Nick watched Lady Pamela hurry away from him, all the time cursing Davis and Fenmore for scaring her off. And scaring her is precisely what they had done. She was not exactly comfortable with him, but the addition of the two men apparently pushed her over the edge. He’d noticed from first being introduced that the girl stuttered. She was also extremely shy which might have come from her stutter, or just her natural personality.
Whatever it was he had every intention of seeing her again. He’d spotted her across the room when she entered the building with the other woman and Westbrooke. He was quite pleased when it appeared Westbrooke’s interest was with the other woman. Miss Danvers, he believe he’d said.
But he found Lady Pamela beautiful, with curly blonde hair that made him want to remove all her hairpins and crush its glossy length in his fists and take her lush mouth in a possessive kiss. Her deep blue eyes were open and innocent, with no guile behind them. It was almost like an invisible force drew him to her. He’d never reacted that way to a woman before, and it bewildered him. As he’d walked across the floor, the word mine beat a cadence with each step.
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.