Authors: Carole Mortimer
‘I’d like to be informed if you decide to let her to go. She has wages owing to her,’ Drew defended as Dominic looked surprised.
She also, Dominic decided ruefully as he agreed to the request before leaving the office, had the cynical club manager wrapped tightly about her tiny little finger, and no doubt the older man would offer her his assistance in finding other employment should Dominic decide to let her go.
Deciding for himself who or what Miss Caro Morton was promised to be an interesting experience. It was a surprising realisation for a man whose years in the army, and the two years since returning to England
spent evading the clutches of every marriage-minded mama of the
ton
, had made him as cynical, if not more so, as the much older Drew Butler.
Caro gave a surprised start as a brief knock sounded on her dressing-room door. Well, not a dressing-room as such, she allowed ruefully, more a private room at the back of the gambling club that Mr Butler had put aside for her use in between her performances.
A room that he had assured her was completely off-limits to any and all of the men who frequented Nick’s…
She stood up slowly, nervously making sure that her robe was securely tied about her waist before crossing the tiny room to stand beside the locked door. ‘Who is it?’ she asked warily.
‘My name is Dominic Vaughn,’ came the haughty reply.
Just like that, Caro
knew
that the man standing on the other side of the locked door was the same man who had looked at her earlier with those disdainful silver-coloured eyes. She was not sure why or how she knew that, she just did. There was an arrogance in the deep baritone voice, a confidence that spoke of years of issuing orders and having them instantly obeyed. And he was obviously now expecting her to obey him by unlocking the door and allowing him inside…
Her hands clenched in the pockets of her robe, the nails digging painfully into the palms. ‘Gentlemen are not allowed to visit me in my dressing-room.’
A brief silence followed her statement, before the
man replied with hard impatience, ‘I assure you that my being here has Drew Butler’s full approval.’
The manager of Nick’s had been very kind to Caro this past week, and, what’s more, she knew that she could trust him implicitly. But having a man approach her dressing-room in this unexpected way and simply stating that Mr Butler approved of his being here and expecting her to believe his claim was not good enough. ‘I am sorry, but the answer is still no.’
‘I assure you, my business with you will only take a few moments of your time,’ came the irritated response.
‘I am in need of rest before my next performance,’ Caro insisted.
Dominic’s mouth firmed in frustration at this woman’s stubborn refusal to so much as open the door. ‘Miss Morton—’
‘That is my final word on the subject,’ she informed him haughtily.
Drew had claimed that Caro Morton was ‘ladylike’, Dominic recalled with a narrowing of his eyes. He could hear that quality himself now in the precise diction of her voice. A subtle, and yet unmistakable authority in her tone that spoke of education and refinement. ‘You will either speak to me now, Miss Morton, or I assure you there will be no “next performance” for you at Nick’s.’ Dominic stood with his shoulder leaning against the wall in the darkened hallway, arms folded across the broad width of this chest.
There was a tiny gasp inside the room. ‘Are you threatening me, Mr Vaughn?’ There was a slight edge of uncertainty to her voice now.
‘I feel no need to threaten, Miss Morton, when the truth will serve just as well.’
Caro was in something of a quandary. Having fled her home two weeks earlier, sure that she would find employment in the obscurity of London as a lady’s companion or governess, instead she had found herself being turned away from those respectable households, time and time again, simply because she did not have the appropriate references.
Everything in London had been so much more expensive than Caro had imagined it would be, too. The small amount of money she had brought with her, saved over the months from her allowance, had diminished much more rapidly than she had imagined it would, leaving her with no choice, if she were not to return to an intolerable situation, but to try her luck at the back door of the theatres. She had always received compliments upon her singing when she’d entertained after dinner on the rare occasions her father had invited friends and neighbours to dine. Those visits to the theatres
had
resulted in her receiving several offers of employment—but all of them were shocking to a young woman brought up in protected seclusion in rural Hampshire!
She owed her present employment—and the money with which to pay for her modest lodgings—completely to Drew Butler’s kindness. As such, she was not sure that she could turn Dominic Vaughn away from her dressing-room if for some reason the older man really had approved the visit.
