by Allison Lane
He sighed. She was right in some of her charges. He had not accomplished much, though the intentions were there. He had never intended to fritter away his life in dissipation like some did. But he was entitled to a few years of frivolity before settling down. Society agreed. Surely he could make her understand that his past was only youthful exuberance.
But how?
He must start with his rakish reputation, convincing her that those days were behind him. It was hardly an acceptable topic of conversation, but he had to try. Fidelity was important to her. Yet it would be difficult, for she would never believe claims that none of his liaisons had interested him beyond their bedroom encounters. Even there, they rapidly bored him.
And how was he so certain that Melissa was different? That would be her first objection.
He did not know, but he could not imagine tiring of her. Nor could he imagine enjoying another woman now that he knew her. It was a frightening thought. Without Melissa, the future looked bleak. Her passion had called to him from the moment they had met. Never had he encountered so strong a force.
Except that last day with Harriet, whispered a voice.
Harriet. Lady Lanyard must have emptied the budget in her letter to Lady Castleton. No wonder Melissa considered him deceitful. She must have spotted every lie at the moment of utterance. He wanted to crawl under the bed and hide. But that explained that infamous clause in the will.
He slammed his hand on the mantle. What incredible stupidity he had displayed! His grandmother had been just as canny as ever, knowing instantly that he would never choose a girl so far removed from his usual tastes. Why couldn’t it have been Melissa at that inn? He had always cultivated beauty, and he despised schoolroom chits.
It would have been better to refuse to cave in to Lady Lanyard’s dictates. He had forgotten her lectures on self-reliance. But she had reaped her revenge. She had written her will to coerce him into life with a homely commoner. And it was no more than he deserved.
He finally identified the thought that had been fretting the edges of his mind for the past hour. How did Melissa know that he had tried to seduce Mrs. Sharpe? It was not a topic his grandmother would include in a letter to her cousin, regardless of her own feelings. And she would have been furious.
She could not have known of the attempt and remained silent. More than once she had castigated him for affairs that had come to her attention. If she’d heard of the incident, she would have burned his ears to cinders, and he would never have had a chance of inheriting. It was a consequence he had ignored at the time, for he’d been too caught up in his own burning needs to care.
Melissa was right again. He had often been ruled by his passions, frequently to his detriment. Self-control interfered with pleasure. But how had she learned of his offer?
A continuing deception. Harriet’s role was not continuing. The girl had dropped all pretense when she left Lanyard Manor. Of course, she must fib about what she had been doing for those two weeks, but how would Melissa kno—
The truth slammed home so quickly it felt like a body blow. There was only one way Melissa could know more than even Lady Lanyard. She must have talked to Harriet. Or she had met Mrs. Sharpe, which amounted to the same thing.
Dear God! After abandoning all hope of finding the girl, the lady to whom he had just proposed marriage held the crucial clue. And Harriet must be higher up the social scale than he had imagined. Had she been a guest at Drayton Manor, perhaps even a cousin on the Stapleton side?
He collapsed into a chair. Tremors shook his hands. Melissa had turned him down quite decisively. Harriet was the key to inheriting a fortune. What, in God’s name, was he to do?
* * * *
The topic was closed, Melissa reminded herself as tears stung the backs of her eyes. There were too many negatives to ever consider it.
Her heart tightened in protest, but she pointedly ignored it. She could not allow a wayward heart and wanton nature to lead her into a situation that must prove disastrous. She could not accept either indolence or infidelity.
But even worse was the ultimate effect of her own deceit. Charles would never forgive her. Nor would he accept a shackle to Harriet, whom he had held in contempt from the beginning.
She turned her attention to dressing for Lady Webberly’s ball. Throwing her heart into enjoying other gentlemen’s company was the quickest way to get over her unsuitable infatuation.
It seemed to work. She laughed with George, flirted with half a dozen admirers, and danced with a dozen charming men. If her gaiety was a trifle forced, no one noticed, least of all herself. She kept her mind focused on pleasure, a task made easier because Charles was not among the guests.
