Invitation to Ruin (13 page)

Melissa shook her head. “Jealous? Because of me? I don’t think so.”

“You’ve won half the battle, and you don’t even know it. He doesn’t like the idea of any other man being with you. Use that. Jealousy is a powerful emotion.”

She looked dumbfounded up at him. “Are you mad?”

“Jealousy is part of desire,” Richard insisted. “If you make him desire you, want you, it’s a beginning.”

Could she make a man like Lord Wickham, the Lord of Wicked, desire her? Did she want to? She had no choice now. If she didn’t, she’d have to live her life with a man who could barely stand the sight of her.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.” What would it be like to bring a man like Anthony to his knees with longing? “I’d make a fool of myself.”

“That, Miss Goodly, is impossible.” Richard smiled. “Your allure of innocence will tempt Anthony to distraction.”

   Moments later, back in the ballroom, Melissa escaped to the ladies’ retiring room in order to gather her thoughts. Upon entering, her stomach plummeted at the sight of Cassandra sitting before the mirror. Tonight had been horrible enough without suffering Cassandra’s resentment and insults.

Their eyes met in the mirror. Cassandra’s smile could freeze hell. “I have underestimated you, little cousin. From
the balcony, I saw you with Richard Craven. It was very clever of you to join forces with him.”

Frowning, Melissa strode deeper into the room. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Who would have thought a country bumpkin like you would outsmart me and land the Lord of Wicked? And in your very first Season, too.”

“You know why I’ve not had a Season, and it has nothing to do with being a country bumpkin.” Melissa halted next to Cassandra, in front of the wide mirror. “Some of us put duty and responsibilities before our own needs.”

“Hogwash. You all but steamed with resentment at playing the dutiful daughter while you cared for your sick, invalid parents—”

“But I still did it. What have you ever done for anyone but yourself?”

“You ingrate,” Cassandra sneered, her face reddening. “I was foolish enough to take you and your brother in—”

“I hear my brother is repaying your kindness with favors of his own.”

Cassandra’s eyes narrowed, her beautiful face hardening. “You don’t want to make an enemy of me, Melissa.”

Shivering at the threat, Melissa lowered her eyes. “If I could find a way out of this mess I would, but Christopher is set on the match.” Unable to help herself, she turned and took her cousin’s hand. “Please talk to Christopher on my behalf. Make him see this is not what I want. Please—”

“Your brother is no fool; you are.” Cassandra shook her hand away. “You have landed a prized catch, and his debts will be paid.”

“If you pay Christopher’s debts, he’d listen to you.”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

Melissa’s face flushed with heat. “Because then you’d have Anthony.”

“I am not sure he’s worth that much blunt, not when I can have him for free.” Cassandra shook her head. “No, whether you like it or not you will be married to the Earl. Not that
you will know what to do with him.” She half turned on the stool and ran her eyes up and down Melissa’s person. “He’s too much man for you. Hell, he’s too much man for most women.”

Laughing, Cassandra circled her delicately gloved wrist with her fingers and moved them up and down. “His shaft is rumored to be as thick as my wrist. His cock can drive a woman to orgasm simply by entering her. A timid virgin like you won’t be able to handle him. It won’t be long before he comes crawling to me for satisfaction.”

Melissa grimaced at her crude words. A flash of apprehension snaked through her. He was huge. Yet his reputation as a renowned lover meant there must be more to it. Melissa knew the first time was always painful. Perhaps Cassandra was simply trying to scare her.

Then Cassandra’s words seeped into her consciousness—his shaft is rumored … Cassie did not know. Anthony hadn’t slept with her cousin. Relief swamped her, and she could not help goading her beautiful rival. “I have experienced exactly how big Anthony is firsthand.” Leaning down she whispered in her cousin’s ear, “And you never will. My betrothal gift is his promise never to bed you.”

Before Cassandra could utter a response the door opened, and Melissa smiled at her friend Lady Sarah Albany.

Clad in a muted gold gown that brought out the highlights in her chestnut-colored hair, Sarah strode deeper into the room, returning her smile. “I thought I’d find you here. I saw you slip away a few minutes ago. The
ton
is abuzz with the news of your betrothal—”

“How appropriate,” Cassandra cut in, sweeping to her feet. “I shall leave you to discuss your plight with a woman who understands what it means to marry a man who does not love or desire her.” Cassandra halted at the door. “Pass on my regards to your husband, Lady Sarah. I have not had the pleasure of Lord Albany for a few weeks. I look forward to our reunion.” Her laughter echoed down the hall through the closing door.

“I hate that woman,” Sarah muttered, her pretty face flaming.

Melissa gave her tall, slender friend an apologetic look. “One good thing to come of this betrothal is I can escape from her household.”

The two women sat on the stools before the mirrors. Melissa’s heart warmed when she looked at her friend.

Sarah’s pale blue eyes met hers in the mirror. “So it’s true? You’re engaged to Lord Wickham? I would not have credited him with such fine taste. And how lucky you are to have won the heart of the man you have been mooning over for weeks.”

Melissa dropped her eyes from Sarah’s joyful gaze, trying to find the words to tell her friend the truth.

But before she could form any kind of answer, Sarah gave a choked sob and grabbed her hand. “You are so lucky! Never marry for your family, especially if the man is a monster in disguise.”

Sarah collapsed on the dresser, her body racked with sobs.

