by Allison Lane
“She knows I am telling you. You introduced us, after all.”
“Then I will congratulate her. You’ve no idea how delighted I am for you, my dear friend.”
“I think I do,” he countered softly. “And I pray you will find equal happiness for yourself.”
She and Clara slipped into an empty anteroom. “George told me of your betrothal. Congratulations.”
“He is the most wonderful man!” Clara exclaimed, her face glowing with happiness. “I can’t believe he actually loves me!”
Melissa gave her an exuberant hug. “He will make you a good husband. And you are the perfect wife for him. Take good care of him, for I count him a friend.”
“You do not feel slighted?” Clara asked hesitantly. “I heard that he had been courting you before I arrived in town.”
“I suppose that is how it looked to society,” hedged Melissa. “But George has never been more than a friend. He loves you, and I am happy that he found someone worthy of him, though I always suspected you would suit. That is why I introduced you.”
The words set Clara’s fears to rest, and they spent several minutes discussing wedding plans before Clara returned to the ball. Melissa remained in the anteroom. Her temples throbbed with a worsening headache, and not just from the increasing tension of Heflin’s campaign. Despite her genuine pleasure in her friends’ joy, the announcement cast a pall on her spirits.
Pray you will find equal happiness. It was not possible. She had fallen in love with a fortune hunter. She could only hope that the attachment was a temporary infatuation. Sadly, her initial impression of his character was not wholly true. He had revealed serious interests and fascinating dreams. Whether he would pursue them was still unknown, for talk was cheap, and he had shown no inclination to do anything in the past.
But most projects require money—
“Well, well, what have we here?” an oily voice gloated. She jerked her head up in terror. Lord Heflin blocked the doorway. How had he gotten in? Lady Riverton would never invite him.
“Excuse me, my lord, but this set is ending, and I am engaged for the next,” she said coolly, giving him a chance to behave. But he refused to budge, and she dared not push past him.
“Ah, my blushing bride,” he sneered, locking the door. He was dressed in black from head to toe, emphasizing his satanic appearance.
“I am not and never will be your bride,” she declared as he limped toward her. Forcing terror aside, she examined her options. Screaming would attract attention, but if anyone found them alone, she would have no choice but to wed him. She had no weapon. The locked door made his intentions ominous.
“You are wrong, Melissa,” he declared icily. “You will wed me. It is the only way I can recoup anything from that disastrous house party. Drayton is no gentleman. He played where he could not pay, lying for years about his wealthy but nip-farthing father. The slight retribution I extracted is insufficient. You must rectify matters.”
She retreated behind a couch. “I am not responsible for my brother’s debts.” Hefting a vase in her hand, she threw it, but it smashed harmlessly against the wall when he ducked.
“Come, come, my dear, there is no need for hysterics,” he scoffed. “Your guardian offered you in lieu of money, in a legally binding contract. But you need not despair. Life with me can be pleasing.”
“Conceited ass. You are too selfish to please anyone,” she snapped, circling to keep the couch between them.
“This discussion is pointless, Melissa,” he declared, his brow twisting into a scowl. His voice turned deadly. “Nor is your brother the only debtor. You owe me for this cursed leg. I always collect my debts. The larger the account, the more you will pay.” He feinted, then lunged the other way, but she eluded him, again placing the couch between them.
“Damn you!” she shouted, lobbing a candlestick that glanced off the side of his head. “Leave me alone. When will it sink into your obtuse brain that I’m not interested?”
“Your interest is irrelevant. You can start paying right now, jade,” he snarled. “No one else will touch you once I’m done.” He leaped over the couch, his hand catching her hair as she jumped aside.
But his leg buckled as he landed, knocking him violently to the floor. She went down with him, already twisting to smash a fist into his temple that loosened a stream of lurid curses.