Her fingers shook slightly as she took her hands from the pockets of her robe to slowly turn the key in the
lock, only to step back quickly as the door was immediately thrust open impatiently. It
was
the silver-eyed devil from earlier! He looked even more devilish now as the subdued candlelight illuminating the hallway threw that scar upon his cheek into sharp relief and his black jacket and white linen only added to the rawness of the power that seemed to emanate from him.
Caro took another step backwards. ‘What is it you wished to speak to me about?’
Dominic deliberately schooled his expression to reveal none of the shock he had felt as he looked at Caro Morton for the first time without the benefit of that concealing jewelled mask. Or the ebony-coloured wig, which had apparently concealed her own long and gloriously golden curls. Those curls now framed sea-green, almond-shaped eyes, set in a delicate, heart-shaped face of such beauty it took his breath away.
An occurrence, if she were indeed a disobedient daughter or—worse—a runaway wife, that did not please him in the slightest. ‘Invite me inside, Miss Morton,’ he demanded dictatorially.
Long-lashed lids blinked nervously before she arrested the movement and her pointed chin rose proudly. ‘As I have already explained, sir, I am resting until my next performance.’
Dominic’s mouth hardened. ‘Which I understand from Drew does not take place for another hour.’
The slenderness of her throat moved convulsively, drawing his attention to the bare expanse of creamy-white skin revealed by the plunging neckline of her robe. His hooded gaze moved lower still, to where the silky material draped down over small, pointed breasts.
Her waist was so slender that he was sure his hands could easily span its circumference. He also privately acknowledged, with an unlooked for stirring of his arousal, that his hands could easily cup her tiny breasts before lowering to the smooth roundness of her bottom and lifting her against him for her to wrap those long, slender legs about his waist…
Caro found she did not much care for the way Dominic Vaughn was looking at her. Almost as if he could see beneath her robe to the naked flesh beneath. Her cheeks became flushed as she straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘I would prefer that you remain exactly where you are, sir.’
That silver gaze returned to her face. ‘My lord.’
She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’
He introduced himself. ‘I am Lord Dominic Vaughn, Earl of Blackstone.’
Caro felt a tightness in her chest as she realised this man was a member of the
ton
, a man no doubt as arrogant as her recently acquired guardian. ‘If that is meant to impress me—
my lord
—then I am afraid it has failed utterly.’
He raised dark brows as he ignored the sarcasm in her tone. ‘I believe it is the usual custom at this point for the introduction to be reciprocated?’
Her cheeks burned at the intended rebuke. ‘If, as you claim, you have spoken to Mr Butler, then you must already know that my name is Caro Morton.’
He looked at her shrewdly. ‘Is it?’
Her gaze sharpened. ‘I have just said as much, my lord.’
‘Ah, if only the saying of something made it true,’ he jeered.
That tightness in Caro’s chest increased. ‘Do you doubt my word, sir?’
‘I am afraid I am of an age and experience, my dear Caro, when I doubt everything I am told until proven otherwise.’
There was no doubting that the cynicism and mockery of this man’s expression gave him a world-weary appearance, and that scar upon his left cheek an air of danger, but even so she would not have placed him at more than eight or nine and twenty. Not so much older than her own twenty years.
Nor was she his ‘dear’ anything! ‘How very sad for you.’
Not the response Dominic had expected. Or one he wanted, either; the wealthy and eligible Earl of Blackstone did not desire or need anyone’s pity. Least of all that of a woman who hid her real appearance behind a jewelled mask and ebony wig.
Could Butler’s assessment of her be the correct one? Had this young woman run away to London to hide from possibly an overbearing father, or a brutish and bullying husband? She was of such a tiny and delicate appearance that Dominic found the latter possibility too distasteful to contemplate.
Whatever the mystery surrounding this woman, he was of the opinion that neither he, nor his gambling club, was in need of the trouble she might bring banging upon the door. ‘Are you even of an age to be in a gambling club, Caro?’
