She answered in a light tone as well. “I’ve found no one worth encouraging.”
“Will you encourage me?”
There was no teasing in that question. He held her eyes with his. His fingers tightened on her waist and hand. Their movements slowed, didn’t keep up with the music, almost stopped. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, not to kiss her right there.
Would he ever find her alone where he could give in to that urge? Would he ever be in her presence and not have that urge? Probably not, in either case. She was just too sumptuous, too desirable in every way, and he’d never been so strongly attracted before.
Yet another blush, much more prominent this time, broke the spell. That was answer enough. To ask for more would be improper, so he changed the subject instead.
“I haven’t noticed your father here. Your parents haven’t come to London with you?”
“They’ll be coming next month,” she told him. “M’da doesna like London. Tae get him tae stay here e’en a week was asking much.”
“Yes, I recall his mentioning a dislike for crowded places during our brief talk,” Lincoln replied, then added, “My own family is here for the duration. Actually, I have been asked to chaperon my young cousin this season. She’s reached the age to marry as well.”
“This does seem tae be the preferred place for getting that accomplished.”
He grinned down at her. “Hasn’t it always been? For my cousin Edith, though, it won’t be an easy task. She just doesn’t fit the standard mold. But she’s a sweetheart, has a heart of gold. Any man would be blessed if she favors him with her devotion.”
“You sound verra fond of her.”
“I am.”
But he didn’t let his prejudice in Edith’s favor cloud his view. She was still a wallflower and hadn’t been drawing the least bit of notice if she wasn’t thrust forward. One had to get to know her well to appreciate her sterling qualities. And she hadn’t had a single prospect in the couple weeks they’d now been actively making the rounds.
“Is your family here tonight?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to meet them.”
“Certainly, though I suppose I should meet your Megan first, before I go dragging you about the room to find my relatives.”
Melissa chuckled. “You sound as if you’re expecting the duchess tae be a veritable dragon. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, I’m thinking.”
It was time to find that out as the music ended. Lincoln would much prefer to keep Melissa to himself for the rest of the evening—and longer, for that matter—but etiquette wouldn’t allow that. Melissa, though, must not be acquainted with the strict rules of conduct by which the upper crust lived. She thought nothing of pulling him back across the room to her chaperon and holding his hand to do it.
Relatives could do that. Affianced couples could even do that. But those in the early stages of courtship most certainly could not.
A pleasant surprise didn’t come close to describing Megan St. James, duchess of Wrothston. For one thing, Lincoln hadn’t expected her to be so young, likely not even ten years older than himself, or so incredibly beautiful. But she’d had only to hear his name mentioned to give him a magnificent smile and an open invitation to her home.
“Finally found her, did you?” was the lady’s first response. “I’ll inform my butler to expect you henceforth. And shall we start with tea tomorrow?”
There was no “grilling” as he’d been warned, just a few of the simple details one usually inquired about on first meeting. And he didn’t have to take Melissa to his family to meet them; they found him before Melissa’s next dance partner whisked her away.
He introduced his aunt and cousin first and then, almost as an afterthought, his mother, Eleanor. He didn’t notice the curious look Melissa gave him over the latter, though he was aware of his stiffness, was unable to help it whenever he was in Eleanor’s presence. She might have solved his dilemma completely in giving him access to Melissa again, but that changed none of his personal feelings about her.
His Aunt Henriette was, of course, delighted to meet Melissa at last and would have talked her ear off if the girl’s next partner weren’t standing there waiting impatiently to get her out onto the floor before his promised dance ended. Edith was too busy blushing profusely over being in close proximity to the realm’s most eligible—and undoubtedly most handsome—young bachelor, Justin St. James, so for once she was too tongue-tied to say a word.
Lincoln sighed as the young man finally was able to lead Melissa onto the floor. Megan, hearing him, chuckled at his side.
“I’ve a feeling you’ll be doing a lot more of that sighing in the coming weeks,” she said softly, so only he would hear. “Needn’t, though. She’s made her preference rather clear, I’d say. Yours, Lord Cambury, will probably be one of the easiest courtships of the decade.”
He certainly hoped so. And with Melissa’s chaperon apparently on his side, he was able to relax somewhat, was even amused when Justin bowed before his cousin and asked, “May I have the next dance, Miss Burnett?”
Poor Edith nearly fainted.
Twelve
IT was impossible to wait until teatime that next afternoon. Lincoln would have arrived at the St. Jameses’ at the crack of dawn if he hadn’t been positive he’d be turned away at that hour. He managed to wait until the household would be finished with luncheon, but he was knocking on their door shortly thereafter.
This time he had only to say his name to be invited in and shown to the parlor. And he barely had time to be impressed by the elegance there before Melissa arrived, a bit breathless, as if she’d run all the way, and treated him to her dimples with a brilliant smile.
She gave him pause once again. To him she was so incredibly lovely, not dazzling like last night in her ball finery, but not the waif again either. She actually looked quite English today, in a fancy day dress of cream organza, though her coiffure wasn’t as tight, with a few loose tendrils reminding him of the waif.
