“Good,” he nodded, swallowing hard. “Do not leave her side. I will keep track of my father.”
“He will not touch my daughter.” An angry voice came from the other side of the bed and Patrick looked up at Lord Nordam, shaking his head slowly.
“I thought we were not going to say anything.” He regarded the other gentleman censoriously. Nordam had the grace to look ashamed.
He bowed to Melissa, “Apologies my dear. I did not mean to drop this on you in such a manner.”
Melissa just stared at him, clearly unable to understand his meaning. “It’s perfectly fine,” she said calmly. “You have a daughter?”
Nordam froze, seemingly at a loss for words, “Uh, yes. Yes, I do.”
“I’m sure she’s in no danger. Is she here?”
Nordam opened his mouth but no sound emerged.
“That is neither here nor there,” Patrick jumped in, “How are you doing?”
Melissa touched her neck. “I have a bit of a sore throat. I expect the hot chocolate will help.”
Patrick shook his head. “What you need is a hot toddy. Always did the trick for me.” He stood up, leaning forward eagerly to peer at her, “Shall I go and make you one?”
Melissa gave him a fond smile. “You don’t have to do that. I’m sure the chocolate will be fine.”
“I insist,” Patrick said leaping toward the door in his eagerness, “Just…wait there.”
He got the door open before Stenwick laid a detaining hand on his shoulder. “Never you mind. I shall make the toddy. Stay with your love. Keep her safe,” he said softly.
Patrick nodded, squeezing Stenwick’s hand in gratitude. “Thank you, my friend.”
“I shall go and see what I can find out.”
Patrick moved aside so that Stenwick could pass before closing the door firmly. He went to the corner and picked up the chair, carrying it toward Melissa’s bed. To the other gentleman’s surprise, he looked at Lord Nordam, gesturing at the chair. “Would you like to sit?”
“Uh, yes, I would. Thank you kindly.”
“No problem.” He stepped back putting his hands behind his waist and standing by the wall. Melissa looked from Patrick to Lord Nordam before exchanging a bemused glance with Brynn.
“So what is going on here? Why did your father try to kill me, Patrick?”
He sighed, looking away from her, wanting to protect her from it all but knowing he couldn’t.
“Patrick?”
He turned to face her, seeing her expression so open and ready to believe anything he said. The temptation to lie was strong, but they were to be married. If so, then lies was no way to begin.
“I expect he wanted you out of the way.” He said.
“So that…you could marry Rose.”
Patrick shrugged.
“That is a little…extreme.”
Patrick sighed. “I have come to learn lately that my father is an extreme gentleman.”
Melissa held out a hand to him. He stumbled forward in order to take it, caught wrong footed by the gesture. She squeezed it, looking up at him with wide, sincere, hazel eyes. “I am sorry.” She said.
He frowned. “Why would you be sorry?”
“Because he is your father. This must be very difficult for you.”
He stared at her in disbelief. The sound of logs crackling in the fireplace was loud in the silent room. “I love you,” he said.
She laughed. “I love you as well. Tis a good thing we’re getting married.” Her eyes darted to Lord Nordam and she slapped her hand over her mouth in mortification. “Sorry,” she said from behind her hand.
Patrick laughed. “It’s fine. A little truth telling is probably what we all need.”
Lord Nordam leaned forward, covering Melissa’s other hand with his own. “If marrying this Lord is what you want, then that is what will happen,” he declared solemnly.
Melissa gawked at him, afraid he might have lost his mind. “All right…” she said.
Nordam smiled sadly. “I fear I must tell you something that may upset you. But I think that you should know.”
“Tell me,” she said at once.
Tears clouded his eyes as he regarded her with affection. “You’re very like my mother. So kind and generous, so brave,” he said.
“Th-thank you?” Melissa was clearly very confused.
“You remind me of her,” Lord Nordam sniffled.
Melissa squeezed his hand with both of her own, listening intently.
“And in spite of the circumstances, it makes me very happy to know that you are my child.”
Melissa and Brynn both gasped. “What?” they said together.
Lord Nordam nodded slowly, leaning forward to look Melissa in the eyes. “This must be difficult for you and I do not want you to worry about it now. Rest, get better. Drink your hot chocolate and keep warm. I am going to be here when you are better and you can ask me any and every question you desire.”
Melissa simply continued to stare at him with wide eyes. Then she slowly raised her eyes to Patrick. “Is that why…Rose and not me?”
Patrick nodded, understanding her perfectly. “I think so. It makes sense.”
“He wanted an Alford…and I am not…that.”
“In English law, it matters not who your actual father is. Since your mother is legally married to your father, you are an Alford.” Lord Nordam said.
