Chapter Three
Always have a plan because if you don’t, someone elsewill.
M ellie stared at the man at her feet, and her mind refused to comprehend. Mr. Anaedsley, the future Duke of Timby, was on his knees before her with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. It made no sense. What he’d said… He couldn’t be serious, and yet some part of her understood exactly what was happening and was beyond thrilled. Her heart beat in her throat, and the joy that tingled in her stomach was going to make her ill.
Lord Charming was asking her to be his bride.
“But…but…” she babbled.
“Yes?” he prompted, his grin widening. He looked like he was making a joke, but this was no joke. Not to her.
“But you don’t like me!”
“I know,” he said. His eyes were definitely dancing now. “And you don’t like me.”
Well, that wasn’t exactly true. She thought him mischievous and unfocused and…well, a peer of the realm. Which meant he was a useless person living a life of selfish pleasure. He didn’t study. He didn’t lead. He simply gadded about, doing whatever struck his fancy.
Useless. He was useless, and yet for the first time in her life, she thought that useless might not be so bad. Not when it came with a smile and a twinkle. Not when he could make her laugh and offered to save her from her cousin. Given that, useless might look like chivalry.
“Mr. Anaedsley…” she began, but she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want him to sacrifice himself to rescue her. And yet, part of her did. Part of her wanted it desperately.
He laughed, then lightly jumped back onto his seat. “Sorry. Couldn’t stay down there long. It’s too hard on the knee.”
She blinked and nodded. She didn’t want him hurting his knee. But…
He had just proposed to her! Her mind finally latched onto that one fact. Marriage. To Mr. Anaedsley.
“I—” she began, not knowing what she wanted to say.
“Don’t answer. Not until you’ve heard me out.”
She closed her mouth. That was the least she could do.
“You suffer from a lack of options. You have not met enough gentlemen to attract the right man.”
She barely heard his words. He was the grandson of a duke. Why would he propose to her? He said he didn’t like her! It made no sense, and so she set her free hand to her mouth, pushing her lips hard against her teeth to prevent any sound from escaping.
“What you don’t know,” he continued, “because I have taken great pains to hide the fact, is that I am woefully short on funds.” He still held her right hand, and he began to idly rub her knuckles as he spoke. It seemed a casual gesture, one he did without thought, and yet she felt every pass of his thumb as if he were scraping her open heart. “Do you remember my favorite mare? The chestnut one that I usually ride when coming to visit?”
She nodded, barely able to follow his conversation. “You said your father requested it for some hunt.”
“I lied. I sold her. Broke my heart to do it, but she went to a good home.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“Yes,” he said mournfully. Clearly the loss of his horse affected him more deeply than the request for her hand. “My carriage went too, though I didn’t mind so much. Always thought it a waste in the city anyway. I much prefer to ride.”
Again, she bobbed her head as if she knew what he was talking about. Then it hit her. Her dowry. Of course! And how stupid of her. Many gentlemen would condescend to marry a cit if the dowry were large enough. She just never thought he would be one of them.
“So the dukedom has fallen onto hard times?” She could barely fathom it. Certainly many titles were struggling, but he always seemed so flush.
“Not a bit. The family coffers are quite full. My grandfather has cut me off.”
She blinked. Cut him off? “But why?” Was it gambling? That was the normal way of things, but he’d never spoken of gambling. And when he visited, his conversation was all about science and engineering.
He sighed, the sound coming from deep inside him. “Grandfather is all up in the boughs about me marrying. Carrying on the title and all that rot. My father’s as healthy as a horse, but as I don’t have a brother, it’s up to me to marry and produce a number three in line for the dukedom.” He leaned forward. “My grandfather would die of apoplexy if he thought the title might go to my French cousin. That’s something you and I have in common, by the way.”
“What?”
“Difficult cousins. Though in my case, my cousin really is off in the head. Can barely tie his shoes. They’ve got a nurse on him and all that, so he’s comfortable enough, but his brain never progressed to the point of…well, of a normal boy, much less a duke. Broke my aunt’s heart, but there was a problem with the birth and he was hurt somehow.”
