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“Evidence has been brought to him that Charles is indeed fomenting another rebellion, trying to gather the support of the Scottish clans. I doubt he will succeed.”
“I would have thought you’d be more supportive of his cause,” she said, chuckling.
He shook his head. “I work for Rome, it is true, but even I know when a cause is hopeless. Even if he made it all the way to London, Charles does not have enough trained men at his disposal to take the throne. I told George this, but it made no difference. He was still all in a fury. The bulk of his army is still in Germany.”
“Do you think Charles will actually try to invade?” she asked as they ascended the stairs to the bedchamber.
“I think he is fool enough to make an attempt, yes. But as I said, I doubt he will find much success. His forces are limited, and support for him here has grown increasingly thin since he fled into exile. People tend to support stability, and George has been here long enough to prove himself a capable ruler.” He closed the door behind them. “Enough of politics. How are things with Miss Charlotte?”
“I was beginning to think she might never speak to me again,” Mélisande replied, letting the robe slip from her shoulders as she approached the bed.
“She has relented, then?”
“Yes. Two days ago, she appeared at breakfast and began nattering on as though nothing untoward had occurred. It was most peculiar.”
“And what of Herrington?” he prompted, his hand wandering down to follow the dip of her waist and the luscious curve of a hip. Though they’d been lovers for some time now, he still could not get over how glorious she was naked. “Has he followed through on his threat?”
“Indeed. I received a letter from Charlotte’s parents late last week, informing me of the ‘delightful news.’ He’s been given permission to call on her at my residence. Worse, they’ve asked that I facilitate the courtship.”
She buried her head in the pillow. “I don’t know how I’m going to get through this,” came her muffled voice from within the depths. “The blackguard arrived unannounced for tea the very day I received the letter—almost as if he knew. And every day since, I’ve had to sit and watch him ply Charlotte with sweet words and false smiles.”
Alessandro drew her back up and kissed her. “We will find a way to stop him, amora. I promise.”
“The situation with David is degenerating, too,” she added. “The rumors are terrible. Drunken rants, reckless gambling. He’s always been wayward, but never out of control. I read in the papers yesterday morning that he’d fought a duel with Lord Chilton. David apparently walked away with a few minor scratches, while Lord Chilton very nearly died. David’s second had to physically restrain him from running the man through. I pray he does not end up dead or in prison.”
“The wound in his heart is driving him to commit such rash acts,” Alessandro told her. “He will return to sanity again, in time.”
“Time is a luxury we do not have,” said Mélisande. “I’m convinced Charlotte still loves him. I sometimes hear her crying at night when I pass her door. But if Herrington is allowed to continue gaining ground...”
“Has he made any more mention of you taking her place?” he asked, his gut tightening unpleasantly.
“Not at all. He didn’t even speak to me during his visit today. Not one word. He knows I’ll never agree to it.”
The look in her eyes reminded Alessandro of her father—her true father. The tension in his middle eased. “There must be a way to make her see the truth.”
“If there is, I cannot think how to accomplish it.”
“Perhaps we should try to make him show Charlotte his true nature, much as you had planned to do with Pelham?” he suggested.
“No,” she replied, quaffing the last of her wine. “I dare not try to manipulate the situation like that again. My last attempt failed spectacularly.”
“True, the strategy failed to achieve its purpose the first time, but that was due to
Herrington’s interference.”
“No,” she repeated more firmly. “It failed because I did not stay focused on the task at hand. I let myself become distracted.”
“You had no way of anticipating his actions.”
“If I had been watching her properly, he never would have attempted to subvert her!”
“Do not be angry, amora,” he whispered, tipping up her chin so he could see her eyes.
Her shoulders slumped. “I am not angry with you, Alessandro. I’m angry with myself. I made a mistake, and I must rectify it.”
“What do you propose?”
“I will try to reason with him directly. I’m sure we can resolve our differences in a civilized manner. He doesn’t truly want to marry me; the man can hardly stand the sight of me,” she told him, laughing a little. “This is purely a matter of tit for tat—his vanity was bruised, and now he wishes to bruise mine. If I did agree to marry him, he would only jilt me at the altar. I’m certain of it.”
