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Stamma came and played chess with her every other day, and Elizabeth begged David’s leave to host a small literary meeting in his home since Melly could not visit her salon. Lady Angelica visited frequently as well, but everyone knew whom she truly came to see. It made Mélisande smile to see her and Reggie together.
Perhaps a double wedding wasn’t to be ruled out after all.
Except when it rained, Mélisande and Alessandro walked in the gardens every day. Though she longed to do so with increasing intensity, she knew it was impossible to resume their physical relationship while she remained in David’s house. She had to content herself with talk and the occasional kiss beneath the arbor in the orchard.
If the kisses were a torment, the talk was even more so. The more they talked, the more she grew to love him. She’d given up trying to stop it. All she could do was try not to let it be obvious.
Though she knew he was fond of her, Alessandro had made no mention of love.
Maman had been “fond” of Papa, too. And she’d broken his heart.
Eight weeks later, His Majesty’s summons finally came.
Though she’d just been pronounced fit for travel by Sir Sloane, there was an ache Mélisande feared would never leave her, and it had nothing to do with the ugly pair of puckered red scars she now bore. Those marks and the occasional twinge of discomfort were all the physical evidence that remained of her brush with death. But in her heart, she’d already begun to mourn the loss of the man she’d grown to love more than she’d ever thought possible. During her confinement, she’d come to see him not only as her lover but as her dearest friend.
How would she bear it when he left?
Mélisande chose her gown carefully for the audience with the king, making certain the neckline was low and wide enough to reveal her scars. Most women would have hidden such blemishes, but she showed them proudly, knowing it would be to Alessandro’s advantage for the king to see for himself what she’d suffered.
When they were summoned into His Majesty’s receiving chamber, they found several members of His Majesty’s council present, including David’s uncle, the Rt. Honorable Henry Pelham, Sir Hans Sloane, and the Duke of Devonshire. Sir Charles Bittle, as promised, was also present.
“Melly,” King George greeted his goddaughter, blanching slightly when his gaze lit upon the sling and the angry red welt marring the skin of her right shoulder. “Sloane tells me you’ve made a remarkable recovery. I am truly glad to see you well.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” she answered. “I am well enough now to leave Lord Pelham’s. In fact, I had only just begun to make the arrangements when your summons arrived.”
He beckoned her closer and lowered his voice. “The reason I waited so long was because I wished to see you as well. Herrington came to me with a rather strange tale the night before the unfortunate incident that claimed his life. As he can no longer answer my questions, I must seek answers elsewhere.”
“I shall, of course, answer as best I am able, Your Majesty.” Mélisande struggled to keep from showing her fear.
“I should very much like to know why the challenge was issued to begin with,” he asked.
Relieved, Mélisande told him of the bizarre conflict. When she came to Herrington’s seduction of Charlotte, Charlotte came forward to deliver her part of the story herself. Each of her friends gave their testimony, filling in the pieces. When Alessandro finally spoke of his challenge and the circumstances under which it had been issued, George’s face grew grim. Bittle and Pelham then described the duel and Herrington’s final, dishonorable act.
When all fell silent, Mélisande watched as her king’s eyes flicked to the puckered scar on her shoulder, then back to Alessandro. “I believe your cause was just. However, I must tell you that a great many members of my council have already advised your expulsion. They believe allowing a foreigner to kill a peer with impunity sets a bad precedent, regardless of the justification.”
Mélisande’s stomach clenched.
“We shall not command your expulsion,” George continued. “However, we request that you leave as quickly as possible.”
At his gesture, the Duke of Devonshire stepped forward.
“I’ve been informed that several of Herrington’s friends plan to avenge his death,” Devonshire addressed the entire group. “I know not how the man managed to gather so loyal a following, but until they are convinced of the truth, the Duke of Gravina is in grave danger of assassination.”
Mélisande glanced at Alessandro, her heart beginning to break.
“There is another matter about which I must inquire, Melly,” said George. “Before his demise, Herrington spoke to me privately regarding your claim to the earldom.”
Her spirits sank yet further. Damn you, Herrington. I hope you are in the hottest part of Hell...
“I’m afraid I have no choice but to ask you some difficult questions, my dear,” George told her. “However, this matter pertains to you and you alone,” he added. “If you wish, we will clear the room so that we may converse in privacy.”
Mélisande nodded. “I wish Lord Pelham, Miss Stanton, Mr. Stanton, and my...fiancé to remain.”
When the door closed, George spoke plainly. “I see no delicate way to address such a matter; thus, I shall come right to the point. Herrington claimed you are not of Wilmington’s blood-line, and that you are a Jacobite sympathizer and spy. He alleged that your mother and the French king were lovers before she met Wilmington and that Spencer unknowingly raised a Bourbon bastard. The man vowed to have seen a painting bearing your likeness in Louis’s bedchamber. He also said you both bear a shared birthmark. I was loath to believe such a preposterous tale, of course, but...”
Mélisande looked down at the ruby on her finger and again cursed Herringt
on. Raising her eyes, she faced her king. “First, allow me to address the first accusation and say that I have never been anything but your loyal subject. The idea that I would ever support the Stuart claim to England’s throne is an insult.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “Secondly, there are two birthmarks, Your Majesty. One here”—she pointed to the one on her breast—“and another that cannot be seen.”
