Chapter Twenty-One
Games require grand emotional displays. Regal disdain completely upsets the playingfield.
M ellie heard the front door close as if it had shut something away inside her. The numbness didn’t creep in as usual. It consumed her. One moment he was here, and she was alive. The next, everything in her was frozen, and he was gone.
She knew things were happening around her. Eleanor kept speaking for one. Mellie’s feet were moving for another, and eventually, she found herself at her bedroom door. But nothing truly registered.
“Go to sleep, Melinda. Everything will feel better in the morning.”
Would it? She nodded because Eleanor seemed to expect her to respond. Then her sleepy maid joined them and Eleanor left, presumably to find her own bed. But that left Mellie powerless against every random thought.
She’d lost all the feathers on her gown.
Trevor.
Her cricket ring felt heavy, but when she took it off, she felt its absence.
Her hair was knotted.
Trevor.
There was a spot of dirt on the wall by her dressing table.
Trevor.
She had danced a great deal tonight. Her feet should hurt. Her feet did hurt.
The sheets were cold.
Trevor.
Trevor.
Trevor.
*
The morning was not better, which was why she rolled over and went back to sleep.
The afternoon was not better, but she had to face it when she found Eleanor standing in her bedroom, waving a cup of hot chocolate at her.
She didn’t want chocolate, but she thought it would be rude to refuse. Then she did want the chocolate because if she couldn’t have Trevor, she could have chocolate.
Eventually, Eleanor started speaking, an endless stream of words and plans and possibilities, none of which fully entered Melinda’s mind, but some of it helped drown out his name. So she encouraged Eleanor to keep talking, to keep planning, and eventually, she began to focus.
The afternoon callers would be here soon. She had to dress and be charming. Eleanor suggested she not say much. After all, she was supposed to be a heartbroken former fiancée, though the official break would happen at the ball that evening. Their hostess was a friend of Eleanor’s and beyond thrilled to provide the location for the dramatic scene-to-be.
Mellie agreed that she could manage a stoic look of dignified misery.
It went off exactly as Eleanor planned.
The steady stream of afternoon callers talked around her, often patting her hand in sympathy. The gentlemen were especially gentle as they kissed her hand once upon arrival and again on departure.
Mellie felt like Eleanor’s doll. She ate when Eleanor said, she dressed as Eleanor bid, and she even memorized a cluster of phrases to say. It was the easiest thing in the world to bring them out at random, speaking only when someone expected an answer. She had no idea if she made sense, but every time she caught Eleanor’s eye, the woman was smiling encouragingly at her.
Once, Eleanor whispered, “You’re doing splendidly. Hold out a little bit longer.”
So she did. She held out. She dressed in her most sedate ballgown: dark blue velvet with gold trim. It settled on her shoulders like a shroud and cut off what little breath she had. Except, she still managed to move to the carriage and smile blankly at the milling crowd. She accepted dance requests with a smile then mutely held out her dance card.
And then he was here. She felt every cell in her body jolt painfully awake. He had just been announced, and her gaze found his figure before her ears registered why she’d turned to the ballroom entrance. He looked regal, she thought. His hat had casually crushed his hair, but the curls about his eyes were as charming as ever. His shoulders were pulled back, and his movements were slow. In truth, she’d never seen him with so little animation. But rather than making him appear wooden, it made him seem refined. Arrogant.
Ducal.
This, she thought, was the man who would become a duke, and truthfully, she didn’t like him at all. There was no life in him. Not compared to the man who had kissed her so deeply. Not when she thought of how he’d looked as he stroked her or teased her or…anything.
And then he saw her.
She watched as he swallowed and nodded. A slow dip of his chin, which could have been for anyone, but she knew it was aimed at her. And then a slight curve to the right side of his mouth as he headed in her direction. It was a quick movement—that lift of his lips—but he might as well as write it on a sign above his head. Let’s get this over with. She didn’t need Eleanor’s quick rasp in her ear to know what to do.
“Do it fast. That’s the easiest way.”
The crowd parted. The chatter died away. Or perhaps she simply couldn’t hear over the noise in her head. It didn’t matter. He stood in front of her and bowed before she found the strength to draw breath.
