oh, no!” Lottie said.

  Carter patted her hand and smiled at her. “Keep that innocence, my love.”

  “I thought gambling was illegal?” Addie asked.

  “It is. But there are many ways to get around it. And Smith is as clever in dodging the laws as he was in rising from a common thief to an upstanding businessowner. From what he’s told me, he plans to get out of the gaming business within the next few years and put his money into something respectable as he called it.”

  Interesting. Mr. Smith had been a thief on the streets of London. Unlike Lottie’s surprise, Pamela was familiar with the existence of children who had no homes and spent their time in criminal activity directed by shady adults. The London newspapers oftentimes carried stories about them.

  She felt a bit of sympathy for Mr. Smith, and also a sense of pride in what he’d managed to accomplish with what life had handed him.

  “Smith is a tough man. Being on the streets taught him well. I wouldn’t want to be on his wrong side, but I’ve also seen him toss
young bucks out of his club who were about to lose their last pound.” Carter glanced over at Pamela and gave her an encouraging smile. Whatever was that about? Certainly, he didn’t think she had a fancy for Mr. Smith.

  A butler arrived at the drawing room door and announced dinner. Relieved to have the conversation switched to something else, she joined her friends at the table and proceeded to have a very enjoyable evening.

  Pamela had arrived at the Berkshire townhouse in a hack, but Lottie insisted on Pamela joining them in their carriage for the ride home. After sufficient thanks and hugs, Pamela hurried up the steps to the boarding house and dropped the knocker.

  Mr. Andrews at the door as usual let her in. “Good evening Lady Pamela.”

  “Good evening to you as well, sir.” She climbed the stairs to the first floor and passed by her room, continuing on to Miss Spencer’s room at the end of the corridor.

  She and Miss Spencer had become friendly in the few weeks she’d lived at the boarding house. She told Pamela that when she had arrived in Bath, Mrs. O’Leary happened to be at the train station and offered her a room.

  She was very grateful since she’d been a bit nervous about being on her own, having come from a small village in southern England.

  When Pamela had left earlier for Addie’s house, Miss Spencer had been suffering from a slight cold, and Pamela thought it would be nice to check on her.

  She tapped lightly on the door. “Miss Spencer?”

  No response.

  She tried again. “Miss Spencer?”

  Most likely the woman was fast asleep. When Pamela had seen her earlier, she said Mrs. O’Leary had given her a tisane to drink that would help her sleep better.

  Pamela returned to her room, undressed, washed and changed into her comfortable nightgown. She read for a while and then feeling sleepy, blew out the lamp and climbed into bed.

  The last thing she thought of before she fell into a sound sleep was Mr. Smith.

  The next morning, she once again walked down to Miss Spencer’s room. She was surprised to see the door standing open and Mrs. O’Leary packing boxes of what seemed to be Miss Spencer’s belongings.