“Oh,” she said, her head feeling light. “How very sad for her. For your family.”
Mr. Anaedsley shrugged. It was not important, apparently, except in that the duke would die of apoplexy if the boy stood in line to inherit.
“Please,” she said, her voice very small. “If you would explain—”
“Oh yes. Of course.” He was still rubbing her fingers, but this time he added a squeeze. “Grandfather’s cut off all my money unless I find a bride. No allowance, no bills paid, not even the tab at our club. Not a penny unless I hitch myself to a woman.”
Her mouth went very dry. Did he want her? Of all the ladies he knew, he picked her? A cit? She was certainly wealthy enough, but it sounded like his grandfather would start paying his bills again the moment he married.
“I thought I had it worked out,” he continued. “Got an investment in an emerald mine. A friend of mine from school found the place, and together we worked out a new way to get them out of the earth. I thought we’d see a profit by now, but it’s deuced expensive to begin and has taken three times as long as I expected.”
“Oh. That must be awkward.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s terribly awkward. I’ve survived by going to parties and the like, but a man can live off society for only so long before some enterprising mama snares him. I am set to inherit a dukedom, you know. Stirs female minds everywhere into heights of devious treachery.”
Her patience was wearing thin, so she jerked her hand back from his distracting caress and glared at him. “Yes, well, I am not so devious, and you are the one who proposed to me. So what are you about, Mr. Anaedsley? I cannot believe you have suddenly tumbled into love with me.”
“Certainly not!” he said with an insulting amount of shock.
“Then I fail to see—”
“I need time,” he answered, “for my investment to come in. And you need a sponsor to meet other gentlemen. Second sons and the like. Ones who would be more than happy to wed you without writing poetry.”
She wished she didn’t feel so stupid around him. “And how does that lead to you on your knee?”
“Because we should get engaged. My grandfather will open the coffers, giving me time for my investment to profit. I know just the person to sponsor you, and so you will be going to rounds, meeting all sorts of eligible men.”
“But as your fiancée!”
“Well, naturally. But Lady Eleanor won’t take you under her wing any other way.”
She frowned. Lady Eleanor? As in the daughter of the Duke of Bucklynde. Even Mellie had heard of that august personage. It had been in the paper that her male relations had died of some fever, and a nobody seaman inherited the title. “But why would she help me?”
“As a favor to me. And because she needs a spot of cash herself. So if we offer to pay her and bring her in on the secret—”
“What secret?” she nearly screamed.
“That you’re going to cry off at the end of the Season. Don’t you see how perfect it is? You and I become engaged. Grandfather allows me enough money to survive until my investments come in. You go round to the parties, meeting all sorts of gentlemen, while I remain completely safe from those nefarious females. And at the end—when my money arrives—you cry off, marry the gentleman of your choice, and I can finally tell the duke to go to the devil. That I’ll marry when and where I choose and not before.”
She understood it now. This had not been a true proposal. It was all a trick. That the trick was on his family and not on her made not the least bit of difference to her heart. She didn’t even like the man, and yet she felt humiliated to be used in such a fashion. To receive a proposal and then be gleefully informed that it was a sham. As if she were of no more importance than his horse. Less importance, in fact. She was simply a tool to evade matchmaking mamas and foil his father’s plans.
“You are an odious man,” she hissed out. “Absolutely odious.”
He reared back, obviously shocked by her disgust. And that damned him even more in her eyes.
“But…but don’t you see how it works? It is a perfect fitting—you and me.”
“Not as an engaged couple!”
“But you don’t like me and I don’t like you. The two of us will never suit, and we have both said as much to one another. Repeatedly!”
She had said as much and often. If not out loud, then in her thoughts.
“That makes us the perfect pair,” he continued. “I cannot do this with a woman who could develop a tendre for me. That would be too cruel, and I couldn’t be sure that she’d cry off.”
“I will certainly not develop any tendre for you. I’d rather kiss a snake.”
