“No, Judith.” Melinda frowned. “I really don’t have a nice gown to wear.”
Judith’s eyes widened mere seconds before she tilted her head back and laughed heartily. “Oh, my friend,” she dabbed the tip of her finger to the corner of an eye, “you must do better than that. Have you forgotten that you went to the dressmakers a few times this month for new clothes?
Embarrassment washed over Melinda. She hadn’t forgotten that—but she did forget that Judith knew about it. “All right, you caught me. I suppose, I just don’t feel like going to the ball tonight.”
“You don’t feel like going?” Judith’s mouth lifted in a smirk. “Forgive me, my friend, but I’m not accepting that excuse. You shall have to try harder to convince me otherwise.” She folded her arms and tapped her foot on the ground.
“Pray tell, how do you wish me to convince you?”
“My dearest friend.” Judith placed her hand on Melinda’s shoulder, and sighed. “You are the talk of the town now. Everyone wants to be introduced to the wealthy Miss Stewart. How can you be so selfish as to deny them that privilege?”
Melinda snorted out a loud laugh. “Privilege? What makes you think it’s a privilege to be gawked at and discussed behind my back?” She shook her head. “Not even a month ago, they walked past me on the street without glancing my way. When Mr. Drake had escorted me to a few functions, he’d introduced me to those people I’ve known all my life. Only then did they take a little interest, but it was because they wanted to know who Mr. Drake was escorting that night.”
“Indeed, but now,” Judith squeezed Melinda’s arm, “you can show them what they missed out on. You can show them the lovely woman I’ve known and loved for most of my life, and now you can give them a chance to love you.”
Melinda hated it when her friend was right and she was wrong. She didn’t want to admit that she looked forward to doing those very things Judith had mentioned.
“Fine,” she said in defeat. “But you cannot leave my side, especially with those money-hungry men.”
“Oh, not to worry. Trey and I will fight those men off with a stick if we have to. Now, you’re coming with me.” She hooked her arm around Melinda’s, and faced her toward the house. “Let’s make haste. I’ll assist you in dressing, and I promise we shall have you looking like a queen within no time.”
ELEVEN
Melinda wondered where Trey and Judith kept that stick her friend said they would use to fight off the men, because Melinda needed one immediately. She had never felt disgusted before...and she’d been a blacksmith for many years, so disgust was something that came often. But these men gave the word a whole new meaning.
It surprised her that they were so blunt. They hadn’t even tried to hide what they were after. If one more man poured on the sweetness and blatantly lied to her face, it would be all she could do not to sock them in the nose.
But ladies didn’t do that. Allowing her temper to release like that wouldn’t make her look very good in society’s eyes. Then again, all they could see was money, anyway. Did it matter to them what kind of woman she really was?
Mr. Taylor had been the latest thorn in her side. Earlier this evening, he fetched her some punch and a plate of refreshments. All she did was smile and thank him for his kindness, but by the way he acted toward her, she wondered if he’d read some kind of proposal in all of that. She couldn’t get rid of the leech!
As she stood waiting for the gentleman—she hoped he was a gentleman, anyway—who was next on her dance card, she twisted her hands against her middle. Where was he? She’d been introduced to Mr. Patterson only once, and it was when he’d asked for this dance. Throughout the evening, she’d seen him a time or two, and he had always bowed and offered her a pleasant smile. Yet, now as she waited for him, she couldn’t see him anywhere. And to make it worse, Mr. Taylor had been watching her with eagle eyes. The middle-aged leech would arrive at any moment and ask her to dance, she just knew it.
Perhaps the best thing to do would be to leave this room and hide, at least until the end of this dance. Besides, she needed to rest her feet. She hadn’t danced this much in years. Actually, the more she pondered about it, she realized she hadn’t ever danced this much.
From the corner of her eyes, a popping movement drew her attention. Through the crowd, Mr. Taylor jumped up and down, searching for her. When he saw her, his eyes widened along with his smile.
