The Pursuit (11 page)

F
IND
out what Melissa thinks? Much more easily said than done. What Lincoln did find out, however, was that he was denied access once again to the Wrothston residence. This he had actually expected, which was why he hadn’t come around sooner to have it confirmed. But he should have tried sooner, since the butler was quite informative now, possibly because he was himself annoyed over the restrictions placed on him.

He’d volunteered in a stiff, distinctly angry tone, “I have been warned, sir, that I will be shopping for a new nose, as the young Scot put it, if I let you past this door again. The young lady, however, is unaware that you are no longer welcome here and has requested that if you should come by when she’s not here, I let you know her plans for the evening.”

Lincoln now had Melissa’s agenda for that
evening and, checking with his aunt, even had an invitation to the rather large dinner party himself. That, of course, was no guarantee that he’d get to talk to her. If one of her uncles was with her, then he would be directly defying their wishes if he approached her, and that would lead to a distinct hell he wouldn’t wish on anyone, much less himself.

Until he knew, without a doubt, whether or not she was going to abide by her uncles’ wishes as well, he would be prudent not to give the impression he was thumbing his nose at them. However, if she gave even the slightest indication that she would still have him, nothing was going to keep him from her.

He saw her the moment he arrived at the dinner that night with his aunt and cousin. It was being held in a private home. He’d moved directly to the parlor while his aunt stopped to talk to the hostess in the hall. And there she was. He felt like a man starving, and Melissa’s presence was a feast, filling him with all manner of sensations that were simply beyond his normal experience. He’d missed seeing her more than he realized.

She was across the room, talking with Megan St. James. They seemed to be alone for the moment. Could he be that lucky? No…

“Leave, afore she sees ye,” Ian MacFearson said at his side.

Lincoln turned slowly to the younger man, who was leaning against the wall. His defenses
rose abruptly, as did an anger so acute he could nearly taste it.

None of which showed, however, when he asked with commendable calm, “What were you doing, guarding the door just in case I showed up?”

“Aye, actually, and no’ the most pleasant duty either,” Ian admitted in a surly tone. Then, “Dinna start this again, mon. Leave now.”

Just like that? When Lincoln was so close to her he could call out her name and she would hear him? “I happen to have been invited here.”

“Ye happen tae hae been asked tae stay away from Meli,” Ian reminded him. “If that means adjusting yer own social calendar—”

“What difference?” Lincoln interrupted. “If she wants nothing more to do with me, what does it matter if we’re in the same room at the same gathering? She’ll ignore me, I’ll ignore her. That
is
what happens when two people no longer have any interest in each other.”

Ian’s frustration was clear in his expression. “She hasna been told yet.”

“So I was beginning to suspect, after being taken to task by young St. James for ignoring her. Which leaves me in something of a dilemma that I’m sure you’ll appreciate. You see, I happen to care enough about her to not leave her guessing, whereas you apparently don’t.”

Ian flushed with color. “She’ll be told as soon as her da arrives.”

“And when will that be? If it’s not tomorrow,
then you’d better do something about it—or I will.”

Lincoln was so furious he was close to causing a scene. He turned to leave, before he did something he would regret. He had planned ahead, though, for just such an occurrence. If he hadn’t, he didn’t think he would have had the willpower to walk out without speaking to Melissa first. To have gotten so close to her….

He stopped long enough to tell his aunt that he was leaving and would send the coach back for them. She was astute enough to realize why, since they had discussed the possibility on the way there, so she didn’t barrage him with questions. He also nodded to his cousin, giving her the go-ahead to carry out his contingency plan.

He’d written a note for Melissa ahead of time. Edith was to deliver it inconspicuously, or at least without Melissa’s relatives noticing. He’d admonished her not to read it herself, for which she’d blushed furiously, which said clearly without words that she’d already been thinking about it. But she assured him thereafter that she wouldn’t peek and wouldn’t let him down, that she’d get the note to Melissa even if she had to drag her aside to do it.

Outside, he paused, took a deep breath. The night was warm, clear, a good night for a rendezvous. Unexpectedly, excitement swept immediately through him with the thought. This was going to be much better, he realized, than trying to talk to Melissa in a crowded room. He’d have
her alone, to himself. If she came. There was the possibility that she wouldn’t. It was asking much of her, was asking her to be clandestine, to do something highly improper.

