Chapter Seventeen
T hat afternoon, the consequences of the day’s choices became clearer. John sat at the large oak desk in his study, enveloped by the comforting chaos of ledgers, ink pots, and stacks of parchment. The scent of aged paper and the faint musk of wood smoke lingered in the air, providing a sense of familiarity as he meticulously balanced the estate’s accounts. His quill scratched against the paper, calculating the costs of maintaining the estate and managing the yield from the surrounding orchards.
With winter slowly approaching, he doubled the firewood order. Lexi’s pregnancy meant she had to always be comfortable, and the house must be kept warm for her and the baby. This baby—his first niece or nephew—was of the utmost importance in his heart.
John paused, the ink blotting on the paper as his mind wandered. Would they be four or five this winter? His thoughts inevitably turned to Melissa. Would she stay? Could he dare to hope? After all that had perspired between them, he had to somehow find a way to extricate her from Prinny without causing Dustin and everyone else trouble. Wasn’t there anyone who could help in such complicated matters where love was at odds with Society?
Oh!
John took a clean piece of paper.
Dear Mrs. Dove-Lyon,
I am aware that there may be certain arrangements concerning Lady Melissa Thumbridge, of which I am only dimly aware. However, if there is any way for my voice to be considered in this matter, I earnestly implore you to help obtain her freedom necessary for us to be united in marriage.
John crumbled the paper up and started again.
Mrs. Dove-Lyon,
I am coming to London to discuss the details with you so that I can help free Lady Thumbridge from His Royal Highness so that I can seize the woman I love and pave the way for our future…
He set the quill aside. He had no words for what had happened. Melissa was trapped, and if Prinny didn’t let her go, their families would suffer financial and societal ruin. And neither he nor Melissa would risk that. The finesse required for this situation was a different diplomacy altogether, one entirely dependent on Prinny’s whims.
A burst of laughter from outside interrupted his thoughts. Curious, John rose from his chair and moved to the window. He pulled the heavy curtains aside and looked out onto the meadow that stretched between the estate and the stables. The heavy rain had left a lush green landscape in its wake, dried by the day’s sun rays. There, bathed in the golden afternoon light, were three figures running and laughing with unrestrained joy.
Herbert, his son, was among them, accompanied by Laura, the farmer’s daughter, and Melissa. Melissa wore a simple cream dress with surprisingly sensible boots for an outing. She moved with the same exuberance as the children, her arm raised high as she chased after Herbert, who clutched a piece of the old kite.
John’s breath caught in his throat. Herbert hadn’t brought out that kite since his mother passed. How had Laura managed to coax it from him? The sight of his son playing so freely tugged at John’s heart, filling him with melancholy and joy.
With its colorful ribbons trailing behind, the kite caught the wind and soared into the sky. The children’s laughter, carried on the breeze, reached John’s ears. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched the kite dance through the air, buoyed by the wind and the children’s delight. Melissa’s laughter rang out, clear and carefree, making the meadow seem more beautiful than ever.
Unable to resist, he pushed open the window, leaning out to better hear their joyous cries. The cool air rushed in, mingling with the warmth of the study. He watched as Melissa guided Herbert and Laura, her movements graceful and assured as she tugged on the line of the kite. Her presence had brought something back to his life that John hadn’t experienced in such a long time—happiness.
John’s mind raced with questions, but his heart soared with the scene before him. The sight of Melissa with Herbert, the way they interacted so naturally despite how difficult Herbert had been, filled him with a deep sense of contentment. He knew then that he wanted her to stay, not just for the winter but all the seasons to come.
“Father!” Herbert’s voice pierced John’s thoughts. “Father, come on out!”
John leaned over the window sill and saw Herbert and Laura waving, but Melissa tugged at the strings to hold the kite. The breeze carried it high. “Come on!”
Whatever challenges lay ahead, he knew he could face them, as long as he had his family—and perhaps, if luck was on his side, Melissa—by his side.
John took heart and shrugged off his coat. It was altogether too stuffy to dress a duke, especially because he wasn’t one anymore. Then he left the study and went outside.
