Chapter Thirteen
B y the evening’s end, the weight of decisions hung heavily in the air. Melissa woke up in her bed. She must have cried herself to sleep. It was late, and the house was quiet. Melissa felt as though she had nobody to speak to now that Lexi and Dustin had left for London. Her lady’s maid had gone with Lexi, and Melissa didn’t need much help from a maid. Best to let the staff finish their usual work if they were also going to help her work through the long list of things she had to do during Lexi’s absence.
First on the list was to plan the treatment room for… Melissa preferred not to think about why so much gauze, bandages, and thread would be needed. Surgeries made her queasy. Dustin had requested to set this treatment room up similarly to the one at 87 Harley Street, and since only she and Lexi knew what it looked like, the task had now fallen upon Melissa to give the staff directions.
But then she thought about Herbert, Dustin’s eager apprentice. Her mind was spinning with thoughts of what John’s son had said; she was a fallen woman. If a thirteen-year-old boy didn’t respect her, then John surely wouldn’t either—not for long at least. She had to keep her head low and hope that Mrs. Dove-Lyon would let her out of the arrangement. Yet, Melissa had promised Lexi to look after her duties as a duchess, and she couldn’t disappoint the only person who saw her for who she was, her sister, a person, a woman—not merely an earl’s daughter, a widow, a mistress.
Melissa needed some warm chamomile tea with honey before bedtime. She couldn’t sleep. Not with him a few doors down from her chamber.
She sneaked into the kitchen, and to her utmost surprise, there was a large oil lamp on the wooden counter. She expected a servant, but it was Herbert, who was hunched over a porcelain plate of grapes. Several servants tended to their work, and nobody paid Melissa much heed beyond polite greetings.
“Hullo, Herbert,” Melissa said reluctantly, wishing to escape the boy as soon as she had her tea in hand.
“Hmpf!”
She came closer. “What are you doing?” The sharp utensils he had spread out on the table spelled trouble, and she couldn’t get herself to leave.
Melissa’s eyes widened as she drew nearer to the boy, drawn in by the strange sight before her. On the counter, illuminated by the flickering oil lamp, lay a cluster of grapes, each one sporting fine stitches that starkly contrasted with their verdant skin. Herbert, wearing an expression of utmost concentration, manipulated a delicate needle and thread with surprising precision for a boy of thirteen.
The kitchen, usually filled with the warm aroma of baking bread or simmering stews, now held the pungent, clean scent of alcohol—a necessary antiseptic for his unconventional practice. The sharp tang mingled with the sweet, fruity scent of the grapes, creating an oddly medicinal atmosphere.
Though still smaller than a man’s and soft, Herbert’s fingers moved deftly, piercing the grape’s delicate flesh and drawing the thread through with a steady hand. Each stitch pulled the green skin taut, a tiny bead of juice sometimes escaping, glistening like a miniature jewel under the lamplight. His brow furrowed in concentration, and his tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth.
“What are you doing?” Melissa repeated, more softly this time, her curiosity piqued.
Herbert glanced up briefly, the intensity of his dark eyes softened by the light. “Practicing surgical sutures,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact. “Uncle Dustin says a good surgeon must have steady hands and precise movements. Grapes are perfect for practice because their skin is so thin.”
She watched as he tied off a knot, the tiny thread disappearing into the grape’s surface. It was a world away from the games other boys his age played, but seeing him so absorbed, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of admiration for his endeavor. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, the promise of his future skill shone brightly.
“Who will you be permitted to stitch up?” a voice thundered from the doorway.
“Father!” Herbert rose, and the chair screeched. A grape rolled off the table.
Melissa bent down to pick it up, but as she straightened again, John reached for her again. Her breath caught at the unexpected sight of him standing there.
John seemed even taller under the low ceiling of the kitchen, his athletic build evident beneath the loose white linen shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. The flickering light danced across the fabric, accentuating the muscular contours of his chest and arms.
Melissa gulped when she realized she could see his neck and the top of his chest peeking out from the open laces of the shirt.
