Chapter Eleven
Be careful of other women. They can be your greatest allies or your worstenemies.
M elinda liked to sleep in. Certainly she enjoyed morning sunshine, and everyone liked the early song of birds at the window, but late-night brandies and even later visits from future dukes left her lingering in her bed. Or at least, that had been her plan.
Eleanor knocked politely then sauntered in without waiting for a response. That was bad enough given that Melinda was buried deep in the covers, but the woman started talking as if they had been in the middle of a conversation.
“I must tell you that I begin to relish this task. It has been ages since my own come-out, and one forgets how exciting firsts can be. The first ball gown, the first dance.”
The first orgasm.
Mellie felt her face heat, and she buried herself in her pillow. She’d spent the first half of the night waiting for Trevor to knock on her door, and the second half reliving every second of the way he had touched her. She had thought sleep would bring an end to her salacious remembrances, but instead, it had given fodder to a host of erotic dreams. She was still wet and throbbing in places that had never throbbed before.
“Tut tut. None of that.”
Mellie had to bite her cheek to keep from giggling. “None of that” was right. No proper girl would allow what she had done last night, and yet, if Trevor so much as winked at her, she would rush off to do whatever he suggested.
“Come, come,” Eleanor continued as she crossed to the head of the bed. Melinda burrowed deeper. “No hiding from this. We’re going dress shopping. You cannot say you’d rather laze in bed.”
Hmmm.
Mellie frowned as she thought about it. Did she love dress shopping? It was fun to pick out fabrics. She had a good time with the seamstress at her local village. They would discuss clothing in an academic way, mostly about her uncle’s fabrics and how women used them. It was basic information from someone who had learned that Mellie valued her opinion. And that was fun.
“Trust me,” Eleanor continued as she tugged at the coverlet. “I have it all planned out.”
Melinda groaned. Another smart plan from someone who didn’t know her or understand what she wanted. But in this case, that was the point. After all, Melinda had no idea how to appear a prancing bear in front of the ton , so she might as well leave that in Eleanor’s hands. The image of the elegant Lady Eleanor leading a bear by the string had her smiling enough to peer out from beneath the covers.
“That’s it,” Eleanor encouraged. “Perform your ablutions. The duchess will be here in a moment to take your measurements. She used to be a seamstress, though we don’t speak about it. And then Lady Redhill is joining us for morning chocolate before we head to the shop.”
Mellie pushed up from the covers. “In a moment? How much of a moment?”
“Five minutes, ten minutes, an hour? Who knows? Though she does have a shopkeeper’s attention to time, so probably five minutes.”
Bloody hell. She was not dressed for a duchess or Lady Redhill, whomever that was. Meanwhile, Eleanor inspected Mellie’s features closely.
“One moment,” she muttered before tugging open the curtains such that sunlight flooded the room. “Hmmm,” the lady continued. “I assume the cosmetic you created takes care of freckles? Or does it ease the wrinkles?”
“I don’t have wrinkles,” Melinda said. At least she didn’t think she did.
“Not yet, but I do see the beginnings between your brows.” To make her point, she handed Mellie a hand mirror. Sure enough, two lines bracketed her brows. Worse, they weren’t even symmetrical. The right one was a fraction deeper and longer. She couldn’t even wrinkle normally!
She rubbed her hand between her brows to smooth things down. It didn’t work. She pulled at them, arched her brows, and did other silly things while Eleanor watched in silence.
“It’s useless,” Melinda sighed.
“I have a potion that might help, though it’s a losing game. One shouldn’t allow lines to appear in the first place. Adopt a serene expression at all times. That’s the true source of an aristocratic bearing.”
“Wrinkle prevention?”
“Total serenity. At all times. No matter the provocation.”
Melinda stared at the woman, studying the flawless perfection that was Lady Eleanor. Her skin was pristine, almost translucent. No wrinkle, no freckle, no unsightly blemish or unattractive lump marred the perfection of her features. And given that she’d lost her family to disease a year before, that meant Eleanor was either the definition of serene or a coldhearted shrew.
No, Mellie thought, that couldn’t be true. Shrews, in her experience, had tight expressions and pinched brows. Which meant that Eleanor managed a serenity beyond comprehension.
