Unmasking the Duke's Mistress (Gentlemen of Disrepute #1)(24)

‘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.’