by Liana Lefey
Mélisande tried her hand after Reggie and Alessandro left.
When the clock struck three in the morning, the girl finally spoke, her voice cracked with fatigue. “You’ve been right all along, Melly. David isn’t the right man for me. He will never love me. In his eyes, I’m nothing more than Reggie’s annoying baby sister, and that’s all I’ll ever be to him.”
“Oh, Charlotte, you couldn’t be more wrong,” Mélisande replied. “David does love you. He just refuses to admit it to himself. I know it for a certainty. And Herrington is nothing more than a vindictive, petty blackguard. He lied to you in order to get at me.” Anger swept through her, hot and fierce. That he should bring Charlotte into their private disagreement was unconscionable!
Charlotte said nothing, but gave her a long, penetrating look.
At last, Mélisande gave up and went to bed, exhausted. In light of events, she and Alessandro had agreed to cancel this evening’s rendezvous. She was too worried, in any case, to engage in pleasant diversion.
Reggie and David showed up the next morning to speak to Charlotte. Both looked absolutely haggard. Charlotte, however, would not come down as long as David was present, so Reggie went up to see her. Half an hour later, he came down, his face ashen.
“She’s been compromised. She told me herself. And she wants to marry him.”
THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE
DAVID SAT DOWN with a thump, his color fading to match Reggie’s.
“I don’t believe her,” Mélisande said. “Herrington told me himself that nothing happened. She has not been compromised, Reggie. And this has gone far enough.”
She started to rise, intending to drag Charlotte downstairs and pry the truth out of her by whatever means necessary, but Reggie reached out and took her arm, eyes desolate.
“Melly, she’s never lied to me before. She wouldn’t. Not to me.”
Her heart squeezed painfully. “There is a first time for everything, Reggie. Let me talk to her again.”
David stood. “Reggie, if you’ll allow it, I will go up and speak with her. I know why she’s doing this, and I can put a stop to it.”
Reggie eyed him. “What makes you think you’ll have any influence on her decision?”
“Am I the only one here who takes note of the obvious?” Mélisande broke in, exasperated. “Because she’s loved him since she was a child, Reggie. It is her love for him that has driven her to this folly. She will listen to him.”
“I doubt she’ll listen to him anymore,” Reggie countered. “She’s just now informed me that she’s in love with Herrington and that she wants to marry him as soon as possible to avoid the shame of bearing his child out of wedlock.”
Upon hearing these words, David rose and walked out. The front door slammed a moment later.
“Well, this is just a bloody catastrophe, isn’t it?” Mélisande exclaimed. “I don’t believe her—I don’t!” she insisted. “Reggie, you didn’t hear what Herrington said to me after you left. He’s up to something awful!” And it’s all my fault. If I hadn’t been distracted by Alessandro, I would have been paying attention.
Reggie shook his head. “Unfortunately, if she is determined to marry him and he is willing, I’m afraid there isn’t much we can do to stop it. My parents will be delighted she has caught a duke and will do everything in their power to ensure the match’s success.”
Mélisande’s heart sank. When she went back upstairs, Charlotte’s door was again locked. She received no response after knocking, but heard furtive movement within. Unable to persuade her charge to open it, she decided to let the girl think things through for a while in peace. Perhaps reason would return of its own accord once she calmed herself.
“I have missed you,” Alessandro murmured as he held Mélisande. It had been nearly a week since the incident at Herrington’s ball. “I would have come sooner, but the fool Jacobites kept me at the king’s side night and day. He would not let me leave until he’d decided what to do.”
“What happened?”
“Evidence has been brought to him that Charles is indeed fomenting another rebellion, trying to gather the support of the Scottish clans. I doubt he will succeed.”
“I would have thought you’d be more supportive of his cause,” she said, chuckling.
He shook his head. “I work for Rome, it is true, but even I know when a cause is hopeless. Even if he made it all the way to London, Charles does not have enough trained men at his disposal to take the throne. I told George this, but it made no difference. He was still all in a fury. The bulk of his army is still in Germany.”
