Countess So Shameless (Scandal in London)

by Liana Lefey

  Mélisande had seen the scars on his body but hadn’t really considered what they represented. “How many duels have you fought?”

  “I’m afraid I have lost count. I stopped accepting challenges three years ago, after a woman I thought in love with me thanked me for ridding her of her husband, a man I later learned had committed no crime against her beyond having a brother she favored more. They had planned the entire thing.”

  A soft, bitter laugh escaped him. “I was no longer simply sought as a lover, but as a weapon. Wisdom comes with age, or so our priest always told me. Too late, I realized that my reputation had become a terrible millstone around my neck.”

  Disturbed by his grim tone, Mélisande tried to lighten the conversation. “It is never too late. And you speak as though you are an old man, but you are still young and handsome.”

  “I sometimes feel like an old man, though am just this year turned thirty-one,” he said. “The things I have seen and done have aged my soul, and I have become hardened to the world in some respects. Like you, I know my wealth and title will guarantee a marriage, but I have no hope of marrying for love. What woman would risk her heart on a man with my past?”

  His look was penetrating, and shame swept through her. “Alessandro...” She swallowed past the awkward lump in her throat. “I—I admit I chose to have an affaire with you because I knew—”

  “Our situation is different,” he interrupted. “You are no jade, despite your unflattering opinion of yourself.”

  “But I am!” she insisted. “I am incapable of love.”

  “No, you have difficulty with trust,” he gently replied. “There is an enormous difference.”

  “The result is the same,” she countered. “You cannot have love without trust.”

  “I agree,” he conceded. “Therefore, I will tell you what you can trust with regards to me. I agreed to this affaire for my own very selfish reasons, and none of them had to do with material or social gain. I am a duke in my own country and have more than enough wealth of my own.”

  Which is partly why I feel so comfortable with him, Mélisande realized. There was nothing she possessed that he wanted besides the pleasure of her company. Something inside her relaxed. Although she’d known it all along, hearing him say it somehow made it more of a reality.

  “And I know you did not choose me merely because of my reputation,” he continued. “There is something else between us, something we both felt and recognized long ago.”

  Her mouth went dry as she watched his eyes darken.

  He means the undeniable attraction between us, of course. Doesn’t he?

  She’d said she wanted them to become friends, but in retrospect perhaps that had been a bad idea. In truth, she hadn’t expected to like him as much as she did.

  The problem lay in that the real man didn’t match up to the image she’d built in her mind, an image based on the bits and pieces she’d seen and heard in Versailles. She’d come into this arrangement expecting a callous reprobate who would gladly have his way with her and then leave without a backward glance. Now, she knew better.

  It wasn’t that he was perfect, by any means—but he wasn’t anywhere near as reprehensible as he ought to be for a seasoned libertine, either. Whereas many men made her feel less than human without ever having laid a finger on her, he made her feel like a queen. He never questioned her intellect or her right to an opinion about anything. He listened to her. And he was as willing to share his thoughts with her as he was to hear what she had to say.

  As though he felt she was his equal.

  As though he truly cared about what she thought.

  As though he cared about her.

  FOOLS RUSH IN

  Three weeks later

  MÉLISANDE EYED THE card on her desk with ambivalence. It was an invitation to a ball next month—hosted by none other than her bête noire, Herrington. She could refuse and just have Reggie take Charlotte without her, of course. But then Herrington would think her a coward, and she’d rather be damned than allow him to think such a...

  Charlotte!

  The girl had become quite troublesome of late with regards to her behavior—more specifically, her attempts to attract David’s notice. While he appeared oblivious, others had begun to notice and comment. She’d tried to speak with her about it earlier this week, but to no avail.

  It occurred to her that Charlotte had only heard about David’s more unsavory side from others. But what if she actually witnessed him in action?

  She looked at the card again, this time with a smile. David’s uncle was the prime minister, which guaranteed he would receive an invitation to the event no matter how much Herrington loathed him. And because David never passed up a chance to irritate his enemy, he would accept.

  And he would be on his absolute worst behavior.

