The Mad Lord's Daughter (12 page)
“Caroline, this is Lord Braddock. Braddock, my daughter.”
George schooled his features and gave the young girl a small bow. “A pleasure, Lady Caroline,” he said with utmost formality, which for some reason tickled the girl.
“Caroline has not yet made her debut,” Waltham said, looking down at his daughter with slight distaste. “Her manners require some improvement. Go to the carriage, my dear.” Just like that, the girl’s smile was gone, as if Waltham had wiped it clean with that sneer. “Be thankful you had only a boy.” He paused. “But I understand you have your niece now. Is she in Town with you? I should like to meet her. Our families have been at odds long enough.”
George thought he might vomit. He silently cursed his brother for not letting him know this rather important detail of Melissa’s birth. Did Waltham know? Oh, God, did he know Melissa was his illegitimate daughter?
“She is not in Town,” George said. “If you’ll excuse me, I am late for an appointment. Good day.”
George walked past Waltham, feeling his skin prickle as he drew near the man.
“By the way,” the duke said silkily. “I’ve purchased your brother’s home. Perhaps his daughter would like to see it sometime. Out of nostalgia. I’d be more than happy to let her.”
George stopped dead. Then he turned slowly around, his eyes hard, his smile dangerous. “If you don’t mind, Your Grace,” he said with steely politeness, “I would like you and your family to stay away from my niece. My brother would have wanted it that way.”
With that, he turned and continued down the street, but he swore he could feel those violet eyes on him as he walked away.
Diane looked at her reflection and let out a sigh, rather dreading this evening. Once again, she would be the fifth wheel, the unnecessary appendage. The old spinster who faded into the scenery, not even significant enough to pity. Tonight there would be three men, three women, and her. Tonight would be yet another night when she would be nothing more than an extra seat filled with a breathing body.
How she loathed such nights. She closed her eyes and turned away from the mirror, wondering fiercely how her life had come to this. The worst bit was that she still felt the same as when she’d made her debut, full of life and fun. And hope. She still felt that cruel hope that someone would fall in love with her, would fall to his knees and beg her to marry him. It was nonsense, of course. But as much as she protested the existence of love and the foolishness of young girls in the throes of their first passion, she still secretly believed it might happen to her. Diane left her room and checked in on Melissa, who was still having her hair done by her maid. She looked lovely in her dark lavender dress, and Diane was glad the girl was in half mourning now.
Diane walked into the drawing room with a smile pasted onto her face and allowed John to make introductions to Lord Avonleigh and Lady Spencer, whom she had never met. They were polite, but dismissive, as if she were a governess and not the wealthy daughter of an earl. Perhaps she was being overly sensitive this night, but she hadn’t felt quite so bothered by her position in years.
John pulled her aside after introductions were made. “How is Melissa?”
“She’s a bit nervous,” Diane said. “I expect her down any minute, and then I’ll let you young people have your fun.”
John gave her a look of concern, which Diane waved away. “I’m perfectly content to eat in my rooms,” she said.
“Perhaps I can write my father and have him return early.”
Her heart gave an unexpected leap, which mortified her. This infatuation she had with Lord Braddock was beyond ridiculous. “My goodness, you don’t have to bring him home on my account,” she said, oddly moved that John would think to do so.
“The numbers are wrong,” he whispered, glancing over at Lady Juliana. “I shall never be able to show my face in London again if I do not immediately remedy the situation. I’ll write him tomorrow, shall I?”
Diane heard a small noise near the door and watched as Melissa entered, head held high, eyes sparkling and seeking out her cousin. While all eyes went to Melissa, Diane watched the reactions of the others in the room with amusement. Laura put a finger beneath her brother’s chin to close his mouth, which had gaped open in utter and instant infatuation as soon as he laid eyes on Melissa. Avonleigh narrowed his eyes and became subtly more rigid. Lady Spencer lifted one eyebrow, sensing a challenge to her role as reigning beauty. And Laura smiled in welcome. Diane always had liked that girl.
John felt fierce pride when Melissa walked in, and noted with a bit of alarm the reactions of the other men in the room. Charles in particular looked as if he’d been hit by a runaway carriage. John strode to her side and took her arm, whispering in her ear, “Not even a flinch. Good girl.”
She smiled up at him, but he could see by the fire in her eyes that his jibe had hit its mark, and she squeezed his arm almost painfully. “Could you please simply introduce me to my future husband?” she asked quietly, and his smile faltered as she let out a delighted laugh. How was it he was always forgetting what his role was?
He brought her to Charles first, rather disgusted by his friend’s obvious admiration. “Charles, Laura, may I present my cousin, Miss Melissa Atwell. Melissa, my dear friends, the Honorable Mr. Charles Norris and his sister, Miss Laura Norris.”
“I’m so pleased to meet you both,” Melissa said, bravely holding out her hand for Charles to take.
Charles bent over her hand gallantly, and John could feel her holding her breath to see if he’d actually press his lips upon her gloved hand. He didn’t, and she relaxed.
“Well done,” he whispered by her ear, inadvertently breathing in her intoxicating scent. Lemons, he thought, and something spicy.
“Is it true you lived in Bamburgh?” Laura asked as if Melissa had lived in China her entire life.
“Yes. It’s very isolated, but I’m so looking forward to the bustle of London.”
“You must allow me to be your social director this season. I’m engaged, or nearly so, and I can help you find your way around the ton.”
“Thank you, Miss Norris. I’m afraid I don’t know a single soul in London. Or anywhere else.”
Laura’s eyes widened. “You mean to say you’ve never even been to London? Not even for a single season?”
Melissa laughed. “I’ve never even been to a ball.”
