Amanda Scott (27 page)

It being clear from Vexford’s expression that he had not considered His Majesty at all, or his own wife, for that matter, Melissa tried to think of something to say to ease the tension of the moment. He glanced at her. The look was ambiguous, but it stilled the words half-formed on her tongue.

The previous night, stimulated by fear that he might send her out of London at any moment, she had intended to respond to his lovemaking not just as she knew wifely duty demanded but by exerting herself to please him. Her own stirring passion had led her to believe that the task would be easy, but when he moved to enter her, she had stiffened involuntarily. Before long, she had begun to experience again that odd sensation of floating above the bed, watching. Nicholas left shortly afterward, and she was sadly certain now that he was annoyed with her if not downright angry. She was annoyed with herself, but she had been unable to overcome that strange sense of being a watcher rather than a participant.

She had no time now to fret about their relationship, however, for Lucy and the countess’s woman both awaited her in her bedchamber. Fortunately, her court dress, an elegant confection with a cerulean-blue bodice over a white petticoat edged in green and trimmed with gold lace, fitted her perfectly and required not a single stitch or tuck. After she had practiced her deep, formal curtsy, the women whisked it off again, and the countess’s dresser left her with Lucy, to bathe and arrange her hair.

Though she did not linger over her preparations, she was the last to join the group in the green salon. Pausing on the threshold, she looked at Nicholas, willing him to turn toward her so that she could judge if her appearance pleased him.

Before he turned, Charley, wearing an undergown of her favorite sapphire blue with a white gauze overdress, exclaimed, “How pretty you look, even with white and gold plumes sprouting out of your head! Aren’t they ridiculous? And our lappets look more like hounds’ ears than apparel for ladies of fashion. I loathe mine, but at least the hoops required for court dresses are smaller this year. You ought to have seen the one I had to manage two years ago!”

“Stop chattering, Charlotte,” Lady Ophelia said testily. “I declare, child, you’ve been rattling like a tin full of gravel from the moment we left Berkeley Square. Come closer, Melissa, and let me look at you. Do not forget to carry your train over your arm until just before you are presented, and then—”

“Aunt Ophelia, she knows all that. We’ve all told her time and again that she must let the royal page arrange it for her just before she approaches His Majesty. Have you got your cards, Melissa?”

Melissa nodded, still watching Nicholas. He had not spoken, and she did not think he had really paid her entrance much heed. He looked splendid in his court dress and smallsword. His dark coat fit snugly over his shoulders, and the cream-colored knee breeches and white silk stockings hugged his muscular thighs and calves. He carried his chapeau bras and white gloves, giving her the impression that he was impatient to be gone.

“If we are all ready,” Lady Ulcombe said in her placid way, “I am persuaded that the carriages must be at the door by now.”

“Oh, yes,” Charley said, “for yours was already drawn up when we arrived, and indeed, we ought to go, ma’am. The guns at the Tower have been thundering for more than an hour now. Trumpets are blaring in the streets, and all London is a sea of traffic. We saw a magnificent cavalry unit parading along Piccadilly—all jet black horses rigged out in grand style—and a squadron of foot soldiers, too. Everything is much more magnificent than it was when I was presented.”

Lady Ophelia said, “That is only to be expected. Not only is this the first Drawing Room His Majesty has held in two years but St. James’s Palace has been repaired at last, nearly a decade and a half after the great fire burned down the southeast corner, and everyone wants to be there today to see the alterations.”

Melissa said, “It seems a pity that we can’t simply walk to the palace. It’s only a few steps along Pall Mall, after all.”

Charley grinned at her, and even Nicholas smiled. The countess said, “It does seem foolish, especially since we must drive all around through King Street and Duke Street, then into Piccadilly, in order to fall into a long line of vehicles at the top of St. James’s Street. One could so much more easily at least
drive
up Pall Mall.”

Nicholas said, “Console yourself, ma’am, with the thought that the return journey will be shorter.” Picking up the fan she had dropped when she stood up, he handed it to her and moved to assist Lady Ophelia from her chair.