Inwardly, she groaned. If she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to outrun him. Without another thought, she turned abruptly, and quickened her steps. But she didn’t get very far before she ran right into a man’s chest...a man’s very strong and wide chest.
A familiar scent wafted around her. Recognition struck moments before she looked up into his questioning eyes. The wistful brown eyes that had been in her dreams lately hadn’t changed since the first time she gazed breathlessly into them. However, now his expression seemed different. Instead of looking at her as if he was the wolf and she was the lamb, a hint of sadness touched his expression.
“Good evening, Miss Stewart.” He bowed slightly. “Forgive me for being in your way.”
She released an uncomfortable laugh. “Nonsense. It’s not your fault I wasn’t watching where I was going.”
From somewhere in back of her, she heard Mr. Taylor calling her name. She cringed. She didn’t dare sneak a peek over her shoulder to see how close he was. Knowing him, that would be encouragement enough for him to ask her to dance.
“Mr. Drake, dance with me,” she said quickly and slipped her hand around his elbow. “Now!”
Without waiting for his response, she practically led him onto the dance floor. Others had formed a line, so she made haste and stood into place along with Mr. Drake. His gaze stayed on her as they walked through the movements of the dance. When the dance steps brought them together, she gave him a polite smile.
“Thanks for not making a scene,” she acknowledged.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I figured you were doing enough of that, already. You didn’t need me to interfere.”
She wanted to laugh, but bit her cheek instead as she rolled her eyes. “I was just trying to get away from someone.”
He glanced behind her briefly, and then returned his attention to her. “I’m assuming you’re referring to Mr. Taylor?”
She nodded. “Indeed. That man is a pest. He won’t leave me alone.”
“Have you told him to leave you alone?”
“No.” She sighed. “I suppose I didn’t want to be that mean.”
“You might have to.” He motioned his head in Mr. Taylor’s direction. “Men like that don’t understand unless you are forthright with them.”
She studied Morgan’s handsome face. He must have dealt with the insipid man once or twice in his dealings. Perhaps that is how Morgan knew the other so well.
“Then I suppose I shall have to be mean.”
“Unless you want him following you around like a lost puppy,” Morgan shrugged, “up-front words are the only things he’ll understand.”
They separated for a few more moments, but soon came together again. “Mr. Drake, I get the impression you know the little weasel.”
A laugh sprang from his throat, and she couldn’t help but smile. Although she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she missed hearing his laugh.
“Indeed, Miss Stewart. I know him well. And—using your wording—he is a weasel in the first order.”
“Can you believe I’d realized that after only knowing him a few hours?”
“That’s all it takes, believe me.” He shook his head. “And feel free to use me any time you need assistance running from him.”
He gave her a playful wink, and she couldn’t understand why her heartbeat quickened and butterflies danced in her belly. What was she thinking? This was the same man who tried to swindle her land and who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Unfortunately, this was also the same man who made her pulse race faster, and who kis
sed so well, she thought she was in paradise.
“Are you upset that I used you?” she asked warily.
“At first I was.” He shrugged. “But once you explained who was after you, I understood perfectly.”
Once again, the steps made them separate. During this time, she couldn’t keep her attention from moving to him—and staying. She awkwardly bumped into the other couples, but she muttered her apologies but never took her gaze off Morgan. He was so very handsome and charming. Then again, he’d always been appealing. It had slipped her mind how long it had been since they talked last, and although she knew she shouldn’t miss him, she truly had.
When the dance brought them together again, she said, “I haven’t seen you around for a while. Have you been out of town?”
“Yes. My sister was seriously injured, and I went to see to her welfare.”
Melinda sucked in a quick breath. Her ego wanted to believe he’d left town because of her. But the startling news was worse, and made her feel awful for thinking so selfishly. “Oh, no. Is she all right?”
He nodded. “She’s fine now, but there in the beginning, the physician didn’t know if she would make it.”
“How horrible. I’m glad she had you to care for her.”
“As am I.”
