The Mad Lord's Daughter (10 page)
Miss Stanhope seemed to consider the question for a while, a secret smile playing about her lips. “Well, I have to say they were from the same man, a Lord Reginald Bissle. Very smart fellow. Always dressed to the nines. Almost a dandy, now that I recall. Which is probably why he wanted a bigger dowry.”
“The kiss,” Melissa urged, losing patience.
“Ah, that.” Miss Stanhope pressed her lips together in thought. “Devastating,” she breathed as if the kiss were anything but. “That’s the word I would use.” She ended the sentence with a sharp nod.
Melissa furrowed her brow, and she felt her own cheeks redden. That was precisely how she’d thought of John’s kiss. “But how could that be bad?” she asked.
“Because he was the only man to make me feel as if I were . . .”—she stopped, and in her eyes Melissa saw a fleeting look of pain and regret—“. . . the most beautiful girl at the ball.”
“You probably were, but just didn’t realize it,” Melissa said fiercely, feeling protective of the young girl Miss Stanhope once had been.
“Perhaps I was that night. I thought I was madly in love, and the most handsome man had just kissed me.” She let out a small laugh. “I was very young, you see. Younger than you by several years. I was never so foolish again as to give someone my heart knowing his was not engaged.”
“But how could that have been a bad kiss?”
Miss Stanhope chuckled. “I never forgot it. Even when other men kissed me, I always compared their kisses to Lord Bissle’s, and they always came up lacking.” She shook her head at her own foolish thoughts. “Now, enough of this sordid talk, my girl, I have correspondence to finish.”
Melissa leapt up from her chair and gave Miss Stanhope’s smooth cheek a kiss, feeling inordinately happy and normal performing such a gesture. “Thank you, Miss Stanhope,” she said.
The older woman flushed with pleasure.
Melissa beamed her a smile. “I’ll see you at dinner then.” Melissa left the room, her steps light, happy to know she wasn’t the only girl in the world to be devastated by a single kiss.
Chapter 8
Charles Norris, second in line to a viscountcy, arrived riding upon what John said was an Arabian. It just looked like a horse to Melissa, but she could tell from his tone that this particular Arabian was something special. It was a whitish gray with darker legs, and Melissa secretly thought it rather a homely thing. The man upon the horse, however, was decidedly better-looking. His hair was burnished gold—too light to be considered red and too dark to be considered blond. He was still too far away to see his features distinctly, but from what she did see from a second-floor sitting room window, he seemed like a fine-looking man.
“I’ll take him,” Melissa said, teasing John, who had been in a foul mood all morning.
John shot her an annoyed look. “You haven’t even met him.”
“But he’s rich and handsome,” she pointed out with a grin. “Oh, do stop being so grumpy, John. Mr. Norris is the only young man I’ve ever met other than you, and I’ve been looking forward to it.” Then she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think he’ll try to kiss me?”
“Not if he wants to live,” John grumbled, and seemed even more annoyed when Melissa laughed.
“You’re a far stricter chaperone than even Miss Stanhope. One look from you and all my suitors will go running away.”
“Norris is not your suitor.”
“He’s not my suitor
yet.
”
yet.
”
Despite his obvious attempt to remain ill-tempered, John let out a laugh. “I’ve no doubt that Norris will take one look at you and fall to his knees to propose marriage.”
“I shall say yes if he does,” she said, just to see how John would react.
“That would sit perfectly well with me.”
Melissa ignored the dull ache his comment caused and forced a smile. Even though she knew he was teasing, she suspected it must be tedious to have to watch over her when he could be in London doing whatever it was young gentlemen did.
“May we practice the introduction? I’m terribly nervous.” This was a lie; she wasn’t even a speck nervous, though she knew she should be. She lowered her voice. “Mr. Norris,” she said in her best imitation of John, “I’d like to present you to my cousin, Miss Melissa Atwell. You’ll find her far more agreeable company than myself as I have a burr stuck on my . . .”
“Melissa,” he said, a clear warning in his tone.
“So charmed to have this opportunity to make your acquaintance,” she continued, still in a deep voice that was now meant to sound like Mr. Norris. Melissa curtsied to the imaginary Norris. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Norris. It shall be so nice to be in the presence of a pleasant young man.” Then she clasped her hands to her heart. “Marry you? But, sir, we’ve only just met.”
“Please do marry her, she’s quite annoying,” Melissa said in her best John imitation.