“Lady Eleanor, Miss Smithson. Good evening.”
Beside her, Eleanor was elegant perfection. She arched a sculpted brow, lifted her chin, and then turned her back on Trevor. It was all done in a single fluid move, and her words carried easily through the quiet ballroom.
“What a strange noise I’ve just heard,” she said to the nearest person. “I think it’s the sound of cruelty.”
Trevor winced at that, but his gaze didn’t waver. He’d been focused on her from the moment he’d entered the ballroom.
And now it was her turn. A simple shift of her body, a pivot on her toes, a twist of her head. Anything. Move! She stood frozen in place.
Trevor’s eyes widened, and he seemed to lean slightly forward. Toward her. She should back away, but she didn’t. From the side, Eleanor touched her elbow, tugging slightly.
“Melinda, I’m feeling parched. Would you join me in a stroll?”
She was supposed to nod. She was supposed to go with Eleanor, but she couldn’t force herself.
“Mellie,” Trevor said, but it wasn’t a word. It was a rasp or a shaping of her name with his lips, spoken as a groan.
Suddenly, she remembered all the other times he’d said her name, and all the other ways. With desire, with hunger, with laughter, with any of a thousand emotions. And none were this near-silent anguish.
“Do you remember what I told you when all this started?” Was that her voice? Her words? Apparently so, because she saw his skin pale.
“I remember everything,” he said.
So did she, and yet she kept speaking, the words flowing without restraint. “I said I wanted love.” How pathetic, she thought, to admit that out loud. She sounded like a schoolgirl in the midst of her first childish fantasy.
Trevor’s lips compressed, and she watched his expression flash through torment before it settled into a bland frown. “My set doesn’t look for love, Mellie. Not in their wives.”
“I didn’t think I was affianced to your set.” She tried to stop talking, but it was like she was bleeding words. “I thought I was engaged to you.”
He didn’t respond, and for a moment, she couldn’t understand why. And then she realized he was waiting for her to turn around. It was time for the cut direct, but she couldn’t move.
And when the moment stretched, he prompted her. “Was engaged?” he pressed. “So we are done then?”
She tried to say yes. She tried to nod or turn around or something, but her chest had frozen solid. No more words bled out of her. But inside, she was screaming.
Trevor!
He understood. She could see it in his eyes. He knew what she was thinking, knew that inside she was screaming.
Trevor!
“Everything will be all right,” he said softly. “Trust me.”
Fury—white and hot—blazed through her. She didn’t even know if he’d said that on purpose to make her angry or if he really was that stupid. He had to know that she was done trusting him, done trusting any man to know anything about what was best for her. Because they were all cow-dung stupid.
“I hate you all,” she said, and she truly, absolutely meant it. So she spun around, giving him her back. Then she focused on the one person closest to her, the one man who would most wound Trevor and best represented her disgust of his set. “Mr. Rausch, you were saying something about…about…”
Hell, she had no idea what the man had been talking about. Fortunately, he raised his arm and smiled as if she was the smartest girl on Earth.
“About bleaching creams. I understand you’ve been exploring their uses. But the air is foul in here, I think. Shall we step outside? The garden is lovely in moonlight.”
She didn’t bother answering. She remained unresisting as he took her fingers and set them on his arm. Then they strolled together to the French doors, stepping out to the night air. It was indeed cooler out there. And cooler inside her heart as well, as every step away from Trevor brought back the numbness. By the time they made it to the side of a sickly-looking tree, her entire body was gone. A wooden doll again, though without the pat phrases from Eleanor. Her mind was filled with screams. First his name, then her anger, then a raw note that throbbed with every passing second.
She waited for the sound to fade, but it never did. It was there, at the edge of her awareness, never fully suppressed, but perhaps not as loud.
And then Mr. Rausch lifted her hand, pressed a kiss to the back of it while stroking the curve of her palm. On and on, just a slow circular stroke, until she finally, inevitably, looked up at him.
“Sir?”
“Ah. Welcome back. Are you able to manage conversation now?”
