Chapter Eighteen
Listen carefully so you can use his words againsthim.
M ellie didn’t notice when Trevor reappeared in the ballroom, or so she told herself. She kept her gazed fixed on the gentlemen around her, so she couldn’t possibly have seen when he stepped out of the card room with an expression only seen at a boxing match. Lord, she’d never seen him more furious and that included when Ronnie had punched him into a cow pile.
And now she was looking at him when she shouldn’t be. Her attention was supposed to be on Mr. Rausch who was especially charming right now. And his friends were very learned. She’d spoken more about natural history in the last fifteen minutes than she had in years of living with her father. She usually got her information from published papers, but it was immeasurably more stimulating to speak with like-minded scientists. She was so happy about the conversation that she didn’t care that they also ogled her gown and tried for gossip about her and Trevor.
Perhaps Lady Eleanor knew why Trevor looked so angry. Did the man gamble to excess? Had he just lost a lot of money?
Unfortunately, Eleanor was surrounded by her own circle of admirers. Somehow, the two women had become separated by all the gentlemen, which meant that there was no female to moderate Trevor’s attitude when he shouldered his way into her circle.
Mr. Rausch responded first. “Mr. Anaedsley, I must say you’ve been sadly neglectful of your fiancée. She’s absolutely fascinating—”
“Thank you, sir. When I need advice on my intended, I’ll be sure to turn to you.” Then he held out his hand. “Mellie, if you wouldn’t mind…” It was clearly not a request. It was also not a statement of what he wanted. Just an outstretched hand and an expression as dark as pitch. And she had no idea how to respond.
“Um, I’m supposed to partner Mr. Greenfield in the next set.” The musicians had started tuning again, so it wouldn’t be long.
“Perhaps Mr. Greenfield will forgive you,” he said, his tone softening, but not his expression. “I would like to speak—”
“Come now, Anaedsley,” Mr. Rausch interrupted. “The girl is allowed some fun. We’re having the most stimulating conversation.” He gestured toward Mellie, but froze as Trevor’s voice cut through hard and cold.
“Touch my fiancée again, Rausch, and I will meet you at dawn.”
“Trevor!” Mellie gasped.
At her cry, Trevor blinked, then his eyes widened, as he must have realized what he’d just said. Suddenly, he was grimacing as he pulled his hands back to his sides. “Forgive me, everyone. I’m in a deuced foul temper.”
“Then perhaps you should leave the ladies alone,” said Mr. Rausch, his voice cold as he stepped protectively between her and Trevor.
But that was ridiculous. Trevor would never harm her. And if he was in a foul temper, it was incumbent upon her to find out why. So she touched Mr. Rausch’s shoulder. A muscle ticked in Trevor’s jaw, so she made her intentions very clear.
“Mr. Rausch, would you mind stepping aside? I need to have a word with my fiancé. Gentlemen, my apologies. I fear I’m otherwise engaged for this set.”
Fortunately, Mr. Rausch was protective, not stupid. Seeing that she would not be deterred, he slid aside but not before catching her eye.
“If you ever have need of anything, pray do not hesitate to call on me. Day or night, whatever—”
“She has no need of you, Rausch,” cut in Trevor.
Mellie sighed. What was it about men that they had to push themselves to ridiculous displays to prove they were men? Affairs at dawn, protective statements. Really, she already missed the rational discussion of chemicals. Well, part of her did. The other part worried that something serious had happened in the card room.
She stepped around Mr. Rausch and took Trevor’s hand. “Let us take a walk in the garden, shall we?”
She made her words especially loud to draw his attention away from staring hard at Mr. Rausch. It worked. Trevor blinked and flashed her a grateful look. It was a small tick of his lips upward and a general lowering of his shoulders, but she had studied his gestures closely. He was grateful for her understanding. She set her hand on his arm and maneuvered toward the French doors that led into the tiny back garden.
“What has happened—” she began, but he squeezed her fingers.
“Not yet. Let’s get outside, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“Of course,” she answered, but it was easier said than done. After all, they were the couple of the hour. Everyone wanted to speak with them, and more than a few had watched his dramatic confrontation with Mr. Rausch.
Still, she managed to do it, mostly because Trevor was a master at responding politely before pushing them forward. It took forever, but eventually they crossed to the cooler air outside. She was able to take a deep breath and lift her face to the night sky. She’d never realized how much she relished the simple space to breathe even the fetid London air.
