Anne Barbour (34 page)

The thought of Josh’s head bent close to Maribelle Grant’s golden curls caused an unexpected wave of pure pain to course through her. Dear Lord, what was the matter with her? How could she have allowed her silly, spinisterish fancies to have carried her so far?

She became dimly aware that Harold Weston was again contributing to her scant knowledge of farming technology in the north country. She was also aware that she was developing a thundering headache, and she experienced an urgent desire to flee the dining chamber for the haven of her bedchamber.

Such behavior would be unthinkable, of course, so Melody smiled and nodded and interjected the occasional question, turning from Harold Weston after a suitable interval to address herself to the equally boring Sir Philip Weston on her left.

After dinner she was offered a respite, as those conversing in the music room paid her little attention, as usual. When the gentlemen entered the chamber, Melody remained determinedly on the other side of the room from Josh. Seeing him now in a new and painful perspective, she could not bring herself to participate in even the most inconsequential conversation with him. Though he approached her several times, she took care to avoid him. Actually, she was called upon to make little conversation with anyone, and once again she was grateful as the others present looked through and around her as though she were transparent. She was not even asked to sing on this night, as courtesy demanded that the time allotted for the evening’s entertainment be given wholly to the visitors, some of whom were possessed of a modicum of musical talent and others who, regrettably, were not.

To Melody’s relief, the company broke up betimes, and with some alacrity, she accompanied Lady Sandborne upstairs to bed at an early hour. She sent a wistful glance back at Josh to find that he was staring after her in some perplexity.

What the devil was the matter with Melody? wondered Josh, watching with a frown as she whisked herself from the room after his aunt. She’d been looking blue as a megrim ever since dinner. And she’d hardly spoken to him all evening. He stood aside as Mary pushed past him on her way to the door. He bade her a pleasant good night and was rewarded as usual with a cold sniff. Blast the woman, anyway, he thought distractedly. Could she not unbend even at Christmas? He shrugged. It mattered not to him if his newfound cousin wished him to perdition. She and the woolly-witted Arthur would soon be nothing but a memory.

Josh did not retire with the rest of party, but lingered in the music room, seating himself at the keyboard. Restlessly, he skimmed through a Mozart divertimento, dropping his hands at the end to gaze sightlessly before him. He was surprised to discover the extent of his dismay at Melody’s withdrawal from him. He realized that he had grown not just accustomed, but almost dependent on her unobtrusive companionship. He felt deprived when he must do without her conversation, or glances shared with her across the room.

He sighed. Yes, he would miss her when he left England. Perhaps he might persuade Aunt Helen to visit him in America, bringing her companion with her. He would enjoy showing Melody the wonders of his native land. He could just picture her, wide-eyed in Philadelphia, or even, perhaps, paddling with him in a canoe on the Susquehanna. She would—

He brought his reflections to an abrupt conclusion. He was beginning to sound as though he wanted Melody as a permanent fixture in his life. Which was patently absurd. Melody’s life lay here in England, as his lay across the Atlantic. If she chose to leave his aunt, she could look forward to a stellar career in the concert halls of London. He, in turn, wished for nothing more than to return to his former life. His business interests would surely occupy him fully, as they always had.

He rose abruptly to pinch out the candles and he left the darkened room swiftly. As he mounted the stairway ascending from the hall, he almost collided with a small figure just descending.

“Oh!” Melody cried faintly. “Josh! I did not see you there in the shadows!”

She had removed her cap, and Josh noted with a tightening of his throat that her hair had been released from its unrelenting knot, flowing over her shoulders in enticing abandon.

“But, I thought you abed long ago,” he said in some bemusement.

“I just settled Lady Sandborne for the night and wished to read for a while before seeking my own rest. I had nothing in my chambers, so I thought to find something in the library.”

“Ah.” Josh stepped aside to let her pass, but laid a hand on her arm as she passed. “Is—is anything troubling you, Melody?”

She gasped slightly. “Me? No, of course not. Why do you ask?”

“You seemed rather, um, distracted this evening.”

“Oh. I was—well, I was thinking about—about my family.”

