by Liana Lefey
“Indeed, I would have no one else.” Mélisande forced herself to sound cheery as she prepared to launch another swift kick at David if he so much as breathed. If he thought there was any place where he was safe, he’d soon think differently! “And I do appreciate your support. All of you. I’m afraid I did lose my head a bit tonight. I shall endeavor to be more cautious in the future.”
“One can hope,” grumbled David.
Mélisande drew back her foot.
“As for that business matter we discussed earlier this evening,” he added, “I shall begin gathering information immediately.”
“Thank you,” Mélisande replied, mollified. The carriage finally arrived at her residence, and she and Charlotte bade the gentlemen farewell. Now she only needed to escape to her chamber without being interrogated. As soon as they stepped inside, she held a hand to her brow and sighed, immediately drawing a concerned look from her companion.
“Are you quite well?” inquired Charlotte.
“Just a headache,” Mélisande told her. “I was unprepared for such emotional turmoil—I truly never expected to see him again. I thought he’d forgotten me long ago.” That part was true, at least.
“Poor dear! You should go and rest,” Charlotte said with an encouraging smile. “We can discuss it all tomorrow. And I’ll help you with the plans as much as I am able.”
Feeling like a complete heel, Mélisande played along. “Thank you, Charlotte. I appreciate your support, truly I do. I believe I will retire now.” She let out a long yawn. “Good night, and thank you again. You really are a true friend!”
Making good her escape, she ascended the steps without looking back. Charlotte wouldn’t be getting any details tonight.
Mélisande had only just sat down to breakfast when David was shown in, waving a flag of truce in the form of a sheaf of papers.
“Steinberg was certainly surprised to see me this morning,” he announced, tossing the bundle down in front of her. “I thought the poor man was going to faint when I walked in.”
Eagerly, she snatched up the stack and tore at the twine.
“This morning’s visit was the first time I’ve ever actually stepped foot in his offices. Hopefully the last, as well.” He shuddered. “Ghastly place. One would think that with as much as I pay the man, he could afford to maintain a decent office in which to receive his clients.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she replied absently.
“I hope you appreciate my efforts. I was up practically all night writing letters, taking care of your ‘business.’ And my visit to Steinberg required me to be up at an ungodly hour. I barely slept at all,” he added, a little louder. Leaning over, he tipped down the top edge of the papers with a finger. “It appears you’ve had even less sleep than I. You look the very devil. Did you not find rest last night?”
“That is none of your concern.” She shot him a withering stare. “And I shall thank you to keep a civil tongue.” Jerking the papers back into position, she proceeded to continue ignoring him.
He chuckled and dropped unceremoniously into the chair next to her, helping himself to several items from the serving dishes.
Mélisande signaled a servant to bring coffee and another place setting.
“Where’s Charlie?” David bit off a piece of toast. “Shouldn’t she be up by now?”
“After all the excitement last night? Still asleep, no doubt—as I’d like to be myself.” She sighed, snatching back the piece of bacon he’d purloined from her plate and giving him another glare.
He took a piece of unguarded toast instead. “Good. I doubt you’d wish her privy to this discussion anyway,” he muttered.
Mélisande dismissed the servants after they’d completed their task. Her staff knew to keep silent about David’s frequent, unscheduled visits, but she wasn’t willing to take unnecessary risks where they could be avoided. The subject they were about to discuss was extremely delicate, and the fewer ears that heard it, the better.
She continued to sift through the documents while her guest ate. A frown began to crease her brow. After digesting several more pages, she looked at him in wonderment. “How on earth did you manage to come up with this so quickly? I thought it would take at least a day or two.”
Grinning smugly, he took a bite of bacon. “If you must know, I made inquiries for my own purposes over a week ago.”
She slapped the papers down on the table. “Oh, David! Not another mistress? And you’re willing to give your love nest up for me? How very altruistic. Who is your new ladybird, if I may ask?” she inquired, raising a brow and sampling her poached egg.
