The Pursuit (7 page)

T
HIS
was not the country waif in frill-less garb Lincoln had carried in his memory since meeting her. He almost hadn’t recognized her, the difference was so dramatic. Her evening gown was stunning, pale blue satin with white beaded embroidery in floral designs trailing up the long skirt and across the pointed waist and square-cut bodice, and dotting the short puffed satin sleeves. The long evening gloves and shoes were in the same pale blue, her coiffure simple but elegant, without a single hair out of place.

The gown was stunning—
she
was stunning—and what had he expected, when she hobnobbed with dukes and duchesses? The wind-blown country lass he’d impulsively decided to marry was definitely not this young lady. And she was already attached. The man she was with was exceptionally handsome and held himself with a regal air. The way they addressed each other,
though he couldn’t hear the actual words, suggested an intimacy beyond their just having met. She’d also been left with the fellow by her dancing partner, which implied she’d been collected from him, so he was her escort.

Well, her father had said she’d be coming home affianced, and apparently, she’d wasted no time at all in accomplishing that. Of course, the chap was too young for her. No, he wasn’t too young, he was probably
her
age, making Lincoln suddenly feel old.

Lincoln turned to leave. He missed seeing her stricken look as he did so.

But he got no more than a few feet when an arm came about his shoulders to detain him and an angry male voice whispered at his side, “I don’t know you and you don’t know me, but what you just did to Meli makes me want to rip your head off.”

“Excuse me?” Lincoln said coldly as he shrugged off the arm.

“The hell I will. Why’d you just cut her to the quick, eh? And if you tell me you’ve no interest in her, I’ll call you a bloody liar and blind to boot.”

Lincoln frowned. “You haven’t already staked a claim on her?”

“Gad, that’s rich.” The young man snorted. “And what if I had? That means you must bow out of the running? Damned if
I’d
give up so easily.”

“I wasn’t giving up, I was merely licking present wounds,” Lincoln said stiffly.

Justin grinned at that point. “Were you, now? Well, that’s different and acceptable, I suppose. Shall we start anew? I’m Justin St. James, quite possibly Meli’s best friend. That, by the by, is the only claim I have on the dear girl. I love her, true, but just like I do my own pesky sisters. Now, perhaps you’d like to meet her?”

“We’ve met,” Lincoln mumbled, rather embarrassed now over his mistaken conclusions.

“Then perhaps you’d like to dance with her where you can discuss…wounds in semiprivacy,” Justin said with a teasing glint in his eyes. “Though you’d best be quick about asking, before my mother returns and puts you to the grill—credentials and all that. Could take hours before she’s satisfied you’ll do.”

“And what makes
you
think I’ll…do?” Lincoln asked sardonically.

“You could be a beggar for all I care. Meli likes you—that’s the only thing I see that matters.”

Meli likes you.
Such simple words to cause such a stir of emotions. She was standing there watching them. She’d schooled her features, was giving away no clue to what she was thinking. He wasn’t so adept at the moment, was flushed, even nervous, which was really very odd, since he was usually quite assured where women were concerned. Perhaps the difference was that none of the others had mattered the least bit to him. But this one did.

She’d caused him a great many unpleasant emotions the last couple weeks. But only because
he’d had no access to her. He had access now—
if
she’d talk to him after he’d “cut her to the quick.” He hadn’t meant to do that, hadn’t thought his departure would affect her, had mistakenly thought she’d already committed herself to someone else.

He nodded to the young man beside him and approached her. She didn’t turn away as he’d done. She waited for him to reach her. She even offered a tentative smile, more encouragement than he deserved at the moment.

“We meet again, Melissa MacGregor.”

Her smile got several degrees brighter, though all she said was “Aye.”

“Is your next dance taken?”

“It was reserved for Justin, no’ tae dance, but tae give me a chance tae catch m’breath. But I’ve done that, mind you, and would be happy tae take tae the floor wi’ you—that is, if you’re asking.”

“I’m asking.”

The last song had ended, and a new waltz was just beginning. Lincoln wasted no time in leading her onto the dance floor, before her chaperon showed up to “grill” him, as the young Justin had put it. He hadn’t counted on the pleasure just being in her presence again would cause him, though, as well as touching her, albeit impersonally. He nearly forgot to begin the dance, merely stood there in the middle of the floor staring at her and causing curious looks from those couples twirling past them.

She remarked, “I was beginning tae think—
well, no’ beginning, I was definitely thinking it—that I’d ne’er be seeing you again.”

Her voice broke the trance and got his feet moving. “I was having the same fear, if you must know. When I found out where you were staying, I—”

“You knew and didna pay me a visit?”