“Finally, Mellie,” said a too familiar voice at her side. “I’ve been waiting an age.”
No, no, no, no, no! Ronnie couldn’t be here. Not in London at her first ball. And yet, the voice was unmistakable. As was Trevor’s response.
“Mr. Ronald Smithson, what an unpleasant surprise.”
“You, sirrah, have no right to speak to me!” Ronnie answered, his tone surly.
Mellie finally located her cousin standing at the edge of the brick porch as it led out to the garden. There were a few others here as well, but her cousin took the whole of her attention. As well as the brunt of her temper. “Ronnie, you’re the one without any rights. You were not on the guest list. I could have you tossed out—”
“Mellie, please. I came to you with an urgent matter.”
“Every matter is urgent in your mind, and do you know what? None of them are.”
“Your father is sick.”
She swallowed, a queasy feeling twisting in her gut. But this was Ronnie, and she’d been fooled by his dramatic statements before. “How sick?”
“Desperately.”
She waved that aside. “Is he sleeping?”
“Barely a wink. Paces the house all night long. Doesn’t eat. Coughs like the devil. And all because he’s sick with worry over you.”
“Oh thank God.”
Her relieved pronouncement brought Ronnie up short. It even seemed to surprise Trevor. She felt his forearm twitch beneath her hand, so she squeezed him slightly to reassure him. And then she launched into her own dramatic statements.
“I’ve been trying to kill my pater for years. If I’d known all it took was for me to make an impetuous trip to London, I would have done it years ago.”
Ronnie blinked at her, then his expression darkened. “Good God, London has driven you insane! Just like your mother—”
“One more word, Ronnie, and I will stab you with my hairpin. And not in your chest where it won’t do any good. I’ll go for your ability to father children.”
To which Trevor dropped her arm. “I’ll hold him still for you, love.”
“Thank you—”
“Mellie!” Ronnie exclaimed, backing toward the edge of the brick. Mellie would have continued the charade longer, but the other five people in the area were listening with great attention.
“Ronnie, my father takes to his bed when he’s upset. You’re the one who paces all night long. Which means you made up my father’s illness out of whole cloth—”
“He’s worried about you! We all are!”
Trevor stepped forward with a low growl. “You should be worried I don’t kill you—”
“Good God, stop it !” If they hadn’t caught everyone’s attention before, Mellie’s bellow certainly did now. “Why does everyone keep threatening to have duels? Is this some London infection of which I’m unaware?”
Both men turned to her, equal expressions of outrage on their faces. “It’s how gentlemen express their most vehement displeasure,” Ronnie said stiffly.
Trevor started to nod and then abruptly caught himself. “It’s…it’s a silly, empty threat. I shouldn’t have used it. I beg your pardon.”
Ronnie’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not an empty threat with me.”
Mellie sniffed. “And that’s why I’ll never marry you, Ronnie. Because you have no sense.”
Ronnie stepped closer, and for the first time in the conversation, the light fell full on his face. What she saw there stunned her. He looked…haggard. There were bags under his eyes and his haphazardly shaved face looked gaunt. Even his clothes were wrinkled, though he’d obviously made some attempt to fit into her ball. He was in his best attire, even if it hung awkwardly on him.
“Ronnie? What has happened to you?”
He looked down at himself and then shrugged. “I fell in love, Mellie, you know that. And now you’re engaged to him, and it’s all wrong. Why can’t you see that? He’s all wrong for you.”
“Why? Because he’ll be a duke? Because he’s a man of science, and I adore science?”
“Because he will bring out the madness in you. With me, I am the mad one, and you are forced to be sane. With him…” He held up his hands beseechingly. “Your worst impulses will claim you. You’ve been dreaming of doing things, haven’t you? Things you know you ought not.”
The problem with Ronnie—aside from his obvious romantic delusions—was that he’d known her from childhood. He knew the perfect words to make her question everything she believed about herself.
She had been thinking—constantly—of giving in to her baser desires. Of doing things with Trevor that she knew respectable women did not do. So he was correct. And while she was grappling with her cousin’s words, Trevor released a snort of disgust.
“You know nothing of this woman you pretend to adore. You don’t know what she wants, what she needs, or even what would make her happy. Do you think this—” He gestured to the group of people on the terrace. “This public display will make her happy? Romantic gestures disgust her, and you live by them. Can you not understand the truth? You. Disgust. Her.”
