"Thank you so much. It does not trouble me in the least. I know you were only being polite last evening." She began to stew, an uncontrollable fury simmering inside her. She would dance every dance, and Jonathan would not get a chance to get anywhere near her if she could help it. If her goal was to make him fall in love with her, she could flirt and retreat.
When she was getting out of the carriage, she pretended to stumble, and found herself in his arms.
"So sorry. Thank you." She tilted her head up and smiled into his face, her lips just inches from his own.
Then she stepped away with a light laugh, leaving him confused and shaken by what had just occurred.
He had felt his blood boiling in his veins with desire for her, and wondered how long he would be able to keep up his facade of polite friend when her very nearness was like a potent aphrodisiac.
Pamela sat next to Jonathan at dinner, deliberately touching his hand when she conversed with others, as if to punctuate a point. As soon as he tried to engage her in a tête à tête, she would turn to her neighbor Sarah or look across the table at Clifford and lead the conversation off on a different tangent.
After dinner, Pamela helped serve the coffee, and lingered with Jonathan for a time, asking his opinion on the article they had read that morning about chimney sweeps. When the Duke joined in, she deliberately took his part against Jonathan.
Then, just when Jonathan seemed inclined to get her alone by the pianoforte, where she had retreated on the pretext of looking for some music, Pamela said she had to go up to rest and prepare for the ball.
Her gown for the evening was the same color scheme as her day dress, white, with black and gold trim, but even more sumptuous. The white gown was deceptively simple, with a broad square neckline which showed her bosom to just the right degree. The bodice was form-hugging thanks to strategically placed darts, and her sleeves were short and fitted, also serving to draw all eyes to her fine chest and shoulders.
The unique feature of the dress was the special gold-braid used to trim around the neckline, the ends of the sleeves, and the scooped edges of the overskirt. It also formed a belt decorated with charming little gold tassels which swung when she walked. The under-skirt was diaphanous, and shot through with gold thread. It was sheer enough to show her delicate gold slippers decorated with the same gold braid. Her reticule and fan were also trimmed with the same elegant braid.
For her jewels, she selected a gold and black diadem, and a matching set of gold and jet hoop earrings and chain. With a pair of gold bracelets on each upper arm, and gold braided garters for her gloves, her outfit was complete in every respect. She was sure all eyes would be upon her that evening. The only thing lacking was her cloak, but her black velvet would do nicely, trimmed as it was with gold piping and fastened with two gold frogs.
They had planned to have a light supper before leaving, but Pamela knew she would not be able to keep up her campaign of advance and retreat the entire evening. Thus she came down about ten minutes before they were set to leave, and helped herself to a mouthful from the buffet table.
"So sorry to be so long. I fell asleep."
Jonathan was speechless. He had never seen Pamela looking so lovely as in the magnificent gown trimmed with the most alluring gold braid. It would practically kill him to have to dance with anyone else that night. But he had created his own predicament, and would have to live with it.
His heart hammered with longing and fear. His feelings for Pamela were getting to the point where even his rock-hard self-control was beginning to become eroded by constant exposure to the object of his deepest desires. She was radiant, and truth to tell, far more lovely than any woman he had ever seen or known. It was a disloyal thought, but it was a plain simple fact. Where would be the harm in enjoying himself for one night?
He would simply leave on the morrow and be able to treasure the memory for the rest of his life. It would be cold comfort, but better than nothing. The way Pamela looked as she stood there resplendent in white, black and gold was enough to make anyone's heart turn over.
But the heart of the man who loved her? Cupid's arrow had pierced him, and the only cure was to have his heart break. He could not have her for his own without overturning everything he had ever believed in. He had given his word to Jane, and Thomas. Little Sophie needed him. And even if he were to dare consider breaking his word, what woman would ever be able to accept his care and devotion for his insane childhood sweetheart and her illegitimate daughter?
Pamela thought she had never seen anyone as handsome as Jonathan. In his dark evening clothes, with snowy linen, and a fine embroidered black waistcoat and cravat with silver accents, he looked positively regal, every bit as noble as the Duke himself.