She flushed at his words, knowing she’d been rude, but he didn’t seem insulted. Merely concerned. “You are very kind to help me like this.”
“No, Miss Smithson, I am not kind at all.” He paused a moment, clearly waiting to see if he had her attention. She mustered what she could and gave it to him. His lips curved in a slow smile, and he spoke a little slowly, as if she were a dim-witted child. Apparently she was, because she struggled to follow his words.
“Plain speaking is best, do you agree?” he asked.
“Uh, yes. Yes, of course.”
“I am not kind, Miss Smithson. I am greedy.”
She stared, replaying his words. This was the usual patter of social conversation. “I don’t understand.”
He smiled at that, and it was an unusual smile. Neither cruel nor supportive, and not even lascivious, at least, not in the usual way. What she saw in the curve of his lips was…avarice. Polished, intelligent, and careful greed.
“I like to acquire things, Miss Smithson. Unusual things. And people.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“You have perhaps noticed that my circle of friends is selective, have you not?”
She hadn’t, but now that she thought of it, the people that he’d called his friends were all unusual in some way. The brilliant chemist had caught her attention early, of course, even if he did speak in rapid sentences and pull on his hair. But there was also the limping man who had a way of talking that drew one in and encouraged confidences. She’d intended to sit beside him at the supper table last night, but Trevor had pulled her away.
The others had less obviously unique qualities, but she could believe that they were outstanding in their own ways. And they all treated Mr. Rausch with respect and even admiration.
“It is rare that I allow a woman into my circle, Miss Smithson. But then again, you are a rare creature.”
She tried to feel insulted by that. He’d as much as called her odd. But the way he said it had an intensity that startled her. “I don’t know what to say,” she said. Then she pressed her fingers to her lips. She hadn’t intended to say anything, and yet here again, words were falling from her lips even if they were inconsequential.
“Yes, you do,” he said. “Tell me you want to know more.”
“About what?”
“About me. About how I find you exquisitely unique. About—”
“That would give you more information about me. You are asking me to reveal what I find most fascinating about you. And you are pressing me at a moment when—” Her throat closed down as that distant scream in her thoughts grew louder.
“When you are raw and unprotected. Yes, Miss Smithson, you are correct. But now is the only time I can say this and not have you slap me.” He stroked a finger across her jaw. The touch felt clinical, and yet she didn’t move away. “I want to have you,” he said. “Not just your body, but your mind as well. And I can make it worth your while.”
She stiffened and pulled back, her mouth separating on a gasp. He didn’t react to her shock until he seemed to look over her shoulder. Someone was coming, and his next rushed words confirmed it.
“Money, pleasure, and freedom. You can buy these things from me.”
“Buy them? With what?”
His grin widened. “Your mind, my dear. And your body. If you are bold enough. You give them to me, and I shall give you the rest.”
She stared at him, her mind struggling to understand. “What—”
“Melinda, darling,” Eleanor said as she came up beside her. “I’ve been so worried about you.” Mellie gathered her wits and tried to look at her, but her gaze was caught by the quirk of Mr. Rausch’s eyebrow. It seemed to taunt her—that lift of his brow—and she wondered if he could possibly deliver what he’d promised.
Money, certainly. Pleasure, without a doubt. But freedom? Now there was something to tempt her.
“Melinda?” Eleanor tried to pull her around, but when Mellie still looked at Mr. Rausch, she tugged sharply on Mellie’s chin. “What has he said to you?”
When Mellie didn’t answer, Eleanor rounded on the man. “I thought I liked you, sir. It turns out I do not. Pray excuse us.”
His lips curved in a mocking expression. “Really? I find my opinion of you has not changed at all.”
Mellie’s face jerked up. It was so bizarre to hear someone speak rudely to Eleanor that the novelty of it broke her out of her paralysis.
“We were merely conversing, Eleanor,” she said. The woman didn’t appear to hear her. “This woman is my friend,” she continued, speaking to Mr. Rausch. “If you hurt her, you hurt me. And I assure you, I strike back.”
