Chapter 5
Once she was well away from the place where she left the Scot talking to himself, Meleri settled her mare into a slow walk to cool her down. The land about her was more open now, the terrain flat and uninteresting, which did little to keep her thoughts off the Scot. Why could she not put him out of her mind as easily as she had left him behind? Strange though it was, she did not find as much satisfaction in getting the best of him as she would have thought.
She was grateful when she left the bleak and barren landscape, interspersed with marshy pools of water, to ride over land that was more hospitable. Even so, she found her mind lingering on the same thoughts as before. He had claimed hers was a face that would be hard to forget. Would he not be amused to know she was thinking the same about him?
“Concentrate on what you are doing,” she said aloud, and noticed the mare’s ears pricked forward. She gave her a fond pat and, as she often did, fell into a one-way conversation with her horse. “If only you could talk, perhaps you could tell me why I keep seeing the face of a foreboding stranger, when I should keep my mind on the business at hand. Philip, the beast, should be at the forefront of my consciousness. Everything—my future, my happiness—depends upon it. Think, Meleri. Think about what you will say when you are standing face-to-face with him.” That was a sobering thought, she decided, for it reminded her that she did not need a tall, slim-hipped distraction weaving in and out of her mind at will and spoiling her concentration.
Before she knew it, she was almost to the road that led to Heathwood Castle, the huge, impressive residence of Edward Ashton, the Duke of Heatherton and Philip’s father.
Lord Waverly, golden-haired, tall and princely slim, she thought. Now, there was someone created in God’s image. In fact, Meleri always thought of God sitting in judgment whenever she looked at him. He made her more nervous than King George. He was a hard, bitter man, and she doubted he had cared about anything for a long, long time—if he’d ever cared at all. In that regard, he was much like his father, Edward, who was aristocratic, aloof and more than likely lonely, having been a widower some twenty-odd years and not a man to gather friends.
In truth, Philip might be younger, but he was not any softer than his father, which made her wonder if Philip would be even more impossible than his father when he reached his age. She felt herself shudder at the thought of facing the duke. It was distressing to confront one of them. The thought of standing before them both, quaking, with her knees knocking together…It was simply too much. She found herself praying the duke would be off somewhere—anywhere, as long as he was not at home.
She turned up the long, tree-lined drive that led to Heathwood and saw the towers of the castle that poked over the top of the next hill. She had reached a decisive moment—a point when she must make a choice that she would live with for the rest of her life. The moment she had looked forward to for so long, and yet dreaded immensely, was at hand. She continued on her way, praying she would make the right decision. Dear God, if I’m doing the wrong thing, let me run smack into a tree…and let it knock some sense into my head, she thought. However, if I’m right, let me collide with my future the moment I leave here…and let the perfect opportunity drop, smack in my lap.
As soon as she rode down the long, graveled drive, saw the grand angles and tiled roofs of Heathwood Castle, she knew she had done the right thing by coming here.
She rode toward the stables, where a young, fair-haired groom awaited. Another new one, she thought. I wonder how long he will last. He helped her dismount and stood squinting against a brilliant sun that seemed to be throwing out freckles as she watched, most of them landing upon his face. She could almost hear them exploding with a loud pop on impact.
“Will you be staying long, milady?”
“No, I shan’t be here long at all.” She handed him her whip, then looked at the gleaming, wet coat of her horse, and added, “Do cool her down a bit for me, please. You needn’t unsaddle her.”
The groom nodded. “As you wish, milady.” He led the mare away.
Meleri wasted no time in taking up a determined gait and covered the distance to the main entrance quickly. She was about to go up the steps, when she stopped suddenly. She turned quickly, just as the groom was about to disappear around the corner of the stable. She called out, “I say there…Do you happen to know if Lord Waverly is at home?”
The groom paused and began stroking the mare’s nose. “Yes, milady. He rode in a short while ago with two friends.”