“But my blood is not. Does father know? I mean…t-the Duke?”
“I’m afraid so. He insisted on being present when I confronted your mother and Cheshmill about it.”
“And what does he…I mean, what…?” Melissa dropped her head to hide her tears, swallowing audibly. Patrick hurried forward, sitting on the bed and tucking her hand into his elbow as he tried to catch her eye.
“Do not borrow trouble, my love. Whatever he feels or doesn’t feel, I expect we shall know soon enough.”
“He has always been distant. I expect that he shall disown me quite thoroughly after this.”
Nordam squeezed the hand he was still holding. “You are not alone.”
A lone tear fell against her wrist. Patrick took a deep breath to try and find something comforting to say when a brisk knock interrupted them. Stenwick walked in, followed by a maid carrying a steaming cup on a tray.
“A hot toddy, as promised.” He announced it like a major achievement. He looked around at the three people huddled around the bed and drew his own conclusions.
“I see you have been busy while I was gone.” He picked up the cup and advanced toward Melissa with it. “I expect you can use this for more than just your throat, eh?”
Thalia sat down on her bed, her hand on her heart. Twenty years of keeping secrets and then having them all bared to the world in half an hour had left her nerves quite exposed. Her future had never seemed so uncertain. She flinched as her husband burst into the room, his eyes gone red with upset and anger.
“Were you in cahoots with that bastard when he tried to drown your daughter?” he demanded with a hiss.
“Of course not! I already told you so,” Thalia surged to her feet, face paling. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Greyfield shot her a look of disbelief. “Are you serious?”
“Lying is not the same as ending her life!”
Greyfield turned away, breathing hard. “We’re leaving. Melissa is not safe here. None of us are now that your Duke’s secrets are exposed.”
“You are my Duke. He was my jailor.”
“Well, congratulations,” he said bitterly, “You’re free.”
Thalia took a step closer. “Am I? What good is freedom if I have lost you?” Tentatively, she rested her hand on his arm. He jerked it off violently.
“Pack your things. And get your daughters packed as well.” He snapped before slamming his way out of the room.
Thalia entered Melissa’s room without knocking. She ignored everyone else in the room, eyes only on her daughter. “Have your lady’s maid pack your thi
ngs. We are leaving right away.”
Melissa sat up in surprise. “What? Me too?”
Thalia stared at her uncomprehendingly before her eyes went to Lord Nordam, who still had hold of her hand. “What do you mean by that?”
“Does father want me to leave with you?” Melissa baldly asked.
“Of course he does. Who do you think demanded we leave right away? You are clearly not safe here.” Thalia left, closing the door behind her and left Melissa gawking at her.
She looked around at Patrick, Stenwick and then Lord Nordam as if they might have answers to this puzzle.
“Your mother is right. You’re not safe here. You should go home.” Patrick said.
Melissa gave him a sardonic look. “Oh yes? And where is that?”
Patrick returned the look, inclining his head in sympathy. “With your family.” He turned to Brynn. “You heard Her Grace. Pack your things. It’s time to go.”
The lady’s maid nodded and immediately began to extract gowns from drawers. Patrick turned back to Melissa. “I shall follow you to Town. Tomorrow, I will call upon your father and ask for your hand.”
“He isn’t likely to want to see you.”
“Yes well, I cannot let that hinder me…unless you do not want me to?”
“No, I do want you to. If we do not have to elope…well, that might be best for us do you not think?”
Patrick smiled. “I do think. It is a great relief to me that you feel the same.”
Melissa’s lashes lowered and she peered at him through them. “I will see you tomorrow then.”
“You will.” Patrick bent down and kissed her naked fingers before turning to leave with a nod at Lord Nordam. Stenwick was right behind him.
Melissa turned to the Earl. “I do not know…” she shook her head.
The Earl smiled. “Neither do I. I would however very much welcome the opportunity to get to know you.”
Melissa nodded. “I would like that too. Although I do not want to offend my father.”
“Of course, one so kind and gentle as you would not want that. Perhaps I might call on you once you are married?” He smiled conspiratorially at her and she found herself smiling back.
“Perhaps you might.”
The Earl got to his feet, bowed very solemnly to her and then left. As soon as the door shut behind him, she struggled out of bed. “Is this real? Or am I lying dead in the creek at the moment?”
Brynn came over and pinched her arm, hard.
“Ouch! Why did you do that?” Melissa muttered angrily, rubbing at her arm.
“To prove to you that this is real, My Lady.”
“Next time, just agree with me, please. No need to cause me new injuries.”
“Yes My Lady,” Brynn’s voice was humble, but she was grinning like a loon.
“And what are you so happy about?”