Melissa laid her head on Sarah’s shoulders and put her arms around her, trying to comfort her friend. “Ignore Cassandra’s words. They are probably not true. She is too busy bedding my brother to be bothered with your husband.”

Sarah’s sobs weakened to tiny sniffles. She raised her head and gave a tiny smile. “I don’t care who Charles beds as long as it isn’t me.” She shook her head. “It’s Theresa …” She let out another wail.

“Calm down, you’ll give yourself the vapors.” Theresa was an elderly black slave who had been in Sarah’s family since Sarah was a girl. The woman was now Sarah’s Abigail and came with her to the Marquis’ household as marriage property. “What has happened?”

Sarah took several deep breaths and flushed a pretty pink. “I refused Charles my bed the other night. He came home drunk and tried to claim his husbandry rights. I’d told him that I would not have him come to me in that state. Theresa
managed to thwart his plan by hitting him over the head with the chamber pot.”

“Good for Theresa,” Melissa said with a giggle. But the situation was not funny. Sarah had tried to get her father to free Theresa on many occasions, but he had always refused, and now Sarah’s cruel husband owned Theresa. “I would have loved to have seen that.”

Sarah flung her arms up. “Yes, it was rather funny at the time, but it is not me that has to pay the price. He is going to sell Theresa. He’s such a coward. He knows that would hurt me the most, and he’s always been scared of her.”

The unfairness of Lord Albany’s actions made Melissa’s stomach churn. She stood and paced the room. “We can’t let him do this.”

“How can I stop him, Mel? He owns her, not I. I own nothing, not even the clothes I stand up in.”

“When is he selling her?”

Sarah gently shook her head. “He has not told me. He is happy to let me stew in his threat.”

“You must find out where and when the auction is to take place, and I shall ensure I’m there to bid for her.” Where would she get the money? “Once I own her, I shall give Theresa her freedom.”

“She will need a job. There is no way Charles will allow her on his staff.”

“I shall take her as my lady’s maid when I marry.” Would Anthony let her? “I will need my own maid when I become the Countess of Wickham. I’m currently sharing Cassandra’s.”

“This all sounds too easy. Where will you get the money? Can the Ladies Freedom Charity provide it? I have twenty pounds saved up from the meager allowance Charles gives me, but Theresa will cost a lot more. One hundred and fifty pounds, at least.”

Melissa walked over and hugged her friend. “You leave it to me.” She wiped Sarah’s tear-stained face dry. “Come. Let
us rejoin the ball and show the throng that we are ecstatically happy in our lives.”

“At least you are happy. You are, aren’t you? Your engagement is what you want?”

“Of course, who wouldn’t be happy at becoming the next Countess of Wickham?” She smiled, not wanting her friend to worry about her, too. “I am marrying the man of my dreams. What more could a girl wish for?”

   Later that night, Melissa slipped quietly from her room. The candle she held scented the corridor with the sweetness of beeswax and cast eerie shadows over the walls. The carpeted floor creaked beneath her slippers. She winced. The only other person who would walk the corridor this night would be her brother, who would most likely head for Cassandra’s bed. The Cravens, Anthony and his family, had moved back into Craven House this morning.

Hand shaking, she slowly opened the door to Cassandra’s private sitting room and closed it behind her. Relief whooshed through her; Cassandra’s bedroom door was shut.

She glanced around, unsure of where to look. She knew what the book looked like. It was small. The brown leather cover was worn and the green leather binding cracked, undoubtedly from constant handling.

Her skin heated remembering what little she’d glimpsed of the book. She had interrupted one of Cassandra’s afternoon sessions with her married acquaintances. They’d been discussing the book and twittering over the images. Both abruptly halted once they discovered her presence in the room. But they were not quick enough to hide a page showing a man and a woman in the most convoluted of poses.

Where would someone hide a book of that nature?
On the bookshelves? No, they were too out in the open
.

Melissa tiptoed toward the writing desk and slid open the drawer. After a quick ruffle through, she realized it contained only papers.

She slowly turned to scan the room, her nightgown wrapping around her legs. She kicked out at the garment.
Think. Where would you hide it?

There didn’t appear to be anywhere else it could be. The room contained only two settees, two French mahogany chairs, and a small tea table. Her eyebrows rose as she spied the round wooden footstool; its tapestry cover depicted a scene from ancient Rome. She had one in her room just like it. With growing excitement, she crossed to the stool. Dropping to her knees, she put the candleholder on the floor and used both hands to play with the stool until the lid popped open. Raising the candle for more light, she peered inside. She lifted two novels up, and there at the bottom was the book. Her hand shook as she reached for it and flipped the page.

The book was written in French by Madame du Barry, and was titled
The Secrets of a French Courtesan
. It said du Barry had been the last chief mistress to King Louis XV of France.

Melissa snapped the book closed and drew a breath so deep she thought her lungs would burst. Her fingers clasped her prize reverently. She glanced around the darkened room like a burglar looking for a way out. She couldn’t very well read it here.

Quickly and quietly, she skittered out of the room, down the hall, and into her bedroom. She hopped under the covers and grinned. “Lord of Wicked, I shall challenge your wickedness.”

   Melissa opened the book,
The Secrets of a French Courtesan
. Her hands were shaking, and she felt so naughty merely reading it. The book began with a letter from Madame du Barry.