Amanda Scott (15 page)

Melissa was roused from her deep, warm sleep by a voice asking ever so politely if she had enjoyed a pleasant night. At first she refused to open her eyes, assuming that she must have dreamed it, since the voice was definitely a masculine one, and not one that an unmarried, gently bred lady expected to hear in her bedchamber before rising.

Taking on a disturbing edge, the voice continued implacably, “I can see that you are awake. You might just as well open your eyes so that I can judge for myself the truthfulness of your answers to one or two little questions I want to ask you.”

There could be no question now. The voice was all too real. She could feel Vexford’s presence looming over her, and in a flash she remembered what she had done in a fit of pique the night before. Sensing impatient movement from the massive figure beside the bed, and fearing to have the bedcovers snatched away at any moment, she opened her eyes at last, threw back the covers on the side opposite him, and scrambled to the floor. Someone had laid a fire in the room’s fireplace, but since Vexford had given no orders for her comfort, no one had lighted it yet. The chilly morning air struck her with force through the thin lawn nightdress she wore, and she quickly stepped from the cold hardwood floor to the small throw rug beside the bed. “Get out of this room!” she cried. “You have no business in here.”

“On the contrary,” he said, glaring at her across the bed, “I have the singularly important business of discovering why you threw all my clothing into the courtyard. It was you who did so, was it not?”

“What if I say it was not?”

He moved toward the end of the bed, “I don’t think I would believe you.”

Eyeing him warily, she stepped back, only to step onto the cold floor again. Glancing behind her, she saw that the corner of the room offered no sanctuary and no weapon with which to defend herself. “Stay where you are,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to infuse her voice with authority.

He continued his slow approach.

Glancing at the bed, she realized that if she could reach the other side, the doorway lay just beyond. With a hope that he would not pursue her down the corridor, she edged nearer the bed again.

Vexford stopped several steps from her. Clearly exerting himself to keep his temper, he said, “You might at least give me an explanation.”

“You took my clothes,” she said. “I took yours in return.”

“A rather drastic return of play, I think. Hardly an equal gambit.”

“It was not a move in a game,” she snapped. “I was angry.”

He frowned, somehow looking larger than ever, and she suddenly felt small and defenseless. It was hard to believe she had once, even for a moment, considered him to be her protector. She stepped back, again seeking escape, until she bumped against the bed-step table. She heard the candlestick’s rocking rattle, but it did not fall over.

He said in an even voice that sent shivers of apprehension through her, “I know you were angry. I can’t imagine any other reason to commit so destructive an act.”

“Destructive? Don’t be ridiculous. You have only to send a servant to collect them. They are hardly destroyed.”

“I doubt that my valet will agree with you, but in any case, it is not a servant who is going to collect them but the person who threw them out the window.”

“I will not!”

“I sincerely trust that you will change your mind,” he said grimly, “for you deserve worse punishment. I prevented the return of your clothing only to deter you from leaving the house. I didn’t think you would stay just because I told you to, but I knew you would if you had nothing to wear. I merely exerted reasonable caution. Your behavior was childish. I won’t insist that you put my things back where you found them, because they are in no fit condition to be put away; however, you will certainly pick up every stitch of my clothing, and carry it back to my dressing room.”

“I won’t!”

He stepped toward her, and quick as a flash she reached back, snatched up the candlestick from the table, and threw it at him. She missed, but the action diverted his attention long enough for her to leap to the bed, roll across, and slip off the other side. She landed, running, and made it to the door, but as she reached for the latch, a large hand clamped onto her left arm from behind. He scooped her up and carried her back to the bed. Struggling and kicking, she shrieked, “Put me down! How dare you!”

“I’m going to dare much more,” he snapped, flipping her roughly over his knee as he sat on the bed. “I’ll teach you not to throw things, Miss Seacourt, either at me or out of windows.” The skirt of her nightdress had caught on the cloth of his sleeve as he turned her over his knee and when he raised his hand, he bared her nearly to the waist.

She went perfectly still.