Ordinarily she would undoubtedly refuse for just that reason. But she’d been left in the dark. She’d been left to wonder. He was counting on that to be the deciding factor. She’d have her answers. She wouldn’t like them, but she’d have them. And he’d have his. One way or another they’d both know whether there was any hope for them after tonight.

M
ELISSA
actually considered climbing out the window of her bedroom, two stories up, when there was a perfectly good staircase just down the hall. But that merely showed the current condition of her mind, which was in a very odd state of confusion. She’d like to blame it on having spent yet again three hours over breakfast without eating anything, for the second day in a row, but today had just gone from dazed to worse.

The “worse” started when Justin showed up again before she’d left the small dining room where breakfast was served. He looked as if he’d only just got up. He looked quite agitated. He said as much.

“Didn’t get much sleep mulling this over. Do yourself a favor, pay a visit to the Burnett ladies today. Take my mother along with you. Don’t mention it to your uncle. And don’t ask me why.”

He’d said no more than that before he turned
on his heel and was gone from the room. By the time Melissa thought to go after him for an explanation, he was nowhere to be found. But she was capable of reading between the lines, despite the cryptic nature of his suggestion. He knew something she didn’t, but for some reason he wouldn’t or couldn’t tell her about it. She was likely to find out for herself if she paid the Burnett household a visit.

She spent some time berating herself for not thinking of a visit like that herself. And Megan was certainly willing to accompany her. But it hadn’t gone as she’d figured it would, their visit to the Burnett household. Merely bad luck that Lincoln hadn’t been home when they arrived, nor had he shown up before they left. At this point Melissa couldn’t begin to guess. But something
did
come of it, or at least she assumed that the note in her possession now was a direct result of her visit.

Edith Burnett had slipped the note into her hand, without a single comment and when no one was watching them. Very secretive of the girl, but considering the note’s contents, Melissa understood why.

Instead of calling on her in an acceptable manner, Lincoln wanted to meet her privately, late that night, without chaperonage. He was waiting outside for her at that very moment. The note said he would wait all night if necessary. A lovers’ rendezvous? Nonsense, they weren’t lovers. Yet this meeting had all the earmarks of just that.

What was she to think? She shouldn’t think, she should just follow her instincts. And her instincts told her to meet him no matter what, if for nothing else than to find out why he’d changed his mind about courting her in the traditional manner she’d expected.

She’d never in her life had to sneak about for anything, though. It felt very wrong to do so. Still, she did it, tiptoed down the hall, down the stairs, around to the music room, and out the French doors there. Every noise she heard along the way stopped her cold and caused her heart to pound and her palms to sweat. She expected at least for the butler to be lurking around every corner. But no, the house was completely silent, except for her own footsteps.

Outside, the night was still as clear as it had been earlier in the evening. She saw his coach immediately, down the street out in front of the house, waiting in the shadows between lamp-posts. She found herself running toward it, whether in eagerness or simply to avoid detection, she couldn’t honestly say.

It had been nerve-racking, the sneaking, which produced a number of illogical thoughts in her. One new thought stopped her in her tracks before she reached the large coach. What if Lincoln weren’t in it? What if
he
hadn’t sent the note to her? Someone else, someone completely unknown, could have given it to Edith and merely said to deliver it on Lincoln’s behalf. A wild plot—to what end?

But the coach’s occupant, whoever he was, had heard her approaching, or had been watching for her. He stepped out of the coach. The shadows didn’t reveal him fully, though. He was the right height, the right build, but she just couldn’t see his face clearly yet, so she remained where she was.

He waited, but he must have realized she wasn’t coming any closer. He closed the distance between them, took her hand, said merely, “Come, before we’re seen.”

She’d follow him anywhere now that she knew for sure it
was
him. Ironically, all nervousness fled with that certainty, too. It probably shouldn’t have. She should at least be leery of the reason for their meeting in this fashion. But she was too trusting. Some might see that as a fault. She didn’t. And she was sure he’d have a good explanation. She was looking forward again to hearing it.

The coach was well lit inside, the windows tightly covered to contain the light. A tap on the roof, and the driver set off at a very slow pace, too slow to indicate he had a destination to reach.

Lincoln confirmed that by saying, “He’ll drive about until told otherwise…. I wasn’t sure you would come.”

Melissa glanced at him fully now, which was probably a big mistake on her part. It was so
good
to see him again, too good. Her first instinct was to throw her arms about his neck and tell him how much she’d missed him. She restrained
herself. They hadn’t progressed that far in their relationship for her to be that bold. Yet, oddly, it
felt
as if they had.