“Do you think Charles will actually try to invade?” she asked as they ascended the stairs to the bedchamber.
“I think he is fool enough to make an attempt, yes. But as I said, I doubt he will find much success. His forces are limited, and support for him here has grown increasingly thin since he fled into exile. People tend to support stability, and George has been here long enough to prove himself a capable ruler.” He closed the door behind them. “Enough of politics. How are things with Miss Charlotte?”
“I was beginning to think she might never speak to me again,” Mélisande replied, letting the robe slip from her shoulders as she approached the bed.
“She has relented, then?”
“Yes. Two days ago, she appeared at breakfast and began nattering on as though nothing untoward had occurred. It was most peculiar.”
“And what of Herrington?” he prompted, his hand wandering down to follow the dip of her waist and the luscious curve of a hip. Though they’d been lovers for some time now, he still could not get over how glorious she was naked. “Has he followed through on his threat?”
“Indeed. I received a letter from Charlotte’s parents late last week, informing me of the ‘delightful news.’ He’s been given permission to call on her at my residence. Worse, they’ve asked that I facilitate the courtship.”
She buried her head in the pillow. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this,” came her muffled voice from within the depths. “The blackguard arrived unannounced for tea the very day I received the letter—almost as if he knew. And every day since, I’ve had to sit and watch him ply Charlotte with sweet words and false smiles.”
Alessandro drew her back up and kissed her. “We will find a way to stop him, amora. I promise.”
“The situation with David is degenerating, too,” she added. “The rumors are terrible. Drunken rants, reckless gambling. He’s always been wayward, but never out of control. I read in the papers yesterday morning that he’d fought a duel with Lord Chilton. David apparently walked away with a few minor scratches, while Lord Chilton very nearly died. David’s second had to physically restrain him from running the man through. I pray he does not end up dead or in prison.”
“The wound in his heart is driving him to commit such rash acts,” Alessandro told her. “He will return to sanity again, in time.”
“Time is a luxury we do not have,” said Mélisande. “I’m convinced Charlotte still loves him. I sometimes hear her crying at night when I pass her door. But if Herrington is allowed to continue gaining ground...”
“Has he made any more mention of you taking her place?” he asked, his gut tightening unpleasantly.
“Not at all. He didn’t even speak to me during his visit today. Not one word. He knows I’ll never agree to it.”
The look in her eyes reminded Alessandro of her father—her true father. The tension in his middle eased. “There must be a way to make her see the truth.”
“If there is, I cannot think how to accomplish it.”
“Perhaps we should try to make him show Charlotte his true nature, much as you had planned to do with Pelham?” he suggested.
“No,” she replied, quaffing the last of her wine. “I dare not try to manipulate the situation like that again. My last attempt failed spectacularly.”
“True, the strategy failed to achieve its purpose the first time, but that was due to
Herrington’s interference.”
“No,” she repeated more firmly. “It failed because I did not stay focused on the task at hand. I let myself become distracted.”
“You had no way of anticipating his actions.”
“If I had been watching her properly, he never would have attempted to subvert her!”
“Do not be angry, amora,” he whispered, tipping up her chin so he could see her eyes.
Her shoulders slumped. “I am not angry with you, Alessandro. I’m angry with myself. I made a mistake, and I must rectify it.”
“What do you propose?”
“I will try to reason with him directly. I’m sure we can resolve our differences in a civilized manner. He doesn’t truly want to marry me; the man can hardly stand the sight of me,” she told him, laughing a little. “This is purely a matter of tit for tat—his vanity was bruised, and now he wishes to bruise mine. If I did agree to marry him, he would only jilt me at the altar. I’m certain of it.”
Alessandro wasn’t so sure. There was more than animosity in the man’s eyes when he looked at her. Still, he held his tongue. There was no point in causing her further distress. He would simply watch over her more closely from now on.
