Society's Most Scandalous Rake. Isabelle Goddard
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me, do,’ the duchess continued, ‘how long are we to have the pleasure of your company in Brighton?’
‘For the Season, ma’am. I have undertaken to stay with my father while the Court is absent from London.’
For a moment the expression on her hostess’s face suggested she was not best pleased by this news, but she rallied immediately.
‘How delightful, for we are also destined to be here until the Prince returns to Carlton House. Let us toast our new acquaintanceship, Miss de Silva. I am sure we will be the best of friends.’
Domino could not think so, but politely raised her glass. Champagne bubbles shot up her nose and she had difficulty in preventing herself sneezing.
‘You see,’ Charlotte continued, ‘one meets so few new people in Brighton, the same dreary crowd year after year. So when a bright new star appears, one is drawn immediately towards them.’
Domino concluded that she must be the bright star, but was at a loss how to answer. She need not have worried, for the duchess was now in full flow.
‘You are so beautiful, my dear, and have such charming manners, that I prophesy prodigious success for you—you will be the toast of the town.’
This was so patently absurd that Domino was hard put not to laugh aloud. She knew herself to be well enough but, against the duchess’s blonde perfection, she was nothing. And she certainly had no ambition to take Brighton by storm. Quite the opposite—she anticipated several agreeable months by the sea, close to her father, before she returned to Spain to make the decision of her life.
The duchess continued to talk while she sipped her champagne. The drink was gradually becoming more acceptable, and when her companion substituted her empty glass for another fizzing to the brim, she hardly noticed. When the older woman took her by the hand, she allowed herself to be expertly steered through the crowd towards a smaller chamber at the far end of the salon.
‘In proof of my friendship, Miss de Silva—but may I call you Domino? Such a sweet and unusual name—I would very much like you to meet some particular friends of mine. Just a few congenial spirits whom I know you will esteem.’
Her head had begun to spin a little, but she retained enough caution to remind her hostess that Carmela should be with them.
‘But naturally, my dear. I shall introduce you to a few dear companions and then collect your cousin and bring her instantly to you.’
They were through the door before Domino could protest further. The room they entered, though smaller than the salon, was still a substantial size, thickly carpeted and curtained, deadening all sound and cutting the space adrift from the outside world. A number of people were gathered around three large tables set at different angles in the room; even in her befuddled state, she knew instantly that this was a gaming room. She pulled back sharply.
‘I am honoured, Your Grace, that you should wish to introduce me to your friends,’ she stumbled, ‘but I do not play cards or any other game of chance.’
‘Allow me to advise you, my dear, since you are still so very young.’ The duchess’s voice was honey. ‘You have undertaken to play the role of hostess for your father. In England, you know, polite society expects always to have the opportunity to indulge in games of chance and a hostess must be as well versed in them as her guests.’
‘I thank you again, Your Grace, but I do not gamble.’
‘Who said anything about gambling? Just a few friendly games, my dear.’
Domino felt deeply uncomfortable. She was finding it very difficult to continue refusing her hostess, but games of chance, whether money passed hands or not, were something she had sworn never again to engage in. She had learned her lesson all too well the last time she was in England. Gambling had a fatal attraction for her and she could not risk getting involved. But she could hardly say this to someone she barely knew, to a woman who occupied such an exalted position. Her head was definitely swimming now and her legs feeling decidedly unsafe. She felt the duchess’s hand on her shoulder and began to sink downwards to the waiting chair. The faces around the table looked up at her expectantly. In the distance other faces at other tables blurred into a misty vision. She longed to get away but she could not, in politeness, leave. Surely just one hand of cards would not matter. She would satisfy the demands of hospitality and then depart straight away. She took hold of the arms of the chair, making ready to sit down, and the support made her feel slightly less shaky. She smiled hazily at the assembled company and then, out of the blur, a face swam into her vision. A dark, wolfish, horribly familiar face. Leo Moncaster!
Chapter Three
She gave a sudden choke, shaken by an irrational panic, and would have collapsed but for a supportive hand at her elbow.
‘Miss de Silva? How nice to see you here,’ Joshua Marchmain was saying smoothly. ‘I hope you found the music to your taste.’
‘Yes, indeed, thank you,’ she stuttered.
He was holding his arm out to her and she took it. Nervously she glanced at the woman who stood at her left side. Charlotte Severn’s eyes were narrowed, but there was no mistaking the daggers she was sending forth.
‘The concert was delightful, was it not? And such a privilege to hear Signora Bonelli. I believe she is judged one of the finest sopranos of our day.’ His voice was unruffled, but even while he spoke he was skilfully extricating the apricot silk from the entanglements of chair and table.
By now the duchess had regained her composure and, in a gesture of seeming warmth, clasped hold of Domino’s other arm.
‘But must you go already?’ she addressed the girl directly, excluding Joshua from the conversation. ‘I am delighted that you enjoyed our small concert, but do stay for the rest of the evening’s entertainments.’
Her head still whirling, Domino was caught between the two and had no idea how to cope with the dreadful situation. It was one scenario that the etiquette books failed to mention.
Joshua locked glances with the duchess. His voice was imperturbable as ever, but there was an edging of steel that Domino had never heard before.
‘It does not seem, Your Grace, that card playing holds much attraction for Miss de Silva, so I will engage to reunite her with her cousin.’
Leaving their hostess stranded with outstretched hand, he propelled Domino firmly towards the door and whisked her through it. Once on the other side he cut a swathe through the milling crowd to arrive unerringly at Carmela’s side. Her cousin wore a worried expression, which rapidly turned to exasperation once she saw Domino safe and well. She nodded curtly to Joshua and grabbed Domino by the arm. Social politeness was brushed aside and, without waiting to bid their hosts goodbye, Carmela made for the bamboo staircase. The carriage had been ordered and was already waiting outside.
Catching her breath at the head of the stairs, Domino had only time to glance briefly over her shoulder. Joshua Marchmain had not spoken a word as they’d threaded their way through the crowded room, but now she saw him in conversation with the duchess, their heads close and talking animatedly together. Her heart lurched as she took in the intimacy of the little tableau. But why did the image cause her such distress? All the while Carmela was bundling her down the stairs and into the coach, she struggled to find an answer. Why on earth should Joshua’s relationship with the duchess matter? She knew them to be lovers—naturally they would have much to say to each other. He would be keen to explain his absence from the concert and to excuse his intervention with Domino, even keener no doubt to make an assignation with his mistress for later that evening. It all made perfect sense, but it only served to intensify her misery.
Unknown to Domino, her departure left the two locked in a furious exchange.
‘What exactly were you thinking of?’ Cold anger permeated Joshua’s voice.
‘I don’t pretend to understand you.’
‘I think