The Mad Lord's Daughter (28 page)
He left, shutting the door quietly behind him, leaving George to stare in hopeless disbelief at the spot where his son had stood.
Chapter 18
The flowers arrived just before noon. Baskets filled with a bright yellow flower, already beginning to wilt. The butler looked at them in dismay, but directed several footmen to bring them into the main parlor where Melissa sat restlessly and worked her needlepoint. Miss Stanhope, in an unusually quiet mood, read a book.
When the first footman entered, Melissa smiled at the bright flowers that filled the pretty white basket. Miss Stanhope had told her to expect such offerings from the gentlemen she’d danced with the night before. But five more baskets followed, all with the same flower—celandine.
“Who on earth would send a girl baskets filled with weeds?” Miss Stanhope said, staring at the profusion of flowers that most British gardeners pulled up and discarded.
“Joys to come,” Melissa said softly. She wouldn’t have thought John would have made such a gesture, but the meaning of these flowers was clear. She’d spent long, wonderful hours with
Le Langage des Fleurs
, poring over the drawings of flowers, fascinated by the idea that even something as simple as grass could have a meaning.
Le Langage des Fleurs
, poring over the drawings of flowers, fascinated by the idea that even something as simple as grass could have a meaning.
“The card, Miss Atwell,” the butler said, handing her a card.
Melissa smiled, her heart skipping happily. But her smile faded and her heart dropped when she read the name written in bold, eloquent script. Your devoted servant, Waltham.
“No,” Miss Stanhope breathed, getting up and looking over Melissa’s shoulder at the card. Melissa put it down on the chair’s arm as if it had caught fire. If their meeting had been a pleasant one, the flowers—and their meaning—would have warmed Melissa’s heart. But the flowers’ meaning had a rather ominous taint given the man’s despicable behavior.
“What a horrid man,” Miss Stanhope said, marching over to the door. “Please remove these weeds immediately and put them with the garbage.”
In less than one minute, the flowers were gone, but Melissa could not get the image—and the sordid message—from her mind.
“Where is John?” she asked.
Miss Stanhope shook her head. “I would expect he has gone home,” she said.
“Oh.” How could he have left without saying good-bye, without letting her know how his discussion with his father had gone?
Melissa was staring morosely at her needlepoint when the butler reentered the room. “Mr. Charles Norris is here, Miss Stanhope. Are you in?”
Dread filled her, but she nodded. “Could you please have Mr. Norris wait in the Blue Parlor? Thank you.”
“You look rather ill, Miss Atwell. Are you quite well? Did those onerous flowers upset you? Perhaps it would be best to put off your drive with Mr. Norris,” Miss Stanhope said.
“It’s not the flowers, though I did find them upsetting,” Melissa said, letting out a rather miserable little laugh. “I’m breaking it off with Charles.”
Miss Stanhope, surprisingly, did not seem stunned. In fact, Melissa realized, she appeared almost pleased. “I see,” was all the older woman said.
“I don’t believe we would suit, and with all that’s happened, it’s not fair of me to ask him to keep his word on a proposal that hasn’t even officially been given.” Melissa waited for Miss Stanhope to argue with her, but the usually opinionated woman simply nodded in agreement. “Shouldn’t you be urging me to change my mind?”
“Why would I urge you to marry a man you do not love?” she asked sensibly.
“I don’t understand,” Melissa said, feeling as if her entire world had gone a bit topsy-turvy.
Miss Stanhope gave her the gentlest of smiles. “You’re in love with someone else, aren’t you, my dear?”
Melissa nodded slowly. “But how did you . . .”
“One would have to be blind or an old, stubborn fool not to have seen it,” she said, sounding oddly bitter. “I’ve suspected for quite some time that John was in love with you. I only recently realized that you return his affections.”
Melissa smiled hopefully at the older woman. “And you approve?”
