by Jane Goodger
“A waltz, if you please, Miss Stanhope.”
Charles clapped loudly, urging her on, and Lady Juliana gave her a bland smile before going to stand by John. The two of them began talking quietly together, while looking at her, and Melissa wondered what they were talking about so intently. Her? John let out a laugh, and Lady Juliana smiled prettily. Melissa felt a sharp stab of something she’d never in her life felt before, but that she recognized nonetheless: jealousy.
Once she finished her dance, the others applauded loudly, and John stepped in for a quadrille, having so much fun the others lost themselves in laughter. By the time Avonleigh stepped up, it had turned into a contest of pure silliness. However, silly was not a word one would use to describe Avonleigh, and it was that very seriousness that produced such large amounts of levity during his performance of a lively polka. He bowed as if having completed the dance at the Covent Garden Theatre.
“Bravo,” John said, clapping loudly. Next to him, Lady Juliana tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile as she looked fondly at her older brother. “Well, Miss Stanhope, you are the judge. Who has won the contest?”
“Since Lord Avonleigh was clearly the only one who gave this contest the solemnity it deserved, I will have to bestow that honor upon him.”
Avonleigh almost smiled, and bowed in gratitude. When he rose, he gave John and then Melissa a telling look before announcing, “As winner, I should be granted a prize, should I not?”
John stiffened. “Unfortunately, the only prize is pride of winning,” he said.
“I was thinking a kiss,” he said, looking at each woman in turn.
“Avon, I hardly think that’s proper,” Lady Juliana said, two spots of color appearing on her pale cheeks.
Avonleigh gave his sister a lazy smile and completely ignored her words. “I can hardly think that a kiss from my sister, as lovely as she is, could be construed as a prize. And I see that Miss Norris is scowling mightily at me. Given her state of near engagement, that leaves her out.” He turned to Melissa. “I suppose a small kiss from Miss Atwell would be more than adequate compensation for my performance.”
Melissa gave Miss Stanhope a quick look and was surprised to find that the older woman found Avonleigh more amusing than shocking.
“On the cheek,” John growled.
Oh, he was growling, when just that afternoon he’d quite dismissed her concern about kisses. She would show him. She marched up to Avonleigh and aimed her plump, parted lips toward his rather hard and stern ones, but he turned his head just as she was about to meet his mouth, and she ended up kissing his jaw. “A perfect prize,” he said softly, his dark eyes pinning her to the spot before shifting past her to look at John.
John turned his head slightly away from the spectacle, so that when Melissa looked up, he appeared bored by the entire show. And then Miss Stanhope, after giving Melissa a cursory frown, began playing a reel, and Charles claimed her for a dance. Avonleigh paired with Laura, and a triumphant Lady Juliana twirled about with John.
Melissa found that after a few measures, her anger with John was quite forgotten, and she gave herself up to the fun of the evening. Her lonely rooms in Bamburgh were very far away at that moment, along with those long hours of staring out the window and wondering what the world held. It was difficult to believe that she was the girl swirling about the floor in the arms of a man she hadn’t known just a week earlier. She let out a laugh and caught Miss Stanhope’s eyes as the older woman gave her a smile. This was what she’d been missing, the joy of being with other people her age, of feeling beautiful, of being happy.
After dancing, the men begged for a break and headed to John’s study for brandy and a cigar, leaving the women sipping sherry and gossiping. Melissa didn’t care for the taste of sherry at all, so her sips were quite small, and she didn’t know any of the people the other women were talking about, so she remained silent throughout much of the conversation.
Laura turned to her. “We must be boring you with our gossip, since you likely don’t know a soul we’re talking about. Do we seem dreadfully shallow?”
“Not at all. Simply well informed,” Melissa said, and was rather proud when both women laughed. Every day that passed, she felt more confident about her ability to navigate the waters of London society. She was no longer terrified to walk into a room filled with these people, and realized it was only a matter of practice before she became completely at ease.
“I have been wondering,” Laura said, “what it was you did all day. There is no society to speak of in Bamburgh, is there?”
“I spent much of my time in our home,” Melissa said, feeling only a smidgeon of unease at her prevarication. “I had tutors, of course, and would practice the pianoforte and dancing. I quite enjoy needlepoint, and my father would play chess with me nearly every day. I also read like a fiend. I read every book in our library.”
The two women looked at her as if she’d grown another head. “No parties or concerts? Or shopping?” Laura asked, aghast.
“Since I had never attended any amusements, I did not miss them,” Melissa said. “I think now I would, though. It’s quite fun dancing with others about. And simply standing in a small circle with friends is a novelty for me.”
“We shall have such fun this season,” Laura said, impulsively grabbing Melissa’s arm. Melissa didn’t flinch or pull away, and she felt as if she’d climbed the highest mountain. Perhaps she could be normal. Perhaps she could get through this season without anyone’s suspecting she was different.
“I’m dreading the season,” Lady Juliana said, surprising both women.
“Why? You are always so popular, Lady Juliana,” Laura said.
“Don’t you ever get weary of the constant social whirl? To be honest, I do believe life in Bamburgh would suit me. If someone does offer for me, I shall be perfectly content to live in the country and never go to London again.”