“Exactly!” he said, his enthusiasm as bright as always. “There are no soft feelings between us. And as far as the scandal, my family will be in alt when you cry off.”
“In alt!”
He shrugged and flashed his charming smile. “Well, you are a bit of a step down for me. We’ll have to claim a passionate love affair, overcome by our emotions and some such rot, but all they’ll see is the mésalliance. When you cry off, they will be so relieved, they won’t care about the scandal.”
“And what about me? I will have cried off from a future duke.”
He gestured as if brushing away a fly. “How could a scandal bother you? You don’t travel in the social rounds. Whatever man you choose will be thrilled to have a wealthy bride, no matter the scandal. And won’t that be a grand romantic gesture? You throwing off a duke’s heir to marry a second son. Bound to stroke any man’s ego.”
She stared at him, appalled that his words began to make sense. Setting aside the insult, he did have the right of it. She would meet scores of eligible gentlemen, ones she could never see any other way. She could find an alternative to Ronnie. And if they were all useless fribbles as she feared, then she could easily turn her back on Lord Charming and give herself to Ronnie. Her cousin would certainly take her back and likely see it as the kind of grand romantic gesture he adored.
Mr. Anaedsley grinned. “You are thinking of it. I can see it in your eyes.”
“You can see nothing but revulsion.” She was speaking too harshly, but she couldn’t stop herself. Her heart had been twisted about too much for her to speak civilly right then.
“Miss Smithson. Mellie…” He reached for her hand again, but she snatched it away. She couldn’t think with his hands on her, so she stood to pace about her parlor. This was her sanctuary, the place where she came to be at peace. And now, as she walked back and forth by the settee, all she could see was Lord Charming sitting there like a veritable prince, his body calm and his expression animated. He obviously had no doubt she would agree to his mad plan.
Well, he was far out on that. She was an honest woman and a deception like this…
“Your only other choice is Ronnie. Do you really want to chain yourself to him without looking at other men? You could fall in love, Mellie. You might meet another man of science. I do know a few. One who would allow you to study and work however you want. I swear, I shall introduce you to every one.”
Her steps slowed as her mind churned. He was right, damn his eyes. This was exactly why she’d wanted her own money—so she could stop being a recluse with her father and meet eligible gentlemen. This was her chance to go to London. And not just travel to the great city but have a Season on the marriage mart, where ladies and gentlemen were thrown together with the hope of making a connection.
But could she do it? It was all so devious. “What would my father say?” she wondered aloud.
“He’ll be in the boughs with delight. Not every day a daughter gets engaged to a future duke.”
She shot him a glare. “And when I cry off?”
“Then you shall introduce him to your true choice and convince him that the new man is the better match. He will be, you know. A better choice for you. And your father is a man of logic. He’ll see that you and I would never fit.”
“Stop saying it that way.” It made her feel like a toad, the way he so gleefully dismissed her.
Then he stood up and came around the settee. She would have resumed pacing away from him, but what was the point? He was here, and she was despicably aware of him no matter where she stood in the room. Which is why she didn’t argue when he possessed her hands again.
“I see that I shouldn’t have proposed like that, on one knee like Ronnie did. It put you too much in mind of him.”
That wasn’t it at all, but she didn’t argue.
“I should have outlined the scheme logically. Shown you the advantage of it first, and then done the pretty as a nice touch at the end. But I couldn’t resist the jest, you know. I thought you’d laugh when you understood it.”
“I have never understood your amusements,” she said.
“I know. That’s another reason you are the perfect choice. If you can’t laugh with a man, then there’s no hope for a future.”
She nodded. It was true. She saw that clearly, even if her heart did not. Her heart was suffering from a lack of choices. With only two gentlemen in her circle—Lord Charming and Ronnie—of course it would leap at him. But she was a thinking person, not a foolish girl led about by her emotions, and so she thought about his proposal.
“You are sure Lady Eleanor will sponsor me?”
“Absolutely.”
“And I will meet plenty of eligible bachelors?”