“Wholeheartedly. However, my blessing is quite irrelevant, is it not? I do believe Lord Braddock, stubborn man that he is, will not be as forgiving of this change in plans. But if the two of you are truly in love, you can weather this. It will not be easy,” she warned. “You not only have to deal with Lord Braddock, but also with a society that can be unforgiving of scandal. I have no doubt that your father’s identity will be common knowledge quite soon. You should both be prepared for some negative social consequences. Then again, with Lord Braddock’s public support—and mine—no doubt any censor that does occur will pass. You will also have the support of my niece, the Duchess of Kingston, and her husband.”
Melissa went over to Miss Stanhope and gave her an awkward embrace, a gesture that seemed to pleasantly stun her chaperone. “Thank you, Diane,” she said. “You have been a true friend.”
Charles was sitting patiently in the Blue Parlor when she entered, quietly closing the door behind her. This alone caused his eyebrows to rise, no doubt because propriety dictated that she should have kept the door open. He stood, smiling uncertainly, and Melissa’s heart did a little tug. She liked Charles, and she did not want to hurt or humiliate him as surely her rejection would do.
She stood at the door, hands behind her back, and gave him a small smile. “I cannot marry you, Charles,” she said simply.
His expression changed subtly, as if he thought he hadn’t heard her correctly, or as if he couldn’t believe the words that had just sprung from her lips. “Beg pardon?”
“I cannot marry you.” She prayed he would not ask why, that he would accept her word and go on his merry way and find another to marry. He shook his head, as if the words still did not make sense.
“If this is because of what happened last night, I would like to assure you . . .”
“It’s not,” she broke in. “Not entirely, anyway. I could tell you that I won’t marry you because it is not fair to you to make you marry a girl whose birth isn’t acceptable.” He started to protest, but Melissa held up her hand to stop him. “It isn’t fair, but that is not my reason. I do not love you, Charles.”
His face grew tight, and he looked completely taken aback. “While that is unfortunate, it does not make a difference to me. I love you, Melissa, and I know in time you will come to love me.”
“Please, Charles, this is so difficult.” She wrung her hands in front of her, wishing she did not have to explain.
“I don’t understand. You are a . . . ,” he stopped abruptly, his face turning slightly red. “You are illegitimate. You cannot expect to marry well—if at all. And yet you refuse my hand simply because you do not love me? I can give you my name and perhaps even a title one day. You will be my wife, live in a fine home.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” she said.
“Then tell me what it does have to do with. You are refusing me, so pray tell me how this decision of yours has nothing to do with me.”
“I love someone else,” she blurted.
That news stunned him to silence, and he visibly stiffened.
“We did not think it was possible for us to be together,” she said miserably. “But we cannot deny what we feel.”
He let out an audible breath. “John.”
Melissa nodded as her eyes filled with tears. She did not want to hurt Charles, but could see no other way. “He feels terrible about this, about hurting you. I beg you to forgive him if not me. I fell in love with him before I met you. I did try not to.”
“How you must have suffered, being forced to attend to me,” Charles said bitterly.
“Not at all. I like you; I enjoy your company. And for a while I truly believed I could be happy with you. But that was before . . .”
“Before what?”
“Before I realized John felt the same way as I.”
He shook his head and stared at the floor. “This was not well done of you,” he said, sounding horribly close to tears, though she saw no evidence of such in his eyes. “Of either of you.”
“We do feel dreadful.”
“You’ve made a fool of me,” he said, finally showing anger.
“Very few people know of our engagement, and those who do will no doubt be understanding.” She was desperate to assuage his hurt. “I’m so sorry, Charles. You cannot know how much.”
He stared at her, hurt and anger in his brown eyes. “I’ll see myself out, shall I?” he said with fierce dignity.
Melissa moved away from the door, wishing she could say something that would make this better all around. He stopped at the door, his hand on the knob. “I could have made you happy, Melissa.”
“I know,” she said softly. He walked from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, still acting the gentleman. When he’d gone, Melissa went slowly to the nearest chair and collapsed into it with a sigh. Moments later, Miss Stanhope looked in on her.
“I saw him leave. He didn’t seem overly distraught.”
“No. He took it rather well,” Melissa said, still feeling unaccountably sad. Never in her life had she hurt another person so, and she found it was not a good feeling at all.
