by Liana Lefey
“She never flaunts her peccadilloes,” David continued, “and the gentlemen she takes to her bed never reveal her secrets. She’s exceedingly selective and unerringly discreet. You must cultivate the same qualities if you expect to remain socially acceptable.” He paused. “So many people lead double lives, Melly. If you knew the secrets some people keep, you’d be unable to look them in the eye. And you rub shoulders with them practically every day, you go to their balls, their parties.” He gave her a long look. “You even call some of them your friends.”
He means himself.
She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. This was the David she’d heard talk of in dark whispers. This was his other life, the life he’d never allowed her to see. It was one thing to hear of his dissipation via the gossiping tongues of others; it was another entirely to hear him speak of it. It was disconcerting, to say the least.
“The truth remains hidden because they—we,” he amended, “all follow the same unwritten law: do as you like behind closed doors, but never parade your indulgences publicly or you’ll be ostracized by the very same people secretly committing the same, or worse, sins. That’s the world in which we live, Melly. That’s the world of which you will become part, if you do this.”
Mélisande’s mind whirled. Not only was her view of David rapidly changing, but her view of herself, as well. If this affaire was just a one-time occurrence, a mere fling before settling down, she could see it through to its natural end in relative safety. But if it wasn’t, if her passionate nature was permanently awakened, then she must be prepared to accept the consequences. She must be prepared to don the mantle of deceit permanently, like Lady Sutterfield.
“No wonder you are so jaded,” she muttered. “Do you know many? Courtesans, I mean?” He grinned. “Have you never wondered why my father has been so very furious with me all these years?”
“I’ve overheard him call you a bloody wastrel several times,” she said with a laugh that made her sound far older than her years. “He told Papa you spent monstrous amounts of money while living the prodigal life here in London. Said you’d drive the family into bankruptcy with your penchant for gambling hells and other unsavory pursuits.”
All traces of humor left David’s face. “I haven’t touched the family coffers since before we broke our engagement. He lies to cover the shame of having a son with an unseemly habit of playing the merchant—and what’s worse, successfully. I think he could forgive me if I’d failed miserably in my ventures, but I’m afraid I’ve managed to make enough money to sustain myself in comfort and completely annoy him. And I intend to make a great deal more. As for my other ‘unsavory pursuits,’ ” he added, “I’ve kept several mistresses over the years, openly supporting each in what some have called obscene luxury.”
His smile returned, but it was a vicious expression. “My father’s henchmen keep him well informed, and I delight in giving them interesting news. Nothing pleases me better than to give them a good, rousing show. The overt presentation of some lavish bauble or a new coach and four to my current mistress, for instance. I usually receive a howling missive from him within a month or so of such an act. I quite enjoy reading them over breakfast; I find it aids the digestion.”
Mélisande couldn’t help laughing, in spite of her shock. “I knew you’d led a rather wayward life, David, but I never imagined. Truly, I thought you’d gained your reputation mostly through overblown gossip.”
“Whatever rumors you’ve heard are probably watered down.”
“And yet you’d help me enter into such a life?” she asked with some doubt.
“Melly”—he sighed, crossing his arms—“as your friend, of course I would prefer you take a different path. But as you so quickly pointed out, I really have no say in the matter, do I? And, as your friend, it would be unthinkable of me to allow you to ruin yourself out of ignorance if I can prevent it. Thus, my knowledge is at your disposal, even if it pains me to give it. Believe me when I say that never in my most demented dreams did I ever imagine tutoring you in the art of clandestine immorality.”
Her eyes were sharp and clear as she spoke. “I thank you for your sacrifice, David. You are a true friend, and it means a great deal to have your support.”
“I admit, I’d hoped to change your mind with the brutal truths,” he said, “but so be it.”
“I had not realized it would be so very complicated,” she mused, chewing her lip. “I cannot take him to my bed tonight. It shall have to wait until the proper arrangements can be made. But,” she said, giving him a knowing look, “do not think that I shall wait too long.”