“Oh, you poor dear,” Laura said, sounding both horrified and delighted by such information. “I will take you under my wing and get you married in no time. And please call me Laura.”
“Thank you, Laura. And congratulations on your engagement,” Melissa said. “Of course you may call me Melissa.”
“She’s not engaged,” Charles put in. “You really must stop telling people that you are. Poor Brewster will hear about his engagement before he gets to ask.”
“Oh, very well,” Laura said, pretending to pout.
“Just so you know, it’s not the thing to announce one’s engagement before it occurs,” John said to Melissa as he winked at Laura.
“You’re just jealous because no one will have either one of you,” Laura said.
John pulled Melissa over to Avonleigh and Lady Spencer, who stood rather stoically near the more animated Norrises.
“Melissa, may I present Graham Spencer, Marquess of Avonleigh, and his sister, Lady Juliana Spencer.”
Melissa dipped a little curtsy and gave Avonleigh her hand. He bowed over it, staring at Melissa in a way that made John want to step in front of her and protect her. “A pleasure to meet John’s long lost cousin,” he said, putting a subtle emphasis on the word “cousin.” John instantly became alert.
“Thank you,” Melissa said, sounding slightly uncertain. She turned to Lady Spencer expectantly, likely thinking she would be much like Laura. “It’s so nice to meet you, my lady. Please do call me Melissa,” she said.
“Indeed.” The smile she gave Melissa was more than frosty, and John instantly stiffened. If Lady Spencer dared insult Melissa, he could not guarantee he would act like a gentleman.
Melissa darted an uncertain look at him, clearly sensing that this woman’s welcome was less than friendly. Laura came to the rescue, stepping in with her cheeky grin. “Lady Spencer and I were discussing the season and thought it would be fun to come up with the names of eligible bachelors for you.”
“We were doing no such thing,” Lady Spencer said. “However, we could do so now.” Some of her frostiness melted, and John felt slightly relieved. Perhaps he was simply imagining Avonleigh’s strange reaction to Melissa.
The three young women sat together in one corner of the room, no doubt debating the various men who would be candidates for Melissa’s hand. “Thank God I never had a sister,” John said to no one in particular.
“It’s rather maddening to think of little Laura as a married woman. Every time I picture Brewster touching her, I want to slug him. But I s’pose I should just let her grow up,” Charles said morosely. “Sometimes when she walks into a room, I wonder who that pretty girl is, and then I realize it’s Laura.”
“Brewster’s a good man, at least you have that,” John said. “Funny. I thought I knew all sorts of good men until I had to come up with a list of them for Melissa.”
Both men laughed. “We’re none of us good, that’s the problem,” Charles said.
John felt a rush of misgiving. Charles was right. Who did he know who could possibly make Melissa happy, who would treat her the way she ought to be treated? At that moment, he couldn’t think of a single soul.
“It looks like you won’t have to suffer through a season after all.”
John stood at the railing of the terrace next to Avonleigh, watching as Melissa and Charles walked together toward the small lake. She stopped and laughed delightedly at Charles, who was looking down at his cousin as if everything that came forth from her lovely mouth was pure poetry. John had known Charles for more than twenty-five years, and he’d never seen him act this way with a female before. It was downright horrifying.
“He’s behaving like an idiot,” John grumbled.
“Most men do when they think they’re in love,” Avonleigh said dryly.
John glared at the couple, who continued their stroll to the lake. Though he could not hear their words, he could tell they were talking animatedly, for their conversation was punctuated by laughter with irritating regularity. Diane sat at the other end of the terrace, bundled up from head to toe as if it were the coldest of days and not an unusually warm spring afternoon, and appeared to watch the scene unfold with pure contentment.
“You seem rather protective of your cousin, given that you’ve just met her yourself,” Avonleigh said.
Again, John thought he detected that emphasis on the word “cousin.”
“It is my duty to protect her,” he said. “My father wants her to be safe.”
“From what, I wonder,” Avonleigh asked.
“From society and its cruelty, I suppose. She’s led an extremely sheltered life and could be easily hurt. I’m here to make certain that doesn’t happen.” John could feel Avonleigh studying him and knew his warning shot had been heard—and understood.
“Ah. I see the way it is. You fancy yourself her protector.”
“Of course. I’m her cousin.”
“And those duties include watching her every move.” Those words hung between them like some sort of accusation. “She is lovely. Those unusual eyes, I think, will cause quite a stir. Quite unlike anything I’ve ever seen in your family.”
John’s gut twisted, for it became quite clear that Avonleigh was more than hinting about Melissa’s birth. “Just say what you are thinking. I hate subterfuge, Avonleigh.”
Avonleigh let out the sigh of a much beleaguered gentleman being forced to do something he does not want to do. “Does she know she is Waltham’s daughter?”
Stunned, John turned his head sharply to Avonleigh, who continued to look lazily at the strolling couple. “Why on earth would you make such a claim?”
Avonleigh gave him a look of utter confusion. “Are you saying you didn’t know or at least suspect?”
“I don’t care for this discussion,” John said.
“And neither do I. But the girl is innocent, and no doubt you would hate to see her publicly humiliated by the ton’s vicious gossips. I tell you, people will know she is not your uncle’s daughter, and I daresay proving it will be a rather simple matter if someone does offer for her.”
John swallowed heavily. “I know only that she is not my uncle’s daughter, something she does not know,” John said quietly. “I tell you this because you are my friend. This information will go no further.”
Avonleigh shook his head in disbelief. “As soon as she is presented, people will wonder at her birth. You cannot mean you did not know.”
“I have no idea to what you are referring,” he said, becoming frustrated with Avonleigh. “Surely there are other violet-eyed people in the kingdom. Her own mother could have had eyes that color. No one will question her birth simply because of her eye color.”
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