As the dance ended, she realized they would have to part. She really wanted to continue their talk. It was nice knowing he wouldn’t try to push his offer upon her any longer, and it was most enjoyable to be able to converse normally without fear that he would try to take her land away.
Melinda curtsied, and he bowed. She placed her hand on his arm as he escorted her away from the dance floor. “Well,” she said with a heavy sigh, “I wish we could talk further, however, I’m obligated to dance with my next partner.”
“Of course, Miss Stewart. Until next time.” He turned and walked away.
She continued to watch him leave. Why was she feeling so miserable? This was a different emotion from what she’d had since arriving at the dance she really didn’t want to be at. This misery brought with it more sorrow. Part of her heart felt as if she’d lost something precious, but her mind argued that she was finally rid of his overbearing presence.
Yet...he had never been overbearing. He was pushy, but in a nice way.
“Miss Stewart?” Lord Greenhaugh asked, holding his arm out for her to take. “I believe this dance is mine.”
She forced herself to smile as she walked out on the dance floor with a man she wished was Morgan Drake.
THIS IS A NIGHT OF torture!
And yet, Morgan had brought it on himself. At first, he didn’t know Melinda would be here. When he noticed her, he should have made an excuse to Lady Craighead and left the ball, but he couldn’t bring himself to go. Instead, he watched her from afar—watched as she danced with every eligible man attending this function. Morgan endured the heart-breaking moments as these men flirted with her. She gave them her sweet smile, and she occasionally laughed at something they’d said, but it broke his heart knowing he wasn’t the one she showered her attention on.
He would never be that man again, and the knowledge nearly stopped his heart from beating. As many times as he’d told himself to forget her and move on, he found himself riding by her house, or following her into town. And tonight...he was probably worse than Mr. Taylor, because Morgan kept her in his vision every second of the evening so far. Thankfully, she didn’t know that or she would have considered him a weasel.
It wasn’t by sheer happenstance that he was at the right place, at the right time, when Melinda had bumped into him. Morgan was just relieved that it happened the way he’d planned.
Dancing with her had been wonderful, and unfortunately, it ended. However, it hadn’t ended poorly. Perhaps there was hope that she wouldn’t hate him, after all.
As he leaned against the wall sipping a glass of punch, he didn’t take his eyes off the lovely woman he’d accidentally given his heart to. She looked absolutely breathtaking tonight. The shimmering silver gown trimmed with white lace along the square bodice and short-sleeves, looked resplendent on her—as if she was a princess. The elbow white gloves and pearl necklace only added to her beauty. Her hair had been curled in ringlets, but they didn’t appear as tight as the other women who wore that style here tonight.
The dance finally drew to an end. She and Lord Cole left the dance floor and strolled in the direction of one of the side doors. Morgan’s heart dropped and he gritted his teeth. Lord Cole was the son of a marquis, and just as his father, the son was known in society as a womanizer. Morgan didn’t think the other man was that handsome, but apparently most women found him very charming.
Just as he’d figured, Lord Cole escorted Melinda outside. Morgan’s gut churned. He couldn’t let her reputation become ruined by a womanizer. For certain, Morgan would have to spy on them outside. He didn’t trust the man. Lord Cole would certainly try to make a move on her. Morgan would not let that happen!
He exited through another side door, and hurried around to the back of the house. Lord Cole and Melinda were walking along the lantern-lit pathway. The rogue would want to take her toward the yard that wasn’t lit well. Morgan knew the other man’s mind. He wasn’t considered a womanizer, although he still had his share of women.
Morgan scanned the yard. Thankfully, there were large bushes or trees he could use for hiding. He’d certainly make use of these.
He stayed behind the two, darting from one tree, to a hedge, back to a tree, as quickly as his feet would take him. Did he feel guilty for doing this? Not at all. Melinda would thank him for being worried about her welfare, he was certain. If not now, she would eventually.