“How?” she whispered.
“Practice. A great deal of practice.”
Melinda shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
Lady Eleanor’s lips curved enough for a smile, but not too much to create lines. “Good. Because in your case, it isn’t necessary. Remember, the plan is for you to be outré.”
“But—”
“That means you are expected to have lines and wrinkles young. If you were outrageous and beautiful, the ladies of the ton would turn on you like rabid dogs.”
Which, she supposed, meant that she wasn’t beautiful. That wasn’t a surprise, though it stung to hear it. Then Eleanor narrowed her eyes—slightly—before speaking in a low tone.
“That is your first and most important lesson, Melinda,” she said, her words almost too quiet to hear. “Everyone in the ton has a plan, and I do mean everyone.”
“A plan?”
“A stratagem. A way of acting. A reason they do things.”
Mellie suddenly understood. “Like the gentleman’s code.”
“Ah yes, but you will soon learn that one gentleman’s code is vastly different from another’s.”
That she’d already discovered.
“You must use that prodigious mind of yours to figure out their code and circumvent it. Unless of course, it aligns with yours.”
Melinda nodded, though her heart rebelled at the idea. “That means I will be constantly looking for hidden meanings behind every action and every word.” How exhausting!
This time, Lady Eleanor beamed at her enough for a faint line to appear about her mouth. “Excellent. You understand. Now hurry! Our stratagem begins in ten minutes.” And with that, she flowed out of the room. She didn’t seem to walk, but just rippled her way out the door.
Serenity personified. Mellie was impressed and suitably intimidated. Because that was not something she could ever do. She had no halfway point. She either retreated into herself or invested fully. In her scientific pursuits. In her father’s experiments. Or…
In what she and Trevor had done last night.
Full sensuality, full engagement in every aspect of their exploration. And if she were to become outré, she would have to commit to that too. She would have to act her part as devoutly as a new chemistry exploration.
She could do that.
So she cleaned up and readied herself to become something entirely new. It was strangely easy. All she had to do was stop thinking and allow everyone else to do exactly as they pleased.
*
Trevor woke with a raging headache and a stiff cock. Due to dreams of Mellie, of course. One after another until he couldn’t breathe without thinking he’d explode. So for the second time in a matter of hours, he indulged himself in fantasies of her while stroking himself to the inevitable conclusion. And just like last night, it wasn’t enough. He wanted the real woman.
So with that thought in mind, he cleaned himself and dressed with more care than he had in ages. It was a difficult task to strike that balance between personal perfection and casual insouciance. Matters were made more difficult because he had no valet and half his body was stiff from his bout with Ronnie. His clothes were crushed, his hairbrush was missing, and his breath was strong enough to make a dog run.
Not an auspicious beginning to the day.
Still, he managed and was rather proud of the result. Then he went down to luncheon with the happy expectation of greeting his fiancée. He found Eleanor instead. She was calmly stirring her tea as she stared out the window at the most boring garden he’d ever seen. Exactly two bushes of a hardy variety and neither faring too well. Not surprising. It was London after all.
“Good morning, Eleanor. Is Mellie—”
“Good morning, Trevor. I trust you will remove yourself from this household today.”
“I slept well, thank you. And you?” He frowned. Wait a moment. “What did you say?”
She set down her teacup and looked at him directly. He could detect no change from her normal placid expression, and yet there was a hardness in her eyes. “I love this house. It is one of the few remaining jewels in my family’s crown. There is actual jewelry, of course, and the estate is lovely. But it is this home in London that I love. Perfectly substantial for a ducal residence, and exquisitely placed in the most exalted area of town.”
Having no response to that, Trevor found a seat and wondered if his friend had gone mad.
“It does have its quirks, though, as all buildings do. You understand, don’t you, Trevor?”
No, he really didn’t. “Quirks,” he echoed. “I’m sure they’re delightful.”
“Not generally. Certainly not the thin walls. They are drafty, and I can hear the smallest peep of a mouse at all hours of day. Or night.”
Oh damn. Her bedroom was right beside Mellie’s. Which meant Eleanor had heard him last night. Good God. His face heated, and he was grateful for the distraction as Seelye brought him a cup of tea. Good man, that butler. Remembered his likes. But then the man set down a hearty plate of eggs and toast, which was definitely not his favorite way to break his fast.