“The king’s masquerade ball is in just two weeks. I’ll speak with him then,” she told him.
“And if he refuses to change his mind?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted reluctantly. “I’ll think of something. I only know that I cannot let Charlotte marry him.”
Alessandro knew of one solution. Tomorrow, he would be paying Pelham a visit.
“Le Renard indeed!” Mélisande clapped her hands in delight as Alessandro bowed. He’d come to pick her and Charlotte up for the masquerade ball wearing a russet coat trimmed with fox fur at the neck and cuffs, matching breeches, and a pair of brown leather boots also trimmed in fox fur. But best by far was his mask: a crafty fox’s muzzle curved in a leering, ivory-toothed grin.
“Perhaps I ought to have dressed as a chicken,” she teased.
Silently, Sir Fox raised a finger and spun about, eliciting further laughter—protruding from the rear split in the skirts of his coat was a large, white-tipped fox’s tail. When Alessandro had revealed to her the comparison he’d made the first time he had seen her unclothed, she’d confessed her nickname for him, as well.
In honor of being dubbed Diana the Huntress, her costume was modeled on a statue of the deity she’d seen while visiting Versailles. It consisted of a long, sleeveless white silk tunic belted loosely about her waist, Roman-style sandals, a silver bow, and a small quiver filled with delicate, fletched silver rods. The mask she held was also silver, spangled with diamonds and framed by soft white feathers.
It was a beautiful costume, but she was almost afraid to wear it in public. The anonymity of the masquerade guaranteed immunity from criticism—at least openly—but it did not guarantee acceptance. The fabric was not quite sheer, and it was draped in a manner that prevented outright shock, but it still left little room for the imagination.
“You had best be cautious, lest you incite the goddess to jealousy.” Alessandro laughed. “According to the old tales, the female deities have little liking for beautiful human women.”
Mélisande snorted at his flattery but gave him an appreciative smile nonetheless.
The Season was nearly over, and while he had not yet evinced any desire to bring their arrangement to an end, in the back of her mind she knew it must be coming. Any day now he would begin to cool toward her. How she would bear it, she did not know.
No matter how hard she tried, she could not close her heart to him. Not even the knowledge that she was setting herself up for incredible heartbreak and misery could stop the tender ache he inspired. It was a sensation she’d begun to notice more and more whenever she was with him.
Every time he spoke, every time his eyes danced with laughter and mischief, every time they made love, the bindings that held her heart tightened a little more.
“I hope the king doesn’t set his hounds on you, Your Grace,” Charlotte laughed from the doorway. The “wood nymph” was covered in jeweled silk leaves in varying shades of green, beginning at the bodice and going all the way down to the bottom of her skirts. The slightest movement made her appear to be floating amid a whirlwind of spring foliage.
The crush when they arrived was incredible, as was the din. Typically staid individuals cavorted about in a wanton display of frivolity, their identities safely hidden behind their masks, their dignity and reputations protected by fanciful disguises. The atmosphere was one of unfettered gaiety.
Mélisande observed Reggie’s scowl as he approached with Lady Angelica at his side. He was dressed as a Turkish sultan, while the Season’s beauty wore the form of a butterfly, complete with a pair of bright, glittering wings and long, curled antennae.
“You look lovely, little fairy,” Reggie told his sister.
“Thank you, O master of the desert, but I’m no fairy. I, sir, am a nymph,” Charlotte replied pertly, spinning so that her leaves rustled.
“Oh, how lovely!” exclaimed Angelica. “Who designed your costume? Has Winifred seen it yet?”
“She has not,” answered Charlotte. “We agreed to keep them secret and then to try to find each other during the ball without knowing ahead of time.”
“Well, then. I shall not tell you which one she is.” Angelica laughed. “Come, you must see Olivia and Mr. Kesselman.” She smiled at Reggie. “I shall return before the first dance begins,” she promised.
