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Mélisande’s palms began to sweat just a little. If Lady Mallowby, who’d openly disapproved of her on several occasions, had deigned to attend her party, then the whole of London must be waiting to hear her report. Nothing but the heaviest pressure from her most influential friends could have convinced that woman to enter the “lion’s den,” as she’d once dubbed Mélisande’s house. That she’d brought her daughter was even more surprising.
Leaving David behind, she went to welcome them. The next hour was spent making introductions and ushering people to tables.
&nbs
p; When everyone had at last arrived, she gave Alessandro the signal.
An expectant hush fell as he joined her at the front of the room. Mélisande nearly laughed aloud as she watched several people actually lean in. Any moment now, they’d begin slavering and licking their chops.
“Dear friends,” she began, scanning the eager faces, “I am so pleased to see each and every one of you. I invited you here to join me in celebrating the return of my good friend Mr. Stamma”—she gestured toward him with a smile—“but I am pleased to announce that this gathering now has another, very special purpose.”
She looked to Alessandro, giving him the floor.
His eyes were luminous as he ensnared her left hand, lifting it to his lips and showing off the jewel that now graced it. “I am delighted to announce that Lady Wilmington has agreed to become my duchess. The wedding will take place this autumn, and you are all invited!” he proclaimed.
Even though she knew it was all a pretense, happiness filled Mélisande as she watched her friends react to the news. Stamma grinned and boasted that he’d known they were a perfect match all along. Charlotte sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, sneaking a glance at David from beneath her lashes. David, she noted with satisfaction, had lost his mocking sneer.
Mélisande meandered about, accepting congratulations and answering inquiries about the anticipated nuptials. Though polite to a fault, her guests’ amazement at her hasty engagement was clear. By the time the party ended, she’d had enough of their speculative stares and hurriedly hushed conversations. Their doubts would be silenced in a few months’ time when she didn’t swell with child.
She glanced at the clock on the mantlepiece, and the fluttering in her midsection, which had begun to subside, now returned. It was almost time.
DOWN THE PRIMROSE PATH
ALESSANDRO’S CARRIAGE TRUNDLED through increasingly quiet streets, at last pulling up before a smart little house in a quiet part of London. Disembarking, he stood for a moment in the warm glow of the gate lamps.
Her instructions had been for him to arrive at midnight, and he was a bit early. An hour was considered “a bit” by some, he told himself. He hadn’t been this anxious to see a woman since he was a young buck. What was it about this one that made him feel so different?
His hand hesitated on the knocker. Perhaps he ought to come back at the appointed time. After all, it wouldn’t do to appear overly eager.
Oh, for pity’s sake, one would think I’d never bedded a woman before! He knocked.
The butler showed him into a small, well-appointed parlor and went to inform his mistress of her guest’s arrival. He returned shortly to say that Madam was currently indisposed, but would be down within the hour.
Alessandro politely declined the drink he was offered and sat watching the clock on the mantel, cooling his heels for approximately three whole minutes before heading upstairs. Much to his delight, he discovered “Madam” still in her bath. Her back was to the door, and she was giving her attendant instructions for her dress. She did not hear him enter.
He stood, hand frozen to the knob as he watched the girl rinsing the soap from her mistress’s shoulders. Mélisande’s dark hair had been pinned atop her head, and a few wet tendrils clung to her long, graceful neck.
The servant girl saw him out of the corner of her eye and made to announce him, but he stopped her, placing a quick finger across his lips.
An impudent grin was her only response. She puttered about the room a moment longer before making her exit, brushing past with an appreciative glance.
Alessandro closed the door and padded over until he was directly behind Mélisande. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss on one gleaming shoulder, flicking his tongue across her bare skin to catch a glittering droplet.
Water sloshed over the sides of the heavy wooden tub as she turned, squealing in alarm.
Laughing, he jumped back. “I know you told me midnight, but I simply couldn’t wait a moment longer.” He pulled off his now sodden jacket and tossed it over the back of a nearby chair. Reaching out, he pushed a rope of damp hair off her shoulder, watching, fascinated, as gooseflesh prickled across her skin.
Still chuckling, Alessandro cupped some of her warm bath-water in his hands, pouring it over her chilled skin.
She suddenly remembered her nakedness. Crossing her arms over herself with another squeak of dismay, Mélisande sank beneath the surface of the water, again sending much of it onto the rug below.
Having spied a drying sheet warming by the fire, Alessandro went over to fetch it. He brought it back and held it out for her to step into.
She looked up at him as if he were mad.
“For a woman prepared to make love on a rooftop beneath the stars, you are far more timid than I expected,” he said with a grin. “You realize that, as your lover, I will see all of you.”
“Of course,” Mélisande snipped. “I am not ignorant of the details of intimacy. I—you simply surprised me, that’s all.”