David’s smile broadened, but he remained silent.
Mélisande rolled her eyes. “I’m sure the papers will get wind of it soon enough. I’ll just wait and see from whose window you tumble,” she said, poking fun at one of his more embarrassing past faux pas.
“There will be no climbing out of windows for me, nor any hardship suffered,” he responded. “I simply told my solicitor that I required two new residences instead of one.”
“David! What must the man think?”
“What people think of me is their concern, not mine. I believe this one”—he plucked a heavy vellum sheet out of the stack, checked it, and placed it on top—“will serve your purposes nicely.”
Quickly, she perused the information. It was unfurnished, which was fine, as she preferred to decorate according to her own tastes. The location was decent, too. Not too close, but not an unreasonable distance away. And most importantly, it was available immediately. She didn’t even blink at the exorbitant asking price.
“If you approve, then I shall bow to your wisdom,” she said, handing him back the document. “What about furnishings and the other items we discussed?”
“I’ve already sent my man to seek appropriate staff. If needs must, I can see if a few of those already in my employ might be willing to split their services. I’m already acquainted with them well enough to know they’re trustworthy, and the location is conveniently close, which is why I’m not so loath to give up the place as you might think.”
Her brow furrowed. She must have misheard him. “Are you implying that you already currently support a mistress in that part of town?”
Eyes alight with humor, David sat back and folded his arms.
“And yet you’ve been looking for a place to house another?”
His lips began to twitch.
“Ye gods!” she whispered, aghast. “So now your solicitor thinks you have not two but three mistresses?”
“Again, it matters not what he thinks. I’m unconcerned with his opinion of my character so long as he obeys my orders. I don’t pay him to worry about my moral rectitude. Now, as for the interior, can I assume you prefer a similar décor to this?” David asked, gesturing vaguely at the feminine surroundings.
“No,” she replied without hesitation. “I wish it to be more like Papa’s rooms back home. Not a hunter’s lodge, you understand—I don’t want gloom, but I don’t want it to look like Lady Whitby’s powder room, either.”
“In other words, a place where a man can be comfortable?”
“No, a place where I can be comfortable,” she said with a fond smile. “I used to love spending time in Papa’s rooms better than any other place in the house. In fact, I may redecorate this house as well,” she mused, eyeing the delicate pink-striped wainscoting, lacy curtains, and floral paintings. “Maman adored pink, but I find it a bit much, myself. How long do you think before it’ll be ready?”
“Not more than a few days, I expect. Eager to traipse down the primrose path, are we?” he jibed. “Patience is a virtue, but virtues aren’t something you’re overly concerned with these days, it seems.”
“Ah, the pot calls the kettle black.” Ignoring his sniping tone, she smiled sweetly as she bit into another piece of bacon.
“Yes, but this pot has been black for some time and knows it.” He chuckled. “The fact that the shiny copper kettle has suddenly decided to
blacken herself comes as a bit of a surprise.”
“Ahem,” Mélisande cleared her throat, glancing to the doorway as a yawning Charlotte appeared.
The girl brightened upon seeing David, and Mélisande sighed. I’m going to have to discourage that... She looked over at him: he was shoveling food into his mouth and had barely paused to greet the new arrival. Even then, it was only a curt nod and a grunt. For a so-called authority when it came to women, he was certainly oblivious.
It didn’t seem to matter to Charlotte, however. “What brings you here so early?” she asked, leaning over his shoulder to see what he was reading.
David flipped the paper over. “None of your business, poppet,” he responded absently, moving the papers to the other side and continuing to read.
Mélisande winced as a flicker of pained irritation crossed Charlotte’s face. Should she tell David he was the object of such ardent juvenile affection? If he should laugh and poke fun at Charlotte, she would be devastated.
Meanwhile, Charlotte moved to the other side, still trying to read over his shoulder.
