“Oh you know,” Melissa replied carefully, her eyes still roving over the room as she watched Emily Saint-Clair navigate the crowd. “It’s been better.”
“Well no one has mentioned your debut tonight, that’s got to be an improvement.” Emma took a sip of her drink and stared across at her friend.
“I suppose,” Melissa replied, she was barely paying attention. Emily had been accosted by the strange man she had seen talking to Lady Shearingham. As she watched the two converse, it was clear that they were both casting glances in her direction.
“Melissa?” She started up to stare at Emma. “What is wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Melissa uttered finally, tearing her gaze from the pair on the other side of the room. “I was so looking forward to this,” She waved her hand about the room. “And now it’s here, I don’t really want to play.” Dropping the goblet onto a side table, she turned from the room to stare at her friend. “Sarah made it sound so exciting, but I can’t get away from the feeling that I don’t matter. My father gets to decide who I’m with and I know he would not be happy if I chose otherwise. This feels like an upmarket slave block. Whoever can offer the most gets me,” She glanced up at the room again and watched as Emily and the strange man continued their conversation.
“Well, you’re right.” Emma replied, putting a comforting hand on her friends arm. “But it doesn’t mean it can’t be fun. Enjoy all of those overwrought declarations and try to find someone you can get along with. I doubt your father will throw you to some haggard old bachelor.” Emily and the man seemed to have finished talking and the blonde was moving out of sight.
“I know, I just..” She turned back to Emma and tried to explain the ambivalence she felt. “It feels so false, all of it.”
“Excuse me Miss De Vire?” Melissa stopped speaking and turned, standing before them was the strange man that she had seen talking to Emily only a few moments earlier.
“Yes?”
Melissa stared at the stranger, suddenly taken by a strong sense of the familiar. Beneath a plain, powdered wig, large brown eyes stared at her with disconcerting directness. Beneath an aquiline nose, a full lipped and sensual mouth lay. His face was fresh and young looking; she assumed that he was a year older than her at best. As her mind took in these details, he raised her hand to his lips. A strange chill ran up her spine as his lips brushed lightly across the back of her hand.
“I’m Alistair Lestrade,” He said in his soft tones.
“Lestrade?” She couldn’t help exclaiming as she stared at him in shock, it suddenly seemed so clear. This was why he had seemed so familiar, the facial features, the way of standing that was so like Justin’s. “Are you related to Justin Lestrade by any chance?” She was looking at his eyes as she spoke, those dark eyes that shared the same strange light of maturity that Justin’s did.
“He’s my older brother,” His voice was silkier than Justin’s and it echoed slightly as though they were within a cathedral and not in the midst of a crowd.
“Then why have I….”
“Not heard of me?” He finished the question for her with a smile that seemed frosty. “We don’t talk much and I dislike this morass..” he waved a hand at the surrounding crowd.
“So what brings you here now?”
“I was looking for you!” He answered with a soft smile, one that didn’t seem to reach his eyes.
“Why?”
Alistair glanced about at Emma. “It’s a private matter,”
“No,” Melissa noted, looking the man squarely in the face. “You can talk here.”
Alistair stared at her for a long minute before he sighed and spoke.
“Very well.” He leant close to her and spoke quietly, “I came to warn you!”
Melissa stared up at Alistair, a strange cold hand gripping her heart. The eyes looking down at her were serious and full of concern. “What about?” She whispered almost fearing the answer.
“Justin is…” he glanced around the room and leant closer lowering his voice. “My brother is dangerous to you. I warn you because I fear that he will hurt you.”
“You believe he is capable of murder?” Melissa asked, an appalled note entering her voice. It was true that she had sensed darkness in Justin yet she couldn’t believe he could kill.
“If you mean the girls lately, I couldn’t tell you.” Alistair continued in that soft toned voice. “I do know that his attentions are not pure and they certainly will not bring you joy or wellbeing.” He released her arm and stepped back his face blanking out the emotion that had been spilling out over it.
“Now I have warned you and I sincerely hope that you take this warning seriously.” He turned and began to walk away into the crowd.
“Wait,” She called, pushing herself from the chair and following after him. “You can’t just tell me this much and then leave. I need to know.” Emma followed behind, worry flowing through her features. “You have to tell me more.” She pushed out into the crowd after him, trying to keep up, yet he moved through the crowd with the elusiveness of a wild thing.
“Hey.” She crashed into the back of a brocade dress and apologised profusely. She turned back to the chase, yet all she saw was the crowd with not a sign of Alistair in sight.
