“Melissa!”
She closed her eyes, shoulders slumping in defeat and turned to face her sister.
“Yes, Rose?”
“Do not ‘yes Rose’ me! You know what you have done!” Her sister was advancing on her at a fast pace, rage in her eyes and Melissa took a step back, not knowing how to prevent the fight she could see bearing down on her.
“I...” she tried but her mouth went dry and then her cheek was stinging from a slap she did not see coming.
“You thief!” Rose huffed, her face so red that Melissa knew that if she was a dragon, Rose would be breathing fire.
“Thief?” Melissa had to protest nevertheless.
“You stole Lord Bergon from me!” Rose shouted, pushing Melissa so violently it was a wonder she did not trip and fall down the stairs. She hastily moved away from the danger, putting her back against the wall.
“Rose, can we discuss this like civilized…?” she tried to placate her but Rose wasn’t listening.
“No!” she shouted, interrupting Melissa. “You’re a scapegrace, a bracket-faced wheedle.”
Melissa closed her eyes, letting the insults wash over her. If this was what her sister needed to get over Patrick, she could let her have it.
Rose growled in frustration, punching her on her arm before stomping off. Melissa took a deep breath, scurrying to her chambers and closing the door behind her.
She took her gown off and dived under her covers in her shift, eyes scrunched shut. If the meeting with Rose had been bad, she knew that her interview with her mother would be worse. She was willing to delay it as long as possible.
* * *
Before she knew it, Brynn was shaking her awake as the sun peeked in through her curtains.
“Your mother wants to see you,” she whispered. “I brought you something to eat since you missed supper.”
Melissa rubbed her eyes, getting on her knees and peering at Brynn. “I am feeling a little peckish.”
“I thought you might.” She placed a platter of bread and cheese by the bedside with a cup of chocolate to accompany it.
“How annoyed is she?” Melissa took a sip of her chocolate as she looked wide eyed at Brynn.
“I don’t know. My mother sent me to get you. She said the butler sent her.”
“Oh...” Melissa looked down, taking a sip. “If she’s using a chain of command I might as well say my last prayers.”
Brynn patted her shoulder consolingly. “It may not be so bad. Don't borrow trouble.”
Melissa just gave her a look as she bit into her bread.
* * *
Melissa entered her mother’s sitting room, feeling like her knees would cease to support her at any time.
“Mother,” she greeted, taking a seat without waiting to be told.
“Melissa,” The Duchess’ voice was weak and trembling. She was rubbing at her chest with one hand, “What is this I hear about you and Rose’s betrothed?” Her voice was so low and weak sounding that Melissa’s brow furrowed in concern. She did not even react to her mother calling Patrick Rose’s betrothed.
“Mother? Are you well?”
“I...” The Duchess’ eyes fluttered closed and she listed to one side. Melissa shot to her feet.
“Mother!” she shouted leaping toward her. Melissa caught her mother in her arms as she fell. “What’s wrong, mama?”
“I, oh my, I feel quite ill.”
“Oh my, should I...? What should I do?”
“Call the housekeeper. Tell her to bring the simples.”
“But mother, I can’t leave you!”
“Now?” The Duchess was looking at her in disbelief, “Now you’re concerned about me when you are the one who brought on my illness?”
“What do you mean?”
“You make everything so hard, Melissa. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to our family?”
“No mama?”
“I don’t know what to do anymore.” The Duchess said before collapsing in Melissa’s arms.
Melissa screamed in terror. “Help! Help!”
The butler came bursting into the room at a dead run. “My Lady?”
“She, my mother, she needs help.”
The butler got to his knee, peering at The Duchess. “I shall get her lady’s maid,” he said and rushed out of the room.
Melissa dragged her mother onto the settee, arranging her as comfortably as possible. “What can I do to help?”
“Hot.” The Duchess whispered.
“I’m going to get you a wet cloth.”
Melissa hesitated, not wanting to leave her mother alone but needing to help her. Fortunately, it didn’t take long for the lady’s maid to show up.
“Get a cloth.” Melissa said urgently, “She’s hot.”
The lady’s maid rushed out and was back quite soon with a wet cloth. Melissa placed it gently on her mother’s forehead, watching her labored breathing with terror.
“Why can’t you just do as you’re told, Melissa?” The Duchess wheezed.
“I will. I promise Mama. I will. I’ll do as I’m told. I’m sorry.” Melissa mumbled, her voice trembling too.
“I hope so, Melissa. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
“I will, mama. Just get better.”
The Duchess went limp, eyes closing.