Charles surged into the room as the connecting door to the next anteroom crashed open. Muttering vicious imprecations, he dragged Heflin to his feet, planted a quick series of blows to his head and stomach, then landed one on his jaw that again sent Heflin sprawling, unconscious. Flinging the limp body into the next chamber, Charles turned to Melissa.
“Are you all right?” he asked anxiously, kneeling beside her, fury still blazing in his face.
She burst into tears.
“Shh... It’s over... Relax,” he crooned, pulling her head onto his shoulder.
Terror shuddered through her, but Charles’s soothing voice continued, his palms stroking gently over her back. Gradually the blackness receded and the shaking stopped.
At last she lifted red eyes to his. He was sitting on the couch, holding her in his lap. “How did you get here?”
“I was in the next room when something crashed against the wall.” Fortunately his friends had already left. They had been plotting new strategies to drive Heflin from town. “When I realized that someone was fighting off advances, I opened the connecting door to investigate. How did you come to be alone with that reprobate?”
One last shudder wracked her. “Miss Rosehill and I came in here to talk. When she returned to the ballroom, I stayed behind to ease a headache. Heflin barged in moments later. Why was he here? Surely Lady Riverton did not invite him.” She straightened, accepting his proffered handkerchief.
Charles frowned. “A good point. She would never include a man of his stamp in her gatherings. I must talk to the footmen.”
“No, Charles,” she pleaded, eyes again blazing with terror. “If this comes out, it will ruin me!”
“You cannot think me that low, Melissa,” he objected. “I can certainly complain about finding the fellow in the hall, and ask how it came about. That will alert other hostesses to be more careful.”
“I am sorry,” she apologized. “My thinking is still fuzzy.”
Rising, Melissa set about the daunting task of restoring her appearance, grimacing at her mirrored image. Ruined hair. Red eyes and cheeks. Her dress pulled off one shoulder.
“This is hopeless,” she wailed in despair. “I may as well send for Grandmama and go home.”
“Nonsense.” He appeared behind her in the mirror. “A few quiet minutes will take care of your eyes. Let’s see what we can do with this hair.” And before she knew what he was about, he had gently set her hands aside and was expertly repinning her locks.
“You’ve done this often,” she charged five minutes later when he had restored her coiffure to its former glory.
“Be grateful that I have.” The teasing voice further relaxed her. “You must return to the ballroom. I do not know if Heflin is still around, but he is certain to make claims.” He turned serious. “You must be able to account for your time. Did you tell Miss Rosehill about your headache?”
“Yes.”
“Will she agree that I was in the hall when she left?”
“Possibly.”
“Excellent. I will escort you to the retiring room and wait outside while you mention your headache, then take you back to the ballroom. That should cover your absence." He turned her to face him and repositioned the shoulder of her gown.
Melissa cursed her traitorous body, for excitement flared as his fingers stroked her skin. She tried to glare at him, but couldn’t manage the expression.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he choked, but his libido had already surged out of control. His hands slid down her back as his lips descended. Groaning, he pulled her closer until her exquisite breasts pressed against his chest,
their hard nubs stabbing into him despite the fabric that separated them.
An answering moan rose from Melissa. She opened her mouth to his, reveling in his dancing tongue. If his earlier kisses had been exciting, this was pure heaven. Her hand reached up to thread his hair.
Repeated touch overwhelms reason.
Shock at her wantonness broke through the pleasure, and she abruptly pushed him aside.
“Let go, you lecherous cretin,” she sputtered furiously. “For all your fair words, you are no better than Lord Heflin.”
Charles was gasping for breath, desire making nonsense of her speech, but the slap she delivered to his cheek finally penetrated his senses. He grimaced.
“You cannot claim you did not enjoy that,” he protested.
“You are experienced enough to turn any lady’s legs to jelly. And you know it!” She glared.
“Forgive me, Melissa,” he begged. “I lost my head for a moment. My only excuse is that I love you.”