“You made me spill my drink,” Melissa turned at the shrill accusatory note and stared straight into the eyes of Mary Westbury. The girl before her was looking up at her with harsh, green eyes. In one hand she held an empty glass and the other was pointing at her in accusation. Across the front panel of Mary’s cream coloured brocade dress, a blaze of red revealed where the burgundy from her empty glass had spilled. It was abundantly clear that Mary had been in possession of a nearly full glass of wine before she had been bumped.
“Oh lord I’m so sorry,” Melissa stared at the spreading stain in horror. Forgetting all about Alistair for the moment, she drew her handkerchief from deep within her skirts and ineffectually brushed at the stain. The pretty white handkerchief stained red yet there was no help for the expensive fabric.
“Why on earth are you bothering? It’s totally ruined now,” Mary’s usually grating voice was harsh and unforgiving. “How dare you? First you cause all that upset at the Palace and now you ruin my outfit.”
“I didn’t mean…” Melissa’s voice trailed off, she couldn’t deny that she hadn’t been clumsy. The brocade Mary was wearing was the very height of fashion and she had managed to ruin it yet, a small rebellious thought burned in the back of her mind. She had tried to apologise for the incident and if she could ever get a word in, she would offer to pay for the damage. Mary handed the glass to her partner and stepped forward, her green eyes boring into Melissa’s.
“Well you certainly weren’t looking where you were going. Were you too busy chasing after another eligible bachelor that you couldn’t be bothered to watch who you were bumping into?” Stunned by this tirade of words, Melissa stepped back and stared up at the blonde’s hot eyes.
“Yes I know all about you,” Mary, sensing her advantage, proclaimed triumphantly. “We all saw you make a fool of yourself. Quite the little glory hound aren’t you?”
Melissa finally found her voice. “I don’t know what you mean. I am sorry for ruining your dress, but I do not appreciate your comments. If you don’t mind Miss Westbury, I will take my leave of you.” She made to move past the blonde witch but Mary’s voice sounded out behind her.
“Yes go on, walk off and find some other poor sap to wrap in your drama.”
“What the devil do you mean?” In spite of her desire to avoid a scene, Melissa found herself spinning back to face her tormentor.
“I’m talking about Justin you total simpleton.” Mary continued her voice a low hiss of outrage. “You certainly have him wrapped around your little finger. You were all he could discuss after your little spat with Montjoy,”
“What?” Melissa was completely baffled now and more than a little angry.
“Don’t you try that on with me,” Ma
ry snarled in a low tone. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Play the helpless Damsel in Distress and perhaps get the most eligible man in the kingdom standing up for your honour.” She gave a cruel smirk and whispered. “It’s a shame that your brother took up the gauntlet for you. I bet that hurt, not managing to gull Justin into standing up for you.”
“You’re absolutely mad,” She breathed the words looking at the livid face before her. “I would never..”
“Oh spare me your lies,” Mary snapped back, her voice never reaching a pitch which could travel over the crowd. “I will say this once and once alone. If you wish to keep my good regard, you will leave Justin alone. He is mine. He loves me and we intend to be married. I am not going to let him be made a fool of by a chit like you.” With a flounce of her head, Mary whirled about and headed for the exit attempting to cover the burgundy stain with her hands.
Melissa watched her storm off through the crowd with a bemused expression on his face. She had known that Mary was smitten with Lestrade, but she hadn’t realised how deeply the other girl felt. As she watched Mary’s blonde head bounce through the doors at the end of the room, a hot angry feeling began to supplant the bemusement she felt. How dare Mary threaten her, she would be friends and flirt with whomever she wished. It was not as though she wished marriage to Justin, in fact she was fairly sure that marriage was not even a flickering thought in his mind. Despite her recent musings on his nature, she wasn’t even sure she considered him as a potential dalliance. Dismissing Mary as a bitter shrew with no value, she turned her thoughts to the more troubling conversations with Alistair and Emily. It was obvious from the way they had talked that Emily had spoken to Alistair about her. That he was Justin’s brother could not be denied, his looks were far too similar for him not to be. Yet she could not take his words seriously. No one had ever heard of Alistair Lestrade and his warning, though it seemed genuine, struck her as a little false. It seemed too melodramatic as though he had spent too long watching the stage. It also seemed presumptuous, especially considering how little time she had spent engaged in conversation with Justin. If she received this much grief over a simple talk, how much more would she get with a full blown discussion.
There was also the conversation with Emily to consider, the woman was clearly urging her into something. Emily was disturbing and clearly hiding something. She had not warned Melissa from Lestrade, it seemed to be pure curiosity but she couldn’t for the life of her understand why.
She sighed and pressed her fingers to her temples. Both conversations had given her food for thought and she no longer wished to stand here in this vast crowd. Coming to a decision, she headed through the crowd and located her mother. Pleaded a headache, she begged to return home. Her mother agreed and loaded her into the carriage with Jane, ordering her to return the coach upon her arrival at home. Melissa nodded and with the gentle sound of wheel on cobblestone, the carriage trundled off into the night.
