To Kiss a Rake (Scandalous Kisses)

by Monajem, Barbara

  Melinda put her nose in the air in a gesture of pure bravado. She faced front and prayed: Please let me marry Miles. And: I’m sorry I’m not perfect, but I promise to do my very best.

  “Dearly beloved,” the clergyman began, and Melinda swayed, weak-kneed with relief. Miles’s warm hand reached out to steady her and then withdrew. She shivered, letting out a tremulous breath. She should have known better; Grandmama wouldn’t make an open scandal. She would find some other way to get revenge on Melinda for embarrassing her, but not at the expense of the Starling name.

  She stole a quick glance at Miles. He stared straight ahead, his mouth stern, his chin set. Perhaps Grandmama thought she already had her revenge. Melinda was marrying a man who didn’t want her, a man so uncaring that he had abandoned some poor girl . . . But whenever the gossip nudged its way into her mind, she couldn’t help but reject it. Was she a fool to want to believe the best of Miles?

  Melinda strove to ignore her grandmother’s presence, to concentrate on the ceremony instead. As the familiar service rolled off the clergyman’s tongue, each and every word resonated in Melinda’s mind as if they held new and profound significance.

  Because they did—marriage was a sacrament, and now, for the first time, it was sacred specifically to her. She not only meant to keep these vows, but longed to mean them with all her heart. And when Miles gave his own responses in that firm, soothing voice, she trembled deep inside with an even greater longing—that he would learn to mean them, too.

  He sounded as if he already did. Was that part of the act? It must be, she supposed . . . but hers wasn’t. In the street, an errand boy cried out. Sparrows chirped in the square and a rook called from high above. Life went on as usual, but it would never be the same.

  Miles took her hand. She bit her lip, holding her breath as he slid the ring onto her finger. She closed her eyes; she couldn’t bear to let him or anyone see how deeply, how powerfully moved she was . . .

  “I pronounce that they be man and wife together . . .”

  She opened her eyes. They were married. Her gaze flew to Miles as the clergyman droned on, adding the blessing. Miles’s eyes were closed. Perhaps he was moved, too.

  Or perhaps he was wishing it was all a bad dream, and that he would wake up a bachelor again.

  “I can’t believe you’re married.” Fellowes had a hunted look, rather as if he expected Miles to undergo a sudden metamorphosis from genial bridegroom to vengeful former friend. He had arrived on the doorstep midway through the marriage ceremony, sketchbook in hand, with no idea of what was transpiring inside the house. Now, before Miles had taken a bite of the sumptuous wedding breakfast set out on the sideboard, Fellowes dragged him into a corner. “By God, what happened that night?” he whispered. “I drove down to my place in Surrey to drown my sorrows and returned to find the town bubbling with gossip, and now you’ve married the girl!”

  “Miss Starling and I fell madly in love,” Miles lied. What a fiasco―Melinda had almost fainted before the ceremony, and then she’d shuddered when he put out a hand to support her. Only a rigid sense of duty had kept him from stalking out.

  And yet, once the ceremony had begun, she’d been completely composed, and although he knew she was now acting the part of a happy bride, the wedding ceremony…had been unexpectedly, terrifyingly moving. He wasn’t much for religion, but he knew a sacred vow when he heard it.

  God help him, he hoped he did. Her soft voice, suffused with such sincerity, had utterly convinced him. Which more than likely meant she had already begun to make a fool of him. She was a damned good actress; she’d convinced everyone, except perhaps Edward and Colin who knew otherwise, with her talk of having found the perfect man. But if she indeed meant to be a faithful wife . . . he couldn’t ask for anything more.

  He’d meant his own vows, too, as much as he possibly could. He didn’t want to care about a woman who swayed him so easily, and yet he couldn’t help himself. He hadn’t wanted to marry, but Melinda was his now, to protect and care for, and he intended to fulfill his obligations—which, at the moment, meant keeping an eye on both Melinda and her grandmother.