“Perhaps you aren’t aware of the consequence of the people you’re staying with? Without a calling card for entry, or an actual invitation from one of them, I couldn’t get through the front door.”

“Och, is that why? I didna know. We’re no’ so formal in the Highlands.”

Most people weren’t so formal, but then most people didn’t carry the title of a duke either. “I suppose I’ll need to meet your sponsor tonight, to ensure that I can call on you in a proper manner hereafter.”

“Dinna sound so aggrieved.” She grinned. “Megan St. James is a verra nice lady, and verra understanding. And she already knows about you.”

“Does she, now?”

“I recall asking her if she knew you,” she said with a slight blush.

“To which she replied in the negative, of course,” he returned dryly.

“Och, dinna take that personally. She’s no’ a social butterfly herself. The St. Jameses dinna come tae London often. They prefer tae live quietly in the country.”

“Then why is she sponsoring you here this season?” he asked.

“Their Graces have been friends o’ m’parents e’en afore I was born. They had a hand in getting them married actually. And I had few prospects at home, of a matrimonial sort, so Megan suggested I come here tae rectify that.”

“I find it hard to believe you had no prospects at home,” he said.

She blushed again as she attempted to explain. “My family can be a wee bit intimidating.”

Lincoln supposed that was true enough. He might have thought twice about approaching the laird of Clan MacGregor for permission to court his daughter—if he’d known ahead of time that she was his daughter. On second thought, it wouldn’t have made the least bit of difference to him, but he had to allow that it might to others.

“How much competition am I up against?”

He asked it lightly, but he was dreading the answer. She’d had nearly three weeks to meet the cream of London society. He’d tortured himself a few times to stand outside the duke’s residence and watch the stream of men arriving and granted entrance. There to visit young Justin—or Melissa’s suitors? He had naturally assumed the latter, unaware that Their Graces had a son nearing twenty.

She answered in a light tone as well. “I’ve found no one worth encouraging.”

“Will you encourage me?”

There was no teasing in that question. He held her eyes with his. His fingers tightened on her
waist and hand. Their movements slowed, didn’t keep up with the music, almost stopped. It was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, not to kiss her right there.

Would he ever find her alone where he could give in to that urge? Would he ever be in her presence and
not
have that urge? Probably not, in either case. She was just too sumptuous, too desirable in every way, and he’d never been so strongly attracted before.

Yet another blush, much more prominent this time, broke the spell. That was answer enough. To ask for more would be improper, so he changed the subject instead.

“I haven’t noticed your father here. Your parents haven’t come to London with you?”

“They’ll be coming next month,” she told him. “M’da doesna like London. Tae get him tae stay here e’en a week was asking much.”

“Yes, I recall his mentioning a dislike for crowded places during our brief talk,” Lincoln replied, then added, “My own family is here for the duration. Actually, I have been asked to chaperon my young cousin this season. She’s reached the age to marry as well.”

“This does seem tae be the preferred place for getting that accomplished.”

He grinned down at her. “Hasn’t it always been? For my cousin Edith, though, it won’t be an easy task. She just doesn’t fit the standard mold. But she’s a sweetheart, has a heart of gold. Any
man would be blessed if she favors him with her devotion.”

“You sound verra fond of her.”

“I am.”

But he didn’t let his prejudice in Edith’s favor cloud his view. She was still a wallflower and hadn’t been drawing the least bit of notice if she wasn’t thrust forward. One had to get to know her well to appreciate her sterling qualities. And she hadn’t had a single prospect in the couple weeks they’d now been actively making the rounds.

“Is your family here tonight?”

“Yes.”

“I’d like to meet them.”

“Certainly, though I suppose I should meet your Megan first, before I go dragging you about the room to find my relatives.”

Melissa chuckled. “You sound as if you’re expecting the duchess tae be a veritable dragon. You’ll be pleasantly surprised, I’m thinking.”

It was time to find that out as the music ended. Lincoln would much prefer to keep Melissa to himself for the rest of the evening—and longer, for that matter—but etiquette wouldn’t allow that. Melissa, though, must not be acquainted with the strict rules of conduct by which the upper crust lived. She thought nothing of pulling him back across the room to her chaperon and holding his hand to do it.

Relatives could do that. Affianced couples
could even do that. But those in the early stages of courtship most certainly could not.

A pleasant surprise didn’t come close to describing Megan St. James, duchess of Wrothston. For one thing, Lincoln hadn’t expected her to be so young, likely not even ten years older than himself, or so incredibly beautiful. But she’d had only to hear his name mentioned to give him a magnificent smile and an open invitation to her home.

“Finally found her, did you?” was the lady’s first response. “I’ll inform my butler to expect you henceforth. And shall we start with tea tomorrow?”

