Chapter Fifteen
Pet names are childish and silly, as are costumes and make-believe games. And sometimes that is exactly thepoint.
T revor did his best not to fidget when he presented himself at the ducal mansion at precisely five of the clock. They were to have a light meal before Mellie’s come-out ball at seven. But when he arrived, no one was about. Not even Seelye. Apparently, the man had been recruited to help supervise the extra staff hired for the Redhill ball. A mottled-skinned maid too young to be anything but an apprentice opened the door. She’d shown him into the main parlor, forgotten to take his hand and gloves, then ducked away without saying a word.
He’d stood there in the parlor, fidgeting with his hat brim while worrying about the coming hours. Would Mellie be up to the task? Was he up to the task? Or would everyone see that they were complete frauds? What if Eleanor had exhausted her? What if—
“Good evening, Mr. Anaedsley. I see your tailor was correct. You are indeed a very fit man.”
He spun around at the sound her voice. It was richer than he remembered. Her vowels were smooth, her expression even more so. She stood there at the entrance to the parlor looking like…like…
He blinked.
“What are you wearing?”
“Don’t you like it?” she asked, a tremor of worry in her voice. She raised her arms and spun slowly before him. “The duchess was adamant that this was the perfect thing to wear. Eleanor thinks it will become all the rage. And Helaine—that’s Lady Redhill—said it was her greatest design. Do you think…I mean…is it too much?”
He stared, completely at a loss. She was wearing feathers. She was wearing a lot of feathers. As in, from birds. He was sure there was fabric beneath the plumage, but he couldn’t see it. Which meant she looked as if a stiff breeze would leave her completely naked. Worse, the feathers were of a smallish sort so they seemed to hug her body. It would be suggestive enough if she had a waifish appearance, but Mellie was sturdier than that. She was curvier than that. Her body was of the lush, Rubenesque variety. Full breasts, neat waist, and the kind of hips that made a man think of grabbing hold and thrusting like a beast in heat.
Good God, he wanted to pull off every one of those feathers with his teeth before he—
“There’s a cloak for travel,” she said, “and it’s hard to sit down without crushing things.” She flashed him a shy smile. “But it’s fun. Or at least…I thought so.” Her voice trailed away on a mournful note, and he rushed to reassure her.
“No, no,” he said, his voice coming out thick with lust. “I mean, it’s…” Suggestive. Indecent. Licentious. “I…um…”
She dropped her arms and stared at the floor. “I know it’s awful,” she said.
“Er…what?”
“Crickets don’t have feathers. I told them that, but they kept saying that no one would care. And it’s mostly brown and green feathers.”
Yes, that was certainly true. Not that he’d noticed. He was too busy thinking of ways he could accidentally brush across her breasts. Would the feathers break? Fall off? What would be revealed beneath?
“Tabitha suggested we use real cricket wings, but I thought that was too much. Feathers are bad enough.”
“I can certainly understand that.”
“Trevor?”
“I think you are going to be a sensation,” he said in all honesty. “I think the men will flock to you, and I am very grateful to have already announced our engagement. That gives me an excuse to stand by your side and keep the blighters away.”
“But not all of them right?” she pressed. “I still have to marry one.”
Like hell—oh, right. Their ruse. Of course. Suddenly, finding her a husband didn’t seem like a daunting task. Except he desperately wanted to lock her away. No other man should see the treasure he’d found in her. He felt ill at the idea of handing her over to one of the lustful men she’d meet tonight. It didn’t matter that he was one of the lustful men in question.
“Bloody hell, you’re a beauty. Worse, you’re going to be a sensation as well.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “This is going to be damned difficult.”
“What?” she said, her word more of a quiet gasp. “You don’t think they’ll want me?”
He looked at her horrified expression and cursed himself for an idiot. Then before she could run, he took her hands and squeezed her fingers. She hadn’t yet put on her gloves, so he could touch her skin to skin, and he once again marveled at how soft she was. How dewy fresh and innocent she seemed, even in that scandalous dress.
“Didn’t you hear me, Mellie? I said you’re beautiful. I wanted to find you a quiet man of science, but it’ll be damned hard for such a person to get to your side now. Darling, you will be surrounded ten deep in men.”
She flushed, the pink of her cheek nicely accented by the dark green and black feathers. “But we’re engaged, Trevor. The men won’t flock to me. I’m already taken.”
She didn’t understand the ton . “The decent men will respect that, Mellie. It’s the indecent ones that I’m worried about it.”