Just as he suspected, Lord Cole led her under a canopied tree. Because they were off the lantern-lit path, the low hanging branches definitely made them more private. Well, Morgan wouldn’t allow that to last for very long!
The palms of his hands moistened the more anxious he became. He didn’t want to announce himself by jumping into their private alcove. He must choose the precise moment, and hopefully, he wouldn’t be too late. In order to accomplish this, he must get closer.
He took calculated steps toward the couple, trying his best to listen to what they were saying. So far, all he could detect was mumbling. From time to time, she would laugh. Strange, how it sounded forced. Yet, she wouldn’t come out in the night with a man who made her uncomfortable. He figured he knew her well enough to know she was a smarter woman than that.
When the tone of her mumbling grew a little louder, his heart hammered in panic. This didn’t sound like someone who was enjoying herself. Because she’d reprimanded him before, he knew the pitch of her voice when she was angry.
He quickened his steps, not really caring about what excuse to use when he broke them apart. She’d thank him, he just knew it.
Suddenly, she screamed, and his heart dropped. I’m too late!
TWELVE
Melinda held still as she stared at the black, furry insect with eight legs climbing up her arm. Out of all of the insects she couldn’t handle, spiders were top of the list. The blasted creature must have dropped on her from the tree. Never would she go underneath a large, canopied tree, such as this one, again.
“Get—that thing—off me,” she demanded in a tight voice.
“Don’t move.” Lord Cole aimed his hand, ready to swipe the insect away. “I don’t want to squash it and have it stain your gown.”
“Kill it. I—don’t care.”
In one swish of his hand, he’d knocked the terrorizing creature off her arm. Shivers of disgust ran through her, making her want to gag. Her body shook with tremors as she jumped around, hoping none of the spider’s friends were taking up residence on her person.
“Are you all right?” Lord Cole asked.
His wide eyes and worried expression was genuine. At least she knew he wasn’t going to laugh at her or tease her for being frightened of a spider.
“I would be much better if we could mo
ve into the light. Objects that hang over me, such as this tree, are the very thing that house insects such as the little bugger.”
Lord Cole took her hand. “I agree. Let’s return—”
“Release your hold from the lady, and step away!”
Melinda jumped again, but this time it was because of the loud order that came from an angry voice. As her vision adjusted to their intruder, she gasped. “Mr. Drake?”
Morgan’s shocked expression was almost comical, but she couldn’t laugh. Not yet. The emotion flowing through her was embarrassment. For the moment, she couldn’t tell if she was more humiliated for being caught alone with a man—or mortified for Morgan because she and Lord Cole weren’t doing what she supposed Morgan figured they were doing in the tree’s alcove.
“Pray tell, Mr. Drake,” Lord Cole began, “I’m sorry to say that I don’t have my hands on the lady.”
Morgan’s gaze switched between her and Lord Cole. They were still in the shadows, but she was certain if they were in the light, Morgan’s cheeks would be red.
“I...um, I heard her scream.” Morgan’s shoulders went back, making him taller than Lord Cole.
“I did scream,” she explained with a soft voice, “because there was a spider crawling up my arm.” She shivered again from remembrance.
Morgan frowned. “Oh...then forgive me for the interruption.” He made a move to leave, but then his head whipped back around as he glared at Lord Cole. “But I’m warning you. As a friend of Miss Stewart’s, I’d better not see you making any inappropriate advances. Do I make myself clear?”
Once again, she was struck speechless. Was it because Morgan was actually threatening a lord, or because he felt some kind of need to protect her. This evening was certainly full of surprises.
Lord Cole arched an eyebrow, giving Morgan a self-assured look. “I shall take your threat into consideration. Now, please be on your way, Mr. Drake.”
Melinda sucked in a quick breath. Had Lord Cole actually insulted Morgan by calling him mister? It must have slipped the lord’s mind that she didn’t hold a title, either. Apparently, Morgan’s wealth was the only reason these snobbish aristocrats were tolerating his presence.
The Sweetest Challenge Page 9