“I’ll contact my solicitor in the morning. One more thing, Melly,” he added. “If Gravina should decide not to be discreet, you will have a problem, one that will most likely require a duel to resolve. Naturally, I shall be the one to challenge him. If that happens, everyone will expect us to marry. Am I clear?” he asked, raising a brow.
“Only if there is a child to consider,” she answered. “That was the bargain. If there is no child, there will be no marriage.”
“You would rather be branded a harlot than marry me?” he asked, unbelieving. “Am I so very repugnant, then?”
“One would almost think you wanted to marry me,” she said, crossing her arms and fixing him with a frank stare.
A scathing snort burst from his lips. “I have no desire for you, Melly,” he answered. “I’ll not deny that you are one of the most beautiful women in England, but I might as well be a eunuch where you are concerned. You are, however, my closest friend, and I have no wish to see you miserable. As I pointed out years ago, if we married, we could lead entirely separate lives. You could do as you liked and I would care not. Many marriages are so arranged. Most, in fact.”
“And what of heirs?”
“I’ve no desire for children of my own, as you well know. The blood in my veins is far more tainted than yours could ever be, for all my legitimacy,” he said bitterly. “As odd as it may sound, I’d welcome a cuckoo and treat him or her as my own. I’d be a good father to your children and a good husband to you, if in name only.” He grinned suddenly, mirth returning to his features. “It’d be a nasty knock to my father, although the old bastard would never know it. That alone might make it worth it.”
Mélisande released the breath she’d been holding. “You’re not your father, you know,” she blurted, knowing she was treading on delicate ground. “You’re nothing like him. Just because he’s—”
“I may not be like him, but we share the same blood. I will not risk history repeating itself through me.”
“And what if you met a woman you could truly love? Would you not resent being bound to me?”
A grim smile twisted his lips. “It’ll never happen, Melly. I simply haven’t the heart for romance. You of all people know that.”
“I guess we’re both too pragmatic for sentimentality,” she replied softly, thinking of her own parents’ imperfect marriage. The clock on the mantelpiece caught her eye. “It’s getting late. We’d best return.”
“Indeed. Before we, too, provide grist for the gossip mill. I’ll see to the arrangements we discussed. And I’ll draw from my own accounts to pay for it,” he added. “The less of a trail you leave behind you the better. You can pay me back later.”
He turned to leave, but before he could open the door, Mélisande interrupted.
“David?”
“What now?”
She paused awkwardly. “We’ve been friends for as long as I can remember, and I want you to know I’m very glad for it. Thank you. For everything.”
He smiled, a genuine smile with no hint of mockery or cynicism lurking beneath it. “Again, what I’m doing shouldn’t in any way warrant your gratitude, Melly. If I wasn’t already marked for hell’s flames, I soon will be, for I’m as good as handing you straight to the devil. All the same, I’m glad for your friendship, as well. We’re a terrible pair, aren’t we?”
OH, WHAT A TANGLED WEB
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“MELLY!” ALESSANDRO EXCLAIMED, stepping forward to greet her. As anticipated, everyone in earshot turned. Naturally, they would expect such familiarity from her contemporaries, but not from a newcomer like him.
Disengaging herself from her escort, Mélisande’s gaze slid over to the young woman whose side he’d just left. “You’ve acquired another admirer, I see,” she murmured as he kissed her hand.
Though her tone was amused, he knew better than to leave any room for doubt. “A new ally in a good cause,” he whispered for her ears alone, giving her fingers a reassuring squeeze before releasing her. “Ah, Pelham, I was wondering if you might be interested in a round of primero tonight? I’m told you’re an excellent player.”
“I’d be delighted, but I’m afraid I have other obligations this evening. Perhaps later this week?” answered Pelham.
That certainly raised a few eyebrows, Alessandro noted. “I shall look forward to it,” he replied.
“Perhaps Melly might like to join us,” Pelham added, turning to her. “It’s been a while since we played. We can invite Stanton and Charlotte, too.”