Lord Hartford was escorting her to Lady Castleton after a spirited reel that had reduced them both to laughter, when Melissa spotted a late arrival. Her newly honed social skills kept the smile on her face and the teasing in her voice, but her heart dropped through the floor as Lord Heflin paused on the stairs, a triumphant sneer twisting his mouth.
Revulsion stabbed her from head to toe. His absence from London had let her lock away her fears. Learning that he was not welcomed at marriage mart entertainments had put him out of her mind. So what was he doing at a marriage mart ball?
Others were asking the same question. Several matrons collected their daughters and left for more congenial gatherings.
“Shocking!” murmured Mrs. Scott, furiously fanning herself.
“I don’t care if he is her brother,” declared Lady Cranford, glaring daggers at their hostess, who was bustling across the ballroom, face reflecting horror. “She had no business inviting him.”
Heflin’s predatory eyes scanned the room, pausing periodically when he spotted a particularly delectable miss.
“Half-brother,” corrected Lady Beatrice, London’s premier gossip, avidly scanning the crowd. She would repeat details of society’s reaction during tomorrow’s calls. “And at least ten years younger than Lady Webberly. Judging from her face, he arrived without an invitation. I wonder why. He cannot have been in town more than two hours.” Her eyes gleamed with speculation.
Melissa shivered as Heflin’s piercing gaze raked her before moving on. What would he do if he recognized her? He was a vindictive man who never forgave a slight. She had injured both him and his pride.
“What happened to his leg?” asked Lady Debenham as Heflin moved down the stairs. Leaning heavily on his cane did little to disguise a limp.
“An accident perhaps?” offered Lady Cranford.
“That is why he has avoided town so long,” decided Lady Beatrice. “He despises showing weakness.”
“Then why appear before it is healed?” asked Mrs. Scott.
Lady Beatrice glared, as if at a slug. “The condition must be permanent,” she snapped. “I must discover how it occurred. I had heard of no accident.” She sounded aggrieved.
Melissa shivered. Had she done that? The second stab had bitten deeply into the leg that was now lame.
She continued dancing and chatting, her social facade hiding her trepidation. But her mind raced in circles. Danger lurked. His limp was pronounced, his other grievances equally serious. He approached one of her partners, their glances confirming that they were discussing her.
Terror erased all enjoyment after that. Heflin’s eyes followed her constantly. Even from across the room, she could see their gleam, could detect in that gaze the lust and excitement of a hunter. He would make her pay for her temerity. And the price would be steep. She finally pleaded a headache and begged her grandmother for an early night.
* * * *
Lady Castleton called Melissa into her room early the next morning. “What is between you and Lord Heflin?” she demanded sharply.
“Nothing, Grandmama,” she denied. “He is one of Toby’s friends, as I mentioned last summer. You know why I left.”
“He is downstairs, demanding to see you,” stated Lady Castleton. “When informed that you are not at home, he replied tha
t, as your betrothed, he cannot be kept from the house.”
Melissa gasped. “Toby told you that no arrangement had been made!”
Picking up a letter, Lady Castleton held it out. “So I thought, but look at this.”
Melissa read, her hands shaking so badly she could scarcely see the words.
I don’t know how these stories arise, Toby had written. The silly chit overreacted… If you wish to keep her, I would be grateful.
“Dear Lord,” she choked, tears starting in her eyes. “That is just how he responds when he wishes to deny doing something. He never openly disagrees with anyone and is an expert at making you think he supports you when he is really straddling the fence.”
“Are you telling the truth, Melissa?”
“Of course. I overheard them discussing a possible betrothal. Beatrice and I left that night, leaving a note that repudiated any arranged marriage and stated that Heflin was a base cad. Why?”
“Lord Heflin states that he not only has your brother’s agreement to this supposed betrothal, but that you welcomed his suit, and the settlements are all arranged.”
