Seeing Melissa dressing, she hissed, “Are you leaving?”
“I should, shouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, biting her lip endearingly. She was very afraid of what her father would do. Melissa had warned her about being caught. She’d waited until she was certain everyone was in their rooms for the night before sneaking down to Melissa’s room. She had grown complacent with their regular lovemaking throughout the summer, and she’d forgotten about the others in her life and her coming out party that was scheduled for this fall.
“Are you decent?” her father’s voice came through the door far too soon.
Melissa nodded at her friend, ripping a stocking as she pulled and adjusted it, wanting to cry over the tear and at the same time just wanting to be finished dressing.
“Just a moment, Father.” Handing Melissa her top, she helped to tie the ribbons that held it together, brushing at the exposed skin before the petticoat ties hid it. She hadn’t meant for that to happen, but she handed Melissa her skirt before turning away and heading for the door. Opening it, she saw both her parents waiting.
“Go to your room, Abigail,” Lord Baxter ordered.
“Father, I can–” she began, not knowing what she could really say.
“Go to your room, Miss!”
Frightened, Abigail glanced at her mother, who was looking down at the floor, ashamed as she rushed by her.
Lord Baxter turned to look at the disheveled but fully dressed Melissa Lawrence. “You may leave in the morning, and I don’t expect to have you back.”
Mel nodded once, relieved but still uncertain about the situation. She glanced at Lady Baxter, who refused to look at her as Lord Baxter closed the door between them.
Grabbing his wife’s elbow, he led her down the hall.
Mel began to pack her things. She never traveled with a maid, not because they couldn’t afford it but because she preferred her privacy. Now, she was glad no one was there to see her humiliation as she packed. She didn’t sleep a wink, wondering what they would say or do to Abigail. She called to a footman to take her trunk down at first light, asking that someone call for her carriage. She would stay at one of the hotels her father favored, knowing he would eventually return. She wondered if Lord Baxter would say anything to him. The idea of having to discuss this situation with her father frightened her. How could she explain? Would he understand? What would he say?
CHAPTER TEN
“Did you hear? Abigail Baxter is to be married.” Mel froze where she was standing at the party her father had been invited to. She hadn’t seen Abigail in weeks, not since they had been discovered. She’d been slowly dying inside, waiting for a moment to see her and perhaps put her plan into action. She realized now it might be too late. She tried to get closer to the speaker and hear the conversation.
“Yes, she’s marrying Lord Worthington,” the other person whispered, keeping their voices low since they were gossiping.
“Not that old codger!” the first girl gasped, outraged. “He’s old enough to be her grandfather!”
“Great-grandfather,” the other giggled.
“He’ll want children straight off.”
“Do you think he can still…you know?” The giggles were getting on Mel’s nerves, and she really wanted to vomit at the thought of what Abigail was going through. She couldn’t hear them anymore as they moved off in the crush of bodies. She didn’t need to hear anymore though, she just needed to escape the heat of the many bodies. She began to look for her father.
“Father, I’m not feeling well. Would you mind if I went back to our hotel?”
“We’ll be staying at…” he began and then looked at his daughter. She looked very pale. “Are you all right, Melissa?”
“No, Father. There are just too many people here tonight, and it’s far too warm.” That was partially true as the end of summer party was both indoors and out, and the hot air that traveled inside did nothing to dissipate the crush of bodies.
“Yes, yes there are. I’ll take you right back,” he worried as he signaled a footman to order his carriage and men. As his only heir, he was proud of the fact that Melissa had always had such a hearty constitution. She had been a little off for the past few weeks, and he worried that she was catching something. He hadn’t been feeling well himself and had been working hard on the deals he had made in this part of England. Staying in or even finding reputable hotels was difficult, and he was always pleased when his business associates invited them to stay at their estates. He was hopeful that Melissa would one day meet a man of substance, not a peer of the realm but perhaps a man of means, but she hadn’t shown any interest. There had been a couple he knew were more interested in her money, and he’d steered her away from them. But there were a few that she could talk to as equals, and they had expressed interest in a possible pairing. She wouldn’t even consider it as they were usually older men looking for second or even third wives in their later years. She was aware they were looking for her to take care of them comfortably with the monies she would realize. They usually understood a young girl better, but she was an intelligent woman, and while they were men he would consider eligible for his heir’s hand, she didn’t even look at them twice. He had no idea that his daughter preferred women. He hadn’t even contemplated that. It would never have occurred to him, and he would be shocked if he ever found out
* * * * *
As Abigail entered the stables for her customary early morning ride, she was startled and nearly screamed when a hand reached out and pulled her into a vacant stall. The hand covered her mouth, silencing her, and was held there as the young woman’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. Her eyes widened when they adjusted, and she recognized the much bigger Melissa Lawrence. She had thought from the person’s size that it was a man. Slowly, Mel released her grip as Abigail calmed, her own hand going to her mouth in a gesture of silence as the brunette’s fingers pressed against her lips.