She looked startled. ‘My lord?’
‘I simply wondered as to your age.’
‘A gentleman should never ask a lady her age,’ she retorted primly.
Dominic slowly allowed his gaze to move from the top of that golden head, over the slenderness of her body, the delicacy of her tiny wrists and slender hands, to the bareness of her feet, before just as slowly returning to her now flushed and slightly resentful face. ‘As far as I am aware,
ladies
are always accompanied by a maid or companion; nor do they cavort upon the stage of a gentlemen’s gaming club.’
Her little pointed chin rose once more. ‘I do not cavort, my lord, but simply lie upon a
chaise
,’ she bit out tartly. ‘I also fail to see what business it is of yours whether or not I have a maid or companion.’
Dominic glanced into the room behind her, noting the tray on the dressing table, with its bowl of some rich and still-steaming stew and a platter of bread beside it, a plump and tempting orange upon another plate, obviously intended as her dessert. No doubt that ‘bite to eat’ Butler had mentioned providing for her.
‘I appear to have interrupted your supper,’ he acknowledged smoothly. ‘I suggest that we finish this conversation later tonight when I, and not Ben, act as your escort home.’
Her eyes widened in alarm before she gave a firm shake of her head. ‘That will not be possible, I am afraid.’
‘Oh?’
This was not a man used to receiving no for an answer, Caro realised ruefully as she took in the glittering arrogance in those silver eyes beneath one autocratically raised brow. And her lack of maid or companion was easily explained—if she had felt inclined to offer this man any explanation, which she did not! To have
brought either maid or companion with her when she fled Hampshire two weeks ago would have placed them in the position of having abetted her in that flight, and she was in enough trouble already, without involving anyone else in her plight.
‘No,’ she reaffirmed evenly now. ‘It would hurt Ben’s feelings terribly if he were not allowed to walk me home. Besides,’ she added as his lordship would have dismissed that excuse for exactly what it was, ‘I do not allow gentlemen I do not know to escort me to my home.’ A man she had no wish to know, either, Caro could have added.
Mocking humour glittered briefly in those pale grey eyes. ‘Even if Drew Butler were to vouch for this gentleman?’
‘I have yet to hear him do so. Now, if you will excuse me? I wish to eat my supper before it becomes too cool.’ Caro’s attempt to close the door in Dominic Vaughn’s face was thwarted by the tactical placing of one of his booted feet against the door jam. Her eyes flashed a warning as she slowly reopened the door. ‘Please do not force me to call upon Ben’s help in having you removed from the premises.’
A threat that did not seem to bother the arrogant Dominic Vaughn in the slightest as he continued to smile down at her confidently. ‘That would be an…interesting experience.’
Caro eyed him uncertainly. Ben was as tall as the earl, and obviously more heavily built, but there was an underlying air of danger lurking beneath this man’s outward show of fashionable elegance. An aura of power that implied he could best any man against whom he
chose to pit the strength of those wide shoulders and tall, lithely muscled body. Besides which, Caro very much doubted that the Earl of Blackstone had received that scar upon his face by sitting comfortably at home by his fireside!
She forced the tension from her shoulders as she smiled up at him. ‘Perhaps we might defer discussing your offer to escort me home until after I have spoken to Mr Butler?’
And perhaps, Dominic guessed, this young lady would choose to absent herself without so much as bothering to talk to Drew Butler. ‘I will be waiting outside for you when you have finished your next performance.’
The irritated darkening of those beautiful sea-green eyes told him that he had guessed correctly. ‘You are very persistent, sir!’
‘Just anxious to acquaint myself with one of my own employees.’
She gasped, those sea-green eyes wide with alarm. ‘Your…? Did you say
your
employee?’
Dominic gave an affirmative nod, and took great pleasure in noting the way the colour drained from the delicacy of her cheeks, as she obviously realised he did indeed have the power to ensure she never performed at Nick’s again. ‘Until later then, Miss Morton.’ He bowed elegantly before returning to the gaming rooms, a smile of satisfaction curving his lips.
