Brynn glanced at the pile of luggage by the door. “Everything is ready apart from your travel gown. I need to get you some water to bathe.”
“Very well then, you go and do that; I shall change back into my nightgown and imitate the lady of leisure I am supposed to be.”
Brynn snickered as she turned away with a head shake, closing the door with a soft snick behind her as she left. Melissa sighed deeply, flopping back on the bed and looking up at the ceiling as her mind floated back to the kiss. She could feel heat suffuse her belly, and lower, as she pursed her lips, imagining Patrick’s own pressing down on them, the heat of him bearing down on her insistently.
She felt it should scare her, his passion, the strength with which his hands held her to him, the sounds he made. But instead, she was eager for more, panting for it. She let her legs fall open, decrying the curious emptiness she felt in her center.
“Patrick,” she whispered, swallowing audibly. She did not know how she would keep her hands off him when they were at his father’s estate.
Patrick had arrived home to find a note from his father, asking him to proceed to Cheshmill Hall a day early in order to make sure everything was ready for the hunt. He was torn, because he had it in mind to see Melissa one more time before they all converged at his father’s manor, even though he knew that would probably not be a wise decision.
Since he was unable to come up with a reason why he should stay in Town a little longer, he resigned himself to seeing her when she arrived with her family.
I just hope and pray that Lady Rose does not cling to me like a burr.
Patrick shook his head slowly and summoned his valet. “We shall be leaving for Cheshmill Hall today and not tomorrow as planned. Pack my things and meet me at the mews; we shall take the carriage.”
His valet nodded and left. He headed toward the door, deciding that a short walk would clear his head.
“Will you be needing me to accompany you to Cheshmill Hall sir?” the footman at the door asked him.
Patrick turned to him with a smile. “I expect the Hall has an adequate number of footmen, Henry.”
“Yes but there are brigands on the roads. You should not make your journey with just your valet to defend you.”
Patrick wondered for a moment if Henry was angling for a promotion. There was no way that his newfound devotion was simply just that. “Very well then, Henry. Gather your things together, and you can join us on our trip.”
Henry bobbed his head. “Thank you m’lud.”
Patrick watched with a frown as Henry excitedly hurried off to the servants’ quarters. He found the footman’s behavior passing strange.
“Oh well,” he shrugged and resumed his walk, his mind jumping between Melissa and what he had learned about his father. He was glad to have invited Stenwick down to Cheshmill Hall for the hunt. Perhaps he would have some news on his lost kin. Patrick felt the weight of everything coming down on him. He needed to rescue his father’s indiscretion from the poorhouse while planning his own escape from his father’s clutches.
His mind drifted back to Melissa; specifically, kissing Melissa. He wanted to wallow in the memory of honey-and-cinnamon-scented lips pressing down on him, but the fact that she was avoiding telling him what exactly she was doing in Convent Garden kept intruding. For sure, the girl was adventurous and reckless forby. She could have been up to any type of mischief. He felt his stomach twist with anxiety at what could possibly have taken her to such a place at such a time.
The girl, Brynn, she’ll tell me.
He resolved to corner her as soon as he could and ask.
After all, it’s not as if she can distract me with a kiss.
Patrick smirked at the thought before the looks that had been on the faces of both Melissa and her lady’s maid flashed across his mind. Whatever they had witnessed had shaken them considerably. The insidious worm of worry currently residing in his belly spread out, infecting every other organ around it.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Melissa Alford,” he murmured.
“Sorry, did you say something?” A voice behind him called out.
He jumped, turning around to find his sister had been dogging his footsteps.
“Caroline! What…?”
She smiled impishly at him. “I gather you’re off to Cheshmill? I managed to convince father that I should go with you so that I could take care of all the ‘womanly’ things that need doing.”
Patrick snorted. “And what do you know about ‘womanly things’?”
She grinned up at him, all five-foot one-inch of her fifteen-year-old self. She was very sheltered, allowed to be a child longer than most ladies were; she was the apple of her father and her brother’s eye. Her coming out was to be delayed so that she could go to finishing school in France. Nobody, thankfully including her, was in a hurry for her to grow up.
“Why, I know how to prepare to receive guests! I am no green lady.”
Her apple-cheeked smile lifted his mood considerably even though he was doubtful of her claims.
“Did father really allow you to come with me?”
Her shoulders dropped and her eyes lost their sparkle. “No,” she admitted sourly, “But that woman is driving me mad, Patrick. I cannot abide her a moment longer.”
Patrick sighed in sympathy, knowing just who she was talking about.
“I miss mama.” She said sadly.
He reached out and squeezed her arm, his gut twisted at the reminder that if he did elope, he would be leaving more than one person to fend for themselves.