“What a wonderful idea,” Mélisande exclaimed. “I’m having a little party this Thursday evening, and I’m certain we can manage to squeeze in a round or two beforehand if you come early. It’s been far too long since I gave you a good drubbing.”
“I shall prepare my last will and testament,” muttered Pelham.
“I’m not that good!” laughed Mélisande.
Pelham snorted. “Woe to the man who believes it. He’ll soon find himself destitute.”
“Let us hope she at least lets us depart with our dignity intact, if not our purses,” Alessandro chimed in, shooting her a teasing glance.
A small sound at his elbow told him that Miss Doulton had at last gathered her courage. “Ah, but I am remiss in my manners!” he said, turning. “My friends, allow me to introduce Miss Olivia Doulton, an acquaintance of our own Mr. Stanton. Miss Doulton, this is Lady Wilmington and Lord Pelham.”
Looking to Mélisande, he waited. Familiarity with a woman of Mélisande’s rank would be a high mark in Miss Doulton’s favor and greatly increase her chances of finding a moneyed husband. A girl of her means was unlikely to get another opportunity like this, and gratitude, he’d found, was a highly useful tool.
“I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Miss Doulton said, curtsying.
“Please—call me Melly.”
“Miss Doulton was just asking me about the waltz,” Alessandro continued. “She is quite interested in learning it. I told her you might be willing to share the name of your instructor.”
“Indeed yes,” Mélisande answered, seeming to catch on. “Perhaps you’d like to come to tea Thursday and we can discuss it?”
The girl beamed. “Why, thank you. I accept your gracious invitation.”
“I look forward to it,” Mélisande told her with a smile. “I’m also having a party that evening and several of my friends are coming early for a few rounds of chess and cards. Do you play?”
Alessandro had to refrain from chuckling aloud at the audible sighs of envy that issued forth from the fringe of onlookers. He was most pleased indeed.
“I do, my la—I mean Melly,” Miss Doulton corrected herself, continuing only after receiving a slight nod of approval from her new acquaintance. “I play whist and have recently begun to learn chess. Unlike your ladyship, I’m afraid I’m not very good yet,” she admitted.
“Well, practice makes perfect, after all,” Mélisande replied, her manner indulgent. “The only way to improve is to play. I’ll play a round or two with you myself and then match you with an appropriate partner, if you like,” she offered. The smile she received in answer could have lit the whole of Kensington Palace. “Come at two, then. And I expect you to be there early, as well,” she told Pelham.
“I shall arrive at dawn, armed and ready,” came the man’s droll response.
Ignoring his sarcasm, Mélisande cocked her head. “I believe they just announced the next dance, a sarabande. One of your favorites, is it not?” she asked Pelham too brightly, her eyes conveying an indisputable command as they flicked over to Miss Doulton.
Pelham’s eyes sparkled with humor. “Actually, I thought y—”
“I’m already obligated somewhere else or I’d claim you myself,” Mélisande interrupted him, “but I’m sure there are other ladies in need of a partner.” Her smile broadened, her eyes narrowing.
Watching the interplay, Alessandro got the distinct impression that Pelham would pay through the nose if he refused. Apparently, Pelham interpreted her look the same way, as well, for he turned to the lady in question with a smile.
“Miss Doulton, I would be honored if you would grant me this next dance,” Pelham murmured, darting a black look at Mélisande just before Miss Doulton looked up at him in surprise.
“I would be delighted, Lord Pelham,” the girl replied a little breathlessly.
Alessandro smiled at Mélisande’s handling of the situation. She’d quite neatly transferred the burden of Miss Doulton’s affection from him to Pelham, who would undoubtedly shift it to some more deserving soul later that evening.
Mélisande now turned to him with a look that heated the blood in his veins. “Shall we retire to the library for that rematch?” she suggested.
“Indeed, I should like a chance to reclaim my dignity.”
Her smile was feline. “I admit our last game wasn’t really fair, seeing that the conditions under which we played were to my distinct advantage. Perhaps this time I should give you the first move.”
