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“It’s a perfect day for a fête champêtre,” said Mélisande, smiling. “Last year was a disaster. It began raining, and we all had to move indoors. Nothing like a lot of wet, miserable people crammed into a small space to enliven things.”
They passed the garden pavillion, where the musicians played softly, and followed the path around the green, where fellow guests played at bowls. There, beneath the trees, Lady Skelton had arranged carpets for her guests to recline upon and enjoy the outdoors. Seeing one of these that was unoccupied, the trio claimed it. Almost immediately, servants appeared with delicious-looking hors d’oeuvres and cool drinks.
“Lady Skelton has outdone herself,” said Mélisande as she arranged her pink-and-cream-striped skirts about her.
“Hadn’t we better find my brother?” said Charlotte, leaning against a gnarled, old tree.
“There is no need,” Alessandro replied, nodding toward Stanton, who was making his way over to them.
Her face fell.
“Well and well!” said Stanton as he approached. “Here you are at last.”
“Where is David?” asked Charlotte.
“Occupied,” said Stanton, sitting. “He’ll be along in a bit.”
“Sit down, Charlotte,” commanded Mélisande, fixing her with a stern eye.
With a loud sigh the girl did as she was told, trained her eyes upon the field, and began humming softly to herself.
“I saw Lady Berkeley at Mrs. Montagu’s salon yesterday,” Mélisande said. “She is planning a wedding. The Earl of Carlisle has offered for her youngest daughter your friend Winifred.”
Still humming, Charlotte continued staring out at the field as if she hadn’t heard her.
“A most advantageous match for Lord Berkeley,” Mélisande continued. “And Winifred certainly seems delighted. You visited her just last week, did you not?” She waited. “Did she say anything about anticipating such a momentous event?”
The humming stopped, and Alessandro saw Charlotte flick a nervous glance at her.
“She did not,” the girl answered at last.
He hid a smile as she began picking at the lace on her sleeve. It seemed Mélisande had finally found a way to get her attention. Stanton seemed content to remain quiet and ignore the conversation entirely.
“Apparently, Miss Berkeley suffered a sprained ankle during a scavenger hunt this last Saturday and was rescued by Lord Carlisle,” persisted Mélisande. “Lady Berkeley told me—in strictest confidence, of course—that during the time they were alone together, he compromised her.”
Silence.
“She a
lso confided that the gentleman had to be persuaded to come to scratch,” continued Mélisande. “He claimed Winifred was not telling the truth, and that she merely sought to entrap him.”
The look she gave Charlotte was long and piercing, and Alessandro saw the girl redden.
“Eventually, he was convinced by Winifred’s father to do as honor demanded. Poor girl. I should never wish to be married to someone who did not wish to marry me.”
“He will come to love Winnie in time.”
Mélisande lifted a raven brow. “I cannot help but think she would be much happier with a husband who already loves her and wants to be with her.”
“Yes, well, not all women are as fortunate as you, are they?” Charlotte snapped, putting her nose in the air. As she returned her gaze to the field, her face suddenly lit with a smile—a smile that evaporated just as quickly as it had appeared.
Turning, Alessandro saw that Pelham had arrived—and that he was not alone. At his side was Miss Olivia Doulton. Rising, he went to greet them.
“Lord Gravina, how nice to see you again,” said Miss Doulton. “And of course Mr. Stanton, Miss Stanton, Melly.” She nodded to each.
“Have you already joined a group?” asked Mélisande.
“I have not.”
