Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) (6 page)

Without another word, Francis went to White’s famous
book of wagers, which recorded dares great and small – and all of them
ludicrous.  When their destination became known, several members of the club
accompanied them, all wanting to know the wager and the stakes.

Per usual, Francis couldn’t resist playing to the
crowd.  He stated the terms in a big booming voice. “I hereby challenge Lord
Henry Kellington, better known as Hal, the heir’s spare’s heir’s spare – that’s
number three after Lynwood for those of you bastards too drunk to count – that
he cannot kiss a woman of my choosing.  And the stakes are one hundred pounds.”

Both the wager and the stakes provoked a reaction
from the crowd.  Side bets were placed and those who’d seen the wager written
into the book quickly ran to tell others who’d been lamentably absent.  As Hal
watched the flurry of activity, he regretted agreeing to the ridiculous wager,
although he could certainly use the hundred pounds.

“Who’s the woman?” asked a young man with shirt
points past his ears.

“Miss Melanie Sutton,” said Francis.

Most men – including Hal – regarded the
pronouncement with blank stares, while a few others who’d presumably met the
woman hooted.

“Who the devil is Melanie Sutton?” asked Hal, pulling
Francis aside.  He was annoyed that Francis would have named the chit in front
of the crowd.  Just being associated with such a bet was enough to endanger a lady’s
reputation.

“You’ve already met, if only informally,” said
Francis with a grin.

Hal tried to think of the endless parade of debutantes
he’d met – for she had to have just made her come-out for Francis to be crowing
about it quite so much.  But he couldn’t think of a Melanie Sutton, nor did her
surname sound familiar.

“I’ll admit it was under the most unusual
circumstances,” said Francis with a grin.  “We were at Dill’s and she was
trying to stop her determined colleague from certain disaster.”

All of the sudden it hit Hal.  “The chit with the
stockings.”

“Oh, ho!” said Francis.  “Perhaps you’re more
acquainted with her than I imagined.”

“No, it’s not like that,” said Hal, who was curious
in spite of himself.  She’d been on his mind for weeks.  Getting a kiss from
the chit might be pleasant enough, as long as he could disabuse her of any
lasting consequences to the act.  Of course, he also had to ensure Francis’s
silence on the matter and figure out a way to get it off the books.  But, other
than the woman from the previous evening, there was no one else he’d rather
kiss.

Francis was grinning at Hal in a way that didn’t
bode well.  “Do you also realize she’s the Earl of Heffner’s ward?”

All hopes of a kiss without complications fled Hal’s
mind.  Within the
ton
, a kiss was the prelude to marriage.  Some poor
bastards didn’t even get to kiss their bride until after the wedding.  Kissing
Miss Sutton was all of the sudden a much more daunting prospect.

As if reading his mind, Francis asked “Care to concede
the bet and pay me my hundred pounds now?”

“Not on your life,” said Hal, determined to best his
friend.  “I have no intention of failing.”

*                    *                    *

Melanie had arisen even later than usual that
morning, no doubt the result of having been awake half the night thinking of
that kiss.  It had easily been the most extraordinary few moments of her life. 
It was quite vexing that the man she’d shared it with was such a rake.  But
from all accounts, Lord Henry Kellington was a wastrel.  It had been easy to
learn his identity, because in spite of the discretion shown by the Raleighs’
footmen in carrying him away, someone must have seen what transpired.  And that
person had wasted no time in spreading word throughout the ballroom.  Mel found
it hard to believe that Lord Henry was Lady Riverton’s brother.  But perhaps
that lady had been driven to the cause of reform by his very actions.

Mel could only hope that the man had been so
inebriated that he didn’t know whom he’d really kissed.  It wouldn’t do for
this to get back to her aunt and uncle.

After taking an apple from the kitchen, Mel joined
her cousin and Aunt Evelyn in the sitting room, where Mary was working on her embroidery. 
Her cousin’s creation was intricate and pleasing to the eye.  Mel’s efforts
were the stuff of nightmares.