Chapter 17:
The carriage trundled over the rough road and lulled Melissa into a daze. Jane sat opposite, her knitting needles clicking softly as they travelled.
“You seem troubled Miss,” Jane noted in her soft voice as she unravelled another ball of wool. “Are you comfortable?”
“I’m fine Jane,” Melissa answered, looking out of the carriage window into the darkness beyond. They were travelling between villages and the darkness shrouded the countryside like a living thing. Her mind travelled back to Alistair’s words and she vaguely toyed with the lace on her sleeves.
“Jane?” She addressed her maid almost absently as they travelled through a crossroads.
“Yes Miss?”
“What do you know about the Lestrade family?”
“Well Lord Lestrade has a considerable fortune due to his parents’ demise and he holds two properties, one in town and they other is near to your parents’ estate.”
“Does he have a brother?”
“Yes I believe he has a younger brother Miss. I heard somewhere that he joined the seminary though not a great deal is known about him. It appears that the brothers do not see eye to eye.” Jane was not offering her usual wealth of gossip and Melissa straightened up and looked at her maid.
“Is that all?”
“Well you see Miss, not much is known about the family. Very secretive bunch and have been for years. Lord Lestrade brings his valet to the balls but the man is so closemouthed I’m surprised he knows how to eat. I daresay he pays for his servants to keep his secrets.” She cast off and started another line of knitting.
“Do you think him dangerous?”
“In what way Miss? Is he a danger to the virtue of a young girl? I’d say so. Is he drawn to vice like a duck to water? True I would say. Is he a killer? That I don’t know about but I would not like to see my Lady involved with such as him.” Jane looked up from her knitting and stared at Melissa with an intense gleam to her eyes.
“Oh Jane I’m not interested in getting involved with him. I..I’m just curious,”
“As you say Miss,” Jane demurred with a slight twist to her lips. Melissa let the conversation drop, unwilling to continue this line of thought. So she was interested in Lestrade and his background, that didn’t mean she was attracted to the man. As she settled back against the cushioned seat and stared out the window she avoided listening to the small voice that suggested she was more interested than she maintained. The wheels crunched over the rough ground and she drowsed again. Dozing comfortably in the padded seat, she was unprepared for the sudden lurch that threw her from her seat and pitched her to the carriage floor. A choked breath escaped her lips as her temple slammed painfully into the side of the coach. Continuing to lurch, the carriage jolted crazily and overbalanced, crashing onto its side with a bang. The footman jumped off the back, rolling to avoid damage as the coachman managed to stop the horses from bolting. Within the coach, Melissa careered into Jane as the coach fell onto its side, a scream tearing from her lips as Jane’s knitting needles stabbed painfully into her side. The long thin needles tore the expensive cloth of her gown and stained the muslin undergarments with bright red blood. For a moment, stunned silence reigned in the coach as everything stilled and came to rest.
“Miss,” Through a dazed fog of pain, she made out Jane’s worried face as it bent over her. “Oh dear Lord. Jeb! Franklin!” Her maid shouted out as she steadily began to pull the needles from Melissa’s side. Melissa gave a small squeak as the first needle moved within her. “Don’t worry Miss, it’ll be alright.” She touched a calloused hand to the girl’s temple before continuing.
“Sorry Miss, We lost a wheel on the bend,” A male voice sounded from outside as the coachman unlashed the horses before turning to survey the damage. The coach was on its side, the wheels still spinning from the road. With practised agility he clambered on top of the coach and reached for the door handle. With a heavy jerk, he pulled the door open and stared down into the wreck of the carriage. Jane and his mistress were crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the carriage. A large livid bruise was splayed across Melissa’s powdered features and her hair was a tumbled mess. He could also see blood.
“Is she alright?”
“What do you think?” Jane finally removed the first needle, wincing at the blood that stained the pointed object. As she placed it on the floor she glanced upwards.
“Get in here Franklin, the mistress is hurt and I won’t be able to lever her out myself,”
“Hold on Miss,” Carefully the coachman lowered himself into the coach and leant over the silk clad form of Melissa. “We’ll have you out in a moment,” He stood up, balancing on the edge of the padded seats and looked out.
“Jeb… come give me a hand,”
Melissa felt them both clamber onto the carriage and glanced across at her maid. Jane’s face was set in concentration as she applied pressure to the wounds on her side. The pain in her temple throbbed constantly yet she was sure that it was subsiding. Her vision was clearer now; she could see t
he devastation in the carriage. “Jane?” She tried her voice, it was shaky but she could still speak.
The Black Lotus (Night Flower) Page 14