She knew it had to be Harry Wellsby and Tony Downley. “Damn…damn…damn,” she said, taking it upon herself to break another taboo—one that forbade women to use words reserved exclusively for men. Blame it on Harry and Tony, she thought. Their being here was definitely not good news. Waverly did not need reinforcements. They might be his closest friends—and two of the most notorious libertines in London—but did that mean they had to be joined at the hip? One rarely saw one without the others. She liked Harry and Tony. She really did, but this was a very rare moment, when she would have preferred to be with Philip alone. She neither needed nor wanted an audience. How would she ever get Philip away from them?
She would not. She was certain of that.
She sighed. Having his friends here was a hindrance, but not a permanent setback. Undaunted and determined to see this thing through, she walked with quick confidence as far as the front door, then paused. Her heart and her head were embroiled in another skirmish of an ongoing war—a war between rebellious devotion to her plans for the future and steadfast loyalty to her upbringing and the ironbound codes of the aristocratic past.
She could feel her steely resolve melting faster than hasty pudding. If I go through with this, she thought, Papa will be terribly disappointed…but it will not last forever. On the other hand, if I do not go through with this, I will be miserable the rest of my life. Well, Meleri, what is it going to be? Are you going to obey your father, or yourself? What to do? What to do?
She recalled something her mother told her shortly before she died. “Believe in yourself. Trust yourself. Anyone who cannot obey himself will be commanded. Remember that. It isn’t fair, but it is the very way human nature works. A gambler knows a horse named Obedience rarely gets out of the gate, but the nag named Independence always runs a good race.”
She lifted the knocker and brought it down against the gleaming wood door with a loud, sure bang. Independence was out of the gate.
Chipping, the butler, answered the door in his customary annoyed manner. “Oh, it is you, Lady Weatherby.”
“Yes, it is I,” Meleri said, stepping through the door. She removed her gloves and slapped them against her palm. “I would like to see Philip…Lord Waverly, if you please. Would you tell him I am here?”
Chipping gave her a formal nod. “Straightaway. You may wait in here,” he said, and opened the door to the receiving room.
Meleri stepped inside and heard Chipping close the door behind her.
When the great clock in the hall chimed the hour, she was surprised to hear it strike three times. The lateness of the hour, and her tightly wound nerves, made further sitting impossible. She began to pace across the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. As she walked, she practiced what she would say. She wanted to capitalize upon the element of surprise. Philip’s rigid and un-bending nature made things like discussion and reasoning completely out of the question. Surprise was the order of the day.
In spite of her confidence, there was a small quiver of dread that raced through her body. Philip was not as tall or as frightening as his father, certainly, but he was a commanding figure, nonetheless, and she was here on the most unpleasant business. The big question was how to approach it? Aim for the heart? Or, go for a more subtle approach, like a slow paddle around the lake, then shove him overboard?
She decided to leave it to fate, to allow the words to flow in a natural manner. Nothing rehearsed, but free and spontaneous. How was insignificant. The most essential element was to deliver her message, saying in a manner that was succinct, terse or pithy, that the idea of marriage between them was a ridiculous mistake. Of critical importance was to make her point forthwith. She must not dally, but be direct. Simply behave in a dignified manner befitting a lady. Tell him in a gentle, yet firm way, that you came to cancel the betrothal contract. Concentrate and focus on diplomacy, control and finesse. Show good breeding.
Any further self-instruction ended when the door opened and Philip strolled casually into the room, Harry and Tony trailing along in their customary jovial fashion, engaging in witty dialogue.
“My, my, look who we have here. Is this a pleasant surprise?”
Tony and Harry chuckled in response to the jab. Philip, only mildly amused, took a step closer, preparing to greet her with his usual perfunctory kiss. It was a stale, meaningless act, and one she chose to deflect with a clipped “Philip” and an outstretched hand, which prevented him from coming closer.
Taking the cue, Tony and Harry greeted her with a more formal bow.
With a wave of his hand, Philip indicated a place on the sofa for her to sit.
Meleri approached the sofa and stopped abruptly beside it. “I prefer to stand.”
His only acknowledgement was a shrug. “My apologies for keeping you waiting so long. I was not informed you were coming. Rest assured it will not happen again.”
“No one is to blame. My visit was unannounced and planned at the last minute.”