  She penned her gracious acceptance. If all went well, Charlotte would get a good look at the man she thought she wanted for a husband. Hopefully, she would then have the good sense to run the other way.

  Sealing her response, Mélisande put it on the outgoing tray and went to prepare for Lady Skelton’s picnic.

  “I am the envy of all men today,” Alessandro said to Charlotte in a loud whisper, eliciting a giggle. “I have the world’s two most beautiful women at my side.” He believed it, too, for one after another, heads turned as they walked across the green.

  “It’s a perfect day for a fête champêtre,” said Mélisande, smiling. “Last year was a disaster. It began raining, and we all had to move indoors. Nothing like a lot of wet, miserable people crammed into a small space to enliven things.”

  They passed the garden pavillion, where the musicians played softly, and followed the path around the green, where fellow guests played at bowls. There, beneath the trees, Lady Skelton had arranged carpets for her guests to recline upon and enjoy the outdoors. Seeing one of these that was unoccupied, the trio claimed it. Almost immediately, servants appeared with delicious-looking hors d’oeuvres and cool drinks.

  “Lady Skelton has outdone herself,” said Mélisande as she arranged her pink-and-cream-striped skirts about her.

  “Hadn’t we better find my brother?” said Charlotte, leaning against a gnarled, old tree.

  “There is no need,” Alessandro replied, nodding toward Stanton, who was making his way over to them.

  Her face fell.

  “Well and well!” said Stanton as he approached. “Here you are at last.”

  “Where is David?” asked Charlotte.

  “Occupied,” said Stanton, sitting. “He’ll be along in a bit.”

  “Sit down, Charlotte,” commanded Mélisande, fixing her with a stern eye.

  With a loud sigh the girl did as she was told, trained her eyes upon the field, and began humming softly to herself.

  “I saw Lady Berkeley at Mrs. Montagu’s salon yesterday,” Mélisande said. “She is planning a wedding. The Earl of Carlisle has offered for her youngest daughter your friend Winifred.”

  Still humming, Charlotte continued staring out at the field as if she hadn’t heard her.

  “A most advantageous match for Lord Berkeley,” Mélisande continued. “And Winifred certainly seems delighted. You visited her just last week, did you not?” She waited. “Did she say anything about anticipating such a momentous event?”

  The humming stopped, and Alessandro saw Charlotte flick a nervous glance at her.

  “She did not,” the girl answered at last.

  He hid a smile as she began picking at the lace on her sleeve. It seemed Mélisande had finally found a way to get her attention. Stanton seemed content to remain quiet and ignore the conversation entirely.

  “Apparently, Miss Berkeley suffered a sprained ankle during a scavenger hunt this last Saturday and was rescued by Lord Carlisle,” persisted Mélisande. “Lady Berkeley told me—in strictest confidence, of course—that during the time they were alone together, he compromised her.”

  Silence.

  “She a
lso confided that the gentleman had to be persuaded to come to scratch,” continued Mélisande. “He claimed Winifred was not telling the truth, and that she merely sought to entrap him.”

  The look she gave Charlotte was long and piercing, and Alessandro saw the girl redden.

  “Eventually, he was convinced by Winifred’s father to do as honor demanded. Poor girl. I should never wish to be married to someone who did not wish to marry me.”

  “He will come to love Winnie in time.”

  Mélisande lifted a raven brow. “I cannot help but think she would be much happier with a husband who already loves her and wants to be with her.”

  “Yes, well, not all women are as fortunate as you, are they?” Charlotte snapped, putting her nose in the air. As she returned her gaze to the field, her face suddenly lit with a smile—a smile that evaporated just as quickly as it had appeared.

  Turning, Alessandro saw that Pelham had arrived—and that he was not alone. At his side was Miss Olivia Doulton. Rising, he went to greet them.

  “Lord Gravina, how nice to see you again,” said Miss Doulton. “And of course Mr. Stanton, Miss Stanton, Melly.” She nodded to each.

  “Have you already joined a group?” asked Mélisande.

