Invitation to Ruin (22 page)

Richard chuckled as if he heard a joke. “Relax, Anthony. I’m sure Melissa wouldn’t dishonor you or herself with a tacky illicit affair.”

“I agree,” Christopher said. “She’s infatuated with you if you haven’t noticed. That’s why I’ve had a devil of a time trying to interest her in any other match. Since the start of the Season, she’s only had eyes for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I only met her a few nights ago.”

With closed eyes and head back on the chair rest, Richard lazily drawled, “You’re wrong, brother. You met her at Lord Moning’s ball. Why do you think I instigated my plan? I caught her worshipping you from afar. I would never have set her up to be compromised if I didn’t think she’d have welcomed the match.”

Bloody hell! This changed everything. He couldn’t let himself enjoy any physical pleasure with Melissa. It would leave her wanting more, wanting him, wanting everything. He was incapable of tender emotions, but he wasn’t heartless or stupid. He didn’t want to deliberately hurt her, and he didn’t want to encourage her fairy-tale dream. He lusted after her, but he didn’t want a wife who was infatuated with him. When emotions were involved, sex became complicated. He must simplify everything … tonight.

   Melissa knew something was wrong the minute the men rejoined the ladies in the drawing room. Anthony’s intense gaze locked on to hers. His held no warmth and his lips were thinned, hard and angry.

Cassandra decided to take an interest now the men had returned. She moved away from where she had been staring into the fire to sit on the settee across from Melissa. Lady Horsham and the Dowager Countess of Wickham sat on another settee, leaving room for Anthony to sit next to her on the day couch. She inwardly cringed at the obvious move.

Melissa resisted the urge to twist her hands in her lap.

“We saved you a seat beside Melissa,” Lady Horsham told Anthony.

Melissa watched Anthony hesitate, saw the moment of indecision. He did not want to sit next to her. She could see the truth of it in the tenseness of his body. Unable to politely refuse, he took the space beside her, careful not to let any part of him touch her.

Melissa’s mouth felt dry, and words stuck in her throat. She didn’t know what to say to a man who radiated so much anger. She glanced at her brother, who, taking the seat next to Cassandra, was whispering low and urgently in Cassandra’s ear. Melissa prayed her brother had not upset Anthony.

With what she hoped was a delightful smile on her face, rather than a scared grimace, she said, “We are to attend a luncheon put on by the Duke of Richmond tomorrow. I hope the fine weather holds.”

He nodded. “I am to meet with my mother tomorrow morning to apprise myself of our public calendar,” he said smoothly as he flicked a piece of lint off his trousers, not bothering to hide his boredom.

She swallowed the instant bolt of anger. It was hardly fair of him to take his displeasure at this marriage out on her. It was not she who had hopped into the wrong bed.

She bit her tongue to stop herself issuing an angry retort. Not in front of family and Lady Horsham. She would wait until she got him alone.

He moved, and his thigh briefly brushed her leg through the silk material of her skirts. Heat flared and her belly clenched. She struggled to remain composed as her mind
brought forth the image of his naked torso propped against her headboard.

Soon, he would expect to become intimate with her. She’d been studying her book diligently. To have a remote chance at claiming his heart, she had to become a sensual siren.

Lord help her.

Still, she couldn’t wait to practice her learnings on Anthony. If Madame du Barry could capture a king, she hoped her untutored knowledge could at least ensnare her husband’s interest long enough for her to practice. After all, practice makes perfect.

Her eyes wandered over his form. She would enjoy the practice. Melissa remembered the twin ropes of muscle that cut his lower stomach and had disappeared under the sheet, beckoning her eyes to follow. He had the most perfect male body. Wide shoulders, a steel velvet chest with rippling stomach.

A wave of lust made her dizzy, and she breathed deeply to slow her pounding heart. She remembered every single detail about their one night together. His hard body holding hers, his hands roaming every inch of her, and the feel of his rough, naked skin.

Her face flushed with color now as his obsidian eyes met hers. As if he could read her thoughts, and didn’t like what he discovered, his full lips thinned and his face grew dark and foreboding.

He stiffened beside her and then rose. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I have a previous engagement to attend.”