He had a way of steadying her, reaching for her elbow as if it were just a tad more personal than her hand and still far enough from the rest of her to remain within the bounds of propriety—well, loosely, perhaps like the late-night dances after the balls at the royal court when most guests had gone.
“Herbert, leave us,” John spoke, but his eyes were locked with Melissa’s. She stood right in front of him now and could smell the delicious scent of amber or musk… neroli perhaps… no, he smelled like rolling around in a meadow of flowers next to an orchard of fresh peaches, ripe for harvest. Melissa shut her eyes for a moment.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” John started. “He’s following Dustin around like an apprentice and fancies himself a future surgeon.”
“Why is that so bad?”
“It’s not. But it’s different from what I had envisioned for the heir… which he may not be much longer if Lexi bears Dustin a boy.”
“Sometimes different can be good. I’m different.” Melissa pressed her lips tightly into a line. Herbert fancied her a fallen woman whom one ought to be ashamed of. “He’s a good boy, my lord.” She stepped back and looked down at John’s hand, which still lingered on her elbow.
“I’m not a lord and wish you’d just call me John.” He glanced over his shoulder as if to check that Herbert had left. “What do you think I should do about his education? He doesn’t want to return to Eton.”
He’s probably keeping an eye on me to ensure that I won’t overstay my welcome.
“He’s smart and will find his path, with or without a gentleman’s education.”
“He’s not the heir anymore.”
“He might be if Lexi and Dustin only have daughters.”
John’s serious demeanor faltered, and his mouth cracked into a bright white smile as if the youth and fun were finally emerging after a long day as an adult.
And as much as Melissa wished to bid him good night, she didn’t want to leave his side. Just one more moment with his hand on her elbow, a moment she could tuck away deep in her heart and feast on for the rest of her life.
John’s smile was contagious, and Melissa smiled back.
“He might wish to stay for Laura.”
“No!” John tore his eyes wide open. “What do you know?”
“Nothing more than what I observed. But they blink at each other, and she blushes, then he runs away… it’s rather sweet to see.”
That gave John pause, and Melissa felt the scrutiny of his gaze. He was worldly, masculine, about a foot taller than her, and still, a boyish mischief sparkled in his eyes when he looked at her like that.
“My cousin warned me that something is flickering there.” John waved it away as if he needed to brush the thought of his son’s first love away. “But why have you avoided me after dinner?”
Melissa stepped back, and he let go of her elbow but only slowly, letting his hand drift over hers just before breaking the contact. For an instant, Melissa wanted to flex her index finger and hook her hand back into his, intertwining their fingers and pulling him close. But she didn’t dare.
She was a fallen woman, and he was… She sighed. He was everything she’d ever dreamed of. And yet, now that she was close, she didn’t take him for fear of dragging him down.
Still, if the world saw her as Herbert did, she didn’t want to give the wrong impression of a woman he could take liberties with, especially not now when they were unchaperoned.
Not that it mattered much for a widow from Prinny’s arsenal of mistresses. She had little to lose, but her family could lose everything if they had to pay her late husband’s debts. It would drag Lexi and Dustin into new debt, and Melissa couldn’t allow that. John had redeemed the estate’s finances, Lexi was the new duchess with Dustin by her side as the new duke, and Melissa would not be the one to destroy all of their fortune.
“Melissa?”
He used her given name. They were alone. And he smelled so lovely.
Only once Melissa wished she could be impulsive and give in to her instincts. Yes, people thought she did that every day, but the truth was that she never did anything that wasn’t expected of a noble woman. Right in this instant, she should run away, scandalized at the mere inches between her heaving chest and his strong muscles peeking out from under his shirt. In the low light of the candles, he looked almost illuminated.
And surely a kiss from him would be enlightening.
“I don’t know what you wish for me to say.”
“That’s exactly what you said when I came to dinner to meet your sister in London. Your father introduced you as his daughter, and my—” John gripped the shirt over his chest until it was squished into a ball of wrinkles. “I thought you were the daughter I’d been sent to meet.” He tried to reassure her once again.