“Mama!” Melissa screamed and two other servants came in and carried The Duchess to her room.
“Shall I send for a physician?” Melissa asked, flailing around for someone who could be in charge.
“What’s going on?” Her father stood in the middle of the stairs a frown on his face.
“Papa! It’s mama. Something’s wrong with her. Should I call a physician?”
“Where is she?”
“She’s in her chambers.”
“Has the housekeeper seen to her?”
“She’s with her now.” Melissa had faith in Brynn’s mother. She was very knowledgeable about illnesses and how to treat them. If anyone would know what to do, it was her.
Melissa paced outside her mother’s room as she waited for the verdict. Soon, her father entered to see what could be done for her mother. Rose came running down the stairs, breezing right past Melissa like she wasn’t there. She rushed into their mother’s chambers, shutting the door behind her.
Melissa stared bleakly at the door, hoping that somebody would tell her something about what was happening behind it.
She stood, fidgeting from foot to foot as she waited for somebody to come out. Eventually, the housekeeper emerged.
“How is she? Does she need a physician?”
“The Duchess is on the mend. She just needs some rest.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. She's resting now.”
Melissa moved to get past her, but the housekeeper stretched out a hand to stop her. “She said that she wants to rest. Maybe you should try to see her later.”
Melissa nodded, not wanting to make a scene in front of the housekeeper. “Fine.”
She ran up the stairs to her room, her mother’s words echoing in her ears. “I made my mother sick,” her lips trembled and her eyes blurred with tears.
She grabbed a piece of stationery from her armoire and a pen.
Dear Patrick,
I’m sorry, we cannot do this. This was a mistake. Your engagement to Rose has not been publicly revoked. You can go back to it.
Regards,
Lady Melissa
Her eyes were so blurry with tears she could hardly see to write, her hands shook and she felt her heart was breaking in two. She marveled that she was able to get it all down before she lost her nerve.
“I made my mother sick,” she whispered as she folded it and reached for the bell to summon a maid. Brynn entered the room a few minutes later, her brow furrowed with worry.
“Could you make sure that Lord Bergon gets this?” she asked.
Chapter 14
Backtracking
Patrick came down to
breakfast, whistling cheerfully. He planned at some point during the day to let his father know of his change of plans. He could admit, if only to himself, that he was in no hurry to do so. But the thought of finally being free to be with Melissa spurred him on.
Jeffries was carrying breakfast trays to the dining room when Patrick hailed him. “Not today Jeffries. I feel the need to expend some energy. I think I shall head off to White’s for an hour in the ring and then have a morning repast there before heading for the docks.”
“What about your morning correspondence sir?”
“I expect Aunt Katarina will be every bit at point non-plus in the evening as she is this morning,” he said rather breezily and looked away so that Jeffries would not be mortified about laughing.
He really was in an uncommon good mood.
He almost skipped out of the door and opted to walk rather than take a carriage. He wondered for a moment if Melissa might have disguised herself this morning and gone to the market. She might have gathered new courage from their assignation yesterday. It had certainly infused Patrick with new energy.
He got through his hour and sat down to his food, quickly joined by the Earl of Stenwick, who made it a habit to breakfast at the club.
“Bergon, old man, fancy meeting you here.”
Patrick grinned. “I do occasionally grace the club with my presence.”
“Hmm, especially when you’re the subject of the latest on-dit am I right?”
Patrick frowned. “What have you heard?”
“Oh, nothing. Just that you were cavorting in Hyde Park with one Lady Melissa Alford while the other Lady Rose Alford was telling all and sundry that you were engaged.” Stenwick grinned with amusement.
“Really? She was saying that?” Patrick was cautious. He did not want to confirm or deny anything.
“Apparently. So, what is it? Are you having your cake and eating it too?”
Patrick waggled a finger at him, unable to quite suppress his grin. “Now Stenwick, you know I leave that sort of tomfoolery to you.”
“Normally yes. But you seem quite taken with the Alford girls. What with saving their lives and what not.”
“I really had no choice in that.” Patrick’s voice was droll.
“Ah yes, one cannot help one’s chivalry can one? Especially when presented with the opportunity to be a knight in shining armor.”
“You are making fun of me.”
Stenwick placed a hand to his chest, wounded at the words. “What, me? Never!”
Patrick could not help the joyful laugh that escaped him. “Let us have breakfast, my friend, before you start to weave your tall tales.”
“Mm, yes. Wonderful idea. I just came from Ida’s–you know, my mistress–and I must say she wore me out.”
Patrick laughed even louder. “You are veritably the worst, Lord Stenwick.”
