The Mad Lord's Daughter (3 page)
“I don’t know, but Rupert was convinced he might. But if we all protect her, perhaps we can have her safely married off before there is any possibility of discovery.”
John drew his leg around, giving his father all his attention. “I cannot imagine anyone wanting to hurt Melissa.”
His father shook his head slightly. “I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out. I only know that my brother asked me to protect Melissa, and I swore to him I would. I want you to be Melissa’s guardian angel until we get her safely married. Protect her from gossip, introduce her to good, gentle men who will care for her. Keep her away from anyone who offers up speculation about her birth. Help her to adjust to the real world. Can you do that for me?”
John smiled at his father. “You can count on me, Father.”
Chapter 3
Diane perused the
Times
, searching for an event at which they could ease Miss Atwell into society. She wasn’t so foolish as to think the girl was ready for a dinner or a ball—or any event in which she would have to interact a great deal with people she did not know. Melissa might appear to have all the polish of a debutante, but her lack of experience with social interaction would make even the most insignificant appearance rife with potential difficulties for her.
Times
, searching for an event at which they could ease Miss Atwell into society. She wasn’t so foolish as to think the girl was ready for a dinner or a ball—or any event in which she would have to interact a great deal with people she did not know. Melissa might appear to have all the polish of a debutante, but her lack of experience with social interaction would make even the most insignificant appearance rife with potential difficulties for her.
Diane tapped one finger against her mouth, scanning the
Times
for an appropriate venue, and wondering if there was a single place where Lord Braddock could take the girl without creating unwarranted interest. It was certainly a dilemma—this need to launch her and the equal need to do so with caution. She even considered bringing Melissa to Nottinghamshire, where she would have far more sedate entertainments than in London.
Times
for an appropriate venue, and wondering if there was a single place where Lord Braddock could take the girl without creating unwarranted interest. It was certainly a dilemma—this need to launch her and the equal need to do so with caution. She even considered bringing Melissa to Nottinghamshire, where she would have far more sedate entertainments than in London.
Melissa would cause a stir no matter where they brought her, Diane realized with a sigh. She was just that beautiful. And the fact that she’d never before been seen in society would cause even greater interest. How on earth could they explain why she had not been seen? Of course, Diane knew the best explanation was none at all. To react to such questions with surprise and confusion.
Why has she not been introduced? My goodness, what a forward question.
Diane smiled to herself, for she had used such tactics more than once in her life.
Why has she not been introduced? My goodness, what a forward question.
Diane smiled to herself, for she had used such tactics more than once in her life.
She was about to put the paper away when she noticed an advertisement for a new Julius Benedict opera debuting at the Covent Garden Theatre. She slowly smiled. The opera would be perfect, as they were unlikely to encounter anyone who would demand an introduction. She didn’t know whether Lord Braddock had a box at the opera house and was about to go find him when he walked by the small sitting room.
“Lord Braddock, a word if you please.”
As always, when Lord Braddock walked toward her—or even looked at her, for that matter—her heart sped up a notch. She couldn’t stop it any more than she could stop his look of complete boredom. That thought nearly made her smile, but she stopped herself just in time, because each time she smiled, Braddock gave her the oddest look.
He was a formidable-looking man with broad shoulders and a physique that had yet to show his age. She’d wondered more than once through the years how a man who had to be in his fifth decade could appear so well formed when so many men had gone to fat or were forced to wear girdles to keep their burgeoning stomachs in place. She’d admired him from afar for more years than she’d like to admit and had danced with him only that one time when he’d inquired about her chaperoning Melissa. Still, her heart sped up. Still, she felt like a nervous young girl whenever he walked into a room.
“I’m sorry to interrupt you, my lord, but I believe I’ve come up with a good venue to introduce your niece. The Covent Garden Opera House. I was hoping you had a box there?”
Braddock frowned. “Is this something I would have to attend, then?” he asked.
“It would be best,” she said. “I take it you don’t like the opera.”
“It’s the people who attend such events I don’t care for,” he said dryly, then frowned even more heavily when Diane laughed outright.
She quickly sobered. “I do believe it would be beneficial to her to make her entrance into society at such an event. Little would be asked of her but to stand beside you and look charming.”
His brows drew together, and Diane couldn’t help thinking that the man would look far more attractive if he actually smiled once in a great while. “Are you worried about her entrance?”