As the two chattering magpies departed, Mélisande edged closer to Reggie. “Is he here?”
“I don’t know what convinced him to attend, but yes, he is here.” His gaze flicked to Alessandro. “Pelham is dressed as Night, and Herrington’s disguised as a satyr.”
Mélisande’s skin prickled with annoyance. Now she understood why Charlotte had insisted on a new costume, complaining that her Sun was old and tired. “I will make an effort to reason with Herrington once more. You two work on David and Charlotte,” she told him and Alessandro. “Find a way to throw them together for a dance or something.”
Reggie’s face grew grim. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea. Pelham’s taken a rather unpleasant attitude of late, and he’s been drinking today. Heaven only knows how he’ll react.”
“Well, things can’t get much worse than our current predicament, can they?” Mélisande snapped. “We cannot allow this foolishness to continue!”
“Yes, but that’s not all,” said Reggie. “I suspect Herrington is waiting for him to make a move. He’s been skulking about the edges of the room, watching us ever since we arrived. If Charlotte causes a scene, it will almost certainly end in a duel.”
“I’ll distract Herrington,” Mélisande told him. “He won’t be able to interfere with them if he’s occupied elsewhere. I’ll ask him to speak somewhere in private. He won’t disagree, as the matter in question is not likely one he wishes aired in public.”
She had to get to the bottom of this mess and set things right. Herrington had a grudge against her, and she was the only one who could make peace between them and save Charlotte. And David as well. If she could just bring them together and make them both see reason...
Such good intentions could not be acted upon immediately, however. As soon as Herrington spotted Mélisande, he came looking for Charlotte. Sneaking in behind the young ladies, he swooped down and tossed the sprite over his shoulder with a loud growl. Her squeals of delight could be heard across the room as he spun her about, then boldly kissed her full on the lips in full view of everyone.
A few partygoers raised their glasses at the sight, giving hearty cheers of encouragement. All manner of impropriety was sanctioned at a masque ball.
Charlotte, pink cheeked and grinning beneath her mask, introduced her friend Mistress Butterfly.
Angelica curtsied, looking as though she wished she was somewhere else.
Mélisande knew he’d been among th
e foremost of the contenders for her hand before she’d decided to follow her heart and accept Reggie’s suit.
As politely as possible, the girl excused herself.
Mélisande watched as Herrington led Charlotte away, his hand resting boldly at the small of her back, propelling her forward. Helpless to prevent it, she joined her friend Mrs. Montagu while Alessandro went to find David.
The dancing began and the celebratory atmosphere heightened. There was food and drink aplenty for all, and as the sun set, the general mood grew more and more uninhibited.
At the height of the revelry, the king at last made his appearance. Resplendent in a costume of tawny amber velvet trimmed with a real lion’s mane, his snarling, golden mask turned him into a ferocious caricature of the king of the beasts. At his side walked Spring, the Countess of Yarmouth, swathed in pale green silk and pink satin petals.
Alessandro reappeared just as His Majesty gestured to the orchestra. Everyone cheered as a waltz was struck and the king stepped out with the countess to lead the dance.
Mélisande and Alessandro joined them, along with a surprising number of others.
“I believe we started a trend,” she laughed as they swept across the floor. “London’s dance instructors must be making a fortune this Season.”
She kept close watch on Charlotte, making certain there were no more disappearances while awaiting the opportunity to make her move. Much to her frustration, the besotted sprite remained at Herrington’s side almost the entire evening, but at long last the girl finally deigned to dance with another gentleman.
“I must go at once,” Mélisande whispered to her lover. “I fear there may not be another chance.”
Alessandro made to come with her, but she stopped him with a gentle hand. “You cannot accompany me—I must speak with him alone,” she said in response to his frown. “I’ll suggest that we take a walk through the courtyard statuary. That should afford us a small measure of privacy without any real danger. People are wandering all over the palace grounds tonight; he won’t risk exposing himself here.”