“So he is a liar as well as a lecherous rogue,” she spat, pacing furiously about the room. “I have not spoken to the man since I escaped his attempt to ravish me by stabbing him.”
“You never mentioned that before,” she complained, but her face twitched in amusement.
“It was an act of desperation, Grandmama, and not one I am proud of. I suspect it underlies his current claim, for it likely caused his limp. He will seek revenge. But if Toby signed settlement papers, what are we to do?” Fear pierced the words.
“First, we must see how serious the situation is,” stated Lady Castleton, rising regally to her feet. “Come, Melissa.”
Lord Heflin haltingly paced the drawing room. His eyes gleamed at the sight of Lady Melissa. Her morning dress of sprigged muslin made her appear a delectable morsel.
“My lord,” began Lady Castleton when she had taken a chair. “My granddaughter denies any arrangement with you, and I believe her. There is no betrothal and never will be.”
He drew himself up in haughty fury. “The arrangements are complete,” he swore. “The wedding is scheduled for the first of next month. If she tries to cry off, she will become a pariah.”
“When were these supposed arrangements made?” Lady Castleton countered. “There has been no question of marriage since she has been under my care. Lord Drayton made no mention of it when he consigned her to me nearly a year ago.”
“We signed the settlements before she left Drayton Manor,” he stated.
“Nonsense!” spat Melissa, unable to hide her loathing. “There was never a question of marriage, as you well know. I would not wed you were you the last man on earth.”
“The church does not condone forcing brides into unwanted marriages. As for any social consequence, the first step is to examine these supposed settlement papers,” demanded Lady Castleton.
“I will bring them this afternoon,” he promised, but surprise flashed through his eyes. He had obviously not expected opposition. Few ladies dared contradict a gentleman, and fewer would believe a green chit’s word over a lord’s, regardless of his reputation.
“If such papers exist, you will deliver them to my solicitor,” ordered her ladyship, naming the man. “Good day, sir.”
Barnes appeared in the doorway with Lord Heflin’s hat and cane.
Heflin glared, but departed.
“What now?” sighed Melissa, knowing that this represented but the opening skirmish of what could prove a long and nasty war.
“Do you think Tobias signed papers?” asked Lady Castleton.
“I doubt it. He would have postponed doing anything formal, for it is impossible to take both sides of a question once something is in writing. He probably agreed that Heflin could have me in exchange for forgiving his vowels. But he would have received my note repudiating everything before it could go further. If Heflin raised the question of settlements, Toby would have put off any discussion until I had accepted his hand, probably making some excuse for my sudden absence. With the negotiations hanging, he could break up the house party without meeting his debts, delaying the reckoning until my return.”
“If Heflin pushes, he would sign, though.”
“That’s a fair assessment. But why would Heflin be interested? I was hardly worth looking at last summer. In fact, he said something about getting me with child and locking me away in the country.”
Lady Castleton frowned in thought. “You say you stabbed him, injuring him badly enough to cause his limp?”
“Yes, though I am guessing about the latter. He was certainly mobile enough to be in Toby’s study several hours later. Perhaps the wound festered. Or the limp may have some other cause.” She paused, but decided that complete candor was necessary. “There was more than that to irritate him.” She related his escalating attentions, concluding with full details of how she had escaped. Lady Castleton’s chuckle quickly died into a frown.
“You have wounded his pride, my dear,” she sighed. “First, by not succumbing to his advances, and then by striking so harsh a blow to his person. I have heard tales of his ferocity when crossed. He is not a man to shrug off slights.”
Melissa shivered. “So what can I do?”
“Tobias is a problem that must be addressed. If he is as weak as you say, Heflin can coerce him into signing anything. As your guardian, he can indeed cause you considerable trouble. The church would let you renege, but society does not look kindly on girls who refuse matches considered acceptable by their guardians. We must block that possibility. I will send Saunders to fetch Tobias back to town. We will make sure that he does not sacrifice your interests to his own.”