Diane gave Melissa a searching look, for it did appear she was rather more upset about the breakup than Mr. Norris. Diane had a feeling the gentleman, as much as he’d insisted upon his devotion, was likely a bit relieved at this moment. He was a good man, but he had found it difficult to accept the fact that his intended was born on the wrong side of the blanket.
A polite knock and the butler’s entrance again interrupted their conversation. “Miss Stanhope. Lord Braddock is requesting your presence in his study,” he said.
Diane gave an inward sigh. In all her life she’d never experienced such drama. She wished she’d never accepted Lord Braddock’s proposal that she chaperone his niece. Had she known accepting such a request would bring such heartache and headaches, she would have politely declined, then walked briskly in the opposite direction. He requested an audience, did he? She was quite, quite certain that it wasn’t to apologize for his boorish behavior of the previous evening. No doubt he wanted to discuss his son and his ward’s future.
She ought to let him figure it all out for himself. After all, hadn’t she warned him about leaving the two of them together? Hadn’t she done her best to prevent what he would certainly see as a debacle? At least until it was too late and their hearts had already been fully engaged. If she’d been allowed to do her job, they never would have had the opportunity to fall in love. As it was, the two of them had spent long hours together—two beautiful, young, intelligent people ripe for the picking. Honestly, how could Lord Braddock act upset or shocked? He, himself, had nearly succumbed to her own charms, such as they were.
No, she reminded herself. He had not succumbed to anything but lust for a woman in close proximity. She was sure he would have responded the same way to any moderately attractive woman. Diane, whose heart was so fully engaged it constantly ached, knew well that she had not captured Lord Braddock’s heart. And if she hadn’t known, his little speech the evening before certainly had given her a large dose of reality.
“While I find your presence diverting and would be more than happy to share a few hours in pursuit of physical pleasures, Miss Stanhope, I do hope you realize that I have no interest in anything permanent. Or even long-term.”
Worst of all, perhaps, was that it hadn’t been said in a haughty tone, but rather a kind one. And that could mean only one thing—that he greatly suspected she was in love with him and that he could in no way return those feelings. But a good romp? Then, of course, he would be at her service.
Worst of all, perhaps, was that it hadn’t been said in a haughty tone, but rather a kind one. And that could mean only one thing—that he greatly suspected she was in love with him and that he could in no way return those feelings. But a good romp? Then, of course, he would be at her service.
He couldn’t have been clearer. And yet . . . he seemed to like her quite a lot. He seemed to seek out her company. And sometimes he would look at her the way a man looks at a woman he loves.
“Balderdash,” she muttered, chastising herself, just before she entered his study following an efficient knock on his door. She did not wait for him to invite her inside, but pushed through, her face set in her sternest old-spinster lines. Then she looked at him, at his anguished expression, and her heart was immediately engaged once again.
“What has happened?” she said, going to where he stood staring at the cold, empty fireplace.
“My son fancies himself in love,” he said with such derision, any warm feeling that had snuck into her heart was chased away.
“I believe he
is
in love, my lord. And I also believe I expressed some concern about allowing the two of them to be together. Alone.”
is
in love, my lord. And I also believe I expressed some concern about allowing the two of them to be together. Alone.”
He quickly took out his watch and snapped it open with a practiced motion. “Ah. Ten seconds before you gave me your ‘I told you so’s.’”
She raised one eyebrow. “If that is all,” she said, turning to leave.
“That is not all,” he shouted, and she turned slowly back toward him, raising one elegant brow. “What am I to do? He’s threatened to marry her one way or the other.”
“Then give him your blessing,” Diane said calmly.
“My blessing! Good God, woman. My
blessing
? Not only has John betrayed me, I have betrayed my brother. John is so concerned about being in love,” he said mockingly, “that he’s lost sight of everything he believed in.”
blessing
? Not only has John betrayed me, I have betrayed my brother. John is so concerned about being in love,” he said mockingly, “that he’s lost sight of everything he believed in.”
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