She bit her lip, loving the compliment whilst another part of her still lived in dread. “I tried my best to be good, but nothing I did was right, neither my table manners nor my stitchery or handwriting or anything, no matter how hard I tried.” She clasped her hands together. “I wasn’t allowed to climb trees or walk faster than an amble or ride faster than a walk, and she wouldn’t let me be friendly with any of the jolly girls nearby, because she said they were underbred, and that I should follow the example of the earl’s daughter, who was horribly high in the instep, or the vicar’s wife, who was so insipid as to be almost invisible.”
“My poor Melinda. They both sound like dead bores.”
“After a few months, I ran away and went home, but that made Papa angrier than ever, because of the insult to his mother.”
“How far was home?”
“Almost thirty miles. I got rides in farmers’ carts and walked part of the way.” She sniffled. “I had to spend one night in a barn, but cows are friendly and keep one warm.”
“My ever-resourceful Melinda.”
“Rebecca is just as resourceful. She meant to climb down the ivy and run away to Mrs. Rawley. She said she would get a ride in a cart.”
“It seems my daughter is cut of the same cloth as you,” he said with that rueful half-smile.
Melinda shivered. If he knew in what way she and Rebecca were truly cut from the same cloth, he would shun her. He put his arm around her and squeezed, and guilt flooded her.
But she quashed it. She wasn’t sinful or worthless or inherently evil. “I was proud of myself, but Papa took me back to Grandmama immediately. I hardly had time to hug and kiss my mother before he thrust me into the coach. Mama cried and screamed at him as we drove away.” Tears threatened, but she swallowed them down. “Papa shouted at me the whole way and told Grandmama to do whatever it took to whip me into shape.”
She shuddered at the memories. “I tried again, really I did, but I have a temper, and I can’t stand injustice. When I disagreed with her, even if I did my best to be polite about it, she would beat me and send me to bed without my supper. At first, I would sneak into the pantry when everyone was asleep. I suppose I didn’t look hungry enough at breakfast, because after a while she caught me and locked me in my room every night. One night I got so hungry that there was no bearing it, so I climbed down the oak tree outside my window and stole milk and cheese from the dairy. That worked for a while, but soon the dairymaids realized something was missing, and I had to confess or one of the other servants would have been accused of theft.”
“Noble of you,” Miles said.
“Much good it did me,” Melinda said. “Grandmama was mortified that her own flesh and blood had turned to thieving. She beat me in front of everyone, servants and all.”
He cursed. “And your father permitted this?”
“He didn’t know. He didn’t care enough to find out.” She trembled in Miles’s arms. “I bit myself until I bled, but I didn’t cry.” Tears surged into her throat. No, she couldn’t break down while Rebecca’s future was at stake. “I will not cry now, either.”
“That’s all behind you,” Miles said. “You’re safe now. You’re with me.”
If only she could be entirely, perfectly, absolutely safe. But she never could, because of what she was. She sucked down the tears and continued her story.
“The servants did their best to be kind to me behind Grandmama’s back, but they couldn’t stop her from moving me to another room without a tree near the window. I knew a way to get down but not back up, and for a while longer I tried very hard to be good. I always hoped she would see that I was doing my very best and send me back home, but it was a losing battle. She believes, deep down, that I was born unredeemable.” She paused, but again he didn’t ask why. “Maybe that’s true, but I like myself as I am.”
“So do I,” Miles said, kissing her hair, and then again, more softly, “So do I.”
No one had ever approved of her so wholeheartedly before, but if he knew the truth, that would change. She had given him many chances to ask. Now she should turn the conversation away from such dangerous waters.
“I stayed with her for three miserable years. I began to develop into a woman, and that’s when I hatched my brilliant escape plan.”
He grinned, a full, wholehearted grin, and her heart somersaulted. “What was your plan?”
“At dawn one day, I tied the sheets and blankets together, climbed down from my window, stole a horse from the stable, and rode bareback into the village in my nightdress.”
“You can’t be serious.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, Melinda.”
“I was trying to ruin myself, so she would have no reason to bother making me into a lady. The head groom tried to stop me, but I told him to run and tell Grandmama what I had done, and then I galloped away. Everyone in the village saw me and my bare legs.” She gave a small snort. “Some of the men cheered.”
“I should have cheered, too, and then ridden off with you over my saddle bow.”
Melinda gave a watery giggle and wiped her eyes. “After that, she gave up on me, and Papa sent me to school instead, which was much better.” She paused. “But Rebecca is too young to be sent away to school. She needs a home and a family. She needs to be brought up to believe that she is a good, sweet, wonderful girl.”