At any rate he was here, in her presence again. The thing that had kept him away was apparently resolved—or maybe not, considering the strange way they were meeting. But whatever it was, she was sure they could overcome it. If she didn’t believe that, she’d be truly devastated at the moment, because he was looking at her again in a way that said clearly that he wasn’t going to give up the pursuit.

That
had been her main worry. And certain now that it was unfounded, she could relax. Calm was back, and with it her teasing nature.

So she
was
merely teasing when she said, “Is this how we’re going tae proceed? One meeting every few weeks?”

“Not if I can help it.”

Not a very promising answer. “You’re no’ sure?” she asked, the teasing note gone from her voice.

He was looking too serious by half now, and he even sighed. “I have a lot to tell you, not much of it good. But before I go on, can I assume that you still have no idea why I haven’t called on you?”

“Nay, none,” she replied. “Was someone supposed to have told me?”

“Yes, at least in my opinion you should have been the first to have been told. And after my warning to your Uncle Ian tonight, you should have been told immediately. Surely before you
reached home. But I suppose I wasn’t taken seriously when I said that if they didn’t enlighten you, then I would.”

“You spoke with Ian tonight?”

“At the dinner you attended. I was asked to leave before you saw me.”

“Och, you’re right, this doesna sound good. I’ve been deliberately kept from knowing…what?”

“Why I’ve stopped courting you.”

“Which is?”

She’d lowered her eyes, was holding her breath. His hand touched her chin, raised her face to look at him again. There was tenderness in his gaze.

“Not by my choice, Melissa,” he said quietly. “I was asked—ordered would more aptly describe it—to stay away from you.”

“By whom?”

“Your uncles.”

She frowned. “You mean Ian?”

“I mean
all
your uncles.”

“But where? How? They’re in Scotland.”

“No, they’re here in London, all of them. Another thing they’ve kept from you.”

“Did they tell you why?”

“There was no need to tell me. It’s who I am. It’s who they are. It’s that we have history together, a rather violent history.”

Her frown increased. “But Ian One said he ne’er heard o’ you, that the only Lincoln he knew was the Ross lad…. Och, nae, you’re him?”

“So you were told about me?”

“Nae—I mean, aye, but only a brief tale tae explain why I should hope you werena the same lad.”

“There are two sides to every tale. I’m sure the side you heard showed me at my worst.”

She nodded with a wince. “I know why they wouldna want you courting me. They think you’re crazy.”

He managed a smile. “I probably did seem to be, back then.”

“Could they no’ see you’re no’ like that now?” she demanded.

“Would it matter to them? Once you define a person in your mind, that definition tends to stick. I think of them as savages. They think of me as crazy. There isn’t much middle ground there.”

“Nonsense. You were a child when you knew them before. Whatever you did then, you’re no’ likely tae do something like that now, aye?”

He didn’t answer immediately, which was somewhat alarming. Was there more to it, then, than just simple actions?

She added hesitantly, “Perhaps I should know what it is I’m asking you tae confirm or deny.”

He smiled at her gently. “Emotions, which so rarely come with guarantees. And memories, some of which are so vague and distorted I’m no longer sure if they were real or imagined. But, yes, you are due an explanation.”

He was suddenly looking so full of dread that her compassion rose. “You dinna have tae speak o’ it, if the memories are so painful.”

“Are there any other kind?” he said with a half smile. Then, “Forgive me, that was biased and not even true. I do have other than bad memories, it’s just that the bad ones have dominated a good deal of my life. If I sound bitter, it’s probably because I am. But I’m not talking now just about what happened with your uncles. They were merely the start of it and the catalyst for the rest—but I digress.”

Despite her curiosity, she tried once more to stop him, because it was so obvious he didn’t want to stir up such memories again. “Lincoln, this was sae long ago. Is it really necessary tae bring it all into the open again?”

“For you, yes. The truth is, I’ve never spoken of this in any depth with anyone before. My Uncle Richard, who raised me after I came to England, knew some of it but not all. Perhaps that was a mistake, to keep it all contained and to myself. But I do need to tell you about it, Melissa, and all of it. If it changes your mind about me, I’ll understand.”

And now she was filled with dread as well. If he thought she might change her mind, then what he was going to tell her was going to show him in as bad a light as it might her uncles. But could something that happened so long ago really have any bearing on today? She truly hoped not, but she wouldn’t know until she heard it. So be it.