  So far, his great-aunt had kept Lady Starling occupied. He couldn’t keep Melinda away from her grandmother forever—they would meet at various balls and other events—but damned if he would let the old harridan distress her on this day of all days.

  “She’s the perfect woman for me,” he pronounced.

  “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that,” Fellowes hissed.

  “Not only do I expect you to believe it,” Miles murmured, “but I’m counting on you to spread it about. My wife deserves a clean start to her married life.”

  “I daresay, but if I hadn’t let her play go-between, none of this would have happened.” Gloomily, he added, “I hear Lord Andrews is on the verge of offering for Miss Darwin.”

  “You’ll find someone else,” Miles said absently. Melinda was talking to her brother, but now Colin bore down upon them.

  Miles controlled his instinctive reaction to cut in, instead letting his gaze drift about the room. The clergyman chatted with the elderly baron who had come with his wife at Lady Paulding’s behest, to lend respectability to the whole affair. In other words, to verify to the gossips that this time Miles had actually married the woman he’d ruined.

  Not that Miles had anything against the baron and his wife, who were ordinary, amiable people, but he’d had it up to his ears with being tried, convicted, and shunned by a bunch of idiots who’d believed the word of a malicious gossip, and now deemed it right and proper to judge him again.

  Lady Starling was conversing with Aunt Juliana, but her eyes flickered towards him, towards Melinda, then him again. Venomous old bitch, but as long as she left Melinda alone, all would be well.

  She didn’t go near her granddaughter; instead, she moved purposefully over to Miles. “I have something to say to you,” she said in a gritty voice.

  He shrugged, which was rude, but he didn’t care. “Go ahead.”

  “Not here. The Starling name has suffered enough today.” She preceded him out of the drawing room, tapping her cane unpleasantly with each step.

  Over by the window, Melinda’s eyes widened with alarm. She put out a hand as if to prevent him, but let it fall, utter despair on her face. Why, he had no idea; it was Melinda who needed protection, not he. He offered her a resigned shrug and followed the old lady; might as well get it over with. He showed her into a small parlor and shut the door. “Well?”

  “Needless to say, I do not approve of this marriage.”

  “Equally needless to say, that matters not a whit to me.”

  The old lady’s face darkened. She shook her cane at him. “Mannerless poltroon! You think you’ve got yourself a pure, perfect Starling, don’t you? You hope to improve your foul bloodline with some solid, upright stock.”

  Such an ambition had never crossed his mind. “I don’t give a damn about my bloodline.”

  She made a rude noise. “You can’t fool me. Most of society shuns you, and even though you’re a rogue from a worthless family, in this case it may be unfair. Not that I know the details of that sordid story, but I never approved of Desiree Sibley―a badly brought-up girl forever skating on the edge of impropriety. You were a fool to be taken in by her flirtatious ways, but if she truly did betray you, you were within your rights to get rid of her.”

  Miles did his best to hide his astonishment. The last thing he’d expected from old Lady Starling was understanding or approbation of any kind.

  “Be that as it may, your name was blackened by the whole affair, and now you’re desperate for respectability. You want a clean slate.” This wasn’t quite true, but nor was it entirely off the mark. “You want your children to inherit a better name than you did.”

  Reluctantly, he acknowledged
the sense of her remarks with a curt nod. “For their sake, yes. For mine, it hardly matters.”

  “So you say, but everyone wants respect. It’s a laudable goal, and I don’t bear you any ill will for it, but you have no idea what you’ve taken on. You should have learned your lesson with that other girl, but obviously you didn’t, so listen to me and listen well. I know Melinda far better than you do, and she’s nothing but trouble.”

  What a relief to have reason to be annoyed again. “Since I am generally held to be nothing but trouble as well, we should get on fine.”

  “This is no laughing matter, Garrison. She’ll make a bigger fool of you than Desiree Sibley did unless you show her who is master right from the start.”

  “I’m not laughing, Lady Starling. I am merely trying to suggest as tactfully as possible that you should keep your nose out of my business.”