“You can’t mean that,” Laura said.
“I do mean it,” she said, and Melissa sensed a deep sadness in her. But any vulnerability she’d shown was quickly masked by a quick lift of her chin and a small, perfect smile. “Perhaps a yearly visit,” she said. “No doubt my husband will insist.”
“Thomas adores London, thank goodness. He has the most lovely town house, small, but it’s quite near Mayfield and very comfortable. I wonder whom you shall marry, Melissa. Oh, I cannot wait until the gentlemen see you. It shall be so entertaining. That is, providing you aren’t already spoken for.”
It was obvious Laura was hinting about her brother, but Melissa was not in the mood to discuss Charles and his infatuation. This entire business of finding a husband was already so tiresome, and she truly hadn’t even started yet. It was the one part of being in society she didn’t care for. Oh, she found she adored flirting and dancing, and perhaps even kissing, but the actual thought of spending her life with a stranger wasn’t at all appealing. She didn’t want to attend balls and be examined by the ton’s single men. She didn’t want to go on carriage rides with strange men or suffer their attentions. She wished . . .
She wished a foolish wish, one that could never come true. But there it was, this longing for a man, the one man who she could not have, the one who made her blood sing, made her feel things almost frightening. It wasn’t an anomaly. It wasn’t that John was the first man she’d touched. Was it?
Her experience with members of the opposite sex was so limited, how could she possibly know what was normal and what was a result of her total isolation? What if the perfect man for her was out there, but she was so fixated on John that she overlooked him?
“Laura,” she said, “how did you know Lord Brewster was the one you wanted to marry? There are so many men, how did you pick him?”
Laura’s face took on a dreamy look, and Lady Juliana pressed her lips together as if offended by Laura’s joy. “I knew the first moment I saw him.”
Something that sounded suspiciously like a snort emitted from Lady Juliana. Instead o
f being insulted, Laura laughed. “It’s true. Almost. He asked me to dance, but he was only one of several men at my debut, and I really didn’t notice him more than any of the other men with whom I danced. But I overheard him talking with two of his friends, who said I was far too flighty for them to take seriously. And Thomas said, I shall never forget it, ‘She has a joy about her, and one cannot help smiling. That is a rare thing.’ A rare thing. And that was that.”
Melissa furrowed her brow, not thinking much of Laura’s story. “You fell in love that quickly?”
“No, not quite. But over the following weeks, I may have positioned myself close by so that he was forced to engage me in conversation, and before we knew it, we were in love,” Laura said, hugging herself as Lady Juliana looked at her with a small amount of skepticism.
“Have you kissed?” Melissa asked, and the two women gasped as if she’d asked if they’d made love.
Despite the show of horror at her question, Laura quickly smiled and said, “Yes. Twice.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“Was it nice? Did it take you to the stars and make your knees weak?”
Laura gasped again, and Lady Juliana looked shocked. “Has Charles kissed you?” Laura asked, not so much shocked as delighted.
“I’m not talking about myself. I was asking about you,” Melissa said, her cheeks flaming. She didn’t realize her question was improper. “And no, your brother has not kissed me,” she said, her cheeks going even brighter at the lie. Perhaps kissing Charles was not the thing, especially since they’d just met.
“Well?” Lady Juliana asked Laura. “Did your knees go weak?” Her eyes glinted with mischief, and Melissa was quickly realizing that Lady Juliana was not at all what she seemed.
“Were they supposed to?” Laura asked, looking from one woman to the other.
“I think it depends upon the kiss,” Melissa offered, though she didn’t truly believe that. If that were true, the simple quick kiss John had given her should not have affected her in such a profound way. And yet it had.
Miss Stanhope chose that moment to put her needlework down and approach the small group. “Shall I go get the men to resume the dancing?”
All three women turned, each with her color heightened, thanks to all the talk of kissing.
“That sounds lovely,” Lady Juliana said sedately, and when Miss Stanhope left, all three dissolved into laughter.
If John realized one thing that night, it was that he would not be able to make it through a season watching Melissa dance with gentlemen intent on winning her hand. It was torture, a torture he’d never in his life experienced. He was becoming a person he did not recognize and found the effort not to watch her as she smiled up into Avonleigh’s stern face an exercise in futility.
She was lovely, even in the drab half-mourning colors she insisted on wearing, and he could not take his eyes from her. He was twenty-nine years old, had attended more balls, more amusements, more concerts with more women than he could count. He had bedded more than a few, been a considerate lover, and said good-bye without one spec of remorse. Or thought. Or longing.
Why, then, could he not get a single kiss out of his mind? Why did the thought that she’d kissed Charles, no matter how briefly, make him want to slam his fist into Charles’s mouth? His best friend, no less?
What the hell was wrong with him? He found himself in a state of half arousal most of the time just at the mere thought of her, never mind when she was sitting next to him smelling of spring rain and looking like an angel. He did not recognize himself. He did not get infatuated with women. He did not pine or long or lose sleep over them. Why, then, was this one woman driving him mad? Was it simply because he knew he could never have her? Or was it that she was so damned special, that she touched him in a way no other woman had?