So did Vexford. She heard his indrawn breath, and then the skirt of her nightdress was gently drawn down again. He did not say a word or move a muscle for a long moment, but she made no attempt to get up, still terrified and not knowing what he meant to do next. She was certain her ordeal was not over.

At last, in a quite different, audibly strained voice, he said, “What did he use?”

Only then did she realize that he had seen, not just her bare backside, but the marks of her father’s beating.

“His riding whip. May I get up, sir?”

“Yes, certainly,” he said at once, helping her to stand. “I can’t think why you didn’t fight like a wildcat to keep me from adding to that.”

“I never do,” she said simply, shaking out the lawn skirt.

“Good Lord, when you said he had whipped you, I imagined a child’s whipping. How often has he beaten you like that?”

“Not at all in the past nine years, because that’s when my mother left him and moved to Scotland with my stepfather. They took me with them. Before then, he did so whenever my behavior displeased him.”

“Is that why she left him?”

“Partly, but he was much more fierce with her. Once, he beat her so badly that we ran away to Grandpapa St. Merryn’s house, but Papa followed us, and we had to hide. Then the magistrate made Mama go back with Papa. She told me the law holds that a woman
must
be better off with any husband, even one who beats her, than with no husband at all. Until we moved to Scotland, I thought most fathers were like mine, and I envied my cousin Charley because hers paid her no heed. She was used to do the most outrageous things, too, trying to draw his attention.” She smiled a little then, remembering. Although her cousin’s father had learned over time to pay more heed, Charley still enjoyed less restriction than most young women her age.

“So your mother obtained a Scottish divorce, did she?”

Melissa nodded. “We were very happy in Scotland, but then Papa came and stole me away. He said the law allowed him to do that, and that nothing Penthorpe—he’s my stepfather—that nothing he could have done would have prevented it.”

“He’s right about that, I’m sure,” Vexford said.

“I know, and I can’t say that I want a husband who will probably be just like him, but I daresay you’ll have to marry me now.”

“Don’t be nonsensical. I am not like your father, and we are not getting married. I thought I’d made that clear.”

“But surely you can’t bare a lady naked to the world, twice, and
not
marry her.”

“I did not bare you to the world, either time, only to the ambient air,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. “Moreover, I seem to recall that you yourself once pointed out that one cannot be forced to marry against one’s will nowadays.”

“That was when Lord Yarborne seemed to think my father could simply give me to him without my consent, sir, and well you know it.”

“So you remember that part, at least, but the fact remains that one would find forcing an unwilling man to the altar much more difficult than compelling an unwilling woman. After all, there are plenty of magistrates and parsons who still believe that a girl’s father controls her until her husband takes over the job. Men like that would most likely choose to ignore a minor detail like her lack of consent.”

She believed him. “What are you going to do?”

“I am going to deliver you as quickly as I can to Lady Ophelia. She will look after you. By the sound of it, she’s fierce enough to protect you from anyone.”

Melissa was not so sure. Lady Ophelia was elderly, and she had not seen her for some time, but she realized there was no use arguing. “Must I really collect your clothing?” she asked. “I will do so if you insist. I know it was a dreadful thing to do, but I was very angry. I don’t always think before I act, I’m afraid.”

“You had better learn to think about the potential consequences of your actions.” When she sighed in resignation and turned toward the door, he chuckled, and she found it a welcome sound. He said, “Even at my most temperamental, I doubt I would make you go downstairs in your nightdress. As things stand now, I think we will let Lisset attend to it. After all, he needs to find me something suitable to wear to pay a morning call on an elderly lady. In the meantime, I will ring for Mag, and for some breakfast. I left word at St. Merryn House last evening that I would call at eleven, but I think we will depart as soon as we can. Send me word when you have eaten and dressed.”

He left, and she sighed in relief, but it was with mixed feelings that she waited for Mag to bring her clothes. Much as she looked forward to seeing Lady Ophelia again, and Charley, the thought that she might never again lay eyes on Vexford depressed her. Though at times he frightened her a little—more than a little, if she were honest—and angered her a lot, the fact remained that from the moment she had first exchanged words with him, she had felt as if she had known him forever. The circumstances of their meeting accounted for much of that feeling, she knew, but she would be sorry not to see him again, and the chance that they would meet was slim. She doubted that she would attend any parties in the short time remaining for her in London, or meet with many members of the
beau monde.
Her recent experiences had undoubtedly relegated her to that class of persons who were better not seen in public.