Philip stood beside a chair opposite her. Tony and Harry stood near the fireplace, between two chairs gilded in the rococo tradition.
“So, tell me, why are you here?” Philip said. “It is unlike you to pay a social call. I wasn’t certain if Chipping was joking, or if his eyesight was failing him.”
“His eyes are fine, but like everyone else here, Chipping is incapable of anything remotely connected with humor.”
Obviously amused, Harry cut in with a compliment. “I daresay the country air agrees with you. You manage to get lovelier each time I see you.”
Philip raised a questioning brow. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I do!” he replied, breaking into a wide grin, apparently content to keep his gaze resting upon her face. “I say, Philip had a jolly bit of good fortune to have his betrothal to you under contract at such an early age. Looking as you do now, you wouldn’t last half a season before someone snatched you away.” He glanced at Tony. “Do you not agree?”
“’Pon my word, Harry! What do you take me for? I would have to be brainless as a feather duster not to.” Tony followed Harry’s lead and looked her over. “I’m beginning to wish I’d beat old Philip to the punch.”
“But you didn’t, and now I’ve got her all tied up with a neat betrothal ribbon. Lucky, lucky me. It’s too late for you, I’m afraid,” Philip said lightly, but Meleri saw through his banter. There wasn’t a featherweight of humor in his flinty voice.
Harry slapped him on the back. “By Jove! You are positively oozing with overconfidence. I say, it is not a good idea to count eggs and call them chickens, especially when there is a fox about. Anything can happen, you know. A comely woman should never be taken for granted, before or after the wedding.”
Philip ignored him. Meleri was aware of the furious beating of her heart, which grew stronger as her irritation began to rise and spill into outrage. Her breathing increased. Her skin felt flushed and warm. She knew her ire was erupting in splotches of heated color all over her.
She was both surprised and caught off guard when Philip took her hand, looped it through his and gave it a condescending pat. His smooth manner of provoking her was maddening, and directly related to the extreme dislike that grew stronger with each breath. Her body was becoming uncomfortably warm. She glanced down at her arm entwined in his and tasted the brassy bitterness of intense ill will. When she saw her skin slowly becoming a mottled red, she could no longer confine her feelings to her heart and her mind. With one swift yank, she snatched her hand back.
He lifted her chin with his palm and brushed his fingers across her fiery cheek. “A woman’s face will turn this exact shade of red on three occasions. When she is intensely angry, withholding the truth, or after an afternoon spent in her lover’s bed.”
She was so horrified she could only gasp with outrage.
Still holding her chin firmly in his hand, he ran his fingers over her cheek in the same manner that he did before. “Tell me love, which one applies to you?”
She slapped his hand away. “Don’t ever touch me again!” Not even an artfully polished manner or smooth sophistication could nullify something so reprehensible and intentional. She was shaking with fury. This time, he had gone beyond the bounds of insulting.
Before she could inhale, Harry tried to draw out the poison injected by Philip’s humiliating words. “A woman can wear roses on her cheeks for a dozen reasons, but only an exhilarating ride over the moors can produce such cherry-cheeks on a country lass.”
“She does not need you to defend her. She is quite capable of inflicting her own brand of lethal blows, and I have an inkling you will see a prime example of it before the day is out.”
Tony leaped into the fray. “Upon my honor, Waverly! You are letting your tongue run amok! This is not London. Save your bearbaiting for the ton! Can’t you see she isn’t accustomed to this sort of thing?”
“Very well,” he said glibly, then to Meleri he said, “Forgive me for the wickedness of my tongue. Would you care for tea? I can ring for Mrs. Plemmons.”
Bristling with anger, she could only manage to say, “I did not come for tea. This is not a social call.”
Philip raised his brows and tried to look surprised. “Not a social call? Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
“I came to talk to you.”
“By all means,” he said, indicating a seat for her. “Please sit down and we’ll talk to your heart’s content.”
She did not sit down. “I prefer to talk to you…alone, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah-hem!” Harry said. “By Jove! I do find myself in need of a little walk to stretch my legs. Care to join me?” he said to Tony.
“Delighted, old chap.”