“What in the world?” Abigail gasped when she was released, whispering it loudly but earnestly. “Do you know what my father would do if he discovered you here?” She knew. It had been made very clear to her that the American would die a horrible death if she were caught anywhere near the earl’s daughter. Only the fact that Victor Lawrence was so well-known and had very important ties and the money to back up anything he wanted to do kept the earl from exacting revenge. Lawrence’s daughter could stay the hell away from his daughter! He only hoped he could marry her off before the gossip reached the wrong ears. He knew the servants couldn’t help spreading gossip.
Mel nodded. “What is this I hear about you marrying Lord Worthington?” she asked, the knife in her heart turning slightly and gutting her. She’d waited practically all night in the stable, hoping that Abigail would take her customary early morning ride. She had snuck over after her father left on a two-day business trip. She only hoped none of the grooms that were about found them. She could hear them faintly at the other end of the stable.
“My father says I have no choice. No decent man would have me if they found out about my…” she looked down as she sobbed slightly, “my proclivities. I think my mother convinced him it was you who led me astray.” They both knew the lie to that statement, but Abigail hadn’t been asked, and she certainly wouldn’t volunteer the information. She looked back up at the angry American.
Mel was hard put not to say something in anger. If anyone had seduced anyone, it had been Abigail. She had tried to resist, but she had loved this young woman and now… “How can you?” she asked her instead, staring at her hard with angry, dark eyes, the violet color of Abigail’s eyes barely discernable in the early morning light and shadows in the stall.
“You don’t understand. Lord Worthington will be paying off my father’s debts, and we won’t be losing our home,” she sobbed slightly as she looked at her, trying to make her understand. She had to make this sacrifice for her mother, her sister, and her brothers. That had been made very clear to her once they knew what she had b
een up to. The humiliation had been brutal. She had been given no choice. Either she married this man, and soon, or they would turn her out. The alternative was a convent or an asylum, and she’d overheard her mother arguing furiously with her father about that. She must be weak in the head to prefer women over men and have unnatural inclinations such as this.
“So, you will give yourself to this man for your family and for your father’s gambling habits?” Mel asked, incredulous. “I wanted you to go away with me. I have more money than they, and we can live quite–”
“You don’t understand, Melissa. My family would be destitute. We would lose all this.” Her gesture took in the stable and everything beyond it including the lush lawns leading up to the great house. “I can’t do that to my family. I owe them.”
“I could pay off–” she began but saw the horror on the young woman’s face at the suggestion. She imagined speaking to the earl about his debts and dismissed the thought. She changed her tactics. “What do you owe yourself? What about us? I love you, Abigail,” she told her earnestly, her young heart trying to pour her emotions into her few words.
“I’m sorry, Melissa. What we had was an aberration. It’s not normal. I can’t–” she broke off as she attempted to leave the stall. “I’m sorry, Melissa,” she repeated as she looked in the taller woman’s eyes to try and make her understand the sacrifice she was making. She briefly considered kissing her goodbye but knowing that it would be their last kiss, she couldn’t trust herself to let her go. She knew what would happen in this lonely stall with no one around to stop them. If her father found out, he would kill Melissa, and Abigail would either go to an asylum, a convent, or be thrown out, never to be spoken of again.
“No! Don’t go!” she pleaded, but the smaller blonde slipped out and didn’t look back, leaving Mel heartbroken as she realized what she had lost.
* * * * *
Two weeks later, Mel heard the banns had been read for Abigail Baxter’s marriage to Lord Worthington. Now, she would be Lady Worthington and in a social sphere where no one would question her youthful indiscretions. No one would gossip about anything they might have heard about the young girl. She had made an advantageous match for her family. Her father and his finances were solvent, and she would breed Worthington a slew of sons for his many estates. A few mentioned that now she wouldn’t need the coming out party that had been planned for that fall; a couple making snide comments about how it had saved her father the expense of such an extravagance. Melissa Lawrence was not invited to the wedding, which was a month later. She heard of it through mutual friends, swallowed her heartbreak, and concentrated on her father’s business dealings.
For some reason, Victor wasn’t as enthused with the horses and farms he had purchased anymore. He seemed a little off, and when Melissa found him slumped over in his bed one morning, it was too late for the doctor. Victor Lawrence had died of a heart seizure. The normally hale and hearty Victor had succumbed in the prime of his life.
Mel was heartbroken. First, she had lost the only woman she had ever truly loved, and now, her beloved father was gone. The vultures started to circle. Her father’s lawyers advised she accept one of the many marriage proposals her father had fended off. She was surprised to learn of them, then realized her father hadn’t told her because he wanted her to choose. While he hadn’t been quite sure what had happened at the Baxter’s to sever her close friendship with them, he knew the loss of her close friendship with Abigail had hurt her. She wasn’t ready for marriage, and the many fortune hunters had appalled him. She refused the lawyers’ suggestions. Instead, she went through her father’s paperwork on the investments and decided to rid herself of the horse farms and horses he had been purchasing for the last year. So much of that reminded her of better times with Abigail. She didn’t even care that several of them went to Lord Worthington as he added to his stud and his many estates. She just made sure they made money on the deal, earning back the expense of the beasts, the farms, and welcoming the profit from the very man who now had rights to her love.