“Actually, Seelye, I prefer—”
“I ordered this specifically for you, Trevor,” Eleanor interrupted. “I hope you enjoy it.”
Trevor narrowed his eyes. “You know I dislike…” His voice trailed off as Eleanor regarded him calmly. Right. First off, it wasn’t done among his set to argue in front of the servants. Second, she knew he disliked eggs in the morning, especially thin runny ones. Which meant this was his punishment for his nighttime roaming.
“You were saying?” she prompted.
“Hm? Oh yes, that I dislike, um, waiting for my food. Such a gracious hostess you are.”
Eleanor dipped her chin in acknowledgment. The translation was clear: you are forgiven for your transgression.
He tucked into his eggs with an inward sigh. A good guest always ate what was set before him. “So has Mellie risen yet?”
“Hours ago. She is busy with Her Grace right now. I doubt you will see her before you depart.”
There it was, the blithe assumption that he would leave. But he had no interest in departing for a myriad of reasons. First and foremost was his need to see Mellie settled. This was very new to her, and he would not abandon her to Eleanor’s tender mercies.
“Oh, my plans aren’t so cluttered. And the duke has been so kind as to—”
“Is she to be married honorably or not?”
No need to belabor the question. “Mellie will marry honestly. How could you think—?”
“Then you shall leave, Trevor. You have put her in my charge. I do not chaperone mistresses or ladies of loose morals. I have the strictest standards.”
“Of course—”
“Then you will depart.”
Trevor shut his mouth with a hard clip. It took him a moment to get past his anger, but in the end, he had to admit the truth. Eleanor was right. She was ten thousand times right, damn her eyes, but that didn’t mean it sat well.
“This is a delicate situation. I am the only one Mellie knows here. You are strangers to her. I’m thinking of her comfort.” It wasn’t a lie. But he was also thinking about other, more carnal things.
“I don’t doubt you,” Eleanor said. Then she looked up, her gaze on the butler. “Thank you, Seelye. Would you please deliver a message to the mews. I shall be needing. the carriage directly.”
The butler bowed deeply. “Right away, my lady.”
Eleanor waited until the servant had withdrawn, then she turned back to Trevor. But she didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. He was squirming from the force of her gaze and the weight of his own guilt. He was in the wrong. He had snuck into Mellie’s room last night. He had behaved as no gentleman would. And yet, he was loathe to give up his position without a fight.
“She needs me here.”
“She needs a protector, and you need to be whipped.”
He blinked. She had spoken the words so calmly that her meaning was nearly lost. But he had understood, and he reared back with shock. “You are doing it much too brown. I have known her almost as long as I’ve known you, and she was unsettled last night. I was merely…helping.” God, he hoped his words sounded better to Eleanor than they did to his own ears.
Apparently not, because her next words were icy cold. “You are charming, Trevor. And because of that, you think you can blind everyone to your faults, and everything will work out. For you, that is mostly true. But someone always pays the piper, and it is usually the woman.” She leaned forward. “Melinda is more vulnerable than most.”
“We had a short conversation,” he lied. It wasn’t for his own protection, but for Mellie’s. He could not have Eleanor think the worst of his fiancée. And certainly not because of something that was entirely his fault.
Her stare was heavy indeed, but he did not flinch. The secret to holding a lie was total adherence to it. And in the end, she dipped her chin in acknowledgment. “Good. I think better of you then.”
He exhaled, though the guilt seemed ten times worse now. “Thank you—”
“But you are still leaving.”
Damned harridan. “Be reasonable, Eleanor. She needs all of us, myself included.”
It was at that moment that they were interrupted. The door didn’t open. Naturally not. This was an efficient household, but as Eleanor had said: the walls were thin. He heard women coming down the stairs. Three to be exact, if he judged the voices correctly. The duchess’s voice, another woman’s, and then the soft, subtle murmur of Mellie. His entire body went tight, stretching for another sound.
A moment later, Seelye knocked on the door before entering. “The carriage awaits your convenience, my lady.”