Chapter 14
“We shall find her a good home,” Miles said, but dismay filled his heart. He hadn’t found one so far—not even close. “You can help me choose a couple with whom to foster her out. They will have to know her history, of course, but—”
She crumpled the handkerchief in her fists. “That’s exactly the problem, Miles—her history. It will make all the difference to how she’s treated.”
“Surely it’s not that bad,” he said, but what if she was right?
“It is precisely that bad.” Melinda folded and unfolded the soiled handkerchief. “You don’t know. You don’t understand. If you’d heard the dreadful things that Miss Jenks said . . .”
“Yes, I heard some of them this afternoon. I did choose badly, didn’t I?”
“It’s not a matter of a good or bad choice,” she insisted. “Even Mrs. Timms, who means well, believes Rebecca will come to a bad end.”
“She will have to change her mind, if she wishes to stay. Rebecca has always caused constraint between her and Mrs. Rawley, who is very . . .” He had to force the word out. It felt utterly foreign on his lips. “Loving.”
“Yes, I’m sure she is.” Melinda couldn’t help but smile. Did he realize he had just confessed to believing in love? Not romantic love, but this was a start. Now if only he could be brought to believe how much it mattered.
“I don’t think one can expect love from foster parents,” Miles said, “but surely they will be kind and just.”
“More likely not,” Melinda said. “They will find it difficult to treat her fairly. They will expect her to fail even before she has begun to succeed. They will seek out flaws which are the same as any other child’s and see in them a pattern of sin, just as Mrs. Timms and Miss Jenks do. You can’t even judge how they will treat her, because they will be on their best behavior with you, but once they have Rebecca to themselves, they will do exactly as they please. Don’t shake your head at me! Even you cannot treat her fairly.”
“What the devil do you mean by that?”
“If she were your legitimate daughter, would you foster her out?”
“Of course not, but do try to understand. When I took Rebecca into my care, I created the usual sort of polite fiction—in this case that she is the child of a distant cousin who lives in India and left her with me.” His cool, not-at-all soothing voice made her stomach tighten into a knot. “Not an uncommon course to take, and whilst I was a bachelor, it didn’t matter. Now, however, it does
.” He took a breath; with each sentence, the chill in his voice deepened. “Propriety demands that―”
“To hell with propriety!” Melinda couldn’t bear it; how could he be so uncaring? “She is not a child of sin. She is not a dirty little secret to be ashamed of and hidden away. She is a human being with just as much right to love as anyone else!”
“I’m not ashamed of her, but for your sake, Melinda―”
“For my sake? You’re sending her way because of me?” Oh God, what could be worse? She stood, raging, and paced the room. “Oh, no, my lord. No, you will not. Better to divorce me and send me away than to punish that innocent child.”
“Divorce you?” He stood as well. “Are you utterly mad?”
“Not mad, no, merely saying that I don’t matter as much as Rebecca, because I am grown now.” Her heart beat wildly. She took in a breath and let it out again. “Rebecca is young and impressionable. Living amongst people who see her as lacking, she will come to believe that is the truth, whilst I know in spite of everything that there is nothing wrong with me.”
“Of course there’s nothing wrong with you. Why should there be?”
“Because . . .” Soon his incredulous expression would turn to disdain, but if she didn’t tell him, he would never understand.
She gave up. She threw up her hands. If there was no other way to convince him, so be it.
“I know that I am as worthwhile a human being as my brothers, but if the world knew, they wouldn’t think so.” She clenched her fists, took another deep breath and confessed. “For I, too, am an illegitimate child.”
“I know that, Melinda, but―”
She had lowered her eyes, unable to bear the inevitable change in his, but now she raised her head and stared. “You know? What do you mean, you know?”
“Your grandmother told me on our wedding day.”
“But—but I asked you!” she cried. “I asked you what she said. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it didn’t matter,” he said. “Not only that, I didn’t know whether you knew. If you didn’t, nothing would be gained by telling you.”
“How can it not matter? I’m the child of my mother and a lover. My father acknowledged me as his own only to avoid the scandal.”
His frown returned. “And you believe that’s why your grandmother hates you?”
“I know it is,” she said. “It’s also the reason Papa sent me away. Mama liked my wildness, and he feared she would teach me to be unfaithful, like her—which wasn’t at all fair, because they were both unfaithful. And don’t tell me it’s different for a man than for a woman, because it shouldn’t be.”
“I won’t tell you that,” he said.
“Grandmama has always loathed me. At the time, I didn’t know I was a b-bastard. I thought it was because I’m too much like my mother, who also has red hair and flighty ways.”
“You’re not flighty, and as I have said before and will say over and over again, your red hair is glorious.”
Why wasn’t he rejecting her? “Grandmama told me I was illegitimate the day she washed her hands of me. A few years later I asked Mama, and she confirmed that it was true—I am the child of a French gamester.”
“Thus your astonishing skill at piquet,” Miles said with his half-smile.
