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But Brandon was a shell of a man, still recovering from his grievous injuries, and the fight would hardly be fair. Confronting Brandon would get him nowhere, but he could at least try. Assuming he could catch his brother at home anytime in the next few days. Surely the once-sunny boy would respond to him, if he approached it properly. His main concern was keeping his brother out of the debacle that was the Heavenly Host—unlike Charity Carstairs he had no illusions that he could save everyone.
But he could save Brandon. He had to. His parents re
lied on him; his sense of duty insisted. His exasperated love for the siblings who would never do as he thought they should drove him mad, but he couldn’t afford to lose another.
He strode up the front stairs, handing his hat and gloves to Richmond, who was waiting patiently, and ordered a hot bath. It had been a long day. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with Brandon. If necessary, he could simply truss him up and keep him prisoner until the full moon was done. It wouldn’t solve Lady Melisande’s problem, but she could find herself another knight errant, one better suited to her, and together they could fight injustice and cruelty, and he wished them happy.
“Would your lordship like some supper?” Richmond inquired politely, trailing after him.
He hadn’t eaten since the picnic on the blanket, staring at Melisande’s luscious mouth as she devoured everything in sight. Food might improve his choleric mood, but right then he felt like indulging himself. “No food, Richmond. A bottle of brandy will suffice. ” And he continued up to his rooms, prepared to get completely and totally drunk.
Emma Cadbury sat back in her chair, putting her fingertips together, her brow creased with worry. She’d hoped she’d been wrong. Benedick Rohan had been an occasional visitor at the establishment she had once run, and the girls had always been generous with their praise of him. She knew Melisande was totally besotted, and she’d hoped against hope that there might be a corresponding affection.
She should have known better. Women did love a rake, and Melisande, for all that she pretended she was above such feminine weakness, was as vulnerable as the greenest girl. She’d taken one look at Benedick Rohan’s dark, haughty visage and fallen like a stone into a well, drowning in his cynical charm.
One could hardly blame her. No woman had ever been able to resist a Rohan, and Melisande was alarmingly innocent, despite her attempts to become more worldly. Wilfred Hunnicut should be drawn and quartered, and instead he was enjoying the fruits of his labors, a comfortable marriage with the daughter of a cit.
If Benedick Rohan had given any sign, any hint that he cherished tender feelings toward Melisande, then Emma would have done what she could to support the match. She snorted, an elegant little sound. As if a man such as Benedick Rohan were capable of tender feelings! No, Melisande needed someone to watch over her, keep her from charging headlong into dangerous situations, protect her from her own good heart. Benedick Rohan was not that someone.
Author: Anne Stuart
Even if Melisande desperately wished otherwise.
Not that she’d admit it, even to herself. But Emma was wise in the ways of men and women, and she could see Melisande’s longing. And she was hardly going to stand by and watch her heart be broken.
Viscount Rohan was a little more difficult to read. He’d denied any particular interest in Melisande, but given the amount of time he’d spent with her recently she wasn’t certain she could believe him.
At least she’d effectively warned him off. If he had ever thought of seducing Melisande, he had now been shown the error of his ways. She would be mournful; she would miss the excitement and danger of his company. Emma knew far too well how enticing that danger was.
But in the end she’d be ready to find the right sort of man, one who would cherish her. And Viscount Rohan could go to hell with the rest of his kind.
20
Lady Melisande Carstairs had erotic dreams that night. For the first time in her life she woke up as her body convulsed with a little shiver of pleasure, and so she sat up, horrified. There was the faint light of dawn filtering through her curtains, and she could see the bottle of laudanum on her bedside table beside a half-filled glass of water.
No more laudanum for her, she thought grimly. She hadn’t wanted it in the first place. Rohan had tricked her, the slimy snake, and right now he was probably off celebrating his escape from her.
Except he was probably asleep at that hour, she decided fairly, closing her eyes again. Which was a good thing, because he hadn’t escaped at all. If he thought she was staying off her strained ankle and leaving everything up to him then he was far too trusting, and Rohan didn’t strike her as the trusting sort. She would be up and about once the vile drug was out of her system. It was Tuesday, and thanks to her presence at the Elsmeres’ rout, she had received invitations on her own to attend a ball given by the rather notorious Duke and Duchess of Worthingham, and if Rohan refused to accompany her she would go alone. There was some reason why women should not attend social gatherings on their own, but she couldn’t remember. Perhaps most of them had companions to accompany them.
Of course she had more than her share of companions. Miss Mackenzie, her aging governess who oversaw the reading lessons, would occasionally fill in as a duenna, but she didn’t approve of Viscount Rohan, and she might very well refuse, leaving her with the choice of Emma or Violet, either of whom would throw the assembled multitude into a state of disbelieving horror. It was tempting, but she couldn’t afford to risk losing one of her last opportunities to make progress. The night of the full moon was fast approaching.
It was past ten when she hobbled downstairs, accompanied by the strictures of half the gaggle. “I’m perfectly fine,” she said by the time she made it to the first floor. In truth, her ankle hurt like blue blazes, but she was still able to walk, and she was hardly going to let a little discomfort get in her way. “Stop fussing!”
Emma had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, watching her halting progress with a stern look in her eye. “You shouldn’t…” she began, but Melisande forestalled her.
“There’s nothing to worry about. I’ll rest when this is over. It’s not as if the damned thing is broken. I can stand a little pain. ”
“You are the most stubborn creature,” Emma said in her calm voice. “Why wouldn’t you listen to good sense?”
“Because I don’t see it as good sense. Is Lord Rohan’s horse still here?”
Emma shook her head. “He sent someone over to collect it last night. He…er…also took your horse, as well. He said you shan’t be using it for the next few weeks and he had need of it. ”
Melisande stared at her, incredulity and anger warring for control. “And you just let him?”
Emma’s smile was wry. “Do you really think I could stop a peer of the realm from doing exactly what he wanted? Did you expect me to throw myself in front of the horses?”
“Stealing a horse is a capital offense,” Melisande said darkly.