Although she had to wait only a short time after she had dressed and broken her fast before Vexford was ready to depart, it was nearly nine o’clock by then. They went in style, in a comfortable town carriage, driven by a very respectable-looking coachman, and were soon set down before St. Merryn House in Berkeley Square.

The butler who answered the door did not recognize Melissa, nor she him, and his first, rather haughty reaction was to deny them entrance. “Her ladyship is not at home to visitors until after one o’clock,” he said.

“I am Miss Seacourt, Lady Ophelia’s great-grandniece,” Melissa said. “Please be so good as to tell her I am here. If she has not left her bed yet, or is otherwise indisposed, pray inform Miss Charlotte of my arrival instead.”

The man’s brow cleared, and he smiled. “Begging your pardon, miss, I’m sure, but I’ve only been with Lady Ophelia these past five years. Still, I’ve heard your name spoken often and often. She will be ever so pleased that you are here. In fact—But what am I thinking? There is no need to stand upon ceremony with you. I’ll just show you upstairs at once, and the gentleman, too.” He looked pointedly at Vexford, who obliged him by giving his name.

“Is Miss Charlotte here?” Melissa demanded as they went upstairs.

“She is, indeed, miss, and has been this fortnight past. Her parents being on the Continent just now, visiting the Lady Daintry—or as I should say, with Lord and Lady Abreston—the old master brought Miss Charley to London himself, though he did not stay above two nights. He don’t like town life much, you know, and Lady St. Merryn—your grand-mama, that is—enjoying such indifferent health—well, he don’t like to leave her, and that’s a fact. Lady Ophelia,” he added in his chatty way, “has another early visitor this morning, but I daresay you must know all about him. I don’t know what’s come over me, for I’ve been going on like a fiddlestick, which is not, I assure you, my normal habit. But here we are now.” He pushed open a pair of tall doors, revealing a pleasant drawing room, stepped aside to allow them to pass, and said in much more dignified tones, “Miss Seacourt, my lady, and my Lord Vexford.”

Lady Ophelia Balterley, seated stiffly erect on a sofa drawn near the fire, turned her head toward the visitors, and to Melissa’s astonishment, she frowned.

“Aunt Ophelia,” Melissa said hastily, “I hope I have not imposed upon your good nature by coming to you without warning like this, but when I have explained, I am persuaded—” She broke off when Lady Ophelia’s other visitor, standing just beyond her immediate view, near the window, stepped forward. “P-papa!”

Sir Geoffrey said with his most charming smile, “Good morning, my darling. I daresay you are a little surprised to see me so soon, but you must have known I would come for you. I’ve just been telling Lady Ophelia I’d quite expected to find you here.”

Lady Ophelia said dryly, “I see that you were not, as I had supposed, lying through your teeth again, Geoffrey. Don’t stand like a stock, Melissa girl, but come in and sit down, and pray do not enact me any Cheltenham drama, for I’ve already been obliged to dismiss your cousin to her bedchamber for her impertinence, and I simply won’t stand for any more of it.”

S
EACOURT MOVED AS IF
to embrace Melissa, but when she stepped quickly back beside Nick, the older man said with a laugh, “You see, ma’am, it is exactly as I said it would be, for here they are, albeit not as soon as I’d expected. Poor Vexford acted out of impulse or caprice when he helped her run away from Newmarket, and now he wants only to thrust her back into the bosom of her family.” Although Seacourt’s voice was touched with light humor, Nick noted that he was looking not at Lady Ophelia but at Melissa. He saw, too, that, despite the smile, his expression was unforgiving.

“Sit down, sit down, all of you,” Lady Ophelia said tartly. “You are making my head ache, forcing me to look up at you like this.” Frowning at Nick as they obeyed her command, she added in the same abrupt tone, “Are you Ulcombe’s son, young man?”