“Yes, I am,” Diane said, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. “The poor child has been hidden away for nearly two decades with nary a soul to talk to but her father and servants. While she’s been taught how to act and what to say, she has never had the opportunity to put such lessons into practice. I fear if we introduce her into a situation where more interaction is needed, she will find it overwhelming.”
“Has she said as much?”
Diane shook her head. “She has no idea whether she should be nervous or not. She has no experience with society. She may do splendidly, but it would be best to have you there by her side should things go awry.”
He tapped a fist lightly against his chin in thought. “John can go, too,” he said finally. “That would at least make it more palatable for me and perhaps more entertaining for Melissa.”
Diane stared at him, wondering if he knew he’d just insulted her. “I’m sure that would be best,” she said. “And you do have a box?”
“I do, not that I can recall ever sitting in it beyond the grand reopening of the place.
Santanella
, I believe it was. I fell asleep.”
Santanella
, I believe it was. I fell asleep.”
Again, Diane laughed and suffered that
look
from Braddock. Really, it was too much. Was she to go around frowning her entire life because some unfortunate feature on her face made him nearly wince in pain each time she smiled?
look
from Braddock. Really, it was too much. Was she to go around frowning her entire life because some unfortunate feature on her face made him nearly wince in pain each time she smiled?
“Lord Braddock,” she said in her coolest voice. “Is there something about me that offends you?”
The look on his face was so astounded, Diane nearly smiled again. “Offends, Miss Stanhope?”
She could feel her nostrils flare and knew from looking in the mirror that such an expression definitely was not attractive. “Every time I smile, you look as if you’ve swallowed something unpleasant. It is quite disconcerting, and it’s gotten to the point that I take great pains not to smile in front of you. I wish you would either tell me what so offends you or try to ignore whatever it is you find so distasteful.” Despite her resolve to appear stern, Diane was slightly mortified to realize that her throat was beginning to close up, and that if Lord Braddock said a single unkind thing she would likely be unable to utter a sound.
“You think . . .” It was Braddock’s turn to smile, leaving Diane completely confused. It was not at all amusing. Not in the least.
“Miss Stanhope, please let me put your mind at ease. You are not a beautiful woman,” he said. “In fact, most men would probably describe you as rather plain.”
She stood there, his words hitting her like soft blows to the heart. She’d seen it more than once, men who thought that women past a certain age were impervious to hurt. But it wasn’t true; her battered heart was proof enough of that. She schooled her features to show not a single emotion, as he blithely talked about her complete unattractiveness.
As if suddenly realizing what he was saying, the great lummox, he abruptly stopped talking. “I see I am not saying this correctly,” he muttered, then took a deep breath. “When you smile, Miss Stanhope, you become another woman altogether. You must know this is true. It transforms you. When you smile, you become rather”—he stopped, his cheeks going ruddy—“stunning.”
“Oh,” she said, through a throat suddenly gone tight for another reason altogether. “Well. Thank you.” She smiled, then immediately covered her mouth, horribly self-conscious. “Now, I’m afraid, I’ll
never
be able to smile in front of you.” She’d gone quite red in the face, her eyes twinkling above her hand. Braddock grinned back, as if enjoying her discomfort.
never
be able to smile in front of you.” She’d gone quite red in the face, her eyes twinkling above her hand. Braddock grinned back, as if enjoying her discomfort.
“You mean to say you thought I was offended each time you smiled?”
Diane nodded, feeling foolish. “You did make the oddest expression,” she said, laughing. “The first time I thought I must have something rather horrid stuck between my teeth.”
“The Browning ball,” he said, and Diane couldn’t stop the foolish rush of happiness that he had remembered. “I do apologize if I made you feel self-conscious.”
Diane smiled again, this time not hiding her face. “Apology accepted, sir. Now, about the opera. It is Monday. Are you available?”
“Yes,” Braddock said, clearly wishing he were not.
“Thank you, my lord. I’ll go tell Melissa. No doubt her first outing will be nerve-wracking.”
Melissa sat on a small settee in the well-equipped library, looking up at Miss Stanhope, who was lecturing about the proper behavior of a young lady attending the opera. Looking up, but not listening. All her life she’d listened to people lecturing about how to act but had never gotten the chance to put such lectures into action. She
knew
how to act, what to say, how far to curtsy, how not to fidget.
knew
how to act, what to say, how far to curtsy, how not to fidget.