  “I have not.”

  “Then you must join us,” Alessandro offered.

  Miss Doulton and Pelham accepted the invitation. The discussion was much livelier, now. But Alessandro soon marked that, like Charlotte, Miss Doulton kept close watch on the green. Her vigilance was explained when Lady Angelica Mallowby appeared.

  At Miss Doulton’s subtle gesture, Alessandro stood, leaving his seat—next to Stanton—open. Introductions were made, Lady Angelica sat beside Stanton, and the pair immediately began reacquainting themselves.

  Cupid’s messenger, it seemed, had performed her appointed task. Looking at Miss Doulton, he raised his glass slightly in salute.

  “Lord Pelham was telling me about his horses,” the girl told him, starting off the conversation. “Some of the best runners in the country, or so I’ve been informed.” She turned to Pelham with a smile. “I believe you said Pegasus himself couldn’t outfly them? Though I’ve heard Melly speak of them in somwhat less flattering terms.”

  “She would,” he said, laughing. “We’ve been at odds with each other over who has the fastest horse since we were old enough to ride.”

  “Perhaps we should have a race this summer and settle the matter once and for all?” said Mélisande.

  “Why not?” Pelham answered. “And you can act as judge,” he told Miss Doulton.

  Charlotte abruptly stood. “I should like to play a game of bowls. Miss Doulton, won’t you join me?”

  Startled, Miss Doulton arose. “I would be delighted.”

  Mélisande quickly got up, motioning for him to come as well. “Lord Gravina and I should also like to play.”

  Turning to Angelica, Miss Doulton apologized, “I do hope you’ll excuse my abandoning you?”

  “Of course,” said Angelica, her gaze lingering on Stanton. “I shall be happy to keep Mr. Stanton company.”

  “David?” Charlotte prompted.

  “You already have four players,” he replied without looking at her.

  “Oh, but I really think we ought to be evenly matched with two ladies and two gentlemen, don’t you? Melly, why don’t you sit this round out?” she said, turning away before either of them could answer.

  “I can see you’ll give no one any peace until you have your way,” Pelham said, rising.

  “Excellent,” she clipped. “You can be on my team.”

  “I shall come along and keep score,” said Mélisande, earning herself a glare from Charlotte.

  On their way to the bowling green, a fellow guest stopped them on the path. Alessandro immediately noticed the way Mélisande stiffened.

  “Countess, how delightful to see you,” the man said, bowing.

  “Likewise, Lord Herrington,” she replied, her manner formal.

  “Congratulations on your engagement, Lord Gravina,” Herrington said, turning to address him. His smile did not reach his eyes. “I do hope you’ll be very happy together.”

  “Thank you, I’m sure we will,” Alessandro answered, not liking the fellow’s cold, amber gaze. A memory from his boyhood flashed: his nurse making the corna, the sign against malocchio, the evil eye.

  “Lord Herrington,” interrupted Charlotte, “we were just about to play at bowls, if you would like to join us. Then we can all play. You can be on my team,” she added, ignoring the look she received from Pelham.

  Alessandro could see that this suggestion was most disagreeable to Mélisande. For some reason, she did not like this man. In fact, the only person who appeared fond of him at all was Charlotte, who, having been rather sullen and recalcitrant until now, was suddenly charming and animated.

  “I would very much enjoy that, Miss Charlotte.” Herrington offered her his arm. “Shall we?” The pair led the way, leaving the rest of the company no choice but to follow.

  The entire time they played, Charlotte was cheerful and talkative—with Herrington. Everyone else might not have even been present, especially Pelham, whom she proceeded to ignore with a vengeance.

  The moment an opportunity presented itself, Pelham made his excuses. “Miss Doulton, I beg your pardon, but I just saw my uncle pass by and must speak with him regarding a matter of some urgency.” He bowed and then made as if to turn, but then hesitated. “If you would like to join me and are willing to forgive me in advance for boring you with matters of business for a few moments, I should be glad of your company.”

  Miss Doulton accepted his offer at once, her relief evident.