She gaped at him. How could he act as if the bane of her existence was a mere nothing? Finally, the tears began to fall. “Don’t you understand? I’m a bastard.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Melinda-love, sweetheart, don’t cry.” His big hand smoothed her hair; his lips pressed gently on her forehead. He pulled back a little, wiping the tears from her face. “I daresay half the peerages in England have kept going by way of bastard blood at some time or another, and they were probably the better for it. You’re intelligent and kind-hearted and beautiful. What more could I possibly want?”
Sobs rushed up, unstoppable. He swept her up and cuddled her on the sofa, rocking her back and forth until the sobs slowed to hiccups and the heaves to shudders. He took out his handkerchief, and she blew her nose. “Come to think of it, I count myself lucky that you’re not related to that old hag.”
A weight she’d carried for years slid off her shoulders. He truly didn’t care about the circumstances of her birth. She still couldn’t quite believe it.
“But your case isn’t the same as Rebecca’s,” he said. “Your father acknowledged you as his legitimate child. I cannot do that with Rebecca.” His eyes were sad, she realized now. “Tell me, sweetheart. What do you want me to do about her?”
Melinda closed her eyes and prayed. She opened them again and faced her husband with firmness and determination. “I want to keep her here,” she said. “With us.”
Keep her here. Rebecca wouldn’t even be next door. She would live here, in this house, with Miles and his wife.
“Don’t tell me it’s unprecedented, because it’s not,” Melinda said, wriggling out of his grasp. “Some prominent women have agreed to raise their husbands’ love-children. Why shouldn’t I be one of them?”
He couldn’t believe his ears. He’d assumed she would balk at such an option. “No reason at all, except that it will cause gossip that might be difficult to overcome. There are already a great many blots on the Garrison escutcheon.”
“But not on the Starlings’. At the ball the other night, Colin told me everyone is accepting you because of my spotless reputation—which is spotless only because of my father’s and grandmother’s obsessions with propriety.”
“Absurd, isn’t it?” He didn’t deserve this astonishing good fortune. He pulled her tight against him again, reveling in their closeness. Such bliss . . .
Was this . . . love?
He didn’t want to think about that, not yet—if ever, but he couldn’t help it. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him. Love wasn’t real, but merely a pleasing illusion that was destined to be shattered.
“Grandmama will be furious at me,” Melinda said after a while, quite a bit of glee in her voice.
“It serves her right,” Miles said. He breathed in the fragrance that was Melinda’s alone, and chuckled.
“What?” Melinda said.
“I was imagining Mrs. Timms’s face,” he said. “She’s obsessed with propriety, too, but she’ll have to get used to a very different sort of household with you as its mistress.” He hugged her closer. “Are you absolutely sure, Melinda? There may be repercussions that we haven’t thought of.”
“I’m sure.” She gave a red-nosed, watery smile that made his heart ache. “Just think, I’m a stepmother now.”
“So you are.” He kissed her. “Very well, Rebecca will stay with us.” And as for Miles, he couldn’t believe his luck. He had the perfect wife, he would keep his daughter close, and from now on, all would be well.
Miles had never been so happy in his life.
What an excellent husband I have, Melinda thought. They could carry on a discussion together without shouting or temper tantrums. He actually listened to her views and allowed himself to be persuaded. How utterly astonishing.
She had known him only a week, and now she couldn’t imagine life without him.
They went downstairs to visit Rebecca in the kitchen. She knelt on a bench at the deal table, playing with a bit of dough and being made much of by the cook and scullery maid. When Melinda told her she and Mrs. Rawley would come to live with them, Mrs. Timms did a masterful job of keeping her disapproval—verging on horror, Melinda suspected―to herself.
Miles and Melinda dined together and remained at the table afterwards, toying with sweetmeats and talking. It was as if they were friends as well as husband and wife, thought Melinda. What a pity they had to go out, but . . .
She stood. “We should get ready now, or we’ll be late for the opera.”
; “Forget the opera,” Miles said. “Let’s stay in and enjoy each other’s company.” He grinned. “And go to bed early. What do you say?”
Pleasure washed over her at the thought. “I would love that, but . . .”
“Ah.” His grin faded. “You intended to discuss illustrations or some such thing with Fellowes.”
Melinda thought fast. It might look suspicious if she were too determined to see either Mr. Fellowes or Lavinia. She mightn’t get a chance to talk to Lavinia privately at the opera, and she would see both of them often enough in the days to come. Besides that, things were going wonderfully well with Miles. She couldn’t risk jeopardizing their newfound intimacy. “Yes, but he won’t mind if I don’t go. He doesn’t like the opera; he’s only going because Lavinia will be there.”
To Kiss a Rake (Scandalous Kisses) Page 21