He was staring, so hard he didn’t realize immediately that no one had followed her into the room. When he did notice it, he even turned around once full circle to make sure her presence hadn’t distracted him to the point of seeing nothing else, before he said, “I don’t believe I really have you alone.”
“My uncle will be coming along any moment. He always gets summoned down afore I do when I have a caller—made some extreme threats tae the poor butler tae make sure o’ it,” she said in only a half-teasing tone. “Takes his chaperoning o’ me most seriously.”
“Then I would be ten times the fool to not take advantage of the moment.”
Her eyes flared slightly in surprise as he took her hand in his, pulled her off to the side of the open doorway so they wouldn’t be readily seen by anyone passing by, and proceeded to kiss her. She didn’t try to stop him. In fact, she melted into his arms. And it was better than he could have imagined. Intoxicating, tasting her for the first time, gathering her close, wrapped in their own cocoon that excluded everything around them.
He was very tentative at first, not wanting to frighten her, but that lasted only a moment. She did seem somewhat surprised when his tongue prodded her lips open and initially swirled with hers. But she adapted quickly, was open to learning, and seemed as eager to deepen that first kiss as he was.
He had no idea how much coughing had gone on before it got progressively louder and was finally loud enough to penetrate the magical realm they had created for themselves. When he did hear it, he released Melissa abruptly, made sure she had her balance, then stepped several feet away from her before turning to face the tall young man standing there glowering at him from the doorway.
“Should I be tossing you oout the door, or was it the lass doing the kissing and in need of a thrashing?” The question was asked in a very unfriendly tone.
Me
lissa’s chuckle, quite genuine rather than nervous, was decidedly misplaced considering what had just been said, until she told Lincoln, “Dinna look so appalled. He’s no’ serious. This is m’Uncle Ian. And, Uncle”—she turned to the fellow as well before reminding him pointedly—“you’ll recall I’ve mentioned Lord Cambury tae you, aye?”
“Och, sae he’s the one, eh?” Ian replied. “A wee bit tardy in coming ’round, I’m thinking, but that explains the kissing. Just dinna be practicing any more o’ that until ye’ve yer da’s permission.”
The expected blush finally arrived for Melissa. Lincoln was too disappointed to have the kiss ended to feel any real embarrassment over it. And being the oldest of the three, he took control of the situation and stepped forward to shake her uncle’s hand.
“A pleasure, Ian.”
The young Scot finally grinned. “Aye, ’tis indeed. D’ye live here in London, then? Or only just come in from the country?”
“Neither. I was no more than a day behind Melissa in getting to London. It’s taken me this long to gain entry into this fortress of a house.”
“The butler doesna let in just anyone,” Melissa explained to her uncle in an aggrieved tone. “If I’d known that sooner, I would’ve set the mon straight.”
“Sae, the duchess has hindered more’n helped, eh? Now, tha’s bloody well funny, if you ask—”
“Laugh and I’ll be clobbering you,” Melissa interrupted him to warn, which just earned her another unrepentant grin from the amused young man.
It was easy to surmise that this uncle and niece weren’t merely family to each other but friends as well, and rather close ones at that. This wasn’t very surprising, though, considering that they were probably fewer than ten years apart in their respective ages.
Ian looked to be in his mid-twenties, with brownish-red hair more on the reddish side, a wealth of freckles across his handsome face, and very light blue eyes. He was tall, over six feet, but other than that, he looked nothing like the MacGregor, who had to be his older brother. It had been mentioned that Lachlan MacGregor’s wife was English, and this uncle certainly wasn’t that.
There was something vaguely familiar about Ian, though, that Lincoln couldn’t quite put his finger on. He concluded that he might have met him before, or perhaps just someone who looked like him, but either it had happened too long ago for him to retain the memory, or they’d met only in passing. It was a nagging feeling, however, as if Lincoln should know him.
For the moment he let it go and got a little better acquainted with Ian. It could only be to his benefit, after all, to get along with Melissa’s family. Fortunately, he didn’t foresee any problems in that respect, especially when he’d already passed muster with her father.
But apparently Ian was experiencing the same nagging sense of familiarity, and he brought it up. “I’ve the oddest feeling we’ve met afore.”
“Now you mention it,” Lincoln confessed, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”
“Ye’ve no’ been back tae Scotland e’en once in the last nineteen years.”
“Not once prior to this recent visit. Have you ever been to England before?”
“Nae, this is m’first trip tae these parts. One o’ m’brothers, mayhap.”
“One? You’ve more’n one?”
“Aye, a few,” Ian said, and he started to laugh for some reason.
Melissa frowned at her uncle quite sternly. “Hush, you, you’ll no’ be scaring off another o’ m’suitors afore he e’en becomes one.”
“Och, he’s a suitor, lass, there’s nae doubt o’ that, or he wouldna hae dared tae be kissing ye.”
“He’s right, Melissa. I am officially courting you. With your father’s permission, I might add.”