“If you truly loved me, you would not treat me like one of your lightskirts,” she charged. In truth, she was angry at herself rather than at him, but she could not afford to ease the tension lest she again succumb to her vulgar nature. A glance in the mirror confirmed that her hair was still perfect. He obviously had much experience making love to society ladies during balls.
“Please forgive me,” he begged again.
“You will escort me to the retiring room,” she ordered coldly. “You will use your acting skills to play the part of a supportive relative, but I do not wish to see you outside of that role again.”
“Very well, cousin.” Charles’s heart froze at her cold tone. Surely she would relent. This was no more than an emotional outburst brought on by her harrowing evening.
But he could not be sure. She had never been conventional, which was one of her attractions. But it meant he could never judge her by his experience with others.
He stayed nearby for the remainder of the evening. She carried it off well, for any shadows in her eyes were explained by her headache. He took the precaution of escorting her back to Castleton House, but there was no sign of Heflin.
Shame had already replaced anger and fear. She had been right to castigate him. After rescuing her from the uninvited advances of a selfish libertine, he’d taken the fellow’s place. Such stupidity was appalling. One impulsive moment had wiped out all his careful strategies. It would take a long time to live down this disgrace.
* * * *
Melissa lay awake long into the night, the emotions of the evening disallowing sleep. Heflin’s threats terrified her. He had moved well beyond the unprincipled libertine who had tried to seduce his host’s sister. Though there had been no choice at the time, her method of discouraging him had been a mistake. His score against her was growing: she had refused his advances, her inexperience preventing her from spurning him gently; she had injured both his pride and his body, leaving a lasting reminder of her attack; her explanations encouraged society to heap scorn on him. And now there was Charles’s assault.
I always collect my debts.
But Charles presented a bigger problem. His embrace was like nothing she had ever dreamed. How could she live without fulfillment of that promise? If only she could be sure he truly loved her.
Memory of his caresses forced her to throw aside the coverlet.
Beatrice had been wrong. Letting young ladies learn about the power their bodies could exert was dangerous. It removed caution and focused nebulous feelings into concrete pictures that were impossible to ignore. And her grandmother was wrong. Letting a libertine like Charles escort them was flirting with disaster.
But that insidious voice kept intruding. What if Charles’s claims were true? He was not as selfish as she had initially believed. He had pushed his way into that antechamber to rescue a lady from unwanted advances before he knew the identity of either the victim or the rogue.
Chapter Fourteen
Melissa was dressing for dinner when her grandmother summoned her.
“Toby!” she exclaimed the moment she entered the sitting room. He was hardly a sight for sore eyes. Deep lines etched his face, its puffiness and sallow complexion informing the world that his drinking was worse than ever. Fading bruises further discolored one cheek. But his eyes were surprisingly clear.
A faint smile appeared as he examined his sister. “Melissa?” he whispered uncertainly. “Is that really you?”
“You needn’t act so shocked,” she replied tartly. “What happened to your face?” Slight retribution…
He grimaced. “Heflin set a pair of thugs on me a couple of weeks ago, threatening to finish the job if I failed to pay him. What is going on?”
“Did Saunders tell you nothing?” asked Lady Castleton.
“Only that Heflin was trying to destroy Missy’s reputation.”
“Did you promise him my hand in exchange for forgiving your debts?” demanded Melissa, contempt clear in her voice.
His eyes slid away from the contact. “He offered for you.”
“I am well aware of his offer. I overheard it. That is what drove me from Drayton, if you recall. What did you say?”
Silence stretched.
“We must know the exact truth, Tobias,” injected Lady Castleton sternly. “He claims that you signed settlements for such a union.”
“I signed nothing,” swore Tobias, sitting up straighter as the others visibly relaxed. “He offered for Missy, and I gave him permission to address her. Well, what else could I do?” he demanded when she glared at him. “He holds too many of my vowels for me to annoy him.”