“Oh.”
Oh indeed. He looked at her, seeing her anxiety though she tried to hide it. How had he ever thought her uninteresting? He found every nuance in her expression fascinating. And right now, he saw as so many emotions danced in her eyes. Or perhaps that was merely a reflection of the jumping, contradictory feelings inside him.
Either way, there was only one way to stop such destructive thinking. A simple thing, but he had been aching for two weeks now to do it.
He kissed her. He did it badly. On some level, he knew that. A girl such as Mellie should be approached with reverence and care. She was green in the ways of the body, and yet he had none of his usual skill with her.
He simply kissed her because she was there, and they both seemed to want it. She didn’t seem surprised. Her mouth parted on a sigh, and she stepped into his embrace in the same motion that he used to pull her tight.
The feathers were smooth, letting his hands glide sweetly down her back to her bottom. Her lips were silkier, her taste more delightful, and the sound she made as he thrust inside set his blood on fire. No cricket chirp from her, but a soft, delighted sigh.
He would make it a moan. A needful cry when he thrust into her, and then a keening sound as she came around him. It would happen. He needed it to happen, so he deepened the kiss and allowed his hips to thrust shallowly against her.
Easy now, deeper later, until—
“None of that now! You’ll crush the feathers.”
He leaped back, or at least he meant to. All he did was jolt backward a bit while keeping one hand firmly planted on Mellie’s hip. She, on the other hand, jumped like a startled colt. And even though she didn’t move far from him, he could feel anxiety rippling in her muscles.
The duchess stood in the doorway looking like a living flame in a gown of orange red silk. Her arms were folded, but her eyes were dancing with laughter.
“I’m not one to stop an engaged couple’s fun, but Mr. Anaedsley, that dress took forever to stitch. I’ll not have you crushing it before Melinda’s big moment.”
She was right. Trevor knew it, and so he slowly withdrew his hand.
“She’s too beautiful, duchess. This gown is too…too…” Damn it, now was not the time to lose his words! “She cannot be so beautiful,” he repeated, knowing how ridiculous he sounded. “She’s a wealthy woman. When she looks like this…” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to keep her safe.”
“Which is why you have friends, Mr. Anaedsley. And even if you didn’t, Miss Smithson has become very dear to me. No one will harm her.”
“Certainly not,” inserted Eleanor as she stepped into the parlor. “She’s my charge. Everyone will treat her with respect or risk my displeasure.”
He shot a look at his childhood friend. Did she truly believe her dislike would have any impact on a randy man? Apparently, she did, so he said nothing. Fortunately, the duke chose that moment to appear in the doorway a half step behind Eleanor. Trevor met his calm expression with a desperate one of his own. Only to have the man burst into laughter.
“In love with a beautiful woman? Nervous whenever she appears in public?” the man taunted. “It’s a trial we lucky few must learn to bear.” He said the words to Trevor, but his eyes were on his wife. She visibly preened as his gaze took in her body. The two flowed toward one another, as if gravity pulled them close. They were about to kiss when Eleanor snorted.
“Good heavens, must you do that everywhere? We’ve no time for it. Trevor put us behind schedule.”
“I was here at five of the clock. Exactly as you said.”
“Not that, you dolt. You are behind time with Miss Smithson.”
“What?” He looked at Mellie who seemed equally baffled.
Then Eleanor held up Mellie’s green gloves, which she’d brought into the room. “For an engaged woman, her hand is distinctly bare.”
Now he remembered. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten exactly, but he hadn’t wanted to do this with an audience. “Eleanor—”
“Hurry up, Trevor. It’s not as if this is a significant gesture.”
No, it wasn’t. Because this was not a real engagement. Still, the matter required delicacy. Especially since…
“It’s all right,” Mellie said, her voice soft, but so easily riveting his attention. “If you haven’t got one with you—”
“Don’t be silly,” he said at the exact same moment that the other women voiced their opinions.
The duchess snorted. “Of course it’s significant.”
“Don’t be embarrassing,” Eleanor said as she tugged her own gloves further up her arms.
Trevor did his best to ignore them as he captured Mellie’s hand. He tried to draw her apart from the others, but she didn’t move beyond allowing him to raise her arm.
“Mellie, look at me please,” he said.
Her gaze leapt to his, and he watched the color deepen in her cheeks.