“In that case, yes, I will marry you.” Melissa began laughing at her own antics. She had often carried on conversations very much like that one with imaginary brothers and sisters when she was young and so felt quite adept at it. She looked up from her imaginary fiancé to find John gazing at her with bemusement.
“There is no one like you in all of England, you know,” he said, shaking his head a bit. “You’ll be married before the year is out.” He held out his arm for her to take. “Now, my lady, if you will allow me to escort you to your future husband.”
“Of course,” she said, regally taking his arm. Then she stopped and stepped in front of him. “Oh, dear, what if the marquess also wants to marry me? Will there be some sort of contest to determine the winner? Oh, a joust would be marvelous.”
“Your conceit astounds me,” John said dryly.
She wrinkled her nose, and he tapped it with his index finger. “Not every man is going to fall at your feet or find your wit witty.” He took up her arm again and proceeded to walk toward the stairs, where they were met by a harried-looking Miss Stanhope.
“One of the gentlemen has arrived,” she said, giving Melissa a quick look-over. Apparently satisfied, she pulled Melissa away from John.
“It’s Norris,” John said.
“Yes, I know the family.” Miss Stanhope seemed well pleased, so apparently this Norris fellow was a more than satisfactory contender for her hand. Really, it all seemed so silly, Melissa thought. What were they to do, decide whether they suited in the space of a week and then marry? Was that what all women did? “We will greet both gentlemen in the main drawing room at precisely seven. Until that time, my lord, you may do what you wish with them.”
John gave Miss Stanhope a small bow and winked at Melissa. “I thought we could start the parade now, but of course I bow to your expertise, Miss Stanhope,” John said. “It wouldn’t be right to give Norris an unfair advantage by letting him meet my lovely cousin ahead of time. They might be engaged before Avonleigh even makes an appearance.”
Poor Miss Stanhope was quite taken aback. “I daresay it won’t happen as quickly as that.”
“John has assured me I shall be fighting men off. Perhaps I should carry a stick.”
Miss Stanhope looked from one to another and finally huffed out a sigh of exasperation. “Finding a suitable husband is no joke,” she said sternly, and John and Melissa immediate schooled their features. “As lovely as you are, my dear, your dowry is quite small, which is something you should keep in mind. Conceit is not a virtue, you know.”
“Not a moment ago I admonished her for much the same,” John said with a wicked glint to his eyes. Melissa pressed her lips together but remained silent, hurt more than she would ever admit by Miss Stanhope’s criticism. She did not believe for a moment that either man would be taken with her. What did she have to offer a sophisticated man of the ton? She knew no one, had no connections, had never run a household or been taught to. She was no more useful than a blank piece of paper without a pen. Melissa might not be an expert in marriage, but she did know that young peers tended to be attracted to women who brought more to the arrangement than a pretty face and a few pounds. In the space of a few seconds, her happiness and expectations were dashed as the reality of her situation set in. Miss Stanhope’s subtle reminder that she was not nearly as desirable as she’d been pretending to be was an unwelcome truth. She was the daughter of a second son, a recluse who had never gone out in society, and an impoverished gentlewoman who had become a governess, one of the lowest members of society.
Her face flushed with suppressed hurt and anger, she said, “I have no illusions at all, so you need not fear. I am perfectly aware that I have very little to offer anyone and that my desirability is extremely limited.” John and Miss Stanhope shared a look she could not interpret, but she supposed it was because she’d sounded rather piquant, even though she hadn’t meant to appear so put out. Perhaps she was angrier than she realized.
“I didn’t mean to offend,” Miss Stanhope said, and darted another look to John.
Melissa smiled a bit shakily. “I know you did not. I am sorry. That didn’t come out quite the way I intended. John and I were simply having a bit of fun. I do understand who and what I am and that I shall be lucky to find any husband at all.”
“Norris and Avonleigh are good men,” John said forcefully. “I trust them implicitly, and you are worthy of both of them. Do not ever forget that.”
Melissa felt her throat burning and swallowed past the pain. “But I am no one.”
“You are my first cousin,” he said in a voice edged with steel. “That is all they need to know.”
“What else would they want to know?” she asked with a little laugh. “I suppose I could show them my needlepoint. Or my collection of books on philosophy.” Melissa had the distinct feeling that there was some underlying current, as if more were being hidden than said. Miss Stanhope and John kept exchanging looks, as if holding their breaths and waiting for something terrible to happen. “Is it because of my upbringing? Because I have not been in society?” she asked, completely confused.
