Amanda Scott (28 page)

“But I’m not …” Melissa nibbled her lower lip. “Well, maybe I am, a little. He’s very large, after all, and since husbands, by their very nature—”

“Fiddlesticks. You think Vexford large only because you still think of yourself as small and helpless. One’s perception of any opponent, in my opinion, derives directly from one’s perception of oneself. That always affects one’s ability to deal with another person. What you are describing to me is more than mere fidgets, Lissa, and you know it. Either that, or you are being both deceitful and sinful in your marriage.”

“How dare you!”

Charley said wryly, “It’s no use flying into the boughs with me, as you know very well. Since you agreed to marry Vexford, you owe him honesty and plain dealing. I don’t believe in half measures, so if you take my advice, you must make up your mind to be a proper wife to him, and first you must stop teasing him. I’ve seen good mares well bitten for playing the coquette and then trying to draw away. Moreover, since I believe that somehow episodes from your past are still haunting you, you simply must resolve to put them behind you. Inflicting rubbish left from your childhood on your unsuspecting husband is just not fair.”

The carriage turned then, and she glanced out the window, adding, “Here we are. Just think, tomorrow you will see your name with all the other presentations in the
Times
—‘Lady Vexford on the occasion of her marriage, by the Countess of Ulcombe.’”

Melissa greeted the abrupt change of subject with relief, for Charley’s frank advice had sorely tried her composure. Her throat had begun to ache, and she wanted to cry, but as they passed through the huge iron gates of St. James’s Palace, into the palace yard, she drew a steadying breath and fixed her attention on what lay ahead.

The carriage drew up beside a colonnade. A liveried footman opened the door and let down the step, and both young ladies, taking care to manage their hoops and trains, accepted his help to step down. Nicholas, his mama, and Lady Ophelia awaited them, and no sooner did Melissa’s feet touch the pavement than the man put up the step again, shut the door, and the carriage rolled off to make way for others behind it. Hundreds of people milled about, chatting as they took their places in line, and hundreds more stood waiting to leave. Empty carriages returned for them in the steadily moving circle of vehicles in and out of the yard.

The line ahead moved slowly, so, despite having to hold her train over her arm, Melissa was able to smooth her long white kid gloves and untwist the tangled strings of her gilded fan. Friend greeted friend, and in the general din, private conversation was impossible. Nicholas, Lady Ulcombe, and Lady Ophelia nodded to acquaintances, and Charley chattered to all and sundry in her usual manner, leaving Melissa to compose her thoughts in solitude.

Not until they had passed through the vast guard hall and up the grand staircase did she comprehend the enormous size of the company. Looking down from the upper landing, she saw a sea of waving white and gold plumes. People pressed together, and more than one gentleman, including her husband, skillfully avoided stabbing someone with his dress sword. A similar crush lay ahead, and a solid mass of humanity descended the stairway on the opposite side of the hall. Melissa was grateful for Nicholas’s solid presence at her side. He did not speak, but his presence was soothing.

When they entered the first room, Lady Ulcombe leaned near her and said, “This is the old presence chamber. The Mortlake tapestry yonder on the wall was lost in the reign of Charles I, then found and replaced by His present Majesty’s grandfather.”

A huge looking glass ahead of them seemed to double the size of the enormous crowd as they passed into the next room, where the King’s page approached them. Each lady handed him a card with her name written on it, and gave a second, similar card to the Lord in Waiting just inside the new presence chamber.

Here the crowd melted away. The King stood with his back to a window, in front of a chair. Lady Ophelia explained in an undertone that the persons to his left were his royal relatives and cabinet ministers, arranged according to their rank. Melissa could think of nothing but how enormously fat he was.

The Lord in Waiting announced, “Lady Ophelia Balterley and Miss Charlotte Tarrant,” and Melissa watched them approach, curtsy, and move away. Having been warned that, while compliments and curtsies were made in a string, one after another, like the receiving line at a ball, presentations were another matter, she was not surprised when the Lord in Waiting paused. He waited until Lady Ophelia and Charley had moved on before he announced Lady Ulcombe and Lord Vexford.