Melissa had her hands full—literally—grappling with the kite’s spirited pull, and it didn’t help that John was now emerging from the main house, probably asking her if she’d lost her sense in making such a display of herself in child’s play. Its vibrant fabric fluttered and snapped in the wind, the strings twisting around the wooden handle as if possessed by a life of their own. She fumbled to unwind them, her fingers slipping and scraping against the rough wood in her haste. The air was thick with the joyous cacophony of children’s laughter and excited shouts, but amidst the chaotic symphony, Melissa felt a twinge of overwhelm holding onto the kite by herself.
The kite tugged harder, its pull almost lifting her off the ground, and suddenly, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed John coming closer with a purposeful stride. His black Hessian boots rustled smartly in the grass, and his tight breeches accentuated his powerful, muscular legs. Melissa’s breath caught at the sight of him clad only in a linen shirt and waistcoat, his cravat conspicuously absent. The closer he came, the less she could look away from the taut and prominent muscles on his neck, highlighting a physique carved from the finest marble. She couldn’t get enough of him.
In her distraction, she almost missed the kite’s sudden, violent lurch. The string ripped from her hands, the wind snatching it away with a greedy ferocity. Her fingers stung from the friction, the sharp bite of the string burning against her skin. “Oh no!” she gasped, her heart plunging as she watched the kite soar uncontrollably upward. Herbert, frozen in a scream of alarm, mirrored her panic.
John sprang into action, his body a blur of coordinated motion. He dashed forward with the grace and speed of a tiger, eyes fixed on the errant kite rising higher as the rest of the string unwound itself from the spool. The world seemed to slow as he leaped, arms outstretched. His fingers closed around the wooden handle mid-air, just moments before the kite could ascend beyond reach. His grip was firm, the muscles in his arms flexing as he pulled it back from the brink of escape.
Melissa’s eyes widened, taking in the raw athleticism and precision of his movements. The kite plummeted to the ground with a disheartening thud. Herbert’s joy turned to anger. He directed his frustration at Melissa, his voice quivering with tears.
“You let go of the kite!” he yelled, his freckled face twisted in accusation. “Aren’t you good at anything? Mother never let it go! I thought you’d—” He licked the tears off his cheek as they reached the corner of his mouth. “You’re not good for anything!”
“Stop it!” John shouted. “How dare you?”
His authoritative voice intimidated Melissa for a moment until she realized that he’d come in her defense. I meticulously researched the medical techniques and tools featured.
“She almost lost Mama’s kite!”
“It’s your kite, your responsibility! You ought to be pleased with our guest’s generous entertainment of your games, Herbert. I heard you laughing, and you had fun!”
The boy sucked in his lower lip and gave a glowering stare. Melissa couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to his father. Laura came to Herbert’s side and whispered something.
Melissa’s heart ached at the harshness of his words, but her gaze locked on John. A mix of admiration and something deeper stirred within her as she beheld him, a real man in the midst of chaos, his presence became the only sanctuary in the storm.
Herbert left indignantly, and Laura followed him only with a moment’s hesitation out of feigned propriety.
“She likes him.” John grimaced as he watched them run toward the stables.
Melissa raised her eyebrows. “You may need to have that talk with him before there are more than kittens—”
“Oh no, please!” John rubbed his eyes. “Can you do it for me?”
“It’s the job of a parent.” Melissa pressed her lips into a line. She didn’t want to intrude upon John and Herbert’s lives, but she wished to be part of them nonetheless. Except that she’d hoped she’d be invited in rather than fill the void Lexi had left. What would she do once Lexi returned?
“I can’t do anything right as a father.” John’s arms fell limply next to his body as he walked slowly, and Melissa joined him. “I lost my wife because I was too focused on the estate. Herbert never grieved properly, and I was grieving too much to be there for him. Then I lost the connection with Herbert when he was at boarding school and spent the season in London, where parliament was in session.”
Melissa wanted to say something, but she sensed that there was more he wished to share.
“Did you grieve very much when your husband died?” he asked.
Melissa inhaled deeply and tried to find the best way to broach the subject. “He did soon after our wedding, and we had a short courtship.”
“Then you must have loved him very much, too.”
“Not at all.”
John stopped and gave a deadpan stare.
“It was all perfect, you see. He was a suitable match, and my father and he came to an understanding quickly.”
“You married for convenience?” John asked.
“Not exactly. It was my first season, and my mother was proud that I received a proposal from the most eligible man that year. So it was a marriage for propriety and—”
“I understand. I’m no fool, but it’s not how it was for me. We had been in love since”—John furrowed his brows—“we were thirteen. Our first kiss was at the stables just over there. On a day when I had a fight with my father.” He sucked his cheeks in.