John relaxed. “You may bring out your needlepoint only if you wish to impress a man’s mama, and the books on philosophy only if you want to drive a particular suitor away. And as far as your unique childhood, I see that as no barrier to becoming wildly successful in your debut,” he said.
“Certainly not,” Miss Stanhope agreed. “Now, my dear, you should rest before meeting our guests. Shall we all meet in the drawing room at seven, then?”
Melissa was slightly disappointed to not meet their guests immediately, but she headed to her rooms, still unable to shake the feeling that more had gone unspoken than spoken.
John watched her go, once again resisting the urge to call her back. Why was getting a pretty girl married so darned complicated?
“I’m not certain we’re being fair to her,” John said softly.
“Of course we are,” Miss Stanhope said sharply. “Life is filled with harsh realities, realities that so far she’s been completely shielded from. I cannot think of a single reason she should know the facts of her birth.”
“Still, I never realized how difficult it would be for me to lie to Melissa about who she is. It seems so dishonest to allow her to continue to believe she is my uncle’s daughter, especially given the chance that someone will discover her low birth. It does trouble me, far more than I thought it would.”
“I fear you would be very much more bothered if word got out that Melissa was illegitimate and not your uncle’s daughter. She does not need that taint when she is looking for the best match possible. It’s not as if she has a dowry to overcome such a thing. Indeed, even a large dowry cannot overcome all undesirable qualities.”
John suspected Miss Stanhope was bitterly referring to herself. “I’m certain Melissa will find a good match. I personally will see to it. Good day, miss.” He gave her a small bow and headed down the stairs to greet his old friend, only to find Norris with a young woman on his arm.
“Laura, a pleasure,” John said with real delight. Norris had brought along his sister, a pretty girl with sparkling brown eyes and light brown hair.
“I was fiercely bored at home and begged Charles to let me come. I do hope you don’t mind. He told me you likely didn’t have the proper mix anyhow.” She smiled up at him so charmingly, he couldn’t even pretend to be put out.
“You are absolutely right,” John said, dropping a kiss upon her cheek. The three of them had grown up on neighboring estates and were as close as family. Laura had always trailed after the boys, getting into all kinds of trouble as she tried to keep up with them. After their coats, hats, and gloves were taken, John led the pair to the drawing room where the three sat.
“Still climbing trees, are you, now that you’re such a fine old lady?” John asked.
“As a matter of fact, just last week a kitten got stuck in a tree, and I helped it down.”
“It was on the first branch,” Charles put in, holding his hand up about shoulder high.
“Well, I would have climbed the tree if the little scamp had gone any higher. And I’m not so old. Only eighteen. Or soon to be. And I shall expect you to ask me to dance at every ball this season.”
John gave her a look of horror. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with me again. So tiresome.”
Laura made a face. “I was twelve and quite delusional. I actually thought you were a fine young gentleman. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m already in love and half engaged.”
John shot a query to Charles who was looking disgusted by the conversation.
“Brewster succumbed,” Charles said as if the man had died.
Laura waggled her hand at her brother. “Not yet,” she said, indicating her empty ring finger. “And I no doubt have your scowls and ill humor to blame for that. But I’ve every indication that my Thomas will propose to me any day now.” She looked ridiculously happy at the prospect, and John mentally crossed Brewster off his list of contenders for Melissa’s hand. In fact, Brewster had been one of his top choices for Melissa.
“Despite your delirium, I’m quite glad you’ve come. You do know that my first cousin, Miss Atwell, is here preparing for her first season?”
Laura clapped her hands together. “Yes, Charles told me and I cannot tell you how happy I am. Someone younger and greener than I whom I can take under my wing. I shall feel very old indeed.”
John cleared his throat. “Actually, Melissa is twenty-three. She’s been living in Bamburgh these last years and has had no entry into society.”
“Bamburgh. Goodness. That’s the end of the world,” Laura said, aghast.
“Yes. And so she doesn’t know a soul in Town and is a bit shy. You can meet her tonight right before dinner.”
“John’s invited me here to get a gander at her before the season begins so I will have an advantage,” Charles explained.
“You and Avonleigh,” John put in.
“Avonleigh is coming? Good God, that only helps my case.”
Laura swatted her brother’s arm. “Lord Avonleigh is one of the most desired men of the ton. You’re just jealous.”
“If he’s so wonderful, why didn’t you set your cap for him instead of Brewster?” Charles asked.
“Because Thomas is perfect for me. Lord Avonleigh is far too stern for my taste. And too handsome. Imagine having women staring at your husband everywhere you go. No thank you.”
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