That got a definite blush out of her and another laugh out of Ian. Lincoln hadn’t intended to be so blunt about it. But he wanted no doubt, in her mind at least, that he was serious in his intentions. He was going to marry her—and soon, he hoped. With the feelings she stirred in him, feelings that seemed equally reciprocated, he could see no reason to put off asking for very long.
“I take it you have a big family?” Lincoln said.
“Aye, big indeed,” she replied.
He smiled and assured her, “I rather like that. I was an only son myself and missed the close companionship that I knew large families to have. My only remaining relatives you met last night, Melissa.”
“Your cousin and aunt were both charming,” she told him. “Your mother was somewhat reserved. I began tae worry that she didna like me.”
“Nonsense—not that it matters. You might as well know, my mother and I are not on the best of terms. Her sending me off to live with her relatives when I was still a child and then leaving me with them pretty much severed my feelings for her. I haven’t seen her but a few times since.”
Melissa looked stricken, sympathy for him pouring out of her. Bloody hell, he shouldn’t have been so blunt about that either. Not that he meant to keep it a secret from her, nor would he have been able to, but he needn’t have mentioned it quite this soon.
He tried to shrug it off, didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. “It matters little now after all these years,” he said. “Don’t give it another thought.”
Melissa’s look was now doubtful, but he wasn’t very adept at lying, so he added, “In any case, she doesn’t live with me and will be returning to Scotland soon, where she still resides.”
“What o’ yer da?” Ian wanted to know. “Had he nae say in yer being abandoned?”
“He had died a few years previously when a mine he was inspecting collapsed.”
Ian went rather still upon hearing that. He was probably experiencing some sympathy as well but was hesitant to mention it. The visit ended soon after. They had errands to see to before dinner and the theater that night. Melissa gave Lincoln the name of the play in case he thought to attend. They were scheduled for a four-day gathering in the country that would last the rest of the week, to which she promised to secure an invitation for him.
Lincoln left the St. James residence feeling very light of heart, with no idea that his hopes for the future were about to come tumbling down.
Thirteen
LINCOLN arrived at the theater that night very eager to see Melissa again. It made no difference that he had seen her only hours earlier. That wasn’t enough.
It didn’t take much to realize that he didn’t like being parted from her at all, nor that he couldn’t see her whenever he liked. Just visiting wasn’t enough either—only marriage was going to give him the access to her that he found himself craving. He would have to ask his aunt exactly how long a courtship should last, and he would be asking Melissa to marry him the moment that time was reached.
She didn’t show up.
If Lincoln hadn’t brought Edith along with him, he could have left to find out why. But he was Edith’s only chaperon that night, and he didn’t have the heart to ask her to forgo the outing, when she was receiving a good deal of unexpected attention.
Apparently having someone like Justin St. James take to the floor with her last night had been precisely the sort of thing to give her that thrust forward she’d been needing. Several men came forward to introduce themselves to her before they found their seats, several more during the intermission, and one approached her twice and even asked if he could call on her the next day.
Edith was bubbling over with excitement on the way home that night. Lincoln made an effort not to dampen her mood, even though his own was filled with worry. Of course, any number of things could have happened to cause Melissa to cancel going to the theater. It wasn’t as if she were missing an actual event she’d been invited to, one that would require formal regrets sent to the inviter if she couldn’t attend. And he’d find out soon enough what had happened to change her plans when he called on her tomorrow.
So he thought. But he found out different when he arrived at the ducal town house the next afternoon, at precisely the sa
me time as the previous day, only to be denied entry again, though this time simply because the duchess and her young guest were out of town. They had already departed for the country gathering that Melissa had mentioned to him and weren’t likely to be back before the end of the week.
“Whose gathering were they attending?” Lincoln thought to ask, since it might be one he or his aunt had already been invited to.
The man, eager to get the door closed, said simply, “I’ve no idea, sir.”
Lincoln found that doubtful, when most butlers made it their business to know everything involving their employers. But rather than making accusations that would get the door closed immediately, he asked, “Is Miss MacGregor’s uncle here? He might know.”
“No, sir. Master Ian accompanied the ladies.”
“And you really have no idea where this country party is occurring?”
A bit of stiffness now. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m not privy to such information. Her Grace’s secretary might know, but he was given a holiday while she is out of town and is no longer in residence either.”
That, at least, did sound plausible, so Lincoln nodded and left. In any case there was nothing for it but to wait for the promised invitation, the one that Melissa had said she would obtain for him.
It never arrived. The four days that had been mentioned for this particular gathering came and went. Invitations for the more exclusive events of the season were pouring in. But the duchess of Wrothston and her guests didn’t return to town by the end of the week, nor for the weekend that followed. And the St. Jameses’ butler steadfastly maintained each time he was asked, which was daily, that he hadn’t received word yet when they would.
Lincoln wasn’t dense. He realized that, for whatever reason, he was being avoided. Melissa didn’t want to see him again, much less be courted by him. But why not simply tell him and put him out of his misery? He was kept wondering instead, and without much hope that he was mistaken, so it wasn’t surprising that he would attempt to take solace in drink, which would help him to stop thinking about it, however briefly.
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