Her pleading eyes rose to meet his. “I can come with you, can’t I?”
Patrick nodded jerkily, feeling a lump in his throat. “Of course you can, Caroline. I should be glad to have you with me. The journey is likely to be very boring otherwise.”
His sister beamed at him and he was blinded at her delight. Suppressing a sigh, he took her arm to lead her back to his home.
“What were you talking to yourself about, just before I reached you?” Caroline’s regarded him with bright curiosity and interest, and he was at a loss as to what to tell her.
“Uh…I was just thinking aloud.”
“About?”
“None of your business, meddlesome chit.”
“I’m not nosy! You sounded very despairing. Is it your betrothed? And why did I have to hear that you are getting married from the cit? Honestly, Patrick, am I not your favorite sister anymore?”
“You’re my only sister.” A pang hit Patrick that their usual joke may not be true anymore. They had another sister out there or brother.
“Exactly. So I should have been the first to know.”
“Very well then, I shall tell you something that not even father knows.”
Caroline clutched her proverbial pearls. “Oh, oh, should you swear me to secrecy first? I do love a bit of intrigue.”
Patrick snorted. “Yes Caroline, you are sworn to secrecy. Now, do you want to hear this or not?”
“Tell me, brother.”
“I am no longer engaged to Lady Rose.”
Caroline regarded him speculatively. “Is that so? And why is that? Is it because of the lady you were murmuring about?”
Patrick’s head whipped around as he stared in shock at his sister. Just because she was naïve did not mean she was stupid. He tended to forget that. “How did you…?”
She shrugged, a smug smile spreading on her face, “I am familiar with the lovesick look. My lady’s maid is forever lost in contemplation of the boot boy. If she could write, I am sure she would be composing sonnets to him.”
That surprised a bark of laughter out of Patrick. “And how do you know this?”
“I have eyes. And not much to do.” She sighed deeply, looking downcast. Patrick watched her; his eyes soft with sympathy.
“I am sorry. I should visit more.”
She raised her eyes, smiling bravely, “Well you can make it up to me by telling me all about this lady that has you
twisted around her finger.”
Patrick sighed. “Very well. I shall tell you. But we are leaving soon if you intend to come with us, so don’t you think you should run along and get your things together?”
Melissa snorted. “Do you think me so unprepared? My things are already in the coach. In fact, we are all ready. I came to find you to tell you so.”
“Is that so?” Patrick raised an eyebrow, “And what was that entire slum about asking for my permission? Were you playing with me?”
“Of course not, brother. I was simply fairly confident in my ability to convince you of my usefulness.”
Patrick laughed ruefully, as he shook his head at his sister. He was grateful to have her with him nonetheless; she had a knack for making him laugh and drawing him out of the quagmire his thoughts could get him into. She understood both his antipathy and admiration for their father but unlike him, was not inclined to blind obedience. He admired that about her.
It occurred to him that many of the traits he admired in his sister were the same as those that had drawn him to Melissa.
“Huh,” he said with a thoughtful lift of an eyebrow.
Caroline looked at him in enquiry. He shook his head to indicate that it was nothing. She smiled, her rosy-cheeked, blue-eyed innocence shining like a beacon to light the darker corners of his soul. He smiled back, resolving to enjoy riding with his sister and put his troubles aside for now.
Rose burst into her room just as she was trying to fit one more pair of shoes into her portmanteau before Brynn closed it. Melissa looked up with a raised eyebrow. “Where’s the fire?”
Rose huffed she wished she was a dragon and could actually breathe fire out of her nose. “I know what you did.”
Melissa frowned in puzzlement.
“I heard the downstairs maid talking to the footman. You went out this morning, they saw your furtive return with your partner in crime,” her eyes went to Brynn, narrowing dangerously.
Melissa’s heart began to pound painfully in her chest. If Rose was so inclined, she could get Brynn fired in minutes.
“I didn’t go out with Brynn. She simply found me returning from my morning walk and we came back together.”
Rose pursed her lips, clearly not believing a word of it. “And Lord Bergon? Did you run across him on your ‘morning walk’?”
Melissa tried to look as mystified as possible. “Lord Bergon? Why would I have seen him?”
“Because he was lurking at the end of our lane when you came home this morning. Do not lie to me, Melissa. You are seeing him behind my back!”
Melissa straightened up to her full height. “Behind your back you say? How do you reckon so? Did he not break his engagement to you?”
Rose was so red, she resembled her namesake flower, eyes bugging out with rage. Melissa might have laughed if things were not less dire.
“We are going to this hunt in order to get to know each other better and you know it. You stay away from him or I shall have your lady’s maid fired, you hear me?”