“Yes, I do believe that’s why we are friends,” the Earl said rather smugly.
Patrick just shook his head ruefully.
* * *
Melissa spent her day hiding under the covers, stewing in her misery. Brynn brought her regular reports on her mother’s condition although all she could get were tidbits from her mother who was keeping The Duchess supplied with a regular stream of healing tisanes.
“She is fine. My mother says it’s probably nerves. Your mother is mumbling things to herself, but she’s not fevered. My mam said once she’s had a good night’s rest, she should be just fine. The physician cupped her just to be sure.”
Melissa nodded miserably and Brynn took a step closer, rubbing her arm consolingly. “Everything is going to be fine.”
“Did you get a reply from Lord Bergon?”
Brynn shook her head slowly and regretfully, “No.”
Melissa sighed, closing her eyes. While she was prepared to stand her ground and hold to her refusal to see him, she had hoped that he would at least be moved to protest. Was it too much to ask for somebody to want her more than anything?
Melisa sniffed, scrunching her eyelids together to keep from crying. Brynn sat down on the bed, a warm presence against her side, her hand resting gently on Melissa’s shoulder.
She appreciated the silent comfort, surprised to feel a little better for it.
“I’m going to bring you some chicken soup and bread. Otherwise, you’ll be sick too.” Brynn said getting to her feet.
Melissa wanted to protest. To beg her lady’s maid to just stay with her but pride kept her silent. The sound of the door closing softly behind Brynn alerted her to the fact that her lady’s maid had left. Melissa momentarily gave in to her grief, making the bed shake slightly with the force of her sobs.
* * *
Patrick stumbled his way to Grosvenor Street feeling a trifle disguised. Spending the day with Lord Stenwick tended to have that effect on him. The only reason he was not as ape drunk as he had left his companions was that he had chosen to indulge in coffee rather than more brandy when they stopped at the coffee house after taking in a play on Drury Lane.
It had sobered him up some and reminded him that he had yet to complete any of the tasks he had set himself for the day. He had not spoken to his father about his broken engagement nor been to the docks to see to some expected shipments. He had not even read or answered any correspondence.
He resolved to at least tend to his letters before falling asleep. It was the least he could do. His footman, Henry, was waiting dutifully just next to the door, almost falling asleep on his feet. Patrick sent him off to bed before setting off for his office where he knew Jeffries would have stored his mail.
Sure enough, there was a neat stack of envelopes on his desk and he sunk into his large leather armchair with a sigh and prepared to go through it.
Dear Patrick,
I’m sorry, we cannot do this. This was a mistake. Your engagement to Rose has not been publicly revoked. You can go back to it.
Regards,
Lady Melissa
Patrick fingered the paper, still giving off her scent; an intoxicating mix of lavender and thyme, and struggled to comprehend the words. His hands felt numb.
What does she mean by this?
He had spent his day walking on air and now it had all come crashing down on him. He stood up, his armchair pushed back violently so that it teetered and almost fell on its side.
“No!” he said before marching out of the room, headed toward the front door. A sleepy Henry was busy extinguishing the light sconces in the hallway, already clad in his night clothes.
“I need a horse!” Patrick barked, making Henry jump.
“Yes, m’Lord,” he murmured before scurrying off, presumably to the mews to fetch him one. He felt a moment’s regret sending Henry out so late, but it was overridden by his strong desire to get to the bottom of Melissa’s enigmatic note. Somewhere between the anger and pain was a nagging worry that something awful had befallen her.
Henry came around the corner, awkwardly leading Patrick’s stallion. The Marquess did not wait for him to come to a stop but simply rushed forward, climbing onto the horse’s back in one fluid movement and took off toward Mayfair.
He had arrived at Greyfield House before it occurred to him that he had no plan of action. All he knew was that he had to talk to Melissa.
Silly me, you do not know who Brynn is...she is my lady’s maid and a good friend. She has kept me company on this and many other occasions and if it were not for her, I should be so lonely. I am ever so grateful for her.
The words were etched into his mind from the missive she wrote him from Bath. He circled back to the servants’ entrance. He knocked tentatively at the door and waited. Sooner than he expected given the late hour, a pale face opened the door, staring blearily up at him.
“I need to speak with Brynn. Would you get her for me?” he asked the face. It flickered again and then the door was shut in his face.
He sighed, looking around him for ideas before his eyes returned to the locked wooden door. Was Brynn on her wa
y and did the servant even understand Patrick’s request? He had no idea. All he could do was wait.
Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Regency Romance Page 12