Alessandro grinned at her double entendre. “I thank you for the generous offer, but I require no handicap to take you, my lady.”
Before she could respond with more than a low chuckle, they were interrupted by the arrival of Stanton and his sister. Alessandro greeted them, praying Miss Doulton had the good grace to hold her tongue, for Stanton would not look kindly on him for meddling in his private affairs.
As he watched, he noted another interesting interaction taking place: Stanton’s sister, Miss Charlotte, appeared rather put out at the sight of Miss Doulton hanging at Pelham’s elbow. Indeed, her gaze could have frozen the Thames. Casting a surreptitious glance at Pelham, he noted the man’s eyes were fastened on her. The instant Charlotte looked at him, however, Pelham affected a look of supreme indifference.
Most interesting indeed.
The new arrivals inspired the group to continue making small talk for several minutes, until Pelham excused himself and Miss Doulton from the conversation in order to dance.
Alessandro seized the opportunity. “Our game, my lady?”
“Indeed, yes,” Mélisande responded with enthusiasm.
“You shall not defeat me this time, dear Countess,” he said for everyone’s benefit. “Fortune has surely forgiven me by now and returned to favor me.”
“Oh? Perhaps a small wager is in order,” she taunted.
“And what would you wager?”
They were out of earshot now, and her smile turned naughty. “A forfeit. One to be determined at the time and place of the winner’s choosing.”
“A dangerous bet, my lady. You know not what concession I might claim.”
Her lips curved upward, the motion slow and provocative. “The prize might be dangerous indeed—for you.”
Heads turned as he laughed aloud, but he paid them no mind. Their progress through the throng was avidly watched. Some faces were friendly and admiring, but many were tight with disapproval. He noted that Mélisande met every stare with a pleasant smile, forcing an embarrassed dropping of eyes from those inclined to be disagreeable.
Admiration filled him. Many, if not most, women would have quailed beneath some of those withering looks, yet she remained unruffled. It spoke volumes about her backbone. Along with everything else he’d discovered about her, he found her courage attractive.
At last they left the crowded ballroom for qui
eter halls. Instead of stopping at the door to the library, however, he led Mélisande past it and around the corner where he turned, pulling her into his arms.
Alessandro savored the feel of her as she melted against him, her lips parting. His tongue teased and taunted, dipping into the warm well of her mouth, emulating a more primal rhythm that incited them both. The hunger that possessed him would never be sated with a mere kiss, no matter how passionate, but it was a beginning.
With every shared breath, his desire grew. His cock was swelling, again straining against confinement. He must stop. If he didn’t, he’d pick her up and carry her to his chamber, and then there would be no salvaging the situation. With regret, he pulled back, feeling her tremble with the uneven pace of her breath. “We must find a way to be together soon, amora.”
Cautiously, Mélisande poked her head back around the corner, making certain no one was there to overhear before whispering, “I shall have an address for our liaisons within the week.”
She reached up to smooth back his hair where she’d mussed it, and her touch sent a tremor through Alessandro. He wanted nothing more than to fling her to the floor right there in the hall. Then her words sank in, and surprise jerked him back from the brink. “You wish to make the arrangements?”
“Was I not the one who proposed this affaire?” she asked, lifting a brow. “Once I have procured a suitable place, we may begin our...association.”
Reaching across the gap between them, he traced her gown’s neckline. “Let us hope the arrangements do not take very long.” If it took more than a fortnight, a very important bit of his anatomy would suffer permanent petrifaction. Dio, how he ached!
For a long moment, the air between them fairly shimmered with heat. But before it could go any further, a noise from around the corner snapped them both back into awareness.
Alessandro moved them around the corner as if they’d been taking an innocent stroll to look at the art decorating the length of the hall. “I find this one somewhat disturbing,” he said, stopping to stare at a depiction of a woman being beheaded. Despite the fact that the headsman’s axe was poised to strike the deathblow, the lady’s expression was one of eerie serenity. It was titled The Thornless Rose.