‘I
would prefer to walk, thank you.’ It was a little over two hours later when Caro firmly dismissed even the idea of getting inside Dominic Vaughn’s fashionable carriage as it stood waiting outside Nick’s—a man Drew Butler had confirmed to Caro was not only the Earl of Blackstone, but also the man who had recently taken ownership of the gambling club at which they were both employed. That aside, she had no intention of placing herself in the vulnerable position of travelling alone in his carriage with him!
‘As you wish.’ He indicated for the driver of the carriage to follow them, his raven-black hair now covered by a fashionably tall hat, and a black silk cloak thrown about those widely muscled shoulders.
Caro shot him a sideways glance from beneath her unadorned brown bonnet, only a few of her golden curls now showing at her temples and nape. The brown gown she wore beneath her own serviceable black cloak was
equally as modest in appearance, with its high neckline and long sleeves.
She had bought three such gowns when she’d arrived in London two weeks ago, this brown one, another in a dull green, and the third of dark cream, having very quickly realised that the few silk gowns she had brought to town with her stood out noticeably in the genteelly rundown area of London where she had managed to find clean and inexpensive lodgings. And being noticed—as herself, rather than as the masked lady singing at Nick’s—was something she dearly wished to avoid.
To say that Dominic had been surprised—yet again!—by Caro Morton’s appearance on joining him a few minutes ago would be an understatement. In fact, it had taken him several seconds to recognise her beneath that unbecoming brown bonnet that hid most of those glorious golden curls, and the equally unfashionable cloak that covered her from neck to ankle, so giving her every appearance of being a modest and unassuming young lady of meagre means.
That dark modesty of her clothing opened up a third possibility as to why Caro Morton was living alone in London and so obviously in need of work in order to support herself. Her slender hands were completely bare of rings, but that did not mean she was not one of those starry-eyed young ladies who, during the years of war against Napoleon, had abandoned all propriety by eloping with their unsuitable soldier beau before he marched off to battle, only to find themselves widowed within weeks, sometimes days, of that scandalous marriage having taken place.
No matter what the explanation, there was certainly
very little danger of any of the patrons of Nick’s recognising this drably dressed young woman as the ebony-haired siren whose seductive performance had so easily bewitched and beguiled them all so completely twice this evening.
Himself included, he readily admitted.
‘Perhaps you would care to enlighten me as to why an unprotected young woman should choose to work in one of London’s fashionable gambling clubs?’
It was a question she seemed to have been expecting as her expression remained cool. ‘For the money, perhaps?’
Dominic scowled. ‘If you must work, then why did you not find more respectable employment? You have the refinement to be a lady’s maid, or, failing that, to serve in a shop.’
‘How kind of you to say so,’ she returned over-sweetly. ‘But one needs references from previous employers to become either of those things. References I do not have,’ she added pointedly.
‘Perhaps because you have never worked as a lady’s maid or served in a shop?’ he pressed.
‘Or perhaps I was just so inadequate at both those occupations that I was refused references?’ she suggested tartly.
Dominic gave an appreciative smile at her spirited answer. ‘So instead you have chosen to put yourself in a position where you are ogled by dozens of licentious men every night?’
Caro came to an abrupt halt, her own humour fading at the deliberate insult, both in his tone and expression, as he paused beside her in the flickering lamplight and
allowed that silver gaze to rake over her critically from her head to her toes. ‘It appears that I needed no references for that,’ she informed him with chilling hauteur.
Dominic knew that it really was none of his concern if she chose to expose herself to the sort of ribald comments he had been forced to listen to following her second performance this evening, when the bets as to who would eventually become her lover and protector had increased to a level he had found most unpleasant. And yet… ‘Do you have so little regard for your reputation?’
Her cheeks became flushed. ‘The jewelled mask I wear ensures my reputation remains perfectly intact, thank you!’
‘Perhaps.’ Dominic’s jaw tightened. ‘I am surprised you did not consider a less…taxing means of employment.’
She looked puzzled. ‘Less taxing?’