“I suppose you must miss them at this time of year.”

“Oh.” She said again. “Yes, of course.” She breathed a small sigh of relief. Apparently, he had accepted her blatant lie. “Although,” she continued hastily, “I am enjoying the presence of so many of your family.”

Josh smiled. He had turned to escort her to her destination and they were now crossing the center of the hall. He gestured toward the greenery that hung above their heads.

“You have done much to bring the spirit of the season into my home,” he said quietly. Looking up again, he halted and, following his gaze, Melody stiffened. There, suspended from a swag of pine hung a huge bunch of mistletoe, bound with a scarlet ribbon. Smiling, he grasped her shoulders lightly.

She knew he was going to kiss her, yet, as his head bent over hers, she did nothing to stay him. Instead, she swayed into the hard curve of his body as though her own had been created expressly for this purpose. His lips came down on hers, gently at first, but as an immediate response shuddered through her, the kiss deepened and grew urgent. His arms encircled her to clasp her to him tightly until she felt she might never breathe again, but her hands went up to pull him even closer. Her fingers twined into the silky darkness of his hair where it lay against his collar.

The feel of his mouth on hers, the strength of the muscular frame pressed so needfully against her shattered whatever rational thought remained to her and she was appalled at the whimper she heard emerging from her throat. She felt as though she were being consumed by the flame that shot through her at his touch and she was conscious only of the wanting that seemed to permeate her being. She was not sure what it was she yearned for so insistently. She knew only that she needed him to go on kissing her, to continue this delicious chaos within her and to increase the swirls of fireworks where his hands moved along her spine.

Under his persistent teasing, her lips opened beneath his, but at this point, Josh slowly drew back from her. Almost sagging in his arms, she looked up at him, seeing her own dazed wonderment mirrored in his jeweled eyes.

“I think,” he said huskily, “I’d better stop while I still can.”

She could only nod in unwilling agreement.

“I suppose I should apologize”—he continued, his voice soft as fur—”but I find that I cannot. So, I will just say good night, little lark, and I hope your dreams will be as sweet as mine.”

His mouth slanted across hers one last time, gently and with infinite sweetness. Then, he turned and moved swiftly up the stairs.

VIII

“I am not sure about the color of this floss,” said Lady Sandborne dubiously. “Do you think the red too gaudy?”

The countess sat in her sitting room, her slippered feet resting on a stool. Her needle gleamed as it pierced the snowy lawn of the handkerchief on which she was embroidering a monogram for Arthur. Near her, Melody sat engaged on a similar task, inserting the last stitches in the reticule she crafted for Mary.

“Mmm,” replied Melody thoughtfully. “I suppose it is a departure from the traditional white, but I think Arthur could stand a touch of gaudy in his life.”

Lady Sandborne laughed. “I agree.” She glanced sharply at her companion and after a moment’s hesitation, she spoke again. “You are looking uncommonly well of late, Melody.”

Melody glanced up, startled. “Why, thank you, my lady.”

“Yes, there seems to be a certain sparkle about you.”

Melody gasped a little. “It must be Christmas, ma’am. The anticipation and all.”

Melody dropped her gaze again to her embroidery, her heart pounding uncomfortably. What a time for her ladyship to acquire a sudden perception where her companion was concerned. Was her newfound happiness really so noticeable? she wondered guiltily.

It had been two days since the meeting between her and Josh in the shadowed recesses of the hall stairway. He had been out with Mr. Brickley and Mr. Wiggs, the Sandborne Court bailiff, on an inspection tour of some intended repairs on the tenants’ cottages, so she had seen little of him during that time. But the memory of the strength of his arms about her and the feel of his lips against hers was still with her.

Her intent to visit the library forgotten, she had ascended the stairs in a haze of joy. Josh Weston loved her! He had not said so, but the depth of the emotion he had displayed just now told its own tale. No man could kiss a woman like that unless he had given his heart to her.

