“Come here,” she said pulling Melissa down onto the chair while she did her hair before crossing to her wardrobe to extract a walking dress of white muslin with puffed sleeves lined with tiny blue flowers. She placed a small brooch over Melissa’s heart and then fetched her boots for her feet.
“There you go. Very beautiful,” Brynn finished with flourish.
Melissa examined herself in the looking glass and nodded. “I’ll do,” she said.
* * *
Patrick watched her approach with wide eyes, following the sway of her hips as the horse she was riding minced toward him. Her hazel eyes were on him, watching him almost with trepidation. He imagined she was afraid of why he had come. Afraid that he had come to break her heart.
Bold of you to assume that you hold such power over her, a voice that sounded very much like his father’s interrupted his musings.
She came to a stop in front of him and slid gracefully off her beast.
“Lord Bergon.”
“Please, call me Patrick.”
“Fine. Patrick. What brings you here.”
“I got your letter. I wanted to give you a reply in person.”
She took a deep breath. “I see.” Her eyes fluttered with nerves, hands twisting against each other. She looked anywhere but at him.
“I am going to break my engagement to your sister.”
Her eyes snapped to his and widened as she gasped. “What?”
“You are right. It was not my intention–rakish or otherwise–but I am playing around with both of your hearts and it is time I was true to myself and my heart. I told you how I felt about you at the Pickerings and I assure you, I did not lie.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer of anything. I shall call upon your sister and break my engagement this afternoon.”
Melissa had her hand to her heart; her breathing was audible. “Oh, my goodness,” she whispered.
Patrick’s brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him. “Unless you don’t want me to break my engagement?”
“No, no! Please, of course, I want you to do that. I want to be with you, Patrick.”
The Marquess smiled. “I like the way you say my name.”
Melissa smiled.
* * *
Thalia Alford sat in her sitting room, embroidering a table carpet as her thoughts whirled. Cheshmill had her by the short hairs and they both knew it. She tried to think of a way out of this predicament he had put her in without exposure, but could think of nothing.
The soft knock on the door distracted her and she put her embroidery down to see who it was.
“Your Grace, a gentleman is here to see you,” the butler announced.
“Who is it?”
“The Duke of Cheshmill, Your Grace.”
Thalia cursed under her breath even as she nodded for the butler to let him in. She sat back wearily and waited for The Duke’s latest demands.
He breezed into the room, walking stick in hand and sat down opposite her without waiting for an invitation.
“My dear Thalia, how wonderful to see you again.”
“Can we dispense with the so-called pleasantries please and just tell me why you are here.”
“Well, I was wondering why my son is still consorting with your younger daughter.”
Thalia frowned. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I understand they were practically canoodling at the Pickering recital. Didn't you know?”
Thalia’s frown deepened. “That cannot be right. He was here, just yesterday, having tea with Lady Rose.”
“Well then, he is more of a chip off the old block than I imagined.” The Duke gave an evil approximation of a laugh. “Because he was seen by multiple witnesses, with his head close together with your younger daughter–the one we both have no use for.”
Thalia looked away, “I...” she shook her head, “that girl is a wild one. I cannot control her.”
“You’d best find a way, or else...” The Duke got to his feet, narrowing his eyes at her.
“There is no need for threats, Cheshmill.”
He sneered. “Then get it done.”
He swept out of the room in a cloud of malevolence and Thalia did not breathe again until she heard the front door shut behind him. She let her breath out, slumping back in her seat, thinking frantically.
* * *
Rose was in her room when her lady’s maid came to inform her that the Marquess of Bergon had arrived to see her. She got to her feet excitedly.
“Quick, bring me my forest-green gown and put my hair up,” she ordered.
“Yes, My Lady.” the lady’s maid hastened to do as she was told.
Lady Rose felt her hands trembling with excitement as she walked at a sedate pace toward the drawing room where Lord Bergon was waiting. He had blindsided her with this impromptu visit. He had never sought her out before.
Maybe he’s changed his mind about the kissing.
Her heart sped up at the thought and she sped up as much as she could without running. As she stepped into the drawing room, her eyes were drawn to the Marquess as he paced near the fireplace. Her eyes shone with happiness as she sashayed up to him, a huge smile on her face.
“Lord Bergon, this is a surprise.”
He glanced distractedly at her, visibly struggling to cease pacing. “Yes, I am sorry to drop in on you without prior notice.”