Tony and Harry headed off, but Philip stopped them. “There is no need to rush off,” he said. “Melli and I have no secrets that we can’t share with our closest friends.” He turned to her and said, “Do we, my dear?”
It infuriated her that he used her childhood name, but she did not let it show. She knew why he did it. He wanted to have the advantage by getting her ruffled. She was determined that he was not going to succeed in bearbaiting her, as Tony put it. Initially, she wanted to spit back words as insulting as he hurled at her, but once she lost control of her temper, reason would go out the window. Say what you came to say, and then you can bash a pot over his head. “We don’t have much of anything, Philip, and that includes an engagement.”
He glanced at his friends. “Such dreadful news can mean only one thing. Do you suppose it’s possible that another man has come between us, that she has allowed him to replace me in her affections?”
Tony and Harry had the wit to say nothing. As for Meleri, the anger that had been simmering suddenly came to a full, furious boil. Spitting mad now, she gave herself a mental scolding. So much for holding your tongue and temper in check. Unleash the little devils and Waverly be damned! Say what you will. You can worry about the consequences tomorrow. “When it comes to my affections, a termite could replace you.”
“Fresh as paint, isn’t she? I think she got a little kippered from being in the sun too long. Country maids sometimes forget their delicate side.”
“Rubbish!” Meleri said. “Why don’t you say what you are really thinking instead of so much pretense? I did not come here to quibble, giving tit for tat. I came to speak my mind.”
“At least that will be brief.”
“It couldn’t be brief enough to suit me.”
“Does Sir William know you came here and for what purpose?”
“Most of the time, my father doesn’t know the time of day.”
“Am I missing something here? Since when has it become customary for a woman to climb into the driver’s seat and make demands as well as decisions?”
She walked the entire length of the room and then turned back to face him, trying not to let her anger show, but it was becoming quite difficult. He was looking at her with a challenge in his eye, and she had never been one to back down in the face of a challenge. If anything, it fired her will and hardened her resolve, both of which gave her added encouragement. “Think what you will. I am past caring. I have something to say, and I will say it…to you or to an empty room. I can tell it to half of London if need be.”
“Really?”
“Invite King George. Include his court, too.”
The corners of Philip’s lips twitched and he gave his friends an amused look. “Quite a clever little actress, is she not?”
Seeing his glance, her fingers itched to pick up the stuffed parrot sitting on the perch beside her. She would have liked nothing more than to send it flying across the room. That, at least, would be a sign that she was not receptive to his sneering looks any more than she was to his disparaging words. However, she wanted nothing to sidetrack her. She had come this far, and she wanted to have this thing done. So many words were backed up in her head and throat, they created a jumble.
He smiled again, but this time it was forced. “Dear, dear, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with such a determined look on your face. Why, you look positively agitated. Has something happened to rile you to such irritating heights?”
“Oh, yes, you might say something has happened. Something remarkable…quite extraordinary, actually.”
“Oh? And what might that be?”
“I have been enlightened.”
“Enlightened?” Philip let out a low whistle. “An enlightened woman. That is impressive. I am honored that you went to so much trouble to ride all the way over here to share that little tidbit with me.”
“Don’t be flattered. My coming here is not a complimentary social call. That isn’t the purpose of my visit.”
“I see,” he said, with a tone so flat and so cold, it sent a shiver rippling over her.
“No, Philip, I don’t think you see at all. You have never been able to see beyond yourself. Only I didn’t realize it until recently.”
“When did your kind regard turn so bitter?”
“I am not bitter. I am sick at heart over the years I squandered on someone so incapable of feeling, so capable at deceiving. Too many years lost, because our fathers were foolish enough to betroth us as children, never taking into consideration that we might not suit each other when we were grown.”
He brought his hands together and placed the extended forefingers against his lips. “I think I am beginning to see. You are concerned that I have not set a date. Is that it? You are anxious and ready to be married. That is it, is it not? Am I right?”
“You don’t understand me at all. What I feel is in opposition to everything you said. If I have found anything pleasing about this betrothal, it is the delay in arranging a date for our wedding. Believe me when I say, I am truly happy you did not complete the arrangements. You might even say I am delighted.”