“Scores of them. I vow it.”
She nodded slowly and watched his eyes light with excitement.
“You’ll do it?”
Could she? Did she dare?
“Yes, Mr. Anaedsley, I shall do it. I shall be your fake fiancée and then take great pleasure in crying off. I hope you are completely humiliated when I spurn you.”
“Excellent!” he cried.
And then he kissed her.
*
What was he doing? The question spun through Trevor’s brain. He’d seen how pretty she looked in the moonlight, how her hair curled so perfectly by her ear, and how her lips were moist and inviting. So he’d taken the invitation without thought to the consequences. And now he was immersed in her glorious kiss.
It started in the usual way. The lady gasped in surprise, and that naturally allowed him entrance. He deepened the kiss automatically, thrusting inside and pulling her closer. Her head had to tip back, which gave him the superior position as he dominated her head and body. He tasted, he toyed, and he took from her before she had the wherewithal to refuse. It was the way a future duke kissed, and he was well practiced.
Except, apparently, she was practiced as well. She closed her mouth—a little, just enough to threaten his tongue. His blood surged at the threat, and his fingers tightened, holding her to his will. She fought him for a moment, her hands hard where they clutched his shoulders. Then she surrendered completely.
He thrust into her mouth, she arched into his body, dropping her head back. In that small movement, she gave him dominion, and he set out to plunder her with a different mindset. Where before he had taken, now he set to a skillful dance of advance and retreat. In and out, he played, easily besting her until he found himself burning with a fire wholly unexpected. His heart pounded in his ears, his hands shifted to support her so he could take her to the floor, and most damning of all, his organ was hot and hard where he rubbed himself against her skirts.
The speed of this inferno stunned him, and in shock, he broke from her before he lost himself to her fire.
He stepped back harshly, his breath coming in great gasps. She was clutching him, so she followed, though she didn’t pursue the kiss. She, too, was breathing heavily, and that was the only sound in the room. Two people gasping in the most erotic of rasps he had ever heard.
He swallowed and made to straighten his jacket, but his hands would not move from her body. He was locked into supporting her until she found her legs. She did eventually, while he fought the hunger to pull her back to his kiss, and to a great deal more. He was just giving into his baser nature when she pushed herself away. His fingers were wrenched open, and he made a sound low in his throat. It was not a noise he had ever made before, and the feel of it—deep and guttural—appalled him. He was not a beast, for God’s sake.
He looked at her, seeing the rosy flush to her cheeks, the wet red of her lips, and nearly lost himself to her again. But then she turned her face away and half stumbled to the settee. She fell upon the cushion without grace, and he was flooded with images of her hair in a wild tangle, her skirts at her hips, and himself plunging into her again and again.
“What are you doing?” she gasped. Her tone was accusing, and he took that for a well-deserved remonstrance. After all, he was half ready to leap upon her and damn the consequences. That ought to give him pause. Some things could not be forgiven, and this was one of them. And yet, he looked at her wide eyes and disheveled skirts, and he wanted her as he had never wanted a woman before.
“You have done this before,” he said, his words harsh. He did not intend to accuse her. Indeed, his fury was all for himself, but she took it as the words sounded.
“You attacked me!” she shot back.
“That was hardly an attack,” he returned, a sneer entering his voice completely unbidden. Sometimes his grandfather’s voice came out of his mouth at the worst possible times.
“Do not blame this on me!” she said, her voice growing stronger and her hands steadier as they smoothed her skirts.
He didn’t. He couldn’t. And yet, he didn’t feel entirely to blame either. After all, her kiss had been incendiary. Damn it, he needed to take stock before he further aggravated the situation. He straightened his waistcoat, he fixed his cravat, and he did his best to hide his erection. She wasn’t looking in that direction, but damnation…her kiss. That was no maiden’s kiss.
“Where did you learn to do that?” He tried to keep the hauteur out of his tone and succeeded for the most part. But he had to know how seasoned she was.