Melissa knew what he was thinking and probably weighing in his head: to burst in and interrupt Herbert with Laura or not?
“See, I’m not good for anything. I don’t even know what to do with Herbert at this age. He’s not being groomed to be the heir anymore.” He kicked a pinecone just as Herbert had done when he was angry. “I’m such a failure. You should stay far away from me.”
“I most certainly will not!” Melissa put her hands on her hips and stopped walking alongside him. That got his attention, and he looked at her. “You may have a broken heart because your wife died and because you lost the dukedom, but you’re too blind to see what you’ve gained in the process. That’s your failure, John. The rest is just life.”
“Gained?” He grimaced again. Oh, why didn’t men understand?
“Your son is home and finally opening up to you.” Melissa enumerated on her fingers. “The cousin you thought dead has returned and assumed his birthright. You have Dustin back in your life. And he’s grateful, can’t you see? He knows none of this would be there for him to take back if you’d lost it.”
“Hmpf!”
“And he’s in love. With my sister no less, so consider your entire family lucky!” Melissa wagged her index finger in front of John’s face. “She’s the sweetest person you’ll ever encounter in this forsaken land, governed by gentlemen so full of themselves that they stand in a meadow in full bloom on an estate larger than most with a woman who wants them beyond measure, and all they do is complain.”
Silence.
John cocked his head.
“What did you say?”
Melissa swallowed hard. “Ahem, that you’re full of self-loathing.”
“Before that.”
“The meadow’s in bloom?”
Was there a chance he didn’t hear the part in between?
“Melissa,” John started, but instead of speaking, he rubbed his face with both hands as if he could wash the problems away with the fresh air on his estate. I can’t take what belongs to the Crown. You ought to know I want you more than I want all of this, but it’s not mine to jeopardize. Can you imagine what the prince would do if I married his mistress?”
“I’m not a parcel or a piece of property.”
“But the prince regent has laid a claim.”
“Actually, he hasn’t yet.”
John narrowed his eyes.
“I beg your pardon?”
Melissa straightened her back. “I mustn’t say. Discretion, you know.”
“About the happenings in his bed chambers?”
“Also.”
John quirked a brow. “Do tell.”
Melissa shook her head. “There’s nothing to say.”
John pivoted, pulled his hair, and paced along a path of dandelions. “This is driving me mad!”
“What is?” Mellissa snapped.
“Explain that, please.” She’d heard many stupid things men said to her. Most tried to land in her bed, but this was new indeed.
“I don’t know what to do with you.” John’s face reddened.
“Do I need something done to me?” Melissa jerked her head back.
“Yes, very much. You need kissing, holding, pleasuring, and I don’t know how to go about it until Mrs. Dove-Lyon frees you from the regent.”
Melissa swallowed hard.
“You’re worldly in that regard. I mean, of course you are, look at you!” There was pain and perhaps jealousy in John’s voice. “No wonder the Crown wants you, and he doesn’t even know your qualities beyond your beauty as I do. Painters between the Renaissance and today would flock to you en masse if they knew such beauty existed. I certainly didn’t see it coming.”
“That was either the clumsiest compliment or the most egregious insult. Do you know which?”
“Perhaps both.”
“Now that’s stupid.”
“I am stupid. Very, very stupid, and completely ignorant for a man of nearly thirty years of age! Can you imagine that I have only ever been with one woman?”
Melissa scratched her chin. Hopefully, this was a rhetorical question. Truly, it was all this strange fight was lacking. A monologue in three acts of a frustrated gentleman.
“Why don’t you just ask me what I want?”
“Ask. You.” John drew his eyes so wide open they nearly popped out. “That’s madness.”
“So it suits your diatribe here well then?”
“What’s your meaning?” John closed the distance to her.
“Well, imagine”—she exaggerated the hand swirls in the air as if imagination could be caught by an airy whirlwind—“if you were to try to pleasure… ahem… pleasure me. You might come to realize that my presence and cooperation would be required, and thus, you’d have the opportunity to request my opinion on your progress.”
John’s mouth fell open, and he stood slack-jawed in the meadow. It would have been sweet if Melissa had not been so angry.
“I want you so very badly that I don’t know where to begin.”
Yes, it was a clumsy compliment. Terribly clumsy.
But it worked.