He shrugged. ‘You are young. The comments of your numerous admirers this evening are testament to your desirability. Did you not consider acquiring a single male protector, rather than exposing yourself in this way to the attentions of dozens?’
Caro felt the flush that warmed her cheeks. ‘A protector, my lord?’
‘A man who would see you housed and suitably clothed in exchange for the pleasure of your…company,’ he elaborated.
Caro’s breath caught in her throat, that flush covering the whole of her body now as she realised that the earl was suggesting she should have taken a lover when she
arrived in London rather than ‘singing for her supper’ at Nick’s.
A lover!
When Caro’s father had been so averse to any of his three daughters appearing in London society that he had not even allowed any of them to have so much as a Season, but instead had kept them all secluded at his estate in Hampshire. Had ensured his daughters were so overprotected that Caro had never even been alone with a young gentleman until now.
Although that description was hardly appropriate in regard to the arrogant Dominic Vaughn; that scar upon his otherwise handsome face, and the mockery that glittered now in those narrowed silver-coloured eyes, proclaimed him to be a gentleman in possession of a cynicism and experience that far exceeded his calendar years…
‘I believe it would not be merely my
company
that would be of interest in such an arrangement, my lord.’ She arched pert blonde brows.
Dominic was beginning to wish that he had never broached this particular subject. Indeed, he had no idea why he was taking such an interest in the fate of this particular young woman. Perhaps his sense of chivalry was not as dead as he had believed it to be? ‘Surely the attentions of one man would be preferable to being undressed, mentally at least, by dozens of men, night after night?’ he bit out harshly.
Her gasp was audible. ‘You are attempting to shock me, sir!’
Yes, he was. Deliberately. ‘I am attempting to stress,
madam, how foolishly you are behaving by repeatedly placing yourself in such a vulnerable position.’
Her eyes widened indignantly. ‘I assure you, sir, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I am in absolutely no danger—’ Dominic put an end to this ridiculous claim by the simple act of pulling her effortlessly into his arms and taking masterful possession of the surprised parting of her lips.
He did it as a way of demonstrating the vulnerability of which he spoke. As a way of showing Caro how easily a man—any man—could take advantage of her delicacy. How the slenderness of her tiny body was no match for a man bent on stealing a kiss. Or worse!
He curved that willowy body against his much harder one as he took possession of the softness of those parted lips. With deliberate sensuality, his tongue swept moistly across her bottom lip before exploring farther, his hands moving in a light caress down the slenderness of her back before cupping her bottom and pulling her even more firmly against him as that marauding tongue took possession of the hot cavern of her mouth. Thrusting. Jousting. Demanding her response.
Nothing in Caro’s previous life, not the twenty years spent in seclusion in Hampshire, or these past two weeks in London, had prepared her for the rush of sensations that now assaulted her and caused her to cling to Dominic Vaughn’s wide and powerful shoulders rather than faint at his feet.
She was suffused with a heart-pounding heat, accompanied by a wild, tingling that began in her breasts, causing them to swell beneath her gown and the tips to harden so that they felt uncomfortable and sensitised as
they chafed against her shift, that heat centring, pooling between her thighs, in a way she had never imagined before let alone experienced. She—
‘What ho, lads!’
‘Don’t keep her all to yourself, old chap!’
‘Give us all a go!’
Caro found those hard lips removed from her own with a suddenness that made her gasp, the earl’s hands hard about her waist as those silver-coloured eyes glittered down at her briefly before he put her firmly away from him. He turned and bent the fierceness of that gaze upon the three young gentlemen walking slightly unsteadily towards them.
Caro staggered slightly once released, knowing herself badly shaken by the searing intensity of Dominic Vaughn’s kiss—a punishing, demanding assault upon her lips and senses that in no way resembled any of her previous youthful imaginings of what a kiss should be. There had been none of the gentleness she had expected. None of the shy thrill of emotions. Only that heart-pounding heat and the wild tingling in her breasts and thighs.
Emotions not reflected in the hard intensity of his lordship’s expression as he signalled to his coachman and groom that he was as in control of this present situation as he had obviously been whilst kissing her!