Not that she was an expert on such intimacies, of course. She had been the recipient of only three kisses from men in her life other than family. One was of the experimental variety from the butcher’s boy when she was thirteen and two later on from males who apparently felt that a female as flawed as she would be grateful for the opportunity to indulge in a bit of tickle and squeeze.

Never had she experienced the shattering passion she had found in Josh’s embrace. Never had she dreamed that a single kiss could be so satisfying yet plunge one into such a whirlwind of desire.

How odd, that she had not known until that moment that she loved him. She had welcomed his friendship as a desert flower might drink in the season’s first rain, but the knowledge of her love for him had lain hidden in the recesses of her heart. Had it been that way for him?

She did not allow herself to think ahead. Josh was a peer of the realm, and peers did not ally themselves with impoverished maidens, no matter how gently bred. His family obviously wished him to marry well. How could she possibly fit into his future?

No. She would not think of that now. She would—

She came to with a start, realizing that Lady Sand-borne was speaking again.

“Goodness, the ball will be upon us in two days and I still have not decided what to give Josh for Christmas. It seems odd to think that a fortnight ago, we hardly knew of his existence. Have you planned a gift for him?”

Melody could feel herself blushing. “Why, yes, as a matter of fact, I have.” She described the music she had purchased through her friend.

“What a splendid idea. Perhaps I could find something similar. For, it will not do to give him something too large.” She paused and said deliberately, “The item must be small enough to carry with him easily on shipboard.”

“What?” Melody stared blankly at the countess.

“When he returns to America. Why, has he not told you? He will be leaving the Court shortly after Christmas—or, at least so he says. My dear, what is it?” she asked at an involuntary sound from Melody.

“N-nothing, my lady. I have pricked my finger, merely.” Melody’s stunned gaze fell to her fingers and she watched as the small circle of blood beneath her needle spread on the silk of the reticule.

She could not have heard aright.

“No,” she breathed. “He cannot be thinking of leaving.”

“Well, but he is. In fact, he seems determined, as he informed me on his arrival. And, he mentioned it again just yesterday.” Lady Helen uttered a short laugh. “I was unwise enough to broach the subject of marriage to him. I did not mention Maribelle Grant, even though she and her family arrived on Saturday last. Charlotte Ponsonby and her mother are here, too, of course. Where was I? Oh, yes. I merely remarked on how full the house has become and that there might be among the guests a young lady of good birth who would make him a good wife. He simply smiled and told me that he does not plan to marry. As you can imagine I was taken completely aback. ‘Not plan to marry?’ I asked in what I can only think of as justifiable indignation. ‘What about the succession?’ Would you believe, he just smiled again and said the Weston family would have to rely on Arthur and his progeny to continue the line. Meanwhile, he said, he still plans to sail off to America at the earliest opportunity, as that is where his interests lie. Although, he added as an afterthought, he does plan a visit now and then. A visit now and then! Where his interests lie! Did you ever hear the like?”

Melody felt as though she were slowly turning to stone. Yesterday? After she had surrendered a piece of her soul to him in that shattering kiss, he had spoken to his aunt of leaving? Their embrace had meant nothing to him?

“What is it my dear?” asked the countess, her sharp eyes scrutinizing her companion. “You are quite pale.”

With what seemed a supreme effort, Melody raised her gaze. “Actually, my lady, I am feeling rather unwell. I think it must have been the breakfast kippers. If you do not mind, I believe I shall retire from you for a while.”

“Of course, dear,” replied Lady Sandborne solicitously. As Melody rose slowly to her feet, however, she laid a hand on the younger woman’s arm.

“Melody,” she began hesitantly, “I am sorry to have been the bearer of bad news. No,” she continued as Melody raised a limp hand in protest, “I know how— how fond you have become of Josh. I am still trying to persuade him to stay in England, but you must realize, that if he does, he must marry.” Her eyes grew thoughtful and speculative as she continued. “He must ally himself with a suitable parti, but it appears he is one of those men who will not marry where they cannot love. It will be a task for me to find someone who embodies both of those criteria.”

From somewhere, Melody dredged up a smile and pinned it to her lips. “Of course, my lady. I wish his lordship well, no matter what his plans.”