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rd signs of their lovemaking, save the deep shadows beneath her eyes. A faint smile curled her lips. Grabbing her nightgown, she turned from her image with a nod of satisfaction, unaware that even if her body showed no visible change, her eyes certainly did.
As she reached to douse the lamp at her bedside, her gaze lit upon the ring on her finger, drawn to the jewel as the light illuminated something strange in its depths. She’d not taken it off since Alessandro had put it on her hand. Removing it now, she examined it carefully.
To her surprise, there was a design carved in relief on the back of the stone. It was a crest—and it matched the one painted on the door of Alessandro’s carriage. She brought it closer to the light to read an inscription engraved on the inside of the band: Per amare ed onorare—to love and to honor.
Her heart began to pound unevenly. This was no paste plaything, nor even an expensive bauble. Like the ruby Louis had given her, this was a family heirloom, a treasure passed from generation to generation.
Why would he give something so precious to me? She had to assume he meant for her to give it back when they parted ways, but why give it to her at all? Jamming the ring back onto her finger, she blew out the lamp and tried to dismiss the words from her mind. But “to love and to honor” kept popping back into her thoughts as she sought sleep.
Enough is enough! she chastised herself. He’s a brief distraction, a pleasurable dalliance, nothing more!
But though she tried not to dwell upon it, she could not help wondering what it would be like if things were different between them.
PRINCE CHARMING AND THE KING
FROM ACROSS THE chessboard, George eyed the Italian duke with amusement. An entertaining fellow, to be sure. Boisterous and ribald, even by English standards. A lively addition to his court, if a temporary one.
“I am a fortunate man, Your Majesty,” said his opponent, moving another piece.
“The board says otherwise.” George chuckled, castling to put his rook in a position to take Gravina’s king. “Check. How so?”
Gravina moved his king out of danger. “The woman I asked about before—the one I met in Versailles—I found her.”
The announcement caused George to pause in confusion. When he’d first arrived at court, Gravina had inquired after a woman by the surname d’Orleans. At the time, he’d thought it strange that an Italian would ask after Isabelle. The man had been disappointed to learn that she had died more than a year prior. “You mean you found her grave?” he asked, resuming play.
Gravina laughed and moved his knight to block him. “No, Your Majesty. The lady is quite alive. We discovered each other again at Lord Ludley’s ball and have since renewed our acquaintance. When we first met, she told me her surname was d’Orleans, but it was really Compton.”
George carefully concealed his surprise. Isabelle had mentioned something in her letters about Melly being different after their visit to Versailles. She’d suspected something had happened there to cause her to break her betrothal. Perhaps the reason was sitting across from him even now. “Mélisande Compton?” he asked, taking Gravina’s knight.
Gravina smiled. “The same.” He scooted his queen to a white square.
“Exactly how did you become acquainted in Versailles?”
Gravina gave him a devilish grin. “She wandered into the garden where I happened to be seeking a moment of solitude. We talked for a little, and then I suppose she let curiosity get the better of her. I was delighted to oblige, of course.”
“I see,” murmured George. He was beginning to see all too clearly. Yesterday he’d heard about the infamous waltz. Until this moment, he’d thought it just another one of Melly’s harmless escapades. She’d proven herself capable of avoiding any real trouble so far, and the idea of watching her cause a stir with Gravina had actually been somewhat entertaining—but now... “And?” he prompted, sliding his bishop into place. “Check.”
Gravina again moved his king. “She vanished.”
“You searched for her?” George asked, repositioning his knight. “Checkmate in three moves.”
Gravina frowned for a moment at the board as if startled to find himself beaten. “I asked everyone about her,” he finally answered, tipping his king, “but no one knew anything. She’d been seen by others the day we met, but never before and never again after.” He frowned again and began reordering the pieces for another game. “I even went to speak with the d’Orleans family, but they disavowed any knowledge of her. It was the strangest thing.”
“And now you believe you have solved the mystery?”
Gravina nodded. “I have. Her father was visiting the French king on an important errand for Your Majesty, something to do with discouraging French support for the Jacobites. They departed Versailles the morning after our encounter.”
George knew why Wilmington had been sent to France. What he didn’t understand was why Melly had assumed her mother’s surname while there. “I see. And what is your interest in her now? Surely after so many years, your feelings cannot have remained intact.”
“I beg to differ, Your Majesty,” said Gravina. “If anything, they have grown in strength. I have searched for her from Spain to Russia, everywhere my travels have taken me, and I have had neither peace nor contentment until now. I wish to marry her—and the feeling is mutual.”
“You are certain of this?”
“It may be considered a bit hasty, Your Majesty,” Gravina admitted, “but she has already accepted my suit. I have given her my ring in troth before witnesses. The engagement is to be announced publicly today.”
George felt his blood begin to heat. A bit hasty? Melly damn well knew she needed his approval before there could be any sort of wedding! He maintained a calm exterior in spite of his vexation. “I don’t mind telling you that Lady Wilmington has become a matter of increasing concern,” he told him. “On several recent occasions, her behavior has come dangerously close to eliciting my intervention. I’ve been a hairbreadth from commanding her to marry Newcastle’s heir, despite her objections.”
Gravina’s face whitened.