“And your sister, whom I’ve never had interest in, already loved my cousin, so it was a moot point.”
“But Mrs. Dove-Lyon doesn’t make mistakes.”
“Neither do I.”
And with these words, John closed the distance and leaned in. And just for a flicker of a moment, Melissa wanted to pretend that all would be well. Perhaps Mrs. Dove-Lyon could make it possible for Melissa to follow her heart without losing it?
He should have paid more attention to Dustin’s ramblings about the art of seduction he’d learned about in India, but now it was too late.
When John’s lips touched Melissa’s, something happened that took him off guard. Similar to the jolt that went through his body the first time he saw her when she extended her hand for him to kiss her knuckles at her parents’ house in Mayfair. Except that it had only been a fleeting moment then until he realized that it was the other sister he was supposed to pay heed to. Truth be told, he was relieved when Dustin claimed Lexi.
And he was even happier to feel Melissa parting her lips to welcome his kiss.
She was so warm and lush, sweet like a grape, and yet they sent a heady feeling as if they were the finest wine.
She exhaled into his mouth, and her hands came to his chest. Oh, she knew how to kiss, there was no doubt. John dared to take the plunge into a realm he had only dreamed of. His hand slid up her arm, tracing the curve of her shoulder, before finding its place at the nape of her neck. He pulled her closer, the heat between them intensifying with every heartbeat.
Melissa’s fingers spread across his chest, grasping the fabric of his shirt as if to anchor herself as close to his heart as he’d let her—didn’t she know he’d let her in all the way if she wished? Her breath mingled with his, sweet and intoxicating, an invitation that he could not resist. John’s lips pressed upon hers, capturing them in a tender and demanding kiss.
Their mouths moved together in a dance of exploration—soft, then urgent, teasing and tasting. John marveled at the softness of her lips, the way they molded so perfectly against his. Melissa responded with an eager fervor, her tongue darting to meet his in a sensual duel that left him utterly breathless.
The world around them fell away, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of burgeoning passion. John’s other hand found the small of her back, drawing her even closer until there was no space left between them. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart echoing his own, a rhythm of mutual longing that spurred him onward.
Melissa’s nails grazed his skin through his shirt, sending shivers of pleasure down his spine. Her kisses were a blend of innocence that surprised him and boldness that he hoped he could match, each one igniting a fire within him that he feared would consume them both. She tilted her head, deepening the kiss, and John was lost to the exquisite sensation of her—her taste, her warmth, her very essence.
When they finally broke apart, gasping for breath, John pressed his forehead to hers, savoring the intimacy of the moment. Their eyes locked, and in the depths of her gaze, he saw a reflection of his own desire, his own need. It was a promise, unspoken yet undeniable, that this kiss was but the beginning.
“I’ve thought of nothing else since I first kissed you,” John confessed, his voice a rough whisper filled with the weight of his longing. The corners of Melissa’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her eyes never leaving his.
“Then you kept me waiting too long,” she teased, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw, sending sparks of sensation through him. The playful challenge in her tone only fueled the fire within him.
He captured her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her palm before tugging her closer once more. “I’m not in the habit of missing a chance twice,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.
Melissa responded by closing the gap between them, her lips brushing against his in a featherlight caress that promised so much more. John’s hands roamed her back, feeling the delicate curve of her spine beneath the fabric of her gown. Each touch was deliberate, each caress a testament to the desire that had simmered between them, now finally unleashed.
They kissed again, deeper this time, their passion no longer held at bay. John’s world narrowed to the sensation of Melissa’s body pressed against his, her lips parting eagerly beneath his own. He could taste the sweetness of promise on her tongue, feel the heat of her need in the way she clung to him.
Time seemed to stretch and bend around them, the burdens of the world forgotten. It was just the two of them, wrapped in a searing and tender moment. John’s heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing the truth he couldn’t formulate despite its magnitude: he was irrevocably, undeniably lost in her.