As they all emerged from the house, Charley said to him, “I know you intended to ride with Lissa in the smaller carriage, sir, but I’ve something I particularly want to talk to her about. Would you mind dreadfully, exchanging places with me and riding with your mama and Aunt Ophelia in the larger one?”

Lady Ophelia clicked her tongue, but Nicholas agreed to the request, and as Melissa entered the smaller carriage with Charley, she was not certain whether to be grateful or irritated. She wanted to clear the air with Nicholas, but she had no wish to stir his temper, and feared that she might. When the two carriages passed from the square into King Street only to find themselves halted in a line of traffic, she decided she was grateful. She was even more so when Charley, surveying the vast assemblage of vehicles, said, “If we reach the palace in under an hour, I will be astonished.”

Settling back against the crimson plush squabs, Melissa watched the people lining the pavements. Every man, woman, and child in London seemed to have turned out to watch the procession to St. James’s Palace, and there was much to see—even old-fashioned sedan chairs. A particularly elaborate one passed them, with uniformed guards to clear the way and six liveried footmen to carry the chair. Recognizing the occupant as the Duchess of Northumberland, Melissa returned her stately nod.

Charley said, “Lissa, there’s something you ought to know.”

Turning her head with care, since her plumes brushed the ceiling of the carriage, Melissa said, “Has something happened? Did Papa do as he threatened and—”

“No, no! At least, Aunt Susan has not been arrested, if that’s what you fear. Indeed, I don’t know what your papa might be up to. We have not seen him, and Penthorpe said he’s got his eye on another woman at last, which may be all to the good. The thing is, I think your mama thinks Penthorpe has, too.”

“I don’t understand. Penthorpe has what?”

“Another woman.”

“Nonsense. He wouldn’t. Never.”

“Well, you will recall Aunt Susan said they meant to go to a play last night, but they didn’t. She was dressed and ready to go when Aunt Ophelia and I left to fetch you for Yarborne’s supper, but Penthorpe had gone out earlier, and he never came to get her. She’s all hollow-eyed and sad this morning, not talking much to anyone.”

“What did Penthorpe say?”

“Just that he forgot, that something else occurred that knocked the dashed silly play right out of his head.”

“You sound just like him,” Melissa said with a smile, “but maybe he just put off going home till he realized it was too late to go to the play, and then feared to face Mama’s disappointment. Procrastination is his most besetting sin, you know.”

“Perhaps,” Charley said, “but he looked guilty, Lissa, and when I asked him what occurred to make him forget, he colored up and said it was none of my affair. But I could see that he hadn’t told Aunt Susan either, and it is certainly her affair. She didn’t cross-question him, of course. She never does.”

“No, but nonetheless he’s right, I expect, to insist that it’s none of our business. What happens between married people should be private, Charley.”

“I suppose so, but that reminds me—What
does
happen between married people?” Charley demanded. “I’ve been meaning to ask you that, and having seen the way you looked at Vexford today, as if your every dependence lay with him, and—”

“I never looked at him like that. I wouldn’t!”

“Oh, yes, you did. You had the old look in your eye, the one you were used to get as a child when you feared you had displeased someone like Grandpapa or Uncle Geoffrey. You were very quiet, too. You aren’t afraid of him, are you?”

“Oh, no, not in the least!”

“Well, I don’t know that I believe you,” Charley said frankly, “for you have that haunted look in your eyes even now. I know that men generally treat women badly, and that husbands can be dreadful creatures—only consider Henry VIII, or your papa—but I confess, I had a better opinion of Vexford than of most.”

“He is very kind to me,” Melissa said, twisting the cords of her fan. “Indeed, he scarcely heeds what I do and makes no effort to assert his authority over me, which is what makes it so—” She broke off, looking straight ahead at the red-silk-covered panel opposite them, not wanting to confide the rest of that thought to her perceptive cousin.

For once, Charley did not rush into speech. She was silent for so long that Melissa could not resist turning to look at her again. She saw with surprise that her cousin was blushing.

Meeting her gaze, Charley said in a rush, “Do you mean to say he doesn’t … that is, that he didn’t—” She broke off, took a deep breath, and said, “Just listen to me, will you? I never thought I was the least bit missish, and here I am stammering over a perfectly simple question. Have you done it or not?”