The young gentlemen had come to an abrupt and wary halt as they suddenly found themselves the focus of Dominic’s glittering silver gaze, the three of them backing up slightly at the chilling anger they obviously recognised in his expression, that savage slash of scar
running the length of his left cheek adding to the impression of impending danger.
‘We meant no offence, old chap,’ the obvious ring-leader of the trio offered in mumbled apology.
‘A little too much to drink, I expect,’ the second one excused nervously.
‘We’ll just be on our way.’ The third member of the group grabbed a friend by each arm before turning and staggering back in the direction they had just come.
Leaving a still-trembling Caro to the far from tender mercies of Dominic Vaughn!
That trembling increased as he turned the focus of his glowering attention back on to her. ‘I believe you were assuring me that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and that you believe yourself to be in absolutely no danger from any man’s unwanted attentions?’
Caro felt a shiver run the length of her spine as she looked up into that harshly forbidding face; no wonder those three young gentlemen had decided that retreat was the best and safest course of action. She felt like retreating herself as she recalled how demanding and yet arousing that firmly sculptured mouth had felt against her own…
Her shoulders straightened determinedly. ‘You kissed me deliberately, my lord, purely in an effort to demonstrate your superior strength over me.’
His nostrils flared as that silver gaze raked over her. ‘In an effort to demonstrate how
any
man’s strength would be superior to your own—even those three drunken young pups who just ran away with their tails between their legs.’
Caro raised a haughty brow. ‘You exaggerate, sir—’
‘On the contrary, Miss Morton,’ he snapped coldly, ‘I believe myself to be better acquainted than you with the lusts of my own sex.’ His mouth twisted in distaste. ‘And if I had not been here to protect you just now then I guarantee you would now find yourself in an alley somewhere with your skirts up about your waist whilst one of those young bucks rutted between your thighs and the other two awaited their turn!’
Caro felt herself pale and the nausea churn in her stomach at the vividness of the picture he painted. A vividness surely designed to shock and frighten her—and succeeding? Those three young gentlemen had obviously over-imbibed this evening, and were feeling more than a little playful, but surely they would not have behaved as shockingly as the earl suggested?
She looked at him in challenge. ‘Then it is a pity that there was no one here to protect me from your own unwanted attentions, was it not?’
Dominic drew in a swift breath at the accusation. In the circumstances, it was a perfectly justified accusation, he allowed fairly. He had meant only to teach a lesson, to demonstrate her vulnerability by taking advantage of her himself. Instead he had found he enjoyed the honeyed taste of her as he explored the heat of her mouth, as well as the feel of her slender curves pressed against his much harder ones. To the extent that he had taken the kiss far beyond what he had originally intended.
He straightened, the expression in his eyes now hidden behind hooded lids. ‘I meant only to demonstrate
how exposing yourself on a stage night after night has left you open to physical as well as verbal abuse.’
‘You are being ridiculous,’ she dismissed briskly. ‘Neither am I a complete ninny. It was for the very reason of protecting my reputation that I donned the mask and wig at Nick’s. Indeed, I doubt that anyone would ever recognise the woman I am now as the masked and ebony-haired woman who sings in a gambling club each evening.’
There was some truth in that; Dominic had barely recognised Caro himself when she had joined him earlier. Even so… ‘The fact that you are masked, and your own blonde curls hidden beneath those false ebony tresses, would, I am afraid, only protect your identity as far as the bedroom.’
Her throat moved convulsively as she continued to look up at him proudly. ‘My…identity?’
Dominic gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Your voice and manner proclaim you as being a lady—’
‘Or a disgraced lady’s maid,’ she put in quickly.
‘Perhaps,’ Dominic allowed tersely. ‘I have no idea what your reasons are for taking the action you have—and I doubt you are about to enlighten me, are you?’
Her mouth firmed. ‘No.’
‘As I thought.’ He gave an abrupt nod. ‘Of course, the simplest answer to this predicament would be for me to simply terminate your employment. At least then I would not feel honour bound to take responsibility for your welfare.’