“Thank you, Grandmama,” whispered Melissa, tears suddenly streaming down her face.
* * * *
“What is the meaning of the stories making the rounds?” demanded Charles as soon as Melissa entered the drawing room that afternoon.
“What stories?”
“Lord Heflin is claiming that he is betrothed to you, and has been for nearly a year.” Anger blazed from his eyes.
“Dear Lord!” Her legs collapsed, depositing her onto a couch with less than her usual grace.
“Are you implying that he lies?”
“Of course, he is lying!” She glared at him.
“Why would he spread such slander?”
“It is a long story.” She sighed. “He is a friend of my brother’s. Toby owes him a great deal of money. He offered me to Lord Heflin in exchange for forgiving his debts, but I refused to consider it and left to live with my grandmother. Toby later informed us that nothing had come of the idea. I did not speak to Heflin again until this morning, when he showed up to claim a betrothal and threaten me with all manner of public ridicule if I did not agree.”
“The nerve of the man!” spat Charles. No wonder Melissa had such a low opinion of gentlemen, he mourned. Drayton was even worse than he had thought. And no wonder she decried weakness so loudly. What had she suffered from so dissolute a brother? “When did this take place?”
“Last summer. Toby hosted a party attended by several of his friends. I could not stand the company and left.”
“Was Matt Crawford one of them?” he asked in sudden suspicion.
“Yes. Why?”
“Nothing.”
Since returning to town, Charles had been trying to uncover the identity of the Captain Sharp who had fleeced his friend, but success had eluded him. Matt refused to name the cad, and no one else admitted to attending Drayton’s gathering.
So Melissa knew something else he had wanted to learn. He had never considered asking her, assuming that she had departed long before the party got underway.
Heflin must be guilty. There could not have been two cheats at one small party. Since Drayton owed Heflin a fortune, it had to be him. It was up to Charles to see that the scoundrel paid for his slanderous tales. The motivation was
now doubled. Heflin had injured both his best friend and the woman he loved.
“I suppose my only option is to retire to the country,” said Melissa with a sigh. “I can hardly stay in town after this.”
“Nonsense.” He caught her gaze with his own. He could feel the connection crackle between them, could see in her eyes that she felt it too. But this was not the time to pursue it. “Few people believe his tales, Melissa. His reputation is so bad that no reputable family would accept a suit. I did not come here to castigate you for encouraging the scoundrel, but to warn you. Only knowledge of his stories will allow you to refute them.”
“I will deny everything,” she swore viciously. “And Grandmama has already sent for Toby. With a little pressure, he will swear that no overtures took place.”
Chapter Twelve
The following week, Melissa nearly jumped out of her skin at every sound, barely managing to hide her strain and appear normal. As days passed with no sign of Toby, she increasingly feared that he really had signed settlements. Heflin could gain admittance to no other reputable entertainments, and continuous rain canceled the daily promenade in Hyde Park, where he might have confronted her. But Melissa could never venture forth without looking over her shoulder lest he suddenly appear. Lady Castleton made sure that two sturdy footmen always accompanied them, and Charles danced attendance every evening, but that didn’t lessen Melissa’s tension.
She denied Heflin’s claims at every stop, shaking her head over his wine-induced delusions. His failure to repeat the tale supported her innocence, so the on-dit soon died under the weight of fresher scandal. But Melissa knew she had not heard the last of it.
Lord Ampleigh’s increased attentions were another irritation – he was delighted that George had turned to Clara. Melissa sighed as she refused his invitation to a lecture on telescopes, citing other plans. Somehow she had to deflect an offer. Not only would society frown on her for turning him down – Geoffrey was not polished enough to hide disappointment – but his confidence would never recover. And her reputation might suffer, for the servants were bound to reveal that she’d already refused two other gentlemen. She was amazed that Lady Beatrice had not already ferreted out that information.