Well, that was putting it a bit too strongly. Or maybe not. Maybe deep down, everything her cousin represented—the exhausting emotions, the grand romantic gestures, the aggrandizement of his own personal dramatics—truly did disgust her. And that he came here with a make-believe statement of her father’s health, professing to worry about her own madness put the final cap on her fury.
Meanwhile, Ronnie had heard Trevor’s words, gone deathly pale, and dropped to his knees before her. “Do you not see?” he said with a gasp. How he could gasp and make himself heard was beyond her, but he must have practiced it. “He separated you from those who love you the most. You are filled with emotions that are not your own. And now, he publicly decries me. I am your cousin! I love you! Mellie, come back to your senses before it is too late!”
She almost did it. She almost gave into her growing fury and resorted to violence. After all, fisticuffs were all that seemed to get through his brain. But in the end, she knew she had a more potent weapon. He’d cast her in the role of a princess in need of rescue, but she could just as easily be the evil queen.
She decided to embrace the role.
It began by discounting of his feelings. That always insulted him. “You only think you love me. I’m easy for you. You have never had to do anything hard to win me.”
“That’s a lie! Every day without you is agony!”
“That’s laziness, Ronnie. What have you done but write poetry to me? I’m sure I could have four men in the ballroom composing sonnets to me before supper.”
Trevor nodded. “A dozen at least. Shall I make a list?”
Ronnie was not impressed. “Bah! Sonnets.”
She waited. He would get there in a moment, she was sure of it.
“Very well,” he huffed, “if you discount my poetry—epic poetry written in iambic pentameter—then give me something else to do. Let me prove my worth.”
She waited a moment more. He would say the word. She only had to wait a moment more…
“Give me a quest.”
There it was. A quest. And he was already in the perfect position for it: on his knees before her. She had no need to move beyond a simple bend at the waist. She touched his face, startled anew by the thin feel of his skin on such a large man. He truly had been suffering. Which made it all the easier to lean down and bestow a tender kiss to his lips. He clutched at her then, trying to draw her deep into his embrace, but she was prepared. She dug the thumb of her free hand into the juncture of neck and shoulder. She knew the place to make him rear back in pain. She’d read it in an anatomy text.
“Very well,” she said. “I am lost in madness. I have given myself over to my mother’s disease, and you cannot reach me.”
“Mellie!”
“I am committed to this path of self-destruction, and now, your only hope is this quest.”
“I will prove myself to you!”
“Bring me a dodo bird. A live one loved and nurtured by your own hand.”
She feared for a moment that he hadn’t heard her, but then his eyes narrowed. “Wasn’t the bird killed by sailors? In Madagascar?”
“Every quest is impossible.”
He was thinking hard. “I can do it, Mellie. You think I can’t, but I—”
She’d had enough. She’d played the evil queen, she’d given him an impossible quest, and now she was done. Hopefully, the time he spent searching for a dodo bird would bring him some sanity. “Mr. Anaedsley?” Mellie said as she held up her hand. “I believe I should like a walk around the garden.”
Trevor was looking at them, frowning, but at her words, he extended his arm. Ronnie’s hands had gone slack, so she was able to slip around him to join her fiancé. Ronnie had one last plea, a low moan that might have been interpreted as her name. It didn’t matter. In order to be the evil queen, she had to be cruel. So she kept walking away.
They were well into the garden when Trevor spoke. “You know the dodo bird is extinct.” It wasn’t a question.
“I gave him a quest. It’s grand and romantic, and it will take him far away from me.” Her words were strong, but her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking over Ronnie’s words. Had she descended into madness as he accused? It was possible. What sane woman talked about quests? And Trevor was smart enough to see the flaw in her plan.
“Aren’t you encouraging his delusions?”
“Maybe.” She sighed. “But I’m not sure he’s deluded so much as fanciful. Either way, the romantic part of him won’t deny the quest. The practical part knows that a long sea voyage will help him find another lady love.”
“But the bird is extinct. And it wasn’t from Madagascar. I think it was Mauritius.”
“Maybe the place has pretty girls.”
He chuckled. “Will he really go?”
“I don’t know. I really don’t care.” And that—said her logical mind—was a sure sign of madness. That was what her father always said. He’d known her mother was beyond reach when she ceased to care. For herself. For the young Mellie. And for the unborn child she carried.