Eleanor pushed back from the table. Trevor abruptly abandoned his runny eggs to rush out to the main hallway. Mellie would be there, and he had a desperate need to see her. He didn’t question why. He simply acted.
As he suspected, she was coming down the stairs. The duchess was in animated discussion with the other woman, whom he now identified as Lady Redhill, the other owner of A Lady’s Favor dress shop. And trailing behind—though clearly listening closely—was his Mellie.
Her skin was pale, her eyes a little wide, but it was unmistakably her. How beautiful she looked with her hair pinned artlessly back and her brows narrowed in thought. Then she spoke, and his body adjusted to her tone. Like an instrument tuned to her note, he shifted his position to greet her the moment she stepped upon the main floor.
“But crickets aren’t only green. They have lots of different colors.”
He smiled, seeing his entry into the conversation. “Are we determined then to dress you as the Cricket Princess?”
Her eyes locked on his and lost some of their strain. She said something of which he only heard half. Something about wearing colors beyond green. He might have heard better if he hadn’t been mesmerized by several locks of her hair slipping free of her pins. Then she stepped into the sunlight and the contrast between the auburn strands and her pearly white skin stopped his breath.
“Trevor?”
“I shall commission a necklace for you,” he said. “One of a cricket with a crown.”
“Don’t you dare!” she cried. “Not unless you wear a matching one with buggy eyes.”
“Nonsense. On a man, it would be a signet ring.”
“I will not wear such a necklace,” she declared.
“Then I will appear very strange with my new ring.” He held out his hand, and she descended the last step with her fingers in his. She felt warm. Much more alive than yesterday, but still a far cry from the woman he had brought to completion last night.
Damn the thoughts she inspired in him.
He caught her fingers, bringing them to his lips for a kiss in greeting. Then he watched the shifting colors of her skin. Pale pink to bright red. He was fascinated, and his memories were rapidly mixing with fantasies.
The duchess brought him out of his reverie. “Does your husband greet you in such a way, Helaine?” she asked Lady Redhill.
“If he did, I doubt I’d ever leave the house.”
“Or the bed.”
The two women laughed, and it took him a moment to realize the truth. Oh damn. His thoughts were obvious. And even if his weren’t, Mellie’s certainly were.
He straightened and greeted the other two women with as much charm as he was able. When he was done, he was all but assaulted by Eleanor’s steady regard. It was a moment’s stare. Or perhaps a minute’s. But in that time, he knew what he had to do. As an honorable gentleman he had no choice. If he remained behind, he would have Mellie debauched within a week.
With an inward curse, he turned to Seelye. “Would you call a hack for me? It’s time I returned to my rooms.”
He felt the surprise hit Mellie. They weren’t even touching, but the air around her seemed to jerk. Then she spoke, her voice high and tight. “You’re leaving?”
He nodded and tried to put an apology into his words. “Affianced couples do not reside in the same home. It’s not proper.”
Lady Redhill frowned. “Well, that’s not entirely true,” she began, but Eleanor cut her off.
“It is in this house. I will not tolerate anything less than total propriety here.”
To which the duchess released a loud sigh. “She says that a lot, but we have plenty of room, Mr. Anaedsley. And I know my husband enjoys your company.”
“As I enjoy his,” Trevor said with complete honesty. Unfortunately, debauching Mellie was completely dishonorable. “I will visit every day.”
“You will escort us to Melinda’s first ball and nothing beforehand,” said Eleanor with irritating finality in her tone.
“But—”
“I insist, Trevor.”
He glowered at his longtime friend. “Letters then, Eleanor. There is nothing untoward about a man writing letters to his fiancée.”
To which Lady Eleanor dipped her chin in a regal nod. He barely noticed as his gaze returned to Mellie. He saw immediately that she understood the subtext. She might be green in society, but she was far from stupid. But beyond that he could read nothing. Did she regret their actions last night? Did she hate that he was leaving and yearn for him as he ached to hold her? Or was she resolved to her role in their charade?
“Mellie?” he whispered.
“Never mind, Trevor,” she said in an undertone. “There will be plenty of time to…” She swallowed. “Plenty of time after my wedding.”
Her wedding. Not their wedding. Which was exactly as it should be.
And yet he never felt so robbed in all his life.