  Her old eyes flashed, and she champed her teeth. “Let’s get down to the meat of it, then. Melinda isn’t really a Starling.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “She’s the spawn of one of her mother’s worthless lovers.”

  Now Miles did laugh; he couldn’t help it. One of those proud and pompous Starlings had been cuckolded just like any other man.

  The old lady’s eyes flashed hatred. “My son acknowledged her as his own child,” she said bitterly, “but only to avoid the scandal.”

  This was a commonplace sort of story and hardly a surprise. “I married a woman, not a bloodline. Melinda has beauty, wit, and character, which is all that matters to me.”

  “Character? Hah! Her mother is a whore. She cheated on my sainted son with some French gamester, and now she’s cavorting on the Continent with an Italian count. What do you suppose the daughter is like?” Lady Starling jeered.

  The old witch certainly knew how to poke at one’s sore spots. “Are you quite finished with insulting my wife?”

  “The only way to protect your name is with brute force. Take my word for it.”

  “Use brute force on a woman? Are you mad?”

  “If that’s what it takes,” she retorted, spraying spittle. “And it will, believe me.”

  “All you care about protecting is the Starling name,” Miles said through a haze of disgust, “but I don’t give a damn about that either. I repeat—stay out of my business.”

  She jabbed at him with her cane. “Your charming cousin Colin has seen her naked. Did you know that?”

  Miles rolled his eyes and made for the door. “When she was only nine years old. No, I beg your pardon. Almost ten.”

  Consternation crossed the dowager’s face at the failure of this hit, but she was game for more. “If she’s a virgin now, it’s only because I’ve had control of her.”

  Miles opened the door. “No, it’s because she’s a virtuous woman who waited for marriage.”

  “If you believe that, you’re more of a fool than I thought.” Lady Starling stomped past him, brandishing her cane. “I wish you joy of her.”

  “Oh, no,” Melinda whispered as she watched her new husband usher Grandmama into another room. She’d tried to keep him by her side, but she’d had to let him go to explain things to Mr. Fellowes, and immediately afterward, Grandmama had pounced. “She’ll say something horrid to him.”

  “Why would she do that?” asked Edward, standing next to her. “Be reasonable, Melinda. All Grandmama wishes is to get through this with as little scandal as possible.”

  “That may be part of it, but not all. I know her better than you do. I have embarrassed her, so she wants revenge.” What would Grandmama do? Melinda could handle it, if only she knew what to expect.

  “She does not want revenge,” Edward said. “Last night, Grandmama confessed to me that she did indeed forbid the servants to open the door. She said she was trying to teach you a lesson, but that by the time she opened the door, you were driving away in Lord Garrison’s carriage.” He sighed. “She has never been a kind-hearted woman, but I don’t understand why she is so unable to control herself when it comes to you.”

  Melinda knew, but if Edward didn’t know her shameful secret, she wasn’t going to tell him. Horror washed over her as she realized what Grandmama’s plan must be. I should have refused to marry Lord Garrison, she thought. Far, far worse than having her bastard status revealed before the wedding was to have Miles learn about it afterward, when he could no longer change his mind.

  Grandmama would tell him, and Miles would be enraged at being so taken in. He would loathe and despise Melinda now, but it was too late. They were stuck together forever.

  “She knows full well that she should apologize, but we both know better than to expect that,” Edward said.

  Melinda knew to expect far worse, but Mr. Fellowes approached, so she forced a smile, wondering what Miles had told him. “How kind of you to come to our wedding,” she said, and after an exchange of greetings, Edward moved away.

  “Miles tells me you two fell madly in love,” Mr. Fellowes muttered, sketching agitatedly while he spoke.

  That helped Melinda decide what to say. Regardless of the inevitable change in Miles’s feelings, they would have to pretend to be happy together. “Yes, indeed. Lord Garrison is a wonderful man. I’m so fortunate!” Mr. Fellowes gave her a skeptical look, so before he could start asking awkward questions, she said, “What are you drawing today?” She craned her neck to see his sketchbook, but it wasn’t the usual romantic sketch of shepherds and nymphs.