“I’m assisting Melly with some business, if you must know,” David told her a bit sharply, again moving the papers out of view. “Tedious stuff, but necessary. You certainly shan’t ever have to worry about such things, little one,” he added with a patronizing smile. “By the end of the Season, you’ll have a husband to manage such pesky details for you.”
At the word husband, Mélisande observed Charlotte look at him as one might a particularly delectable confection. Thankfully, David was intent on his breakfast and didn’t notice her predatory expression.
We definitely must have that talk sooner rather than later.
She was distracted from all such thoughts when the butler appeared to announce a guest. The Duke of Gravina had come to call. A quick glance at the clock on the mantel told her it was not yet even midmorning.
“Merde!” she swore under her breath. Rising, she excused herself, not bothering to have the servant show her guest into the parlor to await her leisure. Thank God she had other company present, although it certainly wouldn’t stop her giving him a piece of her mind. She swept into the entry hall like an avenging Fury.
“You should have waited until this afternoon to call,” she snapped as she entered. “I’m sure anyone who saw your arrival will be wondering at such an early visit.”
“I could not help myself,” he confessed, having the good grace to look contrite. “I shall take my leave immediately and return this afternoon, if you like.”
All recriminations died on her lips at the look in his eyes. They shone with some unnamed emotion, the violet shadows beneath them telling her he’d not slept well, either.
“No,” she said. “Your premature arrival may actually work to our advantage, as it provides an opportunity to discuss a matter of some importance in private. Follow me,” she commanded.
As they exited the foyer, she signaled a footman. “Have tea sent to the blue parlor at once,” she ordered without pausing, lest her trembling become visible. They entered the parlor and she closed the door, not caring what the servants might think. With any luck, it was about to be moot.
The moment the door shut, the few feet separating them vanished.
Alessandro kissed her in an echo of the pent-up desire that had been building from the moment she’d left him the night before. “I had to see you. I had to know you were real,” he rasped hoarsely, lips moving from her mouth to her jaw, trailing little kisses from there to the tender place just below her ear.
A thrill shot through Mélisande, spreading warmth to every part of her aching body. “I assure you I am quite real,” she whispered, brushing her lips against his neck. A pang of longing took her for a split second as she tasted his skin, but she fought it and pulled back. It was not the time or place for such things, no matter how much she wished otherwise.
“There is something we need to discuss,” she said, gathering her wits. Purposefully avoiding the settee, she took a seat in one of the chairs. She needed to think, which was impossible to do with him too near. “I have in my care Reggie’s sister, Charlotte, whom you met last night. Her parents are unable to travel to London due to infirmity, so I offered to bring her out in their stead. She’s living here with me through the Season, and preserving her reputation is my first responsibility.”
Alessandro’s immediate nod made it clear he understood. “I shall act with the utmost propriety during my visits here,” he promised. “I have no desire to ruin you or your friend.”
“It still might not be enough to prevent harmful rumors. Alessandro, we must be extremely careful,” she warned.
“If I must stay away, then I shall do so, but I hope it won’t be necessary.” His eyes pleaded with her.
She hesitated, clasping her hands. There really was no other choice. “You said last night that it might be better if people thought you a suitor. I have thought about it, and I am willing to do it, if you are. Not for my sake, but for Charlotte’s,” she added quickly, “and with the assurance that when we are ready to part ways, we shall devise a suitable means of mutual public release from any perceived obligation.”
Mélisande waited, praying he had not reconsidered.
“I agree to the ruse,” Alessandro finally told her. “But we will still need to use caution in conducting our liaisons.”
“Of course. I’ve already sent several messages this morning regarding a location for our rendezvous,” she lied. “Everything should be ready in a matter of days.” She hoped.
Before he could comment, a timid knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” Mélisande called, thinking it was the servants bringing tea.
Charlotte’s head appeared around the door. “David asked me to inform you he will be leaving shortly,” she announced.