“You should be wearing the signet ring of the Duke of Timby,” he said. “All the Timby brides wear it for their first presentation. Usually for the whole of the engagement, before it goes back to my grandfather.”
Her eyes widened, and she looked horrified. “Oh Trevor, I couldn’t,” she whispered. Probably because theirs was a false engagement.
“My grandfather didn’t respond to my request for the ring. And he wasn’t at home to me when I visited.”
He watched as her lips formed a perfect O of understanding. It was exactly as they’d predicted: his grandfather was opposed to the match. That was the plan. But it still infuriated Trevor that he couldn’t get the signet ring for his fake bride.
“It’s better this way,” she said.
“The hell it is. I’ll not have you slighted, Mellie. I…” Damnation, he was doing this wrong. He fumbled to remove the jeweler’s pouch from his pocket. Then he held up her hand and pressed it into her palm.
“Trevor—”
“Wait. Please.” He covered her hand with his, preventing her from looking at the contents. “Before you look, understand that I meant it as a bit of whimsy. Once I realized that my grandfather wouldn’t give me the signet, I thought…I thought this would be funny. But now I realize how silly I was.” This was her engagement ring. People would judge her by it. “There are two rings in there. One for me and one for you. To let you know that you are not in this alone.”
She looked at him, wariness in her expression. Except when he looked closer, he realized she did not seem worried. More…well, there was a misty kind of smile on her lips. Far from reassuring him, that made him feel more anxious.
“Mellie, I swear, I wasn’t making fun of you. I’d never make—”
“Oh, for God’s sake, man, let her look.” That came from the duke who was standing close enough to overhear every word. Along with the duchess and Eleanor.
Trevor shot them an annoyed look. This was meant to be a moment between him and Mellie. But there was no help for it, especially as a gong sounded to signal that supper was ready.
“Mellie—”
“Let me see them.”
He had no choice. Everyone in the ton would see it tonight. Might as well get it over with. So he withdrew his hand and waited with his belly knotted as she carefully opened the pouch and let two rings fall into her palm.
She looked at hers first. It was an emerald set in gold, but fashioned to look like a cricket. Sweeping antennae flowed over the stone, then back and around to encircle her finger.
His ring was equally fanciful. It bore two round diamonds, fashioned to look like enormous fly eyes. In this case, the wings of the fly became the circle of the ring.
“It’s the Cricket Princess and the Bug-Eyed Duke,” he said, worried when she hadn’t spoken. “I thought—”
She laughed, a musical chuckle that became a full trill of laughter. The sound flowed strong and happy, and he couldn’t believe his eyes when she held both rings up to the light.
“These are wonderful, Trevor!”
She started to put hers on, but the duchess stopped her with a loud, “Tut tut!”
And when Mellie paused to look at their audience, Eleanor explained.
“He’s supposed to put it on your finger.”
Normally, he hated such formality. What did it matter who put the ring on her finger so long as she wore it? But in this, he agreed with tradition. With as much gravity as he could manage, he took the ring from her, then lifted up her hand and slipped it onto her finger. She looked down at it while he gazed at her.
There was laughter in her eyes, and a smile played about her mouth. “I love it,” she whispered.
“But it’s too small,” said Eleanor in disgust.
Mellie held up her hand. “It fits me perfectly.”
“It’s supposed to go over your glove, not underneath it.”
Trevor shook his head. “No. The signet ring goes over the glove. This is Mellie’s ring. I hope you will keep it forever.”
The duchess snorted. “Well, of course she’ll keep it forever. It’s her engagement ring.”
Which would be true if they were going to get married. He and Mellie shared a look of silent misery. Who knew what her real husband would think of such a thing? But it didn’t matter as Mellie held up his hand.
“And shall I put on yours, Mr. Buggy Duke?”
He groaned, but he extended his finger. “I do hate that name, you know.”
“That’s what makes it perfect,” she said as she slipped it on. “There now. We’re a pair.”
And he felt it. For better or worse, they were in this together. So he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss first to her ring, then again to her palm. In that one gesture, he tried to express all of his better nature. He wanted to say that he was a gentleman and would treat her as the lady she was. He would honor her and stand by her side, no matter what happened.
But even as he pressed his lips to her palm, he realized the futility of it all. He was not a gentleman because this engagement was a lie. He was not honorable because he still intended to teach her the joys of her body as soon as he could find a way.
And no matter how beautiful she was, tonight’s guests would still make her feel odd, outcast, and wholly unworthy.