When they drew apart, their breaths ragged and mingling in the cool night air, John rested his forehead against hers once more. And as they gazed into each other’s eyes, they knew they were poised on the brink of something wonderful, something rare and precious that neither of them would ever let go.
“Melissa,” he breathed, her name a reverent whisper on his lips. “You and me…”
Please don’t say it.
“There’s so much I want to tell you, ask you, show you,” John continued.
But Melissa’s heart sank as reality set in. She wasn’t his to claim, and if he did, the prince might retaliate.
“Mrs. Dove-Lyon,” Melissa whispered.
“What?” John stepped back.
“I… ahem… she… oh John!” Melissa didn’t dare tell him for how long she’d wished for this moment, and now that it had happened, all she could think of were the repercussions of her actions. “Lexi and Dustin would be ostracized in society if anyone found out that you and I… that you took the prince’s mistress—”
John stepped back and put a cool distance between them.
He closed his mouth, and the hunger from his eyes dwindled into a subdued, cool stare. “You’re not mine to have, I know.”
“That’s why I asked for her help. Mrs. Dove-Lyon—”
“With what?”
“My freedom.”
John crossed his arms and cocked his head.
“I’ve wanted this since the moment I met you, too. That’s why I didn’t want to return to court. I promised Lexi I would help so I wouldn’t need to go back. I tried to be close to you.”
“He’ll think I stole you from him.” John couldn’t help but fear the prince regent’s wrath.
“Not if Mrs. Dove-Lyon can help.”
“He’ll retaliate against Dustin if he finds out…”
John turned his head away from Melissa, appearing insulted.
Her heart hitched.
“Why can’t you break free from Prinny?” he asked, his voice edged with desperation he couldn’t quite mask. “Just tell him you don’t wish to return to court.”
Melissa met his gaze, her eyes steady yet filled with a sadness that pierced him. “John, it’s the debts,” she said quietly. “I know you offered to pay them and it was sweet but I won’t allow it. It’s not how I want this… us… to start. I’m not for sale. My late husband left me with more than I can bear. Prinny would have to forgive them, and he won’t if I don’t return and please him. If I stay with you, the burden will fall on my family, also Lexi, and the dukedom.”
John swallowed hard, his mind racing through the implications. He had poured everything into restoring the estate, day by day reclaiming his family’s name and fortune. The thought of it crumbling under the weight of another’s obligations twisted within him like a cruel jest.
“It can’t be that much,” John said. “Please just let me pay the debts if it means I can be with you.”
“John, it’s more than the estate can produce in ten years. From what I gathered since I’ve been helping Lexi here, it would take decades to repay those debts.”
“But you’re ruining your life! If it was his debt, why should you—” He combed both hands through his hair and exhaled deeply. “Melissa, this is not right.”
“But it is my prerogative to protect the people I love from ruin at the hand of my late husband’s debt.”
“You said you barely knew him! You didn’t love him!”
“But I love you, and you’ve worked too hard to see it all undone because of me,” she continued, her voice barely a whisper now.
At her words, John put his hands on her shoulders. “Melissa, please let me help!”
“No, Lexi and Dustin deserve a fresh start, free from the past and free from my mistakes.”
“You didn’t know about his debts when you agreed to marry him?”
“No, he was the perfect candidate, and I wanted to be—”
“Perfect.”
She nodded sadly. Perfection wasn’t real; John knew that now, but it was an insight that only time could teach.
He watched as she stood still, the firelight flickering over her features, highlighting the determination etched there. Despite the ache in his chest, he understood. Her resolve mirrored his own, a fierce desire to protect those they loved.
“Melissa,” he began, reaching for her hand, needing the connection, “I never wanted my legacy to be a cage. I just wanted…” He trailed off, knowing that no words could capture the depth of his longing.
She squeezed his hand, her warmth seeping into his skin, grounding him. “I know, John. I want it, too. But not at the cost of everything you’ve rebuilt. The dukedom isn’t merely the title for your family; it’s a home and holds so much promise for the future.”
Silence wrapped around them, heavy yet tender, as they stood together, bound by love and fate’s cruel design.