“And why is that? Do you think taking this approach will prompt me to action, that I will leap to the challenge and make the arrangements posthaste?”
She felt suddenly weary and anxious to have done with all of this. “Oh, Philip, can we not be honest with one another for once in our lives? I do not want to set a date or make arrangements. I do not want a wedding. And I especially don’t want to be married…at least not to you.”
His entire countenance changed, and she saw beneath the facade he presented to the world. Now she understood what she faced. There would be no toying with her now, no more quips and sharply sent barbs. She saw blood in his eyes and knew the taste of fear.
“You poor, tiresome wretch. Are you trying to give me an ultimatum? Because if you are, I can save you the trouble.”
Meleri was suddenly glad he had asked Tony and Harry to stay. She knew Philip well enough to know how he would react to what she planned to say next, and knew, too, that it would be markedly diminished in force and fury with his friends standing witness. He was no fool, and too proud by half. She counted on these to work against him.
“I came here today because I want to end our betrothal,” she said simply.
The room fell silent. Not even the sound of the clock ticking could be heard. Almost giddy with relief, she took a deep breath, amazed that so few words could make her feel so light-headed.
A quick glance down to his hands revealed the tightly clenched fists. This doubled the relief she felt over Tony and Harry’s presence. There was little cause to deny he was furious over his humiliation, nor was there any doubt that if not for his friends’ presence, he might easily have struck her.
He went to great lengths to hide it, which was indicated by a tone of nonchalance. “By all means, let’s end it, here and now. It might surprise you to know that it has been my intention for quite some time. Being a gentleman, I have waited, hoping to give you time to realize my utter dissatisfaction and dislike. I provided you the opportunity to take the initiative. You took so long. I was beginning to think you quite dense. I suppose that speaks volumes as far as female intellect. What a bother! And the waiting…such a dreadful bore.”
Harry coughed and Tony shifted his position. Both of them were looking extremely uncomfortable as they stared fixedly at the floor.
She deflected every sharp comment he shot in her direction. She was so thrilled over the success of her adventure that she was more than willing to give him his chance to get even. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that. There is something to be said for mutual agreement, for it does make everything so much easier, does it not?”
“It is always uplifting to have something one has waited for so long come to fruition. It was impossible to think I would ever stoop to marry a chit like you.” He paused and gave her a chilling look of dismissal. “Is that it? Or was there something else?”
“No,” she said, her relief tossed into a jumble of other emotions. She made it a point to look at Harry and Tony with firm resolve. “I would have your word as gentlemen and members of the titled nobility that you have witnessed the ending of this betrothal by mutual agreement. Do I have your word?”
Harry and Tony looked at each other.
“Do I have your word?” she asked again.
“Yes,” Tony said at last. “You have my word.”
“As a gentleman and a member of the nobility?”
“As a gentleman and a member of the nobility,” he repeated.
“You have mine, as well,” Harry said. “As a gentleman, et cetera.”
“Very well. I do thank you both.” She turned to Philip. “It would seem that we are all agreed, and now that the betrothal is called off to our mutual satisfaction, I have nothing further to discuss. If you will excuse me, I will be on my way….”
Philip cut in curtly. “Then you won’t mind my not showing you to the door?”
“Of course not. I am accustomed to rudeness when around you. Good day, gentlemen.”
Harry and Tony said, “Goodbye” in unison.
“And good riddance” was Waverly’s contribution.
She was almost to the door when she heard Philip again, speaking in a loud voice this time. “A toast to my freedom, and a wager, gentlemen. A hundred pounds says I will be married long before my former betrothed.”
“It’s a bet,” Harry said.
“I accept as well,” said Tony. “Will you be accepting bets at White’s?”
“All in due time. I find I have other pressing business in London that must come first. If we left today, we could be there by tomorrow. I am anxious to tell a certain lady that I am, at last, a free man.”
That did it.
She whirled around, snatched that ghastly stuffed parrot from its perch and sent it hurling toward Philip. He reached for it, but it flew over his head and smashed into a brass chandelier. A shower of green and yellow feathers rained down upon Philip.