Mélisande looked askance at Alessandro. At his almost imperceptible nod, she turned back to Charlotte. “Please ask him to stay a moment longer and join us here, and you may join us as well, Charlotte.”
She was calmly pouring tea with the aid of a servant when they entered.
“Well?” said David, lifting a brow as he came to stand in front of her, his gaze flicking over to Gravina, who stood by the windows looking out over the gardens.
Mélisande offered him a cup, telling him with her eyes to stop being rude.
He declined with a curt shake of his head.
She put the cup down and folded her hands in her lap. “We have some news to share,” she began, turning to signal Alessandro.
On cue, he moved forward to stand beside her chair. Placing a warm hand on her shoulder, he announced in a clear voice, “Lady Wilmington has agreed to become my wife.”
The delicate sound of china shattering on parquet startled them all as a carafe of cream slipped from the serving girl’s fingers. Liquid ran in translucent rivulets across the polished floor as everyone drew in an astonished breath.
Quickly, Mélisande forced her lips to form a placid smile. She had intended to announce that they were officially courting, not that they were engaged to be married! Perhaps he hadn’t quite understood what it was she’d wanted him to do?
It didn’t matter. Now that Charlotte and a servant had borne witness to his announcement, there was no way to rectify the situation without an unacceptable amount of embarrassment.
DAMAGE CONTROL
PERHAPS IT WAS a rash impulse, but it didn’t feel like a mistake. Alessandro waited, his stomach as tight as the head of a drum. He hadn’t planned for things to unfold in quite this manner, but when the opportunity had presented itself, he hadn’t hesitated.
For five long years, Mélisande had lived in his thoughts and dreams. Though they’d met only once, he’d never forgotten her. And he knew that for those same five years, she’d searched fruitlessly for another man to reignite the flame he’d set. If, as she’d said, Fate had delivered to her exactly what she desired, then it had done the same for him.
He’d original
ly planned to make her his mistress, but he’d grown tired of shallow things that didn’t last. He wanted more than just an affaire.
Pelham finally broke the awkward silence. “Leave us,” he commanded the stunned servant. “Now.” Though he’d spoken softly, the girl dropped her cloth and ran from the room as though chased by the devil. Shutting the door behind her, Pelham walked over to Mélisande, carefully avoiding the half-mopped pool of cream on the floor. He flicked the sheets in his hand into her lap. “I’m certainly glad to hear of His Grace’s honorable intentions, considering what the papers had to say this morning.”
Alessandro watched as she spread them flat and began to read. Over her shoulder, he saw amid the social columns a grossly exaggerated caricature. He was depicted wearing the leering face and fangs of a slavering wolf, and she was garbed in nothing more than an artfully draped banner that read “Folie Jolie.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sighed, dismissing it with a wave. “We knew when we planned the waltz that it would likely result in just this sort of rubbish.” She wadded up the paper and pitched it into the hearth, where it was quickly consumed in the crackling flames.
“Yes, but that was before you unexpectedly switched dance partners!” Pelham snapped, going to the window.
“Let us remain calm,” she replied with cool dignity. “Once all the fuss has died down, we’ll simply—” She paused as her eye fell upon Charlotte, who was hanging on her every word. “...begin making the arrangements,” she finished, looking rather pale.
Alessandro knew she’d been about to say call it off and make the appropriate excuses.
“Well then, allow me to be the first to congratulate you,” said Pelham. He made a short bow before them. “When will you make the official announcement?”
Mélisande’s pale cheeks now reddened. “Not for some time, obviously. People know he only just arrived here. We’ll need to let the uproar die down a bit, lest people think the wrong thing. Perhaps a party next month?”
“Ahh, but they already think the wrong thing,” Pelham countered. “And the papers have already condemned you. You know as well as I that news of your engagement will get out no matter how you threaten or bribe the servants. The entire household knows by now, if not the street entire. You really should make an announcement sooner rather than later, if only for Charlie’s sake.”