“Good morning, my dear,” said Aunt Evelyn, as she
looked up from her own needlework.  “I hope you slept well.”

“I did,” said Mel with a smile, inwardly wincing at
the untruth.  But it wouldn’t do to be asked why she couldn’t sleep.  “And I
hope you did, as well.”

“I was so exhausted when we returned home I believe
I was asleep before my head reached the pillow.  Poor Frederick almost had to
carry me upstairs.”

“But Papa is much too old for such things,” said a
concerned Mary.

“Your papa and I are not yet in our dotage, my love. 
I assure you he is quite capable of carrying me.”

It appeared to Mel that her aunt colored slightly,
although Mary was too engrossed in her work to notice.

Their butler Finlay entered the room holding a
silver salver.  He bowed to Lady Heffner.  “The post, my lady.”

Aunt Evelyn took the letters, then smiled as she
dismissed Finlay.  “A letter for you Melanie.  From Philadelphia.”

That made Mary put aside her needlework as she
grinned at her cousin.  “Is it from your Mr. Parker?”

“I am sure he is not ‘my’ Mr. Parker,” said Mel, as
she took the letter from her aunt. 

“I am quite sure he is,” said Mary.  “He writes to
you once a week.  Why, he’s more constant than any gentleman in London, even
though he lives all the way across the Atlantic and halfway across the
continent.  What does he say?”

“You would do well to study your geography, dear,”
said Mary’s mother, “for I am sure Philadelphia is not that far across North
America.  And give your cousin time to read her letter before you start
interrogating her about it.”

Mary smiled, then went back to her embroidery. 
“Very well.  But I want to be the first to learn when they become betrothed. 
It is surely most romantical that he pines for her from so far away.  I would
surely love to be missed that much.”

“One must go away before one can be missed,” said
her mother.  “And I cannot countenance your leaving home even one minute sooner
than when you will be married.”

Mel smiled at her two relatives then went to the
window seat to read her letter.  Mary would be most disappointed and her aunt
would be rather scandalized to know the true content of the missive.  For Mr.
Parker spent much of his letters writing about prostitutes.

Richard Parker was only a few years older than she. 
He was a leader in the Quaker school she’d attended and had dedicated his life
to various reforms.  He helped poor unfortunate women in London start their
lives over in America and Mel was helping him do it.  She found women who
wished to start life anew, then she explained to them the very real
difficulties they would face in America.  The jobs that waited for them in
Philadelphia were menial labor and they would have to work hard to sustain
their new lives.  Others chose to marry men who were looking for wives to accompany
them to America’s western frontier.  That life was dangerous and uncertain, but
the dozen or so women who’d made that choice said they’d rather face the
frontier than spend another moment in a London brothel.

Richard’s letter was filled with tales of the latest
two women who’d made the journey to Philadelphia.  One was working as a
washerwoman and the other was about to set out for Kentucky with her new
husband.  Richard said he would soon have enough money to pay for the passage
of four more London women.  They had an arrangement with a sea captain who
transported women whenever he had room on his ship.  All they had to do was pay
for the women’s expenses on board.  But that was only a small portion of the
total cost.  Despite the captain’s generosity, transporting the women was still
expensive since the journey from New York to Philadelphia was a long one.  Given
the costs involved, it was important that Mel chose the women wisely.

It was a great deal of responsibility, but Mel loved
the challenge.  She’d befriended several women who made their living in the
flesh trade.  Almost all of them were miserable, but not that many were
interested in making the trip.  Some had families they didn’t want to leave. 
Others were afraid to journey to the wilds of America.  Still others didn’t
think there was anything else they could do besides ply their trade.  They
figured it would be better to stay in a place they knew, rather than go to
America and find there was nothing they could do there other than what they
were already forced to do in London.

It was terribly sad when a woman gave up on
herself.  But all Mel could do was try to change her mind and keep looking for
others who would take her up on the offer.

