Page 79 of A Cinderella to Redeem the Earl

Aware of many curious stares and some of outright disapproval, she kept her back straight and her smile firmly pinned on her lips. No one would possibly recognise her as Vicar Lamb’s shy, awkward daughter.

Not even her mother.

She hoped. Fervently. For that theory was about to be tested. Mother and her new husband were headed straight towards them.

She resisted the urge to tell Dart to turn the carriage around and gallop out of the park.

He glanced at her, clearly sensing her concern. ‘Look them straight in the eye,’ he said with a pleasant smile as if he wasn’t discussing her immediate ruin. In a moment the two carriages passed each other and Pamela was proud that she met her mother’s haughty gaze without flinching. There certainly wasn’t a hint of recognition in that frosty glare. And if her mother didn’t recognise her, no one else would.

A few moments later, a gentleman on horseback drew alongside them. ‘Monsieur Phillippe,’ she said, beaming at his handsome face and warm expression. ‘Good afternoon.’

‘My dear, Mrs Clark. May I say how delightful you look?’

‘You may,’ she said. And blushed at her boldness. Something about this disguise made her say things she would never have dared say as herself.

‘I do wish you would call me Pip, as Damian does. We are friends, are we not?’

‘Very well, Pip it is.’

Pip beamed and accompanied them along the Row when Damian set his horse in motion.

Pamela did her best to ignore some of the rather pointed looks askance. Once the party was over she would never see any of these people again.

She certainly would never tell her mother or anyone else for that matter about this adventure, but she did not regret it. Meeting Damian had added something to her life that had been lacking for a long time. Affection.

She was fond of Damian.

More than fond. He seemed to be the only person who valued all the parts that made her who she was: her skill in the kitchen, her organisational abilities and, of course, their compatibility in the bedroom. His passions seemed to match hers perfectly. He had given her a sense of accomplishment. A feeling of pride in herself as a person.

When she thought about him leaving, of never seeing him again, something hot and painful rose up in her throat. She was desperately trying not to let him see how the thought of losing him was hurtful, but it was getting more and more difficult each passing day.

If she said anything, she was sure he would be astonished.

Apart from their mutual passion, she had no real sense that he felt anything deeper than a mere liking for her. For him, theirs was a primarily a business partnership, with additional benefits.

For her, it had definitely become something more. What had begun as mutual passion had gradually changed into a deep-seated need that had grown tendrils around her heart. The idea of saying goodbye was almost too painful to contemplate.

She still could not believe that in two weeks’ time their association would end.

She forced herself to be practical, calm, exactly the same as him.

‘Do you know anyone who could assist me with the purchase of a property?’ she asked.

‘You are thinking about your cottage in the country.’

‘I am.’

‘My man of business ought to be able to help you, if you would like me to ask him?’

‘Do you have an idea of where you would like to buy this cottage?’ Pip asked.

‘Somewhere quiet, near the sea. Perhaps Dorset.’

‘A long way from London.’ He shook his head. Such a waste. ‘How sad.’

She laughed at his nonsense.

An older man driving in the opposite direction doffed his hat and smiled at them. Pamela recognised him from the club. Lord Luton. Would he have acknowledged her if he had recognised her? Likely not.