Meanwhile, Trevor’s thoughts were going along their own path. They were walking out of the garden now, and as they left the small patch of greenery, he posed the next logical question. “What happens when you and I don’t wed? Will he come back to bother you?”
A chip of ice twisted in her chest, but she forced a casual tone. “I’ll send him on another quest. Make it three quests, like in folklore. Or twelve like Hercules. It doesn’t matter. I will do it until he understands.” She took a deep breath, and finally put words to her fury. “I am finally away from my family. I don’t care what they think or do. I’m not going back.” Just as her mother had never looked back when she ran to the bridge. Or so the tale went.
They continued to walk in silence, and she used the time to reflect on her London life. She ought to be overwhelmed, what with Ronnie showing up at her ball, men threatening duels, and gossips everywhere. Instead, she found it invigorating. It stirred her blood. She never wanted to return to the bleak life of reason she’d been raised to embrace.
So there it was. She was mad, and she didn’t care. And while she tried to absorb that thought, her words ran somewhere else entirely. “What happened in the card room?” she asked.
Beside her, Trevor slowed his steps, his words starting out as a groan. “I was a fool. I lost my temper with my grandfather and did something unforgivable.”
Her gaze cut to his, but in the darkness it was hard to see. “Your grandfather, the duke? What happened?”
He looked up at the sky. It was overcast with few stars to speak of, but he wasn’t really looking at them. “I told the truth, Mellie. And now, I think I will be cast out completely.”
For such a dire prediction, he didn’t seem that upset. But he had been. He’d been in a devil’s temper when he pushed his way into her crowd of admirers.
“As bad as that?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But like you, I seem to find it hard to care.”
Two people in the grips of madness. This was not a good combination. Or rather, since she was a student of chemistry, it was an explosive combination. “Then we are two of a kind,” she said, liking the sound of her words. “We are both unfeeling outcasts from our families.”
He was silent for a long moment. Long enough to have her searching for his face through the darkness. There was a quarter moon tonight, so there was some light, especially with the gaslights a dozen feet away. But that only gave her enough to see the shadow of his features—dark circles that could be his eyes and a full line that might be his mouth.
“Mellie,” he said as he brought her hands to his lips. “When I hatched this mad scheme, I never thought it would hurt you.”
“I’m not hurt, Trevor. I feel free. I feel alive.” She said the words, but there was a tightness in her belly that belied her statement. “I was a success at the ball, had admirers on every side, and if it weren’t for Ronnie and whatever happened with your grandfather, I would say it was a perfect evening.”
“Then why do you grip my fingers so tightly? Why do I hear desperation in your voice?”
How did he know her so well? How did he hear when her voice was tight and her mind at war with itself? She didn’t know, but she knew an easy way to distract him. Or perhaps she meant to distract herself. Either way, her path was easy.
“Because I want you to kiss me, Trevor,” she said. “Because I want so much more than that tonight.”
He stepped closer, and though she couldn’t see it, she knew his eyes had blazed hot and hungry. She knew the cadence of his breath before he kissed her. And the tension in her belly that anticipated his touch.
“Mellie, this is madness.”
She smiled. Finally, he understood. “Kiss me, Trevor. Teach me what you promised.”
He dropped his forehead to hers. She was not the only one waging an internal war, so she ended the agony for them both. She ducked under his head just enough to come up from below. Then she claimed his mouth with hers.
His kiss set fire to her blood. She had started the motion, pressing her lips to his, but he finished it, opening her mouth with his tongue before thrusting inside. She surrendered without protest. She opened herself to him and let her body press forward, anxious for his attention.
He let go of her hands, slipping them forward to grip her hips. She thought for a moment that she could feel his member then. Hot and hard as he thrust once against her. But then he set her back.
“I’ll not take you in a London back alley,” he growled.
“So take me somewhere private,” she said.
His fingers slid up her body. Just his right hand, but the trail was a long caress the left fire in its wake. “So reasonable,” he murmured.
She wanted to laugh at that. She had embraced her madness now, not run to reason. But his fingers had found her breast. Sometime during the evening, her bodice had become completely denuded of feathers so there was little between his fingers and her taut nipple but the smooth caress of silk. She moaned at the feel—the rasp of his nail across the hard bud. And she ached for him to do more.
She pressed her hand against his on her breast, trapping it there. Then she took his other and slid it from her hip to the juncture of her thighs and held him there. “Now, Trevor. Please.”
He answered with one word, but it was all she needed right then. “Yes.”