“Think nothing of it,” she said promptly, extending her gloved hand to be kissed. He took it absentmindedly and aimed a kiss at the air above it before dropping her hand and turning away.
“I have something very urgent that I must speak with you about.”
“Oh yes?” Lady Rose took a seat for her knees were weak and she did not think they would support her.
“Yes, I’m sorry Lady Rose, but I have to break our engagement. I cannot continue with…”
Rose shot to her feet; eyes wide with shock. “What? What do you mean?
Lord Bergon sighed, coming to a stop next to Rose and looking her in the eye. “I’m sorry. This is just not going to work.”
“But the invitations to my engagement party have already been sent out!”
“Cancel it. Or announce your engagement to someone else. My heart is already given elsewhere.”
“What?” Rose took a step closer to him, eyes narrowed. “Where exactly is your heart given?”
“That is neither here nor there,” Lord Bergon began to say.
“Oh, but I think it is.” Rose could not help how shrill she got.
Lord Bergon scoffed, turning away from her. “I really apologize sincerely for any inconvenience caused to you, My Lady. Allow me to take my leave.”
He bowed to her even as she spluttered indignantly and left the room.
“Mother!” Rose called, stomping out of the drawing room.
“Rose, why are you shouting?” The Duchess emerged from the sitting room, a frown marring her features.
“I-I-I-it's Lord Bergon mama, he, he, he,” she inhaled sharply and sniffed, “He b-broke our engagement.” The tears flowed freely from her eyes as she clutched carelessly at her mother’s bodice.
The Duchess’ face lost all its color. “Impossible. Why would he do that?”
“He, he he s-said he-he, his heart belongs to som-someone else, mama!” Rose wailed.
The frown on The Duchess face deepened as she thought about that. She patted her daughter absently on the arm and pried Rose's fingers off her bodice. “Don’t worry about it, Rose. I’ll take care of it.”
“Y-you will?”
“I will. Now go and dry your tears. A lady should not look so disheveled in public.”
“Yes mama,” Rose sniffed, shuffling down the corridor and up the stairs to her room as her mother watched.
* * *
Melissa paced.
She rubbed her hands together to keep them warm and tried to stop her heart from pounding.
What are we doing?
&n
bsp; She vacillated between joy and panic. Patrick–it still gave her a thrill to call him by his given name–had gone off he said, to break his engagement to Rose. He had asked her to wait for him at Hyde Park.
He’ll come back. She told herself even as some part of her kept thinking that this was all a bald-faced lie and that right at this minute, Patrick was with Rose and they were laughing at how gullible she was. The other part was screaming in panic at the thought of Patrick breaking his engagement and having to tell Rose that he wanted her sister instead.
How shall we make this work?
She could not see beyond her desire to be with him, to be able to call him hers. It was all consuming. On the other hand, she was not so far gone that she could not see that the repercussions of this were quite grave. One simply did not cause a man to break his engagement and live to tell the tale.
Mama will kill me.
Her heart plummeted as she thought of it. The vague hope that one day, she and her mother would come to some rapprochement, fading. The Duchess would never forgive her for this.
It brought her to an understanding of her feelings for Patrick, that she was willing to risk excommunication from her family for him.
Chapter 13
Kiss from the Rose
Patrick pulled the reins to his horse, bringing it to a stop. He shimmied to the ground, hurrying to Melissa who was looking a bit worse for wear.
“I did it,” he said without preamble.
“Oh God,” Melissa turned sinking to the stone bench she had stood up from, looking devastated.
“Did you not want me to?” Patrick was suddenly filled with uncertainty.
“Of course, I did. That doesn’t mean I’m not terrified.” Melissa was short with him which he did not at all appreciate after his encounter with Lady Rose. He took a deep breath to calm himself, turning away from her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take my fears out on you.” Her voice was so small that he turned immediately to comfort her.
“Think nothing of it. It's quite all right.”
She nodded jerkily. “What now?” Her hazel eyes were as wide as saucers, looking to him for answers.
He did not really have any.
“We’ll give it a few days and then we shall declare ourselves to our parents,” he said at last.
She gave him the smallest smile, a spark of her usual fire in her eyes. “Or we could elope.”
Patrick met her smile with one of his own but shook his head. “Not quite yet. Let us wait and see what happens.”
Her face fell with disappointment but she nodded her agreement. “All right then. I shall trust your judgment.”
He smiled wryly. “I’m not sure my judgment is to be trusted, but thank you.”
They ruefully regarded each other for a while in silence.