She kept the investments in coal mines, factories, and even a steel rail line, assigning a business manager to oversee them as she arranged to leave England. She went to London, far away from the horse farms and the people she had previously met and socialized with. While waiting for the sales to complete on the farms and horses and a few other details to be finalized, she hid in some of the finest hotels. The few investments her father had made during his short time in Europe could be looked over by his managers there. She was going back to America, far from her heartbreak and the bad memories that remained in England.
Before leaving for London, she arranged to have her father buried in a consecrated plot near a little church they had admired. It wasn’t one of the great churches attended by many of the lords and ladies they had associated with. Instead, a grateful Anglican priest accepted her monies to tend to the plot for his lifetime. He also appreciated the repairs she arranged to the small church on her father’s behalf. He admired her respect of her father’s legacy and the respect she was showing by bestowing these monies on their little church.
Mel couldn’t have cared less about the small church, but she knew it was a beautiful spot, and her father would have enjoyed going there. They’d attended churches with the many business associates her father had made. Few lords or ladies were in commerce, but the ones who were changing their families’ fortunes this way had invited them. This little, no-name church needed the monies and would tend to her father’s lonely grave in perpetuity out of gratitude for her generous donation.
“Miss Lawrence, you can’t possibly understand the intricacies of your father’s–” began the lawyers who had, out of necessity, followed her to London. Mel cut them short with a dismissive wave of her hand.
“You mean the business dealings my father included me in despite your objections?” she finished for them. She pulled herself up to her full height as she addressed them. “My father trained me well, and I believe if we get rid of these farms and the horses, then my business dealings here will be concluded. I have every faith in Mr. Adams,” she indicated the manager her father had considered hiring that she had employed recently, “as did my father, and he will continue to administer these business interests for me. Monsieur Fabre will continue to handle my interests in Belgium and France. Both gentlemen can reach me through the banks wherever I may travel,” she told them in a no-nonsense voice, and the older lawyers who had tried to condescend to the heiress subsided. Victor Lawrence had always included her in his dealings and solicited her advice, much to the men’s chagrin. She did know what she was doing. She had inherited his holdings in England, Europe, and America. There were no other heirs, and they couldn’t naysay her. She wasn’t incompetent, and her greatest fault was her sex. Their advice was unsolicited and ignored, and she was right. She owned the properties of Victor Lawrence outright and could squander them if she so chose.
Mel arranged her own ticket back to America once things were concluded months later. She longed to visit with Abigail and her family one last time but knew that friendship was forever gone. She headed to the ship with regrets, yearnings, and personal chastisements for the way she had handled their affair. The voyage between England and America seemed never-ending. She wasn’t interested in learning anything on the trip, although she observed the sailors dispassionately, too lost in her own thoughts to really associate with others. The rumors about this heiress having suddenly lost her father interested a few of the other passengers as they gossiped about her, but most left her alone. This wasn’t like the many other trips she and her father had taken across the seas, enjoying each other’s company and the people they met. Those trips had been fun, and Mel had enjoyed herself when her father was alive. Now, she just wanted to be left alone as she learned to deal with being alone, possibly for the rest of her life.
In New York, Mel faced the same condescension from the lawyers who handled her father’s holdings there. She put the
m firmly in their place, taking the reins of his business dealings by selling off a few things that were unprofitable and keeping the vast majority tightly knit, then assigning managers she trusted to oversee them. As she waited for a few deals to conclude, she took lessons from a boxer on how to defend herself before she retreated to Virginia to hunt, fish, and gather herself for a few months. The Melissa Lawrence who went to the country was not the Mel Lawrence who left it. For one thing, she cut her long, brown hair into a style that was shorter and easier to maintain. It enhanced her masculine-like appearance, and no one took her for the woman she was. She began to bind her breasts to keep them from making noticeable bumps on her chest. She now wore pants with button-down shirts and vests, and she had nice suits made for her. She liked the feel of men’s clothing on her frame and it suited her.
Mel began to travel, trying earnestly to forget the past year of her life—from the love she had felt for Abigail, to the loss of that relationship, and the loss of her beloved father. She concentrated on herself and what she wanted out of life. She slowly made her way to the Mississippi, using her knowledge of cards to become a bit more skillful as she met a down-on-his-luck card shark who, in return for her staking him, taught her how to play both honestly and dishonestly. She learned what to watch for and how to bluff if she needed to. Having to pretend she was a man, when at heart she knew she was a woman, her poker face skills were already well established. She no longer cared what others thought of her and ignored them when they looked at her oddly.
First in Chicago, next in St. Louis, and later in New Orleans, she sought out madams who understand her unique tastes. They were well paid for their discretion and their time.
“I am surprised to vind you here, Melissa,” the madam in New Orleans welcomed her back to her exclusive establishment. She herself had tutored the young woman, who was now full-grown and had come into her own. She was sorry the woman wasn’t interested in taking her away from this distasteful business. She would have been a willing partner to whatever Melissa might have had in mind. She knew the young woman could afford to support her in the lap of luxury. At one time, she had been a respected member of the community here in New Orleans, but hard times and lack of money had forced her to move full-time into this position.
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