The sight of the princely and elegant Lord Waverly standing there like a molting bird, parrot feathers floating about him and clinging to his clothes and hair was too funny by half. She smiled sweetly and said, “You missed, but don’t worry. If you cannot catch the bird of paradise, you can always settle for a wet hen. I do hope you like parrots. I understand the duke’s daughter has five of them, all named for her former suitors. Philip the Parrot! It does have a nice ring.”
Harry’s laugh was immediate and bubbled up in an infectious manner that quickly prompted Tony to join in. “I say, that was a splendid reaction!” Harry managed to say. “And completely impromptu, no less! You’re positively brilliant!”
Waverly, who was standing in a puddle of feathers looking like a defoliated tree, clenched his jaw until the lines around his mouth turned white. Anger, held tightly in check, was obvious in his voice. “Your performance exemplifies your country rusticity, which is one of the reasons I would have never considered going through with the asinine idea of marrying you. Our betrothal served a purpose, nothing more. Simply put, I used you, old girl! I used our betrothal to buy myself some time. Surely you knew you were never suitable for the wife of a duke.”
“I knew I was never suited to be the wife of a certain future duke, but then, I’m not certain anyone is. You may be a marquess, but it is never befitting the daughter of a baronet to be used to one’s advantage and then mocked and held up for ridicule. The peerage does not demean the peerage. You were foolish to ignore this. You are having your sport now, but you will soon understand how it feels. Once word of this reaches London—and it will—you will find yourself shunned and held up for ridicule by other members of the ton. I daresay it should delight your father. What a disappointment you have proven to be. It is truly a shame. You had so much potential. I do not know what happened, or what caused you to become a worthless example of a man. There was a time when I thought I loved you, a time when I knew I did not—and a time when I felt only pity. Now, I don’t feel even that.”
With nothing more to say to him, she quit the room and the gentlemen who stared after her. When she reached the entry, Chipping had the door open, and she stepped out into the sunlight, still shaking, but deliciously happy to have this dreaded event behind her. As she went down the steps, a shiver of relief traveled over her.
She was free of Philip at last.
The gravel drive crunched beneath her feet as she hurried toward the stables. She did not see the groom, but her horse was there, tied to a ring post. She hurried to untie the reins. When she finished, Philip was standing on the steps, talking to Harry and Tony. He saw her glance in their direction, and when he spoke, he almost shouted the words at her. “Now that you’re in need of a husband, I hear the wainwright’s son is looking for a wife. And so is the owner of the Wine Keg Inn.”
He must enjoy the sound of his own laughter, she thought, for Harry and Tony barely laughed at all. Not that she cared. She was too busy ignoring them all the way to the mounting block. Once she was in the saddle, she gathered the reins and urged the mare forward.
She was almost even with them and thinking the worst was over, when Philip’s voice rang out. “You would be wise to consider the wainwright’s son, because that’s about the best you’ll be able to do. Mark my word, you will never find a husband among the gentry. I’ll see to that.”
She stopped and looked at him coldly. “Then you better hurry.”
His amusement was obvious. “Hurry? Why should I? Who would want to marry a woman who was nothing more than a silly bit of fluff with too much confidence and no common sense?”
Silly bit of fluff?
The muscles in her body coiled spring-tight. Her scalp prickled. Her blood was flowing, swift, hot and full of scorn.
Silly bit of fluff?
She was so furious her anger replaced levelheaded thinking, and she turned on him. “You truly are what they say you are…the ultimate bastard.”
“You poor, pathetic woman, do you really think you can find a husband before I dash all your chances, pitiful as they may be? It’s impossible.”
“Not if I marry the first man I meet.”
“Not even you would dare go that far.”
“To be free of you, I would dare that and more.”
His mocking laugh ripped through the air. Meleri brought the crop down and her mare leaped forward and broke into a run. She did not glance back, not even once, but she did hear the sound of Harry and Tony’s laughter blending in loudly with Philip’s.
She would not let him win a victory over her again. Not this time. She swore that if she had only one thing left in life that she could do, it would be to do as she threatened. She would marry the first man she came upon.
Even if she had to ask him herself.