Melissa began to walk forward with them, remembering only after two or three steps to release her train. She scarcely noticed the page who leapt to arrange it behind her, for Lady Ulcombe was already saying to the King, “May I present my new daughter-in-law, Lady Vexford, Your Majesty.”

Melissa made her deep curtsy, hoping she wouldn’t topple over and disgrace both herself and Nicholas. When she lifted her gaze from the floor to the enormous but nonetheless magnificently attired man before her, she saw that he had extended a hand to assist her to rise. He smiled and said affably, “Well met, Lady Vexford. How do you like our new-modeled palace, ma’am?”

“Very well, Your Majesty. It is a most magnificent residence.”

“We were born here, you know, and so the place has always been a prime favorite. And since we fancy ourselves a dab hand at building, we could do no less than our very best. It delights us to find you well-pleased with our efforts.”

That he spoke of himself in the plural seemed, in view of his girth, perfectly reasonable. He was a gentleman, however, and despite the fact that he was already nodding to someone behind her—Nicholas, no doubt—he had made her feel for a few brief moments as if he might, ten minutes hence, even recall having met her. Remembering that she was to back away, Melissa hoped fervently that the page had a good sense of timing, and would not allow her to trip over her train.

She need not have worried. She and Lady Ulcombe returned to Charley and Lady Ophelia without incident, and once Nicholas had caught up with them, rejoined the flow of company. They moved along a passageway leading directly to the grand staircase, without passing through any rooms they had seen before, and came to a ground-floor chamber with places to sit until their carriages returned.

With the initial excitement of her presentation over, Melissa turned her thoughts back to what Charley had said. Over the years since her childhood, especially since leaving Cornwall, she had formed the habit, whenever she wanted to accomplish something, of thinking about how Charley would do it. Having had such faith in her for so long, she knew that to ignore her advice now would be absurd.

Waiting only until Nicholas stepped across the room to tell the porter they required their carriages and then to speak to Lord Thomas Minley, she drew Charley away from Lady Ulcombe and Lady Ophelia and said, “I’m sorry I flew into a miff. You were right, of course, and I shall do what I can to become a better wife.”

“Excellent. You just need to learn to put your thoughts forward, rather than back, and all will be well. You’ll see. You must put the memories of Uncle Geoffrey’s dreadful behavior out of your head, and concentrate on your feelings for Vexford instead. Good Lord, there’s Rockland,” she said, looking past Melissa. “Am I never to have any peace from that man? He insists that I am destined to bear his children.”

“Charley!”

“Oh, properly married, of course. He simply cannot conceive of how any sensible female can want to avoid matrimony. You won’t want to be a party to the discussion, so I shall just intercept him before he can bore you to tears with his absurd thoughts on the matter. I only wish I may convince him that his hopes are futile.”

Lady Ulcombe and Lady Ophelia had evidently found seats, and for a moment Melissa found herself alone in the milling crowd. She recognized many people, but despite an unceasing din of conversation, no one spoke to her. Then a hand touched her arm and she turned to find herself face-to-face with Yarborne.

“Good afternoon, my dear Lady Vexford,” he said warmly. “I must say, you look utterly delectable in all your court finery.”

“Thank you, sir. Can you see where Lady Ophelia or Lady Ulcombe have got to? I seem to have misplaced them.”

“Yonder, talking with Ulcombe,” he said. “I daresay he is collecting his wife so she can accompany him to the little dinner His Majesty means to serve in the new banquet room for the many august persons who have the entree. I am not one of them yet, I’m sorry to say, but doubtless my turn will come. No, no, don’t run away just yet,” he added, catching her arm when she turned to look for Vexford’s parents. “You and I still have a small matter of business to discuss, my dear.”

“Not here, surely! I carry only a fan, sir. You cannot have expected me to tuck such a sum into my bodice.”

“A delightfully appealing thought, my dear, but do not toy with me. You will very soon catch cold at that, I assure you. Vauxhall Gardens opens Tuesday night with a gala masquerade. Everyone will go, I expect, so it will be a simple matter for you to arrange to meet me—say, near the statue of Milton at half past eleven—with a hundred pounds tucked into your bodice, or elsewhere, to redeem your pretty watch-bracelet.”