Melissa merely looked at her sister. “Your jealousy will eat you alive, sister.” She said quietly.
“I do not take advice from scatterbrains like you.” Rose hissed, “Now which will it be? Will you keep away from my betrothed or shall your lady’s maid be seeking other employment?”
Melissa sighed, sitting down on the bed. “Have it your way Rose. You always do in any case.”
Rose flounced out of the room, slamming the door behind her. At her side, Brynn collapsed to the floor.
“Oh, dear Lord,” Brynn murmured, her hand covering her eyes as sweat stained her top lip.
Melissa reached out to pat her shoulder. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. She won’t say anything because she knows now that she has leverage.”
Brynn moved her hand so that Melissa could see her narrowed eyes. “She won’t say anything…for now.”
Chapter 26
The Duchy of Cheshmill
The journey to Cheshmill Hall was fraught with tension. Rose and Melissa rode with their respective lady’s maids while the Duke and Duchess followed behind in a second carriage. A third carriage bore their luggage as well as two footmen and a tiger. Melissa kept her face turned away, pretending to watch the passing scenery while Brynn occupied her time with embroidery. Rose was restless, alternating between ordering her lady’s maid about and sighing loudly.
Melissa clenched her fist, bound and determined not to say anything to her sister. She could feel the crescents of her nails make indents in the flesh of her palms and she tried to focus on that to calm herself down. Regretting not bringing a book to occupy her time, she glanced over at Brynn, wondering if she had another piece of embroidery that she could work on. That would pass the time. She knew Rose would scoff if she offered to help Brynn. It would give her an excuse to say disparaging things about Melissa doing ‘maid’s work’.
She wouldn’t have minded if she did not feel the insult to Brynn as well.
She sighed, leaning back in the seat and closing her eyes tightly. To distract herself from the loud annoyed sighs and tension in the carriage, her mind went to Patrick, trying to define exactly what color his eyes were. Slate grey, as cold looking as winter but with a warmth that brightened them to polished silver, so alive and aware that when they rested on her she felt seared as if he could strip her skin and see into her soul. She suppressed a shiver, as her nipples peaked at the thought of his big hands resting upon them.
He made the smallest hungriest sound, just before his lips closed over hers. It made her whole body jerk with reaction, hungrily wanting to draw more sounds from that lush, soft mouth. She almost moaned aloud but bit her lip just in time.
“What are you thinking about?” Rose’s voice cut rudely into her fantasies and her eyes flew open in mortification.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your face is twitching and grimacing. What are you thinking about?” her sister was sneering no doubt preparing to make fun of Melissa’s thoughts.
“Oh, I was just imagining various ways to end your life. It got rather gory. I apologize if my face disconcerted you.”
Beside her on the bench, Brynn giggled, trying to hide it in her embroidery and not doing a very good job. Rose’s lady’s maid had her mouth wide open in shock.
“Close your mouth before you inadvertently swallow an insect,” Melissa told her, making Brynn giggle even more. The other girl closed her mouth with a snap. Melissa realized that she did not know her name. Rose changed lady’s maids like gowns. No doubt this latest one was regretting taking this particular employment.
Rose snorted, looking away with a frown. Melissa closed her eyes again, going back to her fantasies.
Patrick was nervous. His sister had managed to squeeze from him the entire tale of his fraught love life, including his intention to elope. She was surprisingly supportive of it, even if he had explained that he might have to leave the country–at least for a while.
“You love her a lot do you not?” she had asked wistfully.
“Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Then it’s worth it, isn’t it?”
Patrick had sighed. “It is. And yet, I cannot help but regret leaving you behind.”
“I shall go away to France soon. Perhaps you can visit me there.”
“I should love that. I do not know how Aunt Gabrielle would feel about me turning up at her residence.”
“Oh pshaw! She is French. She understands true love.”
Patrick laughed. “I pray you are right.”
“I am.” She had leaped at Patrick, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight. “You are doing the right thing, brother.”
Patrick’s lip had quivered with the temptation to tell her his other secret; the existence of a by blow condemned to an almshouse. He resisted because it was too much; Caroline was yet untouched by the ugliness of the world. Patrick would not be the one to introduce it to her. Not especially by way of their father and his indiscretions.
Patrick thought about confronting their father with his knowledge–and yet he was aware that his father had already lied about it. It was unlikely he would be moved to tell the truth just because Patrick wanted to know. He shook his head, unable to assimilate the image of his father in his mind with the villain of the story.
He sighed, turning his mind to Melissa and the fact that in a day or so, she would be here with him. For now, the household was preparing for the arrival of the Duke and the Duchess. Patrick wondered if their stepmother knew about the side of his father he’d just discovered.
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