There was no “grilling” as he’d been warned, just a few of the simple details one usually inquired about on first meeting. And he didn’t have to take Melissa to his family to meet them; they found him before Melissa’s next dance partner whisked her away.

He introduced his aunt and cousin first and then, almost as an afterthought, his mother, Eleanor. He didn’t notice the curious look Melissa gave him over the latter, though he was aware of his stiffness, was unable to help it whenever he was in Eleanor’s presence. She might have solved his dilemma completely in giving him access to Melissa again, but that changed none of his personal feelings about her.

His Aunt Henriette was, of course, delighted to meet Melissa at last and would have talked her ear off if the girl’s next partner weren’t standing there waiting impatiently to get her out onto the
floor before his promised dance ended. Edith was too busy blushing profusely over being in close proximity to the realm’s most eligible—and undoubtedly most handsome—young bachelor, Justin St. James, so for once she was too tongue-tied to say a word.

Lincoln sighed as the young man finally was able to lead Melissa onto the floor. Megan, hearing him, chuckled at his side.

“I’ve a feeling you’ll be doing a lot more of that sighing in the coming weeks,” she said softly, so only he would hear. “Needn’t, though. She’s made her preference rather clear, I’d say. Yours, Lord Cambury, will probably be one of the easiest courtships of the decade.”

He certainly hoped so. And with Melissa’s chaperon apparently on his side, he was able to relax somewhat, was even amused when Justin bowed before his cousin and asked, “May I have the next dance, Miss Burnett?”

Poor Edith nearly fainted.

I
T
was impossible to wait until teatime that next afternoon. Lincoln would have arrived at the St. Jameses’ at the crack of dawn if he hadn’t been positive he’d be turned away at that hour. He managed to wait until the household would be finished with luncheon, but he was knocking on their door shortly thereafter.

This time he had only to say his name to be invited in and shown to the parlor. And he barely had time to be impressed by the elegance there before Melissa arrived, a bit breathless, as if she’d run all the way, and treated him to her dimples with a brilliant smile.

She gave him pause once again. To him she was so incredibly lovely, not dazzling like last night in her ball finery, but not the waif again either. She actually looked quite English today, in a fancy day dress of cream organza, though her coiffure wasn’t as tight, with a few loose tendrils reminding him of the waif.

He was staring, so hard he didn’t realize immediately that no one had followed her into the room. When he did notice it, he even turned around once full circle to make sure her presence hadn’t distracted him to the point of seeing nothing else, before he said, “I don’t believe I really have you alone.”

“My uncle will be coming along any moment. He always gets summoned down afore I do when I have a caller—made some extreme threats tae the poor butler tae make sure o’ it,” she said in only a half-teasing tone. “Takes his chaperoning o’ me most seriously.”

“Then I would be ten times the fool to not take advantage of the moment.”

Her eyes flared slightly in surprise as he took her hand in his, pulled her off to the side of the open doorway so they wouldn’t be readily seen by anyone passing by, and proceeded to kiss her. She didn’t try to stop him. In fact, she melted into his arms. And it was better than he could have imagined. Intoxicating, tasting her for the first time, gathering her close, wrapped in their own cocoon that excluded everything around them.

He was very tentative at first, not wanting to frighten her, but that lasted only a moment. She did seem somewhat surprised when his tongue prodded her lips open and initially swirled with hers. But she adapted quickly, was open to learning, and seemed as eager to deepen that first kiss as he was.

He had no idea how much coughing had gone on before it got progressively louder and was finally
loud enough to penetrate the magical realm they had created for themselves. When he did hear it, he released Melissa abruptly, made sure she had her balance, then stepped several feet away from her before turning to face the tall young man standing there glowering at him from the doorway.

“Should I be tossing you oout the door, or was it the lass doing the kissing and in need of a thrashing?” The question was asked in a very unfriendly tone.

Melissa’s chuckle, quite genuine rather than nervous, was decidedly misplaced considering what had just been said, until she told Lincoln, “Dinna look so appalled. He’s no’ serious. This is m’Uncle Ian. And, Uncle”—she turned to the fellow as well before reminding him pointedly—“you’ll recall I’ve mentioned Lord Cambury tae you, aye?”

“Och, sae he’s the one, eh?” Ian replied. “A wee bit tardy in coming ’round, I’m thinking, but that explains the kissing. Just dinna be practicing any more o’ that until ye’ve yer da’s permission.”

The expected blush finally arrived for Melissa. Lincoln was too disappointed to have the kiss ended to feel any real embarrassment over it. And being the oldest of the three, he took control of the situation and stepped forward to shake her uncle’s hand.

“A pleasure, Ian.”