“Did you promise that she would accept him?” pressed his grandmother. “We must know how serious this is. You are the girl’s guardian, and she is still under age.”
“I made no promises,” he swore.
“He is determined to force Melissa into marriage,” continued her ladyship. “Has he any grievances beyond what I already know?”
“He knows there is no possibility of paying my vowels,” muttered Toby. “Attaching Missy would at least give him something. I was surprised at the time, for she was not much to look at. I must say, you’ve improved.” He shook his head after another lengthy perusal of his sister.
“He was furious with me at the time,” admitted Melissa. “You know how I rebuffed him. Beatrice had also driven him off.”
“He never mentioned that,” groused Toby. “What did you do to him?”
She sighed. “When he tried to ravish me, I used my knee to effect and stabbed him twice with a pair of scissors. He still limps.”
Toby flinched. Lady Castleton frowned. “And your cousin also rebuffed him?”
“Yes. The last time, she smashed a pitcher over his head.”
“Oh, dear,” sighed her ladyship. “Pride and revenge. A deadly combination. He must despise your entire family.”
“Is there no hope, then?” asked Melissa.
“Don’t be a simpleton,” Lady Castleton snapped. “Toby’s repudiation of any agreement will be enough to scotch this rumor. But that will not prevent him from trying another approach. Our first step is to divide his targets. Beatrice is beyond his reach. But we cannot let him attack one of you through the other.” She shoved a paper at Toby. “This is an assignment of Melissa’s guardianship. Sign it. It relieves you of all responsibility by naming me her sole guardian.”
Melissa’s eyes opened in surprise. Toby looked uncertain.
“Sign it, Tobias. It is the only way to protect her. And it will also help you. Heflin knows you are destitute. Few men waste time beating a dead horse.”
He signed.
“Good. His attack was meant to intimidate you into supporting his claim. That avenue is now closed. If you have no say in her future, he must work through me.”
“But he can still force your hand,” pointed out Melissa. “He tried the other night, trapping me alone in an antechamber.”
“How did you escape?” asked Toby.
“C
harles rescued me that time, but I cannot count on such rescue in the future. And it handed Heflin a further complaint. I smashed the side of his head, and I’m afraid Charles roughed him up as well.”
“Who is Charles?”
“A distant cousin who has been squiring us about.”
“Charles can take care of himself. But you are right about the dangers you run,” admitted Lady Castleton. “Even were you to wed another, he might still try to ravish you. The man is the devil incarnate.”
“So we need to get rid of him permanently,” mused Melissa. What a daunting proposition! He was immoral and unethical, but he had broken no laws. Few liked him, but only the marriage mart rounds were closed. If she induced society to ostracize him, it would add to his grievances. Somehow they must exile him from England, but few actions could force a lord to flee the country. “How much do you owe him?” she asked Toby.
He reddened. “That is none of your business!”
“Answer the question, Tobias,” snapped Lady Castleton. Her eyes impaled him like a butterfly on a pin.
“Fifty thousand,” he muttered.
Melissa bit off a sharp retort. She could not afford to anger him until he had refuted Heflin’s claims.
“How came you to lose so much?” demanded his grandmother.
“At first it was only small sums,” he protested, “but as the days passed they grew. The luck should have changed, but it didn’t. I’ve never seen such a rum run. It would have changed, I am convinced, but after Missy left, the party broke up.”
“Don’t you dare blame me for your own stupidity,” she snapped. “Every gamester in history has followed that same twisted logic. Are you sure he wasn’t cheating?”
“Gentlemen never cheat!”
“Toby, you fool, Heflin is no gentleman. I don’t care what his breeding is. Any man who would force a lady and set thugs on an opponent would certainly not cavil at sharping cards.”
His face blanched. “He will call in the debt immediately if you push him.”
“And you would land in prison,” his sister finished for him. “You should have thought of that earlier. There is no chance you can pay him. Your only hope is to prove him a cheat. Then you will owe him nothing.”