Dreaming of You (21 page)

When the second act came to an end, Melody and Penny rose from their seats and followed Henry out into the hall to stretch their legs during the brief intermission.  Procuring them each a glass of champagne from a passing attendant, Henry handed the ladies their glasses as they enthusiastically discussed the first two acts.
 

Melody was about to comment on the magnificent costume designs, but her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the approach of the Duke of Rutherford and his sister as they exited their own box.
 

As the three women exchanged greetings, Gavin signaled an attendant and obtained champagne for he and Natalie.  Handing a glass to his sister, he smiled politely to the other three.  “Wexley,” he nodded and then turned his attention to the women.  “Ladies, please allow me to say that you both look enchanting this evening.”
 

“Why thank you, Your Grace,” Penny replied with a radiant smile.  
 

“Yes, thank you, Your Grace.”  Melody felt her cheeks grow warm as she met the steady gaze of the duke.   
 

“So, Lady Edgington, are you enjoying your first visit to the opera?”  Of course he already knew the answer to his question, for throughout the first and second acts her face had revealed her continued delight whenever he’d chanced to glance in her direction.
 

“Oh yes, it is simply wonderful.”
 

“I am glad to hear it, for as difficult as it is to believe, there are those for whom the opera holds little appeal.”
 

As the rich, pleasing tones of his voice caressed her ears, the dream she’d had the night before crept unbidden into her thoughts.  Was it her imagination or did the duke’s voice sound even more familiar to her now than it had the night before?  No, surely it had to be because of the dream.  Her subconscious was
playing tricks on her now, subtly altering the memory of
his
voice so that it now seemed more similar to the duke’s.  Was it yet another sign that she needed to set the memories aside and move on with her life?
 

“Melody, are you alright?” Penny asked, breaking into her momentary reverie.
 

“What?”  She blinked and attempted to regain her focus.  Her cousin was eyeing her curiously, as were the rest.  
 

“Natalie asked what you thought of Signorina Cassini.”
 

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” she said, smiling apologetically at Natalie.  “I am afraid my thoughts drifted for a moment.  Please forgive my inattention; it must be all of the excitement.”
 

“It’s quite alright.”  Natalie’s expression was slightly amused.  “I completely understand.  One’s first experience with something so extraordinary can be quite overwhelming.”  She turned to her brother.  “Gavin, do you remember how excited I was the first time I attended the opera?”
 

“Indeed I do.  You were so excited you could scarcely sit still throughout the performance.”  He smiled at the memory.  “And as I recall, you were chattering like a magpie nearly the entire time and mother was constantly having to remind you to keep quiet.”   
 

“Yes, she was rather put out with me at the time, wasn’t she?”  Natalie stifled a giggle.
 

“She was sorely vexed indeed,” Gavin affirmed.  “And especially so when you inadvertently dropped your opera glasses over the side of the balcony at the start of the third act.”
 

“Oh dear.”  Melody grinned just picturing it, while Natalie playfully wrinkled her nose at her brother’s reminder.
 

“How is your dear mother by the way?” Penny asked.  “I haven’t seen the duchess in ages.”
 

“She is well, though she rarely comes to Town these days.”  
 

“Yes, she is much improved,” Natalie added somewhat pensively.  “She finally appears to have gotten past the worst of her grief after losing Papa & Richard, but even so, she seems content to spend the majority of her time at Rutherford Park nowadays.”
 

Penny nodded understandingly.  “Please give her my regards when next you see her.”
 

Richard?
She had assumed that the duke’s father had passed, for Gavin Montrose now held the title, but who was Richard?  A brother?  An
older
brother perhaps?  Could it be that Gavin had not always been his father’s heir, but a second son?  That startling possibility gave Melody a moment’s pause, and as she once again turned her gaze to the duke’s face she suddenly felt uneasy.  Perhaps it wasn’t just her imagination after all.  Could it be?  With the dream still lingering in the back of her thoughts, she tried to study the duke’s features without being too obvious.  She felt the fingers on her right hand twitch imperceptivity at her side as her eyes traversed the planes of his face.  
 

Listening with only half an ear as the topic of conversation shifted to the upcoming general election, she tried to imagine the feel of her fingertips moving lightly across his forehead, along the slope of his nose, then to his cheekbones and down to his jaw.  Charles had been insistent that his son be descended of impeccable lineage, born of a true aristocrat.  Would he have dared to abduct the son of a duke to ensure
that the child’s bloodlines met his exacting standards?  Dear lord, was it possible that Gavin Montrose
was
the man at the cottage, that it wasn’t just her mind playing tricks.  She focused on his eyes.  Were they the same?  Were her children’s vivid green eyes the same shade as his?  It was difficult to tell from where she stood, but the color of his hair, that she could see clearly, and it was in fact a very similar shade to her daughter’s long chestnut-colored curls.   
 

In the back of her mind, Melody knew that there was one thing that could easily prove or disprove the sudden suspicion now rioting in her thoughts.  
The scar
.  Its presence, or lack thereof, could tell her with absolute certainty whether or not the shocking notion rioting within her head was entirely nonsensical.  She felt her chest tighten and the breath catch in her throat as her eyes once again shifted to his jawline.  It was almost a relief to see that the collar of his shirt made it impossible to tell if he possessed the lasting impression of a wound inflicted by a child’s reckless swordplay.
 

Though he pretended not to notice, Gavin couldn’t help but be aware of Lady Edgington’s rather intense perusal of his face.  What was she thinking as she studied him so intently?  Was she merely attracted to him or was it something else entirely?  Of course he’d long been the subject of many a woman’s interested regard, that was nothing new, but there was something different about the way
she
was looking at him, almost searchingly it seemed.  Unfortunately he had no further time to ponder it, for just then the signal was given for everyone to return to their seats as the intermission was over and the third act was about to begin.
 