John forced himself to turn to Lady Juliana, who stood by him watching the other two couples dance. His father stood by Miss Stanhope, turning pages, though John suspected the lady did not require his help. John was glad to see his father with them for the evening. He’d joined the men in the library and enjoyed a cigar and a glass of port, and John had thought he would disappear into his study for the evening. Instead, his father surprised him by following them into the drawing room.
The song ended, and Melissa dipped a flirtatious curtsy, and John wondered how she’d learned so quickly the way to attract a man. Even Avonleigh, who had shown little interest in women of late, could not keep his eyes from her. He was far better at masking his interest than Charles, but John could see it clearly. She was lovely and quick-witted and everything a man would want in a wife.
He watched through hooded eyes as she walked over to Miss Stanhope and then replaced the woman at the pianoforte with a delighted laugh. His father looked slightly bewildered, but did as he should and asked Miss Stanhope for a dance. The earl socialized rarely, and when he did it was to further some political cause. Rarely had he seen his father dance for the simple pleasure of holding a woman in his arms. With all the women spoken for, John felt himself drawn to Melissa’s side. She was playing a waltz without music in front of her, so he had no excuse for approaching other than a desire to be near her.
She was a confident player, looking up often to watch the others dancing, her eyes delighted by the scene. John swallowed heavily, wondering when he would become immune to her smiles or if he would always be battered by them. Would he ever get used to her being with another man? Would this feeling, this horrible need, ever leave him?
Her hair was piled artlessly upon her head, and the dancing had loosened several curls, which lay softly upon her neck and cheek. Without thinking, he brushed one curl from her face and tucked it behind her ear. And when she looked up and smiled at him, it was all he could do not to bend and press his mouth against hers. Instead, he gave her a tight smile and turned to watch the dancers, irritation growing as Avonleigh raised one eyebrow at him over his sister’s head.
When the song was over, the couples turned to Melissa and clapped.
“That was lovely, Melissa,” Laura said. “Is there anything you cannot do?”
“I can’t ride a horse,” she said promptly, with such guilelessness, the others were charmed.
“Oh, my. An Englishwoman who cannot ride a horse. That is something we must remedy immediately,” Charles said heartily, and John masked his irritation. Just who was the “we” he was referring to?
“Horses frighten her,” John said quietly.
“Oh, but that’s simply because she hasn’t been near them enough. Did your father not have a stable, then?”
“Yes, but I . . .” Her cheeks flamed, and John understood her mortification that she’d never been in her father’s stable. His friends knew she’d been isolated, but they did not know she’d spent nearly her entire life in one set of rooms. They didn’t know she’d had to learn to navigate stairs, and even now had difficulty running.
“She was frightened as a girl. Nearly trampled,” John said, and Melissa looked first surprised, then grateful.
“Ah,” Charles said. “But you must ride.”
“Why must I?” Melissa said, laughing. “My legs work perfectly well, and if I have to go a long distance, I daresay a conveyance will do.”
“But . . . Of course,” Charles said, though he looked rather disconcerted. Charles, who loved his stable of fine horses more than anything in the world, had just realized the object of his affections had a major flaw. Perhaps one he would not be able to overcome. John couldn’t have been happier.
“Do you like hounds?” Charles asked as if ticking off items on a list.
“I wouldn’t know, as we never had a dog.”
“Surely you’ve been near them,” Charles said, looking to John for an explanation. Everyone was looking at Melissa as if she were some strange being. Every well-bred Englishwoman knew how to ride and at least had known one dog in her life. John waited, wondering if he should come to her rescue again or let her rescu
e herself. This was only a tiny bit of what she would experience during the season.
“I have an adverse reaction to them,” she said, and beamed John a smile. “Terrible thing. I get all stuffed up, and my eyes water. And I get itchy. We had a maid who could not eat strawberries, and dogs affect me that way.”
“That’s horrible,” Charles said.
“Yes, quite a tragedy,” John said dryly. “I suppose I’ll have to put off getting that puppy I wanted. The Gosslings just had a litter of fine hounds, and I was hoping to bring one home.”
“Really?” Melissa asked. She sounded very much like a child who has not eaten an unappetizing dinner, claiming she is full, only to realize her favorite dessert is being served.
“Ah, yes, I’d forgotten about poor old Duncan,” Charles said, referring to John’s constant companion, who’d recently died.
“Duncan died?” Laura asked mournfully.
“He was sixteen,” John said. “He had a good life, and I didn’t think I’d want another, but there is something rather empty about a house without a dog. Oh, well. I’ll just have to wait until after this season.”
“Maybe I will not have the same reaction to all dogs,” Melissa said, and John almost laughed. It was quite obvious that Melissa very much wanted a puppy in the house and was regretting her rash explanation. “The dog I reacted to was a hairy beast. And dirty. I don’t think a clean little puppy will bother me in the least.” She tilted her chin and looked so adorable, John found himself fighting yet another urge to kiss her.
“Still,” Avonleigh said, seeing through Melissa as easily as John did. “It isn’t worth the risk, my dear. Such reactions can be quite serious. I had a neighbor who nearly died after getting stung by a bee. Quite remarkable, really.”