“Did you think I could age to four and twenty and not experience a kiss or two?” Scorn dripped from her words, a match for his earlier hauteur.
“A kiss or two? Balderdash.” He had kissed courtesans who had less skill. “What the devil is your father about, letting you learn such a thing?”
She snorted—a most unladylike sound. “My father is about his bugs, as you well know. I have been in charge of my own education since I was eight.”
“That is not what a gently reared girl learns.” He didn’t know why he was arguing the point. Only that he was unsettled, and harsh words were his only means of release. Which was ridiculous. Before today, he’d never thought twice about her. This was the place he came for science, not dalliance. And she usually busied herself with other tasks when he visited. Since he and her father usually took their meals in the laboratory, he had barely been in her company since she was twelve.
How he came from barely noticing her to a hare’s breath away from ruining her was beyond his understanding. And yet it was true. Indeed, part of him insistently pushed him to finish what they had begun.
“Why did you kiss me?” she asked, her voice betraying true distress. “Especially if…if…”
He looked at her, seeing her beautiful mahogany eyes shining too bright in the moonlight. “If what?” he asked quietly.
“If you did not want me to kiss you back?”
He had no answer for that, and so he turned the conversation back in on itself. “How did you come by this skill, Mellie?” He used her father’s nickname for her because he thought it would ease the personal nature of the conversation.
“Was I…was I very good at it?”
How to answer that beyond the obvious? “Yes.”
She nodded once to herself as if confirming a suspicion. “I have kissed three boys in total. Two are inconsequential. The third, however…” A fond smile played about her lips. He made a strangled sound, and she glanced his way, her cheeks heating. “I was sixteen, and he was the chandler’s son.”
“You kissed a candle maker?” The words were strangled as he fought an irrational fury.
“A great many times. It was summer and…and I don’t know. He was fun. He called me pretty. I think I would have married him if he’d asked.”
“He didn’t?” Damned idiot boy. He could have snagged himself an heiress. And a woman who kissed like she enjoyed it.
“Papa forbade it when he found out. And…” Her voice grew pensive as she stared out at the night sky. “Even then, I knew I was just looking for someone who wasn’t Ronnie.” Then she shrugged. “Besides, as much as I liked him, he had barely any knowledge of mathematics and was hopeless in natural history. That’s why we spent most of our time kissing. There was so little else to discuss.”
Thank God for idiot chandlers. And how awful that she’d spent so much of her life looking for an alternative to her cousin. Still, the whole thing soured his stomach even though he knew it shouldn’t. After all, that was exactly what he’d offered her: a chance to find someone other than Ronnie. He couldn’t blame her for using all her wiles to ensnare someone else. And yet, somehow he did. He blamed her even as he pushed for all the details.
“And what else did this chandler’s son teach you beyond kissing?”
“How to make candles,” she said. Her glare was venomous. “But that’s not what you want to know, is it? Though I don’t see why you have the right to ask.”
“Because I am your fiancé!” he shot back. The words echoed loudly in the room, and they stared at one another in a kind of suspended horror. It was true. They were engaged now. He had asked, and she had accepted. It was all a ruse, but indeed…they were affianced.
He watched as she swallowed, her skin pale. Her fingers entwined tight enough to make her knuckles white.
“Oh,” she said softly. “I beg your pardon. Of course you have the right to know.”
Except he didn’t. Not really. Not when their engagement was a lie. He didn’t say that aloud though. He was too interested in her answer.
“James and I kissed. Just…kissed. I knew not to go further, and he was gentleman enough not to press. And truthfully, it was only a few weeks before Papa realized and put a stop to it.”
At least her father had paid some attention. But bloody hell, the dangers to an innocent girl wandering about the countryside were legion. He shuddered to think what might have happened. “What became of this chandler’s brat?”
She shot him an annoyed look. “You have no cause to call him names. He married one of the local girls the very next year. They have three children now and are very happy.”
Did he detect a note of longing in her voice? Or perhaps the better term was “loneliness.” He had not thought about her life here, secluded and waiting hand and foot on her father. The man had enough care to forbid the local men, but not enough presence of mind to introduce her to gentlemen other than her cousin.