  The moment they were out of sight, the atmosphere changed. Though she remained polite to Herrington, Charlotte no longer played the simpering coquette.

  “What is the matter with Miss Charlotte today?” Alessandro whispered to Mélisande while Charlotte and Herrington took their turn. “Did she and Pelham have a disagreement?”

  “No, there is something else afoot here,” she answered, her face full of worry. Then she could say no more, for it was their turn to play.

  Upon completing the last end and claiming the win for his team, Herrington parted company. “It was an honor to share in your game, my lady,” he said to Charlotte, bowing over her hand. “I shall look forward to seeing you again.”

  “Thank goodness that bit of strangeness is over,” Mélisande muttered as they left him behind. “I’ll explain later,” she added, nodding at Charlotte’s back.

  They rejoined Stanton and Lady Angelica, as well as Miss Doulton, who’d also returned. The three appeared to be in a celebratory mood. Alessandro noted that Pelham was not present.

  Miss Doulton immediately moved to sit beside Mélisande. “It isn’t official yet, but I wanted you to be among the first to know that I am now engaged to be married.”

  “Olivia, how exciting!” exclaimed Mélisande.

  Looking to Charlotte, Alessandro marked her sudden pallor. She looked as though she was about to be violently ill.

  “Mr. Kesselman asked me to marry him not half an hour ago, and I accepted,” Miss Doulton continued, eyes sparkling.

  Charlotte blinked in confusion. “Mr. Kesselman?”

  “Yes, Charlotte,” said Mélisande, openly amused. “You remember the young man from Germany you met at our engagement party?” She didn’t wait for her to answer, but turned back to Miss Doulton. “But where is he now?”

  The young woman blushed happily and ducked her head. “He has gone with Lord Pelham to find my grandfather. He’s such a wonderful gentleman, Melly. So patient and kind-spirited. I cannot thank you enough for introducing us.”

  Herrington watched the little celebration from beneath the deep shade across the green, his gaze resting not on Mélisande but on her friend, Miss Stanton.

  Whitehurst had not communicated with him in over a month now. The last he’d heard, the man was having difficulty gaining e
ntry into the French king’s inner court. He needed another plan.

  By trying to incite Pelham to jealousy, Miss Stanton had unknowingly handed him the key to bending Mélisande to his will. She cared for the girl and would wish to protect her.

  Archimedes said, “Give me a lever long enough and a fulcrum on which to place it, and I shall move the world.” Jealousy was such a useful tool. With it, emotions could be manipulated, friends turned into enemies, and enemies subdued.

  THE BEST-LAID PLANS

  MÉLISANDE HAD BEEN reluctant to ask Alessandro for help, but given the disastrous afternoon at Lady Skelton’s, it seemed wise. “I want to ask for your assistance in handling a rather delicate matter,” she said, scooting closer. “Charlotte has developed a tendre for someone she oughtn’t, and I’d like your help correcting the situation.”

  “You mean Pelham, of course.” He chuckled. “It is a harmless infatuation, nothing more.”

  “It is far from harmless,” Mélisande replied, feeling beleaguered. “She has an unrealistic, romantic view of him. As long as she maintains it, she’ll refuse to consider anyone else. It is my hope that once she’s stripped of it, she’ll accept the suit of a decent young man.”

  His smile faded. “Ah, I see.”

  “It’s not because he’s a rake,” she said, realizing now how it had sounded. “Alessandro, I know him as she does not. Even if she somehow managed to force him to marry her, she would not be happy as his wife.”

  “You cannot know that.”

  “I can and I do,” she insisted.

  “You once told me he was a brother to you. You cannot know what he would be like with someone else. He might be very different as a husband.”

  But Mélisande knew better. He could not know how David had suffered as a child, the things he’d witnessed in his father’s house. But she did. She’d witnessed some of them with him. “I cannot reveal the reasons why, Alessandro, but you must trust me when I tell you that he will never let anyone into his heart,” she said, looking him straight in the eye. “And Charlotte deserves someone who can love her back.” She continued to stare at him. “Will you help?”