“Well?” asked Mary, who could no longer contain herself. 
“Are we to plan a wedding?”

Mel smiled at her cousin, as she tucked the letter
away.  “Mr. Parker has not proposed.”  Then, at Mary’s fallen face, she added. 
“But who knows what future letters will bring.  Do you need me this afternoon? 
I had thought to go to another meeting with Mrs. Seton.”

Aunt Evelyn’s disappointment was clear, even if she
would never force Mel to change her plans.  “Again?  We had hoped you might
accompany us on a trip to Bond Street.”

“Thank you, but I promised Mrs. Seton I would help
her pen letters to members of Parliament.”

Mary looked like she was about to object, but Aunt
Evelyn kindly gave her permission.  “Of course, you may go, dear, but be sure
to take Flora.”

“I will,” said Mel, as she kissed her aunt and waved
to her cousin.  Flora was the lady’s maid her aunt had assigned to her.  When
Mel had first started going to Mrs. Seton’s, Flora had complained incessantly. 
Then on Mel’s first visit to the brothels of Covent Garden, Flora had flat-out
refused to go.  The maid had threatened to expose Mel’s activities to Lady Heffner
if she wasn’t paid for her silence.  So now on the days when Mel claimed to go
to her reform group, she paid her maid five shillings and sent her off in a
hack to the mews where her sweetheart worked.  Mel knew it was scandalous to go
about town without her maid, but she had very little choice in the matter.

Since Aunt Evelyn and Mary were going to take the
carriage to Bond Street, Mel had convinced them to let her take a hack to Mrs.
Seton’s.  Aunt Evelyn had been most reluctant, but just when it seemed she
wouldn’t give in, Lady Halliwell had arrived and her aunt had been forced to
play the gracious hostess.

After telling Flora to meet her outside as soon as
she was ready, Mel walked out of the house and down the stairs only to
encounter another unexpected visitor:  Lord Henry Kellington.

Mel’s immediate reaction was to blush furiously. 
She’d never even been properly introduced to the man, and here he was looking
even more handsome in the bright light of day than he had in the candlelight of
the ballroom the night before.  She was quite sure she still had dark circles
beneath her eyes, which were probably well illuminated in the sun.  He looked
vexingly well rested.  Of course, he had passed out at a reasonably early hour
the previous night.  He had no doubt slept the night away and given no thought
at all to that amazing kiss.

If he could even remember it.

“I am in a quandary,” said Lord Henry, as he stood
staring up at her from the bottom step.  “We have never been properly introduced,
nor even improperly introduced.  Yet I felt the need to come here to finally
meet the lady who made such an impression on me.”

She
impressed
him
? 
Mel couldn’t believe that he not only remembered the kiss, but he’d been impressed. 
Which was quite remarkable since she’d felt like the veriest widgeon.  It had
been her first kiss and she hadn’t thought she’d acquitted herself terribly
well.  Yet, his appearance today seemed to be proof that she had.  A smile she
couldn’t resist overtook her.

“I don’t know what to say, my lord,” she said,
hardly able to believe she was even having this most improper conversation. 
Yet, she couldn’t conceive of not having it, either.  “And I cannot imagine
what you must think of me.”

“I think you’re quite remarkable,” he said.  “Not
many ladies would have had the nerve to do what you did.”

“What I did?”  Was he implying she had kissed him? 
That was rather cheeky of him.  “I believe you were the one who was
responsible, although I must admit I did little to stop you.”  In fact, she’d
wished the kiss would have lasted longer, although she wasn’t about to admit
that to him.  

Lord Henry looked at her a bit quizzically.  “But it
was you who tried to block your friend Mrs. Seton from entering Dill’s.”

At the very mention of Dill’s, Mel colored vividly. 
So he wasn’t talking about their kiss from the night before, which meant he
likely didn’t remember it.  She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or insulted,
although she certainly felt the latter.