Anthony’s mother pierced him with a cold, brittle look. “But this is your wedding day.”

“This wedding was unexpected, and I am committed.” His voice seemed to suck the warmth from the room. “I have business that urgently needs attending.”

Christopher choked on a laugh. “Oh, yes, I’ll say. The gentleman’s business we discussed earlier, no doubt. I shall join you.”

Dowager Wickham would not let it rest. “And what business is so urgent that it must be discussed tonight?”

Anthony stood and bowed to the ladies; then he swung back to stare at his mother. Melissa felt herself shrink back against the settee, but his mother seemed to brazen out his mocking smile. “Do you really want me to spell it out, Mother, in front of company? I will if that is what you wish. I am doing what I do most nights; my marriage does not alter a thing.”

Lady Horsham gasped.

Richard jerked in his chair. “There is no need for this, Anthony.”

The dowager’s lips pursed into a thin line of disapproval. “Well, really.”

It took Melissa a few seconds to gather her wits before she understood the implications of his statement. He was going to a pleasure club or to his mistress. No, not a mistress. He’d been chasing Cassandra to fill that role.

Hurt knifed through her until every inch of skin exuded pain. Her stomach heaved and she fought down the bile.
“My marriage alters nothing
…” He had deliberately embarrassed her in front of everyone. She threw a glance at him. His eyes glittered in the light from the candles, hard like diamonds, his face a mask of indifference. She would never forgive him.

Melissa lowered her eyes and smoothed her skirts, but she refused to rise to his obvious bait. He’d been in a fowl temper the minute he’d stepped into the room. She would not let him see how much his words hurt her.

She rose to her feet. “It has been a long day.” Flicking him a look of utter contempt she added, “Due to a rude and unwanted intrusion, I haven’t slept much the last few nights. If you excuse me, I shall retire for the evening.”

As she turned to leave, she felt a small measure of satisfaction at the look of astonishment on his face and the delicate laugh from Lady Horsham.

Lady Horsham’s words floated softly behind her as she left the room, “Oh, yes, you might just have met your match, my boy. I can’t wait to see how this marriage progresses.”

A
nthony grudgingly admired Melissa’s response to his abysmal behavior. Her back straight, her head high, she swept from the room like a princess.

It wasn’t quite the reaction he expected, but he’d caught the flash of hurt in her eyes. Good. He must destroy her infatuation with him. Then she’d never love him. He didn’t need an irritating love-struck wife demanding his time.

Richard shook his head at him. Anthony shrugged and stared him down, before the men followed Melissa from the room.

As he walked out into the night, he didn’t know what he was more annoyed about. His brother’s sanctimonious proffering as he accompanied him or his niggle of conscience about the petty wound he’d inflicted on Melissa.

   Hours later, Melissa lay curled up in her bed, watching the fire sputter and spark in the white marble fireplace, her mind racing, imagining what Anthony was doing … with other women.

She would not cry—she would not cry—she would not …

If she said it often enough, the tears might not flow.

Unlike her, the women he was now with knew how to pleasure him. Knew what a man of his appetites would want, would need. She’d never keep a man like Anthony interested. He would undoubtedly always seek his pleasures elsewhere.

That was the message he had sent her tonight. She was not to expect fidelity in their marriage.

Did he think she was a halfwit? She knew a man dubbed the Lord of Wicked would not take the vows of marriage seriously. But this was her wedding night.

Torn between hurt and anger, tears finally spilled down her face. She smeared them away with the back of her hand. Crying and feeling sorry for herself wouldn’t solve anything. She’d married a man who wanted nothing from his wife … save perhaps an heir.

Well, she was no broodmare. She wanted a man to love and cherish her. A man who would never intentionally hurt her.

A tear slipped from her eye. She snuggled deeper into the down covers, cold with fear. She gulped back a sob. Could a man filled with passion, angst, and sensuality come to love? He needed the right encouragement, a reason to open his heart. She knew there was goodness in him; he could have left her to her ruin. He could have turned his back on Alice and Theresa, but he hadn’t.

