Chapter Twelve
D inner without Dustin and Lexi was an ordeal, and John had no appetite. The castle’s dining room echoed softly with the clink of silverware, but the conversation was stifling. John sat at the head of the table, his gaze flickering between his son, Herbert, and their guest, Melissa. The candlelight played over the fine china and crystal goblets, casting a warm glow that softened the tension lingering in the air. Dustin and Lexi’s chairs were empty, and the first course was cleared while the room remained devoid of the usual friendly chatter between Lexi and Melissa or Dustin and Herbert. John felt at sea even though he was the host in his home.
He cleared his throat, breaking the momentary silence. “Lady Thumbridge,” he began, his voice steady yet edged with a hint of regret, “I must apologize for Herbert’s earlier behavior after the kitten’s surgery. He was rude to storm out of the stables, and it was uncalled for. I assure you, it won’t happen again.” He watched a delicate blush spread across Melissa’s cheeks, her eyes lowering to her plate in modest acknowledgment.
Herbert shifted in his seat, his youthful face a mix of defiance and discomfort. “Father, I was only—” he started but stopped abruptly as he caught the warning in John’s eyes. The boy’s gaze dropped; instead, he muttered something about his mother. John saw Melissa’s complexion shift, the color draining from her face as if the very mention had struck a chord.
He wished he could say something and explain it, but he had no explanation for his feelings. How could he make it understandable for Herbert if he didn’t even dare act on his feelings and speak his heart?
The rest of the meal passed with a quiet undertone, the usual banter replaced by a more subdued atmosphere. When dinner concluded, John stood and offered Melissa his arm, guiding her gracefully from the room. The corridor leading to the stairs was dimly lit, the flickering sconces casting elongated shadows that danced along the walls.
As they reached the stairs, John hesitated, his hand resting on the railing. He was acutely aware of Melissa’s presence beside him, the faint scent of roses lingering in the air between them. He longed to reach for her hand, to offer comfort, perhaps more. Her fingers brushed against his, a fleeting touch that sent a spark skittering up his arm. She withdrew, but not before he felt the hesitation, the lingering connection that seemed to hang between them.
“I’m so sorry, Lady Thumbridge.”
“Melissa, please.”
“My apologies, Melissa. I’m inconsolable.”
“That I’m here?”
“Not at all.” Please don’t leave. “I apologize again on behalf of my son.”
“Don’t,” she seemed to wish to speak but then sucked in her lips and withdrew her hand. John didn’t let it go and clasped hers gently between both of his. Then she looked up but not at him.
When John realized what had captured her gaze, he invited her to join him in front of the portrait.
“This was painted when Herbert was two years old. It was an anniversary gift for my late wife.” John pointed at the artist’s signature of a life-size painting in the hall. It showed him standing behind his great-grandfather’s armchair, his late wife seated in front of him, and Herbert on her lap.
“She was beautiful,” Melissa said in a mousey voice.
“Yes. She was a wonderful mother.”
“You must miss this very much.”
“What do you mean?”
“The family.”
Yes, I do.
“We never actually sat like this. Do you know that?”
Her eyes darted to him.
“Herbert didn’t keep still. The painter completed the entire background, the chair, and the fabrics first; then, my wife sat for a portrait when Herbert was with his nursemaid or with me. I sat without them, and I am not certain how the painter managed it, but Herbert looked a little like that, just with a dash more mischief.”
Melissa laughed, and her demeanor relaxed.
“It is over ten years ago.”
“And he is thirteen already.” John tasted the words and eyed the baby in the painting. “This was a different life, and it feels as though it were a lifetime ago. I was the duke, and my duchess was there, and Herbert, the heir. Now I’m just the steward, and Herbert is… he’s… impossible sometimes. He told me what happened. He’s just so—”
“Just as a boy his age ought to be.”
“I’m so sorry he’s been so rude to you. You don’t deserve any of it.”
“He only spoke the truth.” A sadness colored her voice that made John want to lift her into his arms and carry her to safety even though he was merely standing with her in the hall.
“You must have been very disappointed when my sister married your cousin instead of you.” She crossed her arms and hugged herself as if to brace herself for his response.
“Not at all.”
She looked away, avoiding his gaze. It would have been rude had he been the duke, but as matters stood, she was higher in station than him. And beneath all that, she was a young woman in pain.
“Lady Thumbridge, if I tell you a secret, will you promise me to keep it from your sister?”
She eyed him over her shoulder with an arched brow. Oh, she was so beautiful. “I don’t keep any secrets from my sister.”
He pursed his lips and gave a crooked smile. “That sounds unlikely, but you’ll certainly wish to keep this from her.”
She turned to him and raised her chin. “It depends on the secret.”
“As soon as I stepped foot in your parents’ house and I saw you, I only ever wanted you and never your sister.”
This was the moment Melissa had dreamed of. She’d hoped John might return her feelings—oh, and how she’d longed for him. But now that he said it, and the way he did, she frowned.
“I’d never take a man from my sister,” Melissa said, crossing her arms as she stepped back from John.
He narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t. She loves Dustin. She already did when she met me at dinner at your family’s house.” Melissa swallowed hard. “Please hear me out. I was sent to meet your sister. An introduction was made for us at the behest of a certain Bessie Dove-Lyon,” John explained.
So he knew.
“She never fails to make a match.”
John raised his chin and eyed her with that ducal look he hadn’t shown in a while. “And she promised me the woman of my heart.”
Melissa arched a brow. “I spoke to her, too.” Melissa cringed at her own admission but she didn’t want anything to be between her and John. And that was exactly what Mrs. Dove-Lyon was supposed to help with, eliminating obstacles to love.
“As did I,” John said.
“No!” Melissa held her right hand out, but John came so close that instead of pushing him away, her hand landed on his chest. She felt his heart beating fervently, and he put his hand over hers. “You want a match?”
What about me?
“I told her not to bother with me because I already found the woman I desired,” he whispered. “It wasn’t clear to me what I needed. I was still heartbroken when my wife died.”
If this was an attempt to woo her, Melissa thought it was meager at best.
“But it’s not the broken heart part I needed to worry about, but the healed one,” he continued.
Oh, this was awful and getting worse.
“You needed a wife to produce a spare for the heir.”
“At first, that’s what I thought. It was why I agreed to meet Lexi. I regret to admit it—no, wait—I don’t regret any of it. It’s how I came to meet you. And then everything changed.”
“You weren’t the duke anymore, and you didn’t need a spare for the heir?”
“True, but no. I didn’t need to marry anymore, but I wanted it very much. I fell in love.”
Melissa held her breath.
Had she misread his kiss then? And his kindness? If he was in love, then there was no time to waste and Melissa had to stop Mrs. Dove-Lyon’s plan. The fabric of Melissa’s existence unraveled with an unrelenting force as she imagined that John didn’t return her affection after all. Had she misunderstood his kindness all this time? Or was he speaking about her after all?
As crude as his explanation was, she couldn’t help the surging warmth inside and the tingling in her chest. Could she be so lucky? Did he love her?
“Melissa, you ought to know that I was struck with your beauty the moment I saw you. But it wasn’t just the way your eyes catch the candlelight or how your shoulders shift just before you decide to speak out of turn. It’s not the slight dimple on your right that appears a moment before the other one when you smile, and it’s not just the sweetness of your gaze when you bat your lashes and eye me critically, just like you do now.”
Melissa swallowed again but her heart forgot to beat.
“W-what is it?”
“Everything about you!” John looked up and around as if an angel could send him the right words. “You are a fierce big sister for Lexi, and you’ve been helping her come into her own as a duchess. I’ve seen your love for her, and I know you’d sacrifice your happiness for your family. Not just them but even little Angus despite his mischief.”
“He needs me,” Melissa mumbled.
“So do I. Consider me the runt of the liter, wounded not by surgery but fate, and it’s my heart only you can heal. Only you can—”
“I mustn’t, John. The prince has a claim on me—”
“Then he must relinquish it.”
“He’d never do that without forcing me to pay my late husband’s debts. I can’t force my family to pay them. It would ruin them, and Lexi—”
“I’ll pay them.”
Melissa laughed. “You can’t afford it.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
John exhaled heavily. “Lexi shouldn’t share the information from the estate’s ledgers with—”
“She didn’t. I asked Dustin before. There’s not enough. I won’t—”
“But I won’t share you with the Crown, not if you tell me that you want my protection.”
“Your son wouldn’t wish it; I can’t stand between you.”
“Does this mean you’d want me? My protection?”
Melissa couldn’t speak the words, for they were selfish. But her body betrayed her, and she nodded.
Melissa’s heart lurched in a way that felt both thrilling and terrifying. John’s presence, warm and steady in front of her, beckoned with promises she longed to trust. Yet, as he reached out, the weight of her family’s peril surged forward, a reminder of the stakes she faced. She wanted to lean in and sink against John, kiss him again, and let him hold her and anchor her to the life she wished—but the one she had pulled her back. Prinny had to forgive the debt lest her family face ruin. It would affect Lexi and implicitly the dukedom, along with John. And now, it was John’s heart at stake, too.
Melissa couldn’t stomach the burden, so she turned away, her skirts whispering against the floor like secrets of her shame in the dark. Her feet moved swiftly, and the solid thud of her shoes on the wooden floor kept time with the wild beat of her heart.
“Melissa?” John called from behind her, but she didn’t dare look at him.
The stairs loomed ahead, and she grasped the banister as if it could anchor her against the tide of emotion. Each step upward was a battle waged against the tears threatening to spill. The shadows lengthened in the hallway, wrapping around her like tendrils of doubt.
Reaching her chamber, Melissa closed the door. The gentle click was a finality she both dreaded and needed. She sank onto the bed, and her tears flowed freely now, warm and unchecked, tracing a path across her cheeks. Each sob shook her frame, a testament to the turmoil she could no longer contain. Her mind replayed the moment with John, his eyes full of a promise she yearned to grasp but dared not risk.
Alone in the dim light, Melissa grappled with the truth: love and fear tangled together, each demanding a piece of her heart. The question she couldn’t answer was how to reconcile the two if it was possible at all.