“What now?” Melissa asked softly.
“Now would you walk with me? Hyde Park is beautiful this time of day. Perhaps you would allow me to buy you refreshment?”
Her face lit up, eyes brightening with pleasure. “I would like nothing better.”
She looped her arm through his and allowed him to lead her down the path.
* * *
It was a bubble they were living in, and Melissa knew it. She just did not care. She was ready to deal with the consequences when they got home.
Patrick finally had Melissa to himself for the entire day. He planned to make the most of it, and damn what came after. He could only borrow her for the moment and that stung, but they were together, just the two of them, walking in Hyde Park. They ambled along the Serpentine which stretched ahead of them, crisscrossed by thousands of intersecting loops.
“So many paths, all twisting and turning,” Melissa mused as she looked out at the lake. “Just like our lives.”
“I didn’t know you had poetry in your soul,” Patrick smiled as he came to a halt beside her.
Melissa nodded, turning to give him a smile. “So many things you don’t know about me.”
“Is that so?” He looked her up and down, and licking his lips, “Well, I would like to know everything.”
Melissa smirked. “I fear that we are talking about different things, Patrick.”
Patrick laughed, “Do not worry your pretty head about it. Come, let us walk along the bridge and watch the activity on the lake.”
“You’re not afraid of all the people that will see us?”
“Why would I be? Are we not to be married?”
Melissa laughed, turning away as she shook her head. “You are the silliest man.”
“And you love me so what does that make you?” Patrick grinned cheekily at her.
“It makes me the happiest lady in London.”
Patrick’s lips curved downward. “Only in London?”
That made Melissa laugh. “Fine, I am the happiest girl in the whole of England.”
Patrick’s mouth was still curved downward. “Just in England?”
Melissa laughed out loud, slapping him on the shoulder. “Take it or leave it.”
He sighed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll have to take it.”
Melissa skipped a bit, laughing like a child. It was worth any sacrifice to see Melissa like this, in her element; happy and free. When he watched her, he felt as if all the elements were hers. She wove through the traffic of humans as if carried on some invisible wheeled contraption, and he followed along behind.
Other ladies navigated around her like sailing ships, all that rigging keeping them stately even as they strolled, whispering together, no doubt sharing the latest on-dit. The cold wind nibbled on Patrick’s face and fingers but they had some nice toasty snack vendors on the way so he was reasonably sure they were not going to freeze solid.
In any case, he had more important things on his mind, such as how to proceed with this unorthodox courtship and make it so that Melissa did not suffer undue repercussions. She caught his eye and smiled secretively, then, kept walking as Patrick watched her, hands clasped behind his back, ignoring everyone else in the vicinity. He grinned and moved closer.
“Hush, don’t tell anyone,” she said, “but I think we might be the center of attention.”
He steered her toward the trees and gathered her in his arms: a nest for his magnificent albatross. “Are you not always the center of attention?”
“Patrick?” she said.
“Yes, my love?”
“Could I borrow you for a while longer?”
He wasn't certain what she was on about, but he didn’t need a special reason to tell her that he was all hers, that she’s his one and only love, his bright star. She smiled and buried her face in his coat even as she spoke in riddles about someone else wanting to burrow into him. “Well, I only want you,” His hands sought the sinuous folds of her bodice, his mind making no effort to stop them.
As evening fell, they wandered hand in hand through the crowd like hunters through a forest, Patrick realizing he never truly understood that Wordsworth poem before. The Philistines around them were still gossiping amongst themselves, quite happy to have something new and juicy to snack on…but Patrick had never really been part of that world because destiny took him by the hand and taught him to fly.
Melissa let go of his hand with a laugh, and they lost each other in the growing dark and always found each other again, because there was only one of her and he felt her inside, a certainty where his heart beat in his breast.
He told her forever and meant it.
* * *
Melissa crept into the house knowing that she was late for dinner. In all truthfulness, that was the least of her problems. She had no idea how her parents would react to her engagement. Lady Rose was going to throw a tantrum, that was a given. Melissa made up her mind to be as silent as possible and let everyone express their anger as they would.
This would not be fine in a day or a month, maybe even not a year.
Eventually, however, her family was going to have to accept things as they were and no
t as they wanted things to be. She slinked up the stairs, keeping an ear out for any approaching footsteps. She had the vague idea that she could pretend to have been in her chambers this entire time. Perhaps invent an illness that would keep the rest of her family away from her.
Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance Page 11