“I beg your pardon,” he said as he joined her on the settee.
She tilted her head and more curls escaped their pins. The whole mass would come tumbling down soon, and he looked forward to it. He waited while she looked at him, her eyes steady and no longer shiny with suppressed tears. He waited even longer, but she said nothing in response to his apology.
He deserved that, he supposed. He was the one to kiss her and the one to rudely demand she account for herself. Therefore it was up to him to make amends.
“I suppose I am unaccustomed to being engaged. I have behaved badly.”
“By kissing me?”
Yes. No. Bloody hell, but he couldn’t make himself regret that kiss. “By being impetuous. It’s my gravest fault, you see. Sometimes I act without thinking.”
“Ah,” she said. Nothing more. Damn, she was hard to read, and he was accounted a good judge of faces.
He shifted to look at her more fully. “You haven’t changed your mind, have you? About our engagement?”
She shook her head. “Have you?”
“Lord, no. I’ve been casting about for a solution for weeks now. But…” He looked at her lips, at the way she twisted her hands in her skirts. And he was excruciatingly aware of his still throbbing erection. “But no more kissing, I think.”
“I assure you, James and I haven’t kissed in years.”
He frowned. “I, um, I meant us.”
Her lips twitched. “Yes, I know.”
She was teasing him. The minx had deliberately misconstrued his words. Damnation, how could she be so composed when his blood still ran hot with lust? He dropped back against the cushions and regarded her darkly.
“It occurs to me that we don’t know each other very well.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, but did not speak.
He felt his jaw clench. “You have been cutting up at me all day. Do not become taciturn now.”
“Mr. Anaedsley, we have known each other nearly all our lives.”
Perhaps. But he had only vaguely been aware of her. And now he wondered if he had missed something—someone—special. An odd thought to be sure. Meanwhile, she unclasped her hands and made an open gesture.
“What do you wish to know?”
Damnation, this was ridiculous. He didn’t know what he wanted to know. If he did, he’d know it already. He huffed out a breath, completely at a loss.
“Mr. Anaedsley—”
“Trevor. We are affianced, Mellie. At least call me by my Christian name.
She nodded. It was a regal dip of her chin. Quite refined, come to think of it. “Very well, Trevor. Might I make a suggestion?”
“I would welcome it.”
“We shall spend a great deal of time together in the next few weeks. To start with, there is the carriage ride to London. Then the preparations for the Season, not to mention all the parties and the like.”
He nodded, though he suspected she had no idea exactly how busy she would be during the Season. His sisters were not yet out, but he had friends who had told him of the military-like campaigns females waged during this time of year.
“Perhaps,” she continued, “we should delay the personal inquiries until tomorrow.”
He tilted his head. “Are you trying to be rid of me?”
“Dawn comes very early,” she said softly.
“What of it?” He rarely went to bed before three.
“Fisticuffs at dawn?” she prompted.
The duel. “I’d completely forgotten.” He studied her face, noting the fine lines of worry. “I swear I shall not hurt your cousin overmuch.”
She sighed, the sound coming from deep within her. “Go get some sleep, Mr. Anaedsley. One can only hope that the rest will revive your brain.”
Right. She thought he was going to lose. “I will not lose a fistfight to a poet. The very idea verges on insult.”
She stood up from the settee. As he was still sprawled upon it, she looked very intimidating as she glared down at him. “You have promised to rescue me from my cousin. I shall be very cross with you if your injuries tomorrow prevent that from happening.”
“But—”
“Oh, go to bed, Trevor!” she snapped. “Perhaps in the morning, you will be less of a damned fool!” And with that she swept from the room.
“Impressive woman,” he said to no one at all. “Definitely worthy of a second son. Most definitely.”
He spent the next few hours musing on her charms and enjoying his host’s fine brandy. Which is why, a scant four hours later, he was squinting at the pre-dawn sky and wondering why in the devil his valet had woken him.