Brynn looked at her with shining eyes. “You have managed to do it! You will marry your true love with no impediments.”
Melissa smiled to see Brynn so happy for her but then she sobered. “Yes. But at what cost?”
Melissa did return to London that very evening with her family, laid out on the bench in one while Brynn provided her a makeshift pillow with her lap. Rose sat opposite her, not saying a word. Melissa had not the energy to engage her. Patrick wanted to rush to London to ask Melissa’s father’s permission at once, but he had to stay behind and see to the remaining guests and to his own family. Everybody knew that something grave had happened, but not what. The Duke had disappeared without a word.
Still, he managed to make it back to London by noon the next day and called on the Greyfield that evening. Melissa was much recovered and insisted on accompanying him to his meeting with the Duke. She had not seen him since they got back and wanted to see in his face what he truly felt for her.
To Patrick’s surprise, Melissa wanted to be married at once; she even asked, hesitantly, in her erstwhile father’s presence, if Patrick would obtain a special license for them.
“I have had the license for some time,” Patrick admitted sheepishly.
They both colored a little. The Duke smiled regretfully at them.
“It is good that you are both so certain. A union that begins with love might well survive the vagaries of marriage.” He lowered his voice, murmuring to himself they assumed. “Heaven knows making a proper match has not.”
They both chose to ignore that last part, although Melissa looked to be on the verge of tears.
“I know this might cause some talk but if we wish to diminish any scandal that could arise, the best way would be to prolong our engagement and comport ourselves as if nothing is wrong. Besides,” Patrick smiled at the thought, “I wish to show you off to all my friends before I sweep you off to the country and share you with no one.”
“Well…perhaps,” Melissa said, finally after looking to her father for guidance. He continued to stare pensively out of the window. Patrick and Melissa exchanged glances and then as one, they turned to leave him to his musings, closing his study door softly behind them.
They sat on the couch together, unchaperoned in the Greyfield parlor; Lady Rose and the Duchess were in another room, talking. Patrick has stripped off his gloves to hold Melissa’s bare fingers in his own. “If it would decrease the gossip…we can be engaged for a little longer. If your parents don’t mind.”
“I am sure they will not.”
“I wish I could do something more to make this better.” He sighed regretfully.
She covered his hand with hers. “You already have.”
“I must go before we become too scandalous. But first, you must tell me your favorite jewel, so I may buy you a proper engagement gift.”
“No!”
“You would prefer something else?”
“Don’t be absurd, Patrick, I have enough jewels. I do not need more. You must not go to any trouble.”
“Indeed I shall, and since it was an emerald that brought us together, that is what I will bring.”
“Patrick,” Melissa scolded. “Marrying me will be expensive enough already, without you wasting your funds on emeralds.”
“Nothing that pleases you could be a waste,” Patrick said. “But fine, I shall buy nothing yet.”
“Good.”
“I will make them a wedding present. That will give me time to have something made.”
“Patrick!”
“I need to go, there is so much to plan.”
“Ridiculous,” Melissa said.
Melissa escorted him to the door, as they seemed unable to leave each other’s side before it was absolutely necessary. She jammed her hat low over on her eyes, keeping her face lowered as if she expected to be jeered at by passersby.
Patrick vowed to do something about the situation, to allay Melissa’s discomfort. A thought came to him; now that Melissa and he were engaged, there was no reason Patrick could not actually throw a ball in her honor, officially, now that they were no longer to wed in secret. He could invite close friends, Melissa’s–other–father and they could begin their new life as they meant to go on. The slight touch of her hand on his arm had him turning to her with a smile.
“Goodbye Patrick.”
“I will see you soon, Melissa.”
Her touch burned long after his carriage had departed and Patrick was on his way home.
Epilogue
Foxtrot
Rose was becoming a tad bit tiresome, vacillating between blaming her for their mother’s melancholy and accusing Melissa of stealing her fiancé.
Melissa sighed, holding grimly onto her patience. “He was never yours, Rose. Accept it.”
Her parents had called her into the study soon after their arrival back in London and told her in no uncertain terms that she was not to speak of what transpired at Cheshmill hall to anyone–not even Rose who had somehow failed to notice anything untoward.
“Not even that I am not her sister?” she asked.
The Duke had shot to h
is feet. “You are her sister,” he cried, hitting the table with his fist and quite disconcerting both Melissa and her mother. Her father was not one to get mawkish.
“I simply meant…” she began to say quietly.
“I know what you meant,” The Duke cut her off quite effectively, “and I shall not have it. Nothing has changed.” He stared at her with beady eyes and she did indeed understand. He was saying that he was still her father. Something that had knotted tight in her chest loosened on its own and she took her first full breath in days.
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