The young Scot finally grinned. “Aye, ’tis indeed. D’ye live here in London, then? Or only just come in from the country?”

“Neither. I was no more than a day behind Melissa in getting to London. It’s taken me this long to gain entry into this fortress of a house.”

“The butler doesna let in just anyone,” Melissa explained to her uncle in an aggrieved tone. “If I’d known that sooner, I would’ve set the mon straight.”

“Sae, the duchess has hindered more’n helped, eh? Now, tha’s bloody well funny, if you ask—”

“Laugh and I’ll be clobbering you,” Melissa interrupted him to warn, which just earned her another unrepentant grin from the amused young man.

It was easy to surmise that this uncle and niece weren’t merely family to each other but friends as well, and rather close ones at that. This wasn’t very surprising, though, considering that they were probably fewer than ten years apart in their respective ages.

Ian looked to be in his mid-twenties, with brownish-red hair more on the reddish side, a wealth of freckles across his handsome face, and very light blue eyes. He was tall, over six feet, but other than that, he looked nothing like the MacGregor, who had to be his older brother. It had been mentioned that Lachlan MacGregor’s wife was English, and this uncle certainly wasn’t that.

There was something vaguely familiar about Ian, though, that Lincoln couldn’t quite put his finger on. He concluded that he might have met him before, or perhaps just someone who looked like him, but either it had happened too long ago
for him to retain the memory, or they’d met only in passing. It was a nagging feeling, however, as if Lincoln
should
know him.

For the moment he let it go and got a little better acquainted with Ian. It could only be to his benefit, after all, to get along with Melissa’s family. Fortunately, he didn’t foresee any problems in that respect, especially when he’d already passed muster with her father.

But apparently Ian was experiencing the same nagging sense of familiarity, and he brought it up. “I’ve the oddest feeling we’ve met afore.”

“Now you mention it,” Lincoln confessed, “I’ve been thinking the same thing.”

“Ye’ve no’ been back tae Scotland e’en once in the last nineteen years.”

“Not once prior to this recent visit. Have you ever been to England before?”

“Nae, this is m’first trip tae these parts. One o’ m’brothers, mayhap.”

“One? You’ve more’n one?”

“Aye, a few,” Ian said, and he started to laugh for some reason.

Melissa frowned at her uncle quite sternly. “Hush, you, you’ll no’ be scaring off another o’ m’suitors afore he e’en becomes one.”

“Och, he’s a suitor, lass, there’s nae doubt o’ that, or he wouldna hae dared tae be kissing ye.”

“He’s right, Melissa. I am officially courting you. With your father’s permission, I might add.”

That got a definite blush out of her and another laugh out of Ian. Lincoln hadn’t intended to be so
blunt about it. But he wanted no doubt, in her mind at least, that he was serious in his intentions. He
was
going to marry her—and soon, he hoped. With the feelings she stirred in him, feelings that seemed equally reciprocated, he could see no reason to put off asking for very long.

“I take it you have a big family?” Lincoln said.

“Aye, big indeed,” she replied.

He smiled and assured her, “I rather like that. I was an only son myself and missed the close companionship that I knew large families to have. My only remaining relatives you met last night, Melissa.”

“Your cousin and aunt were both charming,” she told him. “Your mother was somewhat reserved. I began tae worry that she didna like me.”

“Nonsense—not that it matters. You might as well know, my mother and I are not on the best of terms. Her sending me off to live with her relatives when I was still a child and then leaving me with them pretty much severed my feelings for her. I haven’t seen her but a few times since.”

Melissa looked stricken, sympathy for him pouring out of her. Bloody hell, he shouldn’t have been so blunt about that either. Not that he meant to keep it a secret from her, nor would he have been able to, but he needn’t have mentioned it quite this soon.

He tried to shrug it off, didn’t want her feeling sorry for him. “It matters little now after all these years,” he said. “Don’t give it another thought.”

Melissa’s look was now doubtful, but he wasn’t very adept at lying, so he added, “In any case, she doesn’t live with me and will be returning to Scotland soon, where she still resides.”

“What o’ yer da?” Ian wanted to know. “Had he nae say in yer being abandoned?”

“He had died a few years previously when a mine he was inspecting collapsed.”

Ian went rather still upon hearing that. He was probably experiencing some sympathy as well but was hesitant to mention it. The visit ended soon after. They had errands to see to before dinner and the theater that night. Melissa gave Lincoln the name of the play in case he thought to attend. They were scheduled for a four-day gathering in the country that would last the rest of the week, to which she promised to secure an invitation for him.

Lincoln left the St. James residence feeling very light of heart, with no idea that his hopes for the future were about to come tumbling down.