  “The River Styx,” he said glumly. “Miss Starling, I mean Lady Garrison, I do beg your forgiveness for—”

  Again, she forestalled him. “Thank you so much for playing the role of Cupid for Miles and me.”

  He sighed. “You’re most generous, when you must know, I mean to say . . .” Perhaps he realized that almost anything he said would be insulting either to her or to Miles. “Lord Garrison is an excellent fellow, in spite of all the gossip.” He reddened, making a strangled sound which turned into a cough.

  Hmm. Maybe she should take Mr. Fellowes’s assessment of Miles, as well as Colin’s, as the truth, and not worry about the past—but she still wanted to know what he had done. Perhaps she could worm some information out of Mr. Fellowes. She glanced about, but no one was close enough to hear.

  “Thank you for the kind words about Miles,” she whispered. “Most people seem to think he’s horrid. It isn’t the least bit fair.”

  An expression of acute uneasiness crossed Mr. Fellowes’s features. “As to that, er, it’s none of my business.” His pencil moved feverishly, drawing the boat to Hades.

  “Maybe, but it’s my business,” she muttered. “Do you know what happened to make people believe such dreadful things of him?”

  “I really can’t bring myself to, er, to discuss…” His voice petered away again. “I really must go.”

  How exasperating, but then Miles and Grandmama reappeared and with them all her fears resurged. After a swift glance at them under her lashes, she summoned a farewell smile for Mr. Fellowes. She refused to give Grandmama even the slightest sign that she was worried or upset. Mr. Fellowes bowed and hurried away. Now she had no choice but to look in Miles’s direction.

  He was frowning, but then he sent her a droll look, as if the old lady merely amused him.

  Melinda hoped so, but he’d done such a good job of pretending to be a doting lover that for all she knew this was part and parcel of the same act. She held onto her poise until the guests had gone, but just barely.

  The minute the door had shut behind the last of them, she said, “What did my grandmother say to you?”

  “Nothing interesting,” Miles said.

  That was no help. Worse, it sounded evasive. “What did she say? Please tell me! If it’s something horrid, I’d rather just know.”

  He lifted an indifferent s
houlder. “That you were nothing but trouble, and that I should beat you. I told her she was mad to suggest such a barbaric course of action, and that since I was trouble too, we would rub along very well together. She didn’t like that much, but in the end she wished me joy of you.”

  “She didn’t mean it,” Melinda said, still unsure whether to believe him. Grandmama couldn’t possibly have let her off so easily.

  “Probably not, but what does it matter? Don’t worry about her anymore.”

  At last, a weight tumbled off Melinda’s shoulders. Grandmama hadn’t revealed her ghastly secret. Miles didn’t hate her; in fact, judging by his hint of a smile, he even liked her a little in spite of Grandmama’s warnings.

  All at once she was so exhausted she could hardly keep her eyes open. “I meant to go over the house with Mrs. Timms, but I think I’ll take a nap instead.”

  “As you wish, Melinda. I’ll let Mrs. Timms know you are not to be disturbed. This is your house now. Redecorating and refurnishing—or not—are entirely up to you.”

  She yawned. “I’ll start thinking about redecorating tomorrow.” She went to her bedchamber, crawled under the covers, and fell instantly, dreamlessly asleep.

  She and Miles dined together. They discussed pin money—of which she suddenly had a great deal—and arranged to visit a few fabric warehouses the next day, if she was feeling up to it. Miles showed her a shelf of novels that had belonged to his mother. He gave no sign of uneasiness when speaking of the former Lady Garrison, even pointing out her portrait on the library wall, so that provided no enlightenment about the bedchamber. She asked him to have someone check the balustrade on the balcony, and calmly he agreed, giving no sign of anger, consternation, or any other emotion.