“But how could I possibly—?”

“Don’t fail me,” he said sternly, looking past her, “or I shall be forced to apply to your husband for the money you owe, and since everyone will be leaving town for Epsom on Wednesday or Thursday—Well, surely I need say no more.”

Involuntarily, she glanced toward the spot where she had last seen Nicholas, only to encounter a smile and a wave from Lady Hawthorne, dressed all in gold with three towering golden ostrich plumes in her headdress, and diamonds everywhere. When Melissa looked back, Yarborne had vanished and Nicholas stood in his place.

“The carriages have entered the yard,” he said. “The others are waiting.”

He looked grim, and she felt an instant urge to placate him, but remembering Charley’s words, she resisted it, saying only, “I am quite ready to leave, sir.”

S
HAKEN BY YARBORNE’S THREAT
to apply to her husband for payment of her debt, Melissa could think of nothing to say to Nicholas during their return to St. James’s Square. They had scarcely spoken to each other in twenty-four hours, and now he sat beside her in the carriage, staring out his window, looking relaxed if rather bored. She wished Lady Ulcombe had not remained at the palace, because she could at least have chatted with her about the Drawing Room.

Exerting herself to put Yarborne’s threat out of her mind, she decided to concentrate on her husband and begin, as she had promised Charley she would, to try harder to be a more admirable wife. With that end in mind, she reached a hand toward him, only to draw it back before she touched him.

Glancing at him to see if he had noticed, she saw with relief that he was still staring idly out the window at the crowded flagway. Drawing a long breath and letting it out slowly, she placed her left hand gently on his right thigh, but when the hard muscles beneath her palm tensed, she nearly snatched it back again.

He turned and said, “Did you enjoy your first Drawing Room?”

“Y-yes, thank you,” she replied, adding hastily, “No one told me how old the King is, or how very fat he is.” Her hand quivered on his thigh. What on earth was wrong with her?

Nicholas seemed not to notice anything amiss. He said, “His Majesty eats too many rich foods, and drinks too much, and this last episode of the gout has pulled him about a good deal. He is sixty-one, I believe, but he does look much older.”

When he put a hand on hers and gave it a gentle squeeze, she felt another foolish urge to snatch hers away. Suppressing the urge, forcing herself to leave it where it was, she blurted, “Nicholas, I … I talked to Charley.”

He said lightly, “Yes, I know—in the carriage, earlier. I observed that you talked to several people at the palace, as well.”

“Yes, of course, I did. One does. But that’s not the same. I … I talked to her about what you said last night. About sending me to Owlcastle,” she finished in a rush.

His eyes narrowed. “You ought not to discuss our affairs, Melissa, not even with your cousin.” He seemed suddenly overlarge for the carriage.

She reminded herself that she had no cause to fear him, that a mere awareness of the fact that he took up more space than she did was no reason to feel overpowered by him. Remembering that Charley had suggested that her perception of his size was no more than an extension of the way she perceived herself, she wondered suddenly if that could be true.

“Do I seem small to you, sir?” she asked.

He looked confused by the change of subject—as well he might, she thought—but his stern expression relaxed and he said, “Your size is just right. ’Tis I who am large, not you who are small.”

“I was just curious,” she said, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “Charley said she believes I think of you as large only because I think of myself as small.”

“Well, I
am
large. Is that all she said?”

“No.” She wanted to tell him all that Charley had said, to say that she believed her cousin had been right about many things. She wanted to admit that she had not been a proper wife, that she had even been teasing him, just as he had said she did. She wanted to tell him that somehow things from her past were disturbing her, disturbing their relationship, but her throat closed, trapping the words inside. She began to pull her hand away, but he held it. She knew he still watched her, but she avoided his gaze. Charley was right about another thing, she decided grimly. She was a coward.

When he drew her hand to rest upon his other thigh and shifted his body so she could rest her head in the hollow of his right shoulder, she did so. The position made her feel safe and protected. When he began to stroke her arm with his right hand, however, the motion both teasing and seductive, she stiffened, hoping he would not begin something right here in the carriage in broad daylight.