Feeling fire in her cheeks, and struggling at the same time to repress a bubble of laughter, Melissa said primly, “That, miss, is none of your affair.”

“Oh, pooh, how else is a person to learn if she does not ask questions?” Charley shot her a shrewd look before adding swiftly, “If it’s not that, what is it? It’s you, isn’t it? You’ve done something he won’t like, and you’re worried about angering him.”

Melissa nearly gasped. She had said nothing about her dreadful losses at the hazard table the night before, and she had no wish to confess them now, so she said quickly, “No, it was nothing that I
did.
Indeed, it wasn’t!”

“So you didn’t do anything,” Charley repeated in a musing tone. Then, with another of those penetrating looks, she said, “And that’s the difficulty, isn’t it?”

Melissa was silent.

“You might just as well tell me the whole, you know. We’ve at least another quarter hour before we’ll get there, so I’ll winkle it out of you one way or another.”

“I know.” They were turning into St. James’s Street. The traffic was moving more rapidly than she had expected, but there was still the full length of the street to go before they would reach the palace. Having been told that ladies of quality did not enter St. James’s Street, ever, she looked curiously out the window but could see nothing of interest, only ordinary buildings. She knew that some of them, at least, were famous gentlemen’s clubs, but there was nothing to tell her which ones they were.

Charley cleared her throat impatiently.

Turning back, Melissa said sadly, “It
is
me, and he is very near to sending me into Hampshire, to Owlcastle—his family’s seat, you know—and I don’t want to go, Charley. I can’t!”

“But why would he?”

Feeling heat sweep into her cheeks again, Melissa said, “I daresay I ought not to be talking to you about this. You are not a married lady, after all, so—”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake, Lissa, I breed horses. Do you think I don’t know how children are bred? I thought men just covered their wives when they wished to, but you said he does not exert his authority. Do you mean you don’t let him touch you?”

“No. Well, not precisely. Indeed, I … I like him to touch me. My insides seem to melt like warm syrup when he enters the room, and when he touches me, it’s … it’s the most provocative sensation, like nothing I’ve ever felt before. The first night he made me feel for a time as if my nerves might explode, like fireworks, and I wanted the feeling to go on and on.”

“Really?” Charley said. “I’ve never experienced anything like what you’re describing, certainly not in the company of dolts like Rockland and his ilk, but I’ll take your word for it. Still, if Vexford makes you feel like that, where’s the rub?”

“I don’t know,” Melissa said with a heartfelt sigh. “It begins well, and then suddenly all the good feelings are gone, and I have the oddest sense of not being in my own body anymore. He said once that one minute I act as if I want to seduce him—and, indeed, I do—but the next I behave quite differently. He said that just before he said that maybe I’d benefit from some time in Hampshire. And, Charley, he’s right.”

“Well, you’ve not been married a full sennight yet,” Charley said practically. “Maybe he means to take you into Hampshire himself, to get to know you better.”

“No, for he’s scarcely paid me any heed at all but goes on as he did before the wedding. I-I’m merely a newly acquired possession.”

“I see. So he does think you’ve behaved badly.” Charley was silent, thinking, before she said slowly, “You know, Lissa, some mares are particularly skittish, and some stallions particularly masterful. In order to breed out the fidgets in the mare, it is sometimes advisable to match them. However,” she added thoughtfully, “one doesn’t generally leave such a pair alone to attend to the matter all by themselves.”

Melissa stared at her, then burst into laughter, laughing harder than she had in a fortnight. “Are you offering to oversee our conjugal unions, Charley?”

“Melissa, for heaven’s sake!” But she chuckled, too, adding, “I like to hear you laugh like that. I was just thinking aloud, but though I don’t mean to oversee your union, I do mean to speak my piece. I know exactly what Vexford meant when he said you act as if you want to seduce him. You have always behaved that way.”

“I haven’t! What a thing to say.”

“Don’t argue. You were always used to employ a flirtatious manner when you thought your papa was displeased with you. Aunt Susan did the same thing in the same circumstance. You both exerted yourselves to gratify him, and with good cause, too, considering his habits when he was displeased. But if Vexford has given you no cause to fear him, then you’re just being a coward.”