Did he have a heart? Was she brave enough to risk finding out? She chewed on her bottom lip. If she set out to entice him into love, she would be the one risking everything. He’d been deliberately cruel tonight, warning her not to get too close.

What was he afraid of? And he was afraid. Analyzing his actions after dinner, Melissa clearly saw the fear that had filled his eyes. That’s why he tried to push her away. That’s what the scene in the drawing room had been all about.

She would most certainly have to be fearless for both of them. Well, she told herself, she needed her sleep so her wits would be sharp tomorrow. Tomorrow she had a husband to woo.

Somehow she’d have to work out how to make the Lord of Wicked desire her.
You must make him desire you, want you
… Richard’s words were her final, slightly wistful, and utterly ridiculous thought before she drifted off.

* * *

Anthony paused in the doorway of Madame Sabine’s sin club, forcibly repressing his sense of right and wrong, surprised at the layers of guilt cloaking him. He was, after all, a man. He was entitled to indulge.

The elegant drawing room glittered under the crystal chandeliers and pulsed with the gaiety of satisfied guests. It was still early, so the club had yet to fill with the smell of smoke and stale body odor. Instead, women’s perfume scented the air, tickling his senses. Coupled with the female flesh blatantly displayed, his body stirred with a restless hunger.

“I’d forgotten how wonderful this place was,” remarked Christopher as he grabbed a passing young blonde whose charms could be seen through a transparent silk negligee. “I shall see you gentlemen later.” Anthony waved a careless hand and turned away, determined to enjoy himself. But Melissa’s face popped in his head, and the memory of her pain-filled eyes made him grit his teeth.

Blast the woman. He’d enjoyed this club more than any other London hell—

“Brings back happy memories, does it not?” his brother quietly said in his ear. “Are you of a mind to indulge tonight of womanly charms or gaming—or perhaps both?”

He didn’t like the sound of the challenge in his brother’s voice. Setting his jaw, Anthony strolled into the room. Almost immediately, he spied the evening’s prime entertainment. He halted, and Richard almost stumbled into him. Their gazes were drawn to the dais at the far end of the room, where two nude beauties were onstage lustily cavorting with each other. One had her head buried between the other’s thighs, lapping her with a long, talented tongue to tempt the avidly watching gentlemen in the audience.

Anthony’s annoyance grew. In his wilder days, he would have joined the beauties onstage. But his mind swirled with images and thoughts of Melissa. He pictured her as she’d been when he’d mistakenly slipped into her bed. Had he not been so lustful, he should have noticed how innocent she
acted. But he was caught by her eagerness and delightful inhibition. Compared to her freshness, scenes like this one lost their appeal and roused little more than a feeling of disgust in him. Melissa had given him a taste of something other than mindless sexual gratification. She’d given him a taste of innocence.

If he were to indulge in a fantasy such as this one being enacted onstage, he would replace the beauties with one specific woman.

The image of Melissa, naked and on her back, her thick black tresses spread out across his pillows, was arousing enough to make Anthony instantly hard.

Damn her. She was like a shot of opium in his blood.

“The gaming is more to my taste tonight,” he growled, and headed to a table in the far room.

   Anthony would not have been pleased to see the triumphant, knowing smile curve upon Richard’s face as he watched him move toward the card table. Richard said below his breath, “That’s a first.” He followed, then, careful to keep his victory concealed from his eyes, took the seat next to his twin, saying, “There is hope for you yet, brother.”

   Anthony played through the night and into the early hours of the morning with a fervor nobody missed. He played frantically, betting wildly, mainly to distract himself from his fantasy about Melissa.

It unnerved him that in a house filled with enticing, sensual, and beautiful women, he couldn’t prevent his erotic musings—the pictures of him ravishing Melissa—from invading his mind.

It unnerved him that she had feelings for him. He was flummoxed; he was used to grasping and shallow beauties, who pursued him for his title and fortune. God knew, her brother needed his fortune, but she’d still refused to trap him into matrimony. She would have let him dishonor her and walk away. He couldn’t in all honesty say he hadn’t thought
about snatching her offer with all that he had—hands, feet, teeth … Melissa Goodly was unlike any woman he’d ever known.