“Miss Atwell.”
Her head snapped up. “Yes, Miss Stanhope?”
“I have the distinct feeling you were not listening to me.”
And then, feeling a slight edge of irritation, she repeated precisely what her chaperone had been saying. “One mustn’t clap until the conductor drops his baton. To do so is the most obvious sign of ignorance.”
The older woman’s cheeks grew a bit pink, and Melissa felt immediate remorse. “I am simply trying to help,” Miss Stanhope said.
Melissa held back a sigh. “I do know that. It is only that I’ve heard such lectures my entire life. I want to start doing things, not just talking about them.”
“Of course you do, dear,” Miss Stanhope said kindly. “But I wonder if you would bear with me for perhaps a few more minutes. I’ve asked your cousin to come in this morning. Ah, here he is now.”
Yes, Melissa thought, here he was. This burst of energy and fresh air, this young, vigorous man, this stranger whose eyes could be cold or warm, but were always slightly disconcerting.
“How may I be of help?” he asked, striding forward and giving the women a small bow, a rakish grin on his face.
“You may escort your cousin to the door and return,” Miss Stanhope said.
Melissa stiffened and immediately fought the panic building in her. She hated the thought of touching someone, even with her protective gloves on. “Of . . . Of course,” she said, and began to stand until she noticed Miss Stanhope’s staying hand.
“Please let Lord Willington assist you,” she said gently.
It was a simple thing, really. She need only place her gloved hand into his. He waited patiently, hand extended, that intense look on his face once more. Melissa stared at his hand as if it were a coiled snake ready to strike.
“Miss Atwell,” her cousin said. “Will you please join me for a trip to the door.”
Feeling foolish, Melissa forced herself to place her hand in his and stood. His hand was large and strong and solid, and he held hers as if this wasn’t a momentous event, as if this was something one did every day. And, of course, for most people that would be true. For Melissa, who couldn’t remember the last time she’d voluntarily touched another person, it was disconcerting indeed. He then placed her hand in the crook of his arm rather forcibly, and began walking, practically dragging her along, his arm holding her hand like a vise while she tried to tug it free.
“Can we please try that again,” Miss Stanhope said. “And this time, please do try not to look at your cousin’s hand as if it is holding something offensive.”
Melissa pressed her lips together and sat.
“Miss Atwell,” her cousin said, holding out his hand. This time, there was only the slightest hesitation before she placed her hand in his. She was lifting herself when Miss Stanhope said, “Again please.”
Something passed through Lord Willington’s expression, something that looked too much like the pity she’d seen in the Bamburgh servants’ eyes far too many times. Lifting her chin, she slapped her hand into his extended one, rose, then grabbed his arm almost defiantly. She could feel his muscle flex beneath her glove, could feel his heat, and she fought the impulse to pull away again.
“Again. And this time without the violence,” Miss Stanhope said, her voice tinged with humor.
Melissa turned toward her chaperone in a quick, angry movement. “Really, Miss Stanhope, I do understand why you are insisting on this exercise, but I can assure you that I will be fine tonight when Lord Willington escorts me to my seat. I feel rather ridiculous,” she said, but she sat anyway, her posture rigid with anger.
“Miss Atwell, may I escort you to the door.” He stood before her, one eyebrow raised in challenge, and held his hand out to her.
She gave him the full effect of her smile and rather enjoyed the stunned look on his face when she did so. “It would be my pleasure,” she said in her calmest tone. She took his hand and rose gracefully, then allowed him to place her hand in the crook of his arm.
“Much better,” Miss Stanhope declared, as if Melissa had done something truly remarkable. “You mustn’t hesitate, else gentlemen will either think you unpardonably rude or themselves offensive in some way.”
“And we wouldn’t want that,” John quipped with a grin.
“No, we wouldn’t,” the older woman agreed. “Now.” She took a bracing breath. “Would you please stand next to me, my lord, and face your cousin.” He did so, giving Melissa a wink. She couldn’t help but smile again.
“Miss Atwell, I would like to present you with Lord Willington. Lord Willington, Miss Atwell, Lord Braddock’s niece, who is here for her first season.”
Again, John held out his hand, and Melissa, without even a smidgeon of hesitation, placed her hand into his, wincing only when it appeared he was about to kiss her. Instead, he simply bowed over her hand, released it, and stepped back.
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