His eyes changed then. They narrowed, even as his lips spread in a slow, lascivious grin. There was no avarice in that expression. This was pure sexuality, and Mellie found herself backing away. Not in fear. After her time with Trevor, sexuality intrigued her. But such a look was meant for two people, not three. Or rather, it was meant for Eleanor alone, who straightened to her full height complete with lifted chin and arched brow.
“Challenge me at your peril,” she said.
“I accept,” he answered, and then he bowed deeply before her. Was there mockery in his movements? Mellie couldn’t tell, and one glance at Eleanor’s face told her that the other woman was equally confused.
Fortunately, Eleanor recovered quickly. She tugged on Mellie’s sleeve and gestured toward the ballroom. “The first set is forming.” She spoke the words, but her gaze was still on Mr. Rausch.
“Is… Has…?” Damn, why couldn’t she say his name? And her verbal stumble at last drew Eleanor’s gaze.
“Mr. Anaedsley has departed. The worst is over. You can relax now and enjoy the dancing.”
As if she’d ever enjoy dancing again. Well, that wasn’t true. There was some pleasure in it, but she’d only truly loved it when she’d waltzed with Trevor. But that was over now. He’d never take her in his arms again.
The scream in her thoughts grew louder again, so she focused on a new way to silence it. Or at least distract herself. Since dancing was an appropriate way to meet gentlemen, she would do it now. Perhaps someone else would be as successful as Mr. Rausch had been in temporarily grabbing her attention.
With that thought fixed in her mind, she headed inside to meet men.
*
Four weeks went by. A whole month, and not a single man measured up. Each day, each ball, each conversation added one more layer to the encrusted boredom of her existence. At least at home, she had her laboratory experiments. She could always lose herself in science, but not here. Here she was on a husband-hunting mission, and the entire process bored her to the point of madness.
Two moments lightened the crushing sameness of it all. The first had been a visit from her uncle and father. Her uncle had repeated his request for the cosmetic formula. She had denied him. She intended that to be her dowry if her father decided to throw her over entirely. Then her father had asked if she wished to come home.
She nearly said yes. At least at home, she had her lab. But in London, she had hopes of something better. At home, there was merely more of the same. And after her time with Trevor, she knew that she could never be content with the nothing of her earlier existence. Science could fill her mind, but she wanted something to fill the yawning blackness of her heart.
Once she had thought it would be love and children. Now she longed for something—anything—that would make it better. The only thing she knew for sure was that it couldn’t be found at home. Which meant her only hope was in London, at least for the rest of the Season. So she had sent her father and uncle home and turned her attention to yet another round of excruciatingly similar balls.
The second moment was more of a series of sparks of interest, like tiny flickers of possibility, before her raised hopes inevitably fell flat. And every one of those moments came from Mr. Rausch.
He had made a point of attracting her attention. He was unfailingly polite, unless Lady Eleanor was around. Then he was sarcastic and rude. But mostly, he worked to entertain her with scientific tidbits, unusual people, and once, a trained dog.
She inevitably smiled at something that happened. Her mood lightened for perhaps as much as ten minutes. But in the end, she fell back into the sameness of it all. The people he called friends were interesting, but there was only so much one could explore in the middle of a society function. And even the trained dog was just…well, a dog. It performed nicely, but still sat down at the end and licked its own balls. She didn’t even find that offensive, just very doglike in a boring way.
So it was that on the return from her umpteenth ball with aching feet and a splitting headache that Mellie finally faced the truth.
She missed Trevor. More than that, she loved him, and he was an idiot for thinking she didn’t know her own mind. And lest he suggest that her attraction to him was simply the novelty of sexuality, she had spent every night of the last weeks trying a different form of masturbation. It was nothing like what she experienced with him. It had its moments, certainly, but she wanted him.
She was in love with him.
And she’d be damned if she let him hold her heart without making some attempt to capture his.
The problem was that she never saw him. He was never at any function she attended. Never. That was probably Eleanor’s doing, but it meant that she had only one choice. She had to go to his home at the only time she wasn’t being shuttled from one event to the next. Which meant now.
Right now.
In the middle of the night.
By herself.
Odd how making that decision sped her heart to a frighteningly excited pace.