“Apparently I can add another name to your long list of admirers,” Natalie murmured as they reentered their box.
 

“Pardon me?”
 

“Don’t be coy,” Natalie said knowingly, her smile slightly mischievous.  “I saw the way she was looking at you, just as you did.”
 

“I assume you are referring to Lady Edgington.”  
 

“Of course, who else would I be referring to?”  Natalie rolled her eyes as she released Gain’s arm and lowered herself onto her chair.
 

“You could have been referring to Lady Wexley,” Gavin said with a perfectly straight face, just to needle her.
 

Natalie gave an unladylike snort.  “If Penny had been eyeing you like that, Wexley would have had you calling for your second and met you with pistols at dawn.”
 

Gavin chuckled as he took his seat.  “I wouldn’t doubt it.”
 

“Honestly Gavin,” Natalie began, her tone becoming serious.  “Perhaps you should consider courting her.  She is obviously smitten with you, and it’s clear that you are attracted to her as well.”
 

He quirked a brow, his expression staid.  “Is it now?”    
 

“Yes, it is.  And besides, I like her.”
 

“Well then, if
you
like her, perhaps I should just skip the courtship altogether and usher her straight to the altar.”  His tone was unmistakably teasing, and Natalie immediately responded by smacking his arm with the wooden sticks of her delicate lace fan.
 

As the stage curtains opened once again, Gavin’s attention drifted as he sat pondering his sister’s suggestion.  His mother had been at him for years to take a wife, and even more so now that the responsibility of fathering the next Rutherford heir had fallen to him.  Unfortunately for her, it wasn’t a desire he was all that eager to fulfill.  He liked to think that it was because he enjoyed his life as it was now, at least for the time being, as well as the immediate future.  Unfettered by the ties of matrimony, he could live his life as he saw fit, come and go as he pleased and take to bed as many beautiful women as he wanted, all with a clear conscience.  
 

What he didn’t like to admit, not even to himself, was that
she
still haunted his thoughts.  If he took a wife, would it finally drive her from his mind, would he finally be able to forget her?  Or if not forget, would it at least allow him to set aside the memories and focus on the present, the future?  And what of his future sons and daughters, would the offspring his wife bore him lessen the pain of having his firstborn child stolen from him. Though he tried to deny it, there was a part of him that didn’t want to forget, a part of him that didn’t want to move forward, a part of him that was still determined to find them both.  With a weary sigh, he tried to push his troubling thoughts aside.
 

 Glancing to his right, he expected to see Lady Edgington once more engrossed in the performance on the stage, but instead he was surprised to see that her eyes were once again focused upon him.
 

Drat
, Melody thought as she quickly turned her head, he’d caught her staring once again.  The man must surely think she was quite obsessed with him by now.  Although, better he think that than to know what she was really contemplating, what she couldn’t stop that little voice inside her head from thinking,
that it might be him, that lord help her, she wanted it to be him
.  With a concerted effort, she forced her gaze to remain on the stage throughout the remainder of the performance.
 

Tossing aside her dressing gown, it was well past two o’clock in the morning when Melody finally slipped into her bed and drew the covers up to her chin.  Since arriving home from the opera, her thoughts had been in turmoil and she wanted nothing more at that moment than to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, though she feared that was not likely to happen.
 

Unable to help herself, she had slipped quietly into the children’s bedchamber shortly after entering the house and had stood gazing down at their sleeping faces for what had seemed like an eternity as she’d studied their delicate features, comparing them over and over again to the image of Gavin Montrose that now seemed emblazoned onto her mind.  
 

Now however, as she stared pensively at the moonlit shadows that played across the ceiling above her bed, she felt no closer to finding an answer than she had before.  There were similarities yes, but nothing definitive, nothing that could tell her with absolute certainty what she needed to know.  Was Gavin Montrose the father of her children?  Was he the man she’d fallen in love with during those glorious afternoons at the cottage?  And if he was, what then?  Dear lord, what then?  Regardless, one way or the other, she had to know the truth.  
 

Rolling onto her side, Melody clutched one of the bed pillows to her chest and considered her options.  Several minutes later she decided upon an initial course of action.  It was a longshot to be sure, but it was worth a try.  
 

At one o’clock the following afternoon, Melody was seated on a satin-covered settee in the front parlor of Cavendish House alongside Natalie Marshton.  She’d sent the invitation to tea to the Marshton’s townhome earlier that morning, and shortly thereafter had received a note of acceptance from Natalie.
 

With teacups in hand, she and Natalie had been conversing pleasantly for nearly twenty minutes, when the opening she had been waiting for finally came.  
 

“I am so glad that you will be attending the Markham’s masquerade,” Natalie stated, her tone enthusiastic.  “It is one of the highlights of the Season.”
 

“Will Lord Pennworth be returning in time to accompany you?”
 

“Unfortunately no,” she said, her lips forming a slight pout.  “I received word from him just this morning.   He has been delayed and is not due home until the end of the month.”
 

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Melody replied sympathetically.  “Will your brother be escorting you then?”
 

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said, her expression brightening somewhat.  “I miss my darling Alfred dreadfully, but I must admit that in his stead Gavin has proved to be a delightful escort, despite his occasional grumblings.”
 

 “You are fortunate, for you and your brother seem quite close,” she said.  “Has it always been so?”
 

“Yes, we’ve always had a wonderful relationship.  Our personalities are very similar, both of us taking after our father, while Richard was much more like mother.  Though as children, Gavin and Richard being far closer in age and of the same gender, understandably spent a great deal more time with one another.  They were quite a pair those two, always full of mayhem and mischief, and though I frequently tried to include myself in their escapades, they often lamented to Mama and Papa that I was a dreadful nuisance.”