The kiss gave her courage. She lifted her chin and kissed him back, full on the mouth, in front of the butler. Fitz’s answering grin raised her spirits more.
Perhaps there would be hope for them. But poor Fitz—to marry a woman whose immense wealth he couldn’t legally command. His wife a banker? And her mother… After what he’d been through with his first wife, would Fitz want to risk marrying the same sort of woman?
He smoothed her shoulders. “Shall we?”
“Yes.” She straightened his neckcloth and tugged her shawl closer.
The corner of his mouth curved. “Girded for battle?”
She nodded, returning his smile.
Biggs opened both doors and they walked in together. Mother rose from her seat, as did her husband, the indolent Lord Theodore Starling. Another man standing near the fireplace raised a quizzing glass. She had the fleeting impression of a fellow about the same age and height and coloring as Lord Starling. Fleeting, because her mother’s presence overpowered both men and dominated the room.
Blonde-haired, shapely, and still quite beautiful, Mother had only just turned one and forty, Papa having invaded the cradle to get her with child. Seeing her father in that light made Mel’s heart ache. It was no wonder Grandfather had detested him.
She pulled herself together. “Lady Starling,” Mel said. “Lord Starling. Such a surprise.”
Mother’s eyes flitted between her and Fitz, finally settling on the more interesting quarry, the handsome and virile Lord Loughton. Had Mother been single she would have vied with the girls at Lady Clitheroe’s party for Fitz’s attentions.
Mel’s hand tightened on his arm. Mother might still chase Fitz, Lord Starling be damned. She was that sort.
She introduced her mother and stepfather to Fitz and he bowed. “Lady Starling, Lord Starling,” she said, “This is Lord Loughton, my fiancé.”
Fitz squeezed her hand, and beamed her a smile.
Mother’s eyes blazed and her mouth tightened.
“I don’t know the other gentleman, dear Fitz,” Mel said.
“This is Mr. Franklin Starling,” Mother said, “Lord Starling’s nephew, heir to Viscount Dumphrey.”
Mel dipped her head at mother’s last little flourish. She was supposed to be impressed by the title.
When Fitz seated her on the sofa between his mother and Lady Hermione, she felt momentarily bereft, until Lady Loughton patted her hand. Clever man—he was letting the Starlings know she was not alone. She had allies, two strong women, and it would look like she’d been accepted as family by Lady Loughton.
She exchanged a smile with Fitz, who took a chair nearby where he could watch her and the ladies, and all the Starlings, and more importantly, where Mel could easily see him.
“We were surprised to arrive in Hampshire and find the cottage closed up,” Mother chided.
“As you have already mentioned,” Hermione murmured.
“Demmed dreadful crossing,” Lord Starling grumbled. “Demmed inconvenient. And expensive. Had to stay at that execrable inn waiting for Franklin to join us.”
“And the matter of tracking your journey, Cousin Mary,” Mr. Starling said. “And finding you here.” He frowned at Mother. Perhaps he was a victim in all of this as well.
Mother cleared her throat. “Yes, and I must speak candidly, Mary Elizabeth. Though I can see that Lord Loughton is quite…desirable…” She batted her eyelashes. “I was shocked to learn of your sudden engagement and plans to marry so quickly after his first wife’s demise.”
Oh, that was rich. She exchanged a look with Fitz. Had she told him about mother’s hasty marriage to her lover after Father’s death? She couldn’t remember.
“Really, Gwen? A quick marriage after a spouse’s demise?”
Mother ignored Hermione’s sarcastic mutter and went on. “So quickly after an acquaintance of mere days? It was fortunate the nuptials were delayed.” She paused for a dramatic breath.
Fortunate? Lady Loughton’s husband, Fitz’s father, had fallen terribly ill and died.
Mel’s eyes met Lady Loughton’s and she saw the flare of emotion there. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Lady Loughton took Mel’s hand and held it between both of hers. Mother’s gaze fixed on the move and her frown deepened.
“Mary Elizabeth, your stepfather and I have not given our approval to this marriage. You must know, Lord Loughton, a previous arrangement was made. Mary Elizabeth was promised to Mr. Franklin Starling.”
“Is that so?” Fitz drawled. “I understood that Miss Parker is of age and can decide for herself.”
“I am. I haven’t seen any marriage agreements, much less signed one, nor was I privy to any such arrangements. Promised by whom, Mother?”
“Why, it was arranged when Major Parker died.”
“Arranged by whom? Certainly not by my dear papa.”
“By your stepfather and me. Why, who else has a say over a daughter’s future?” She cocked her head and leaned in. “Hermione wrote that you have struck up a correspondence with your grandfather. Surely he has not taken an interest in you?”
“We did not tell her yet.” Hermione’s stage whisper carried throughout the room.
“You’ve heard the news?” Mel whispered back.
Hermione nodded.
“Tell me what?” Mother’s voice crackled with strong emotion. “What news?”
Mel eased in a breath, quelling a new wave of anger for the grandfather and father who, despite their own flaws, had been so ill-used. Lady Loughton slipped a hand free and settled it on Mel’s back.
“Grandfather has died.”
Mother’s eyes widened and she blinked, reaching for her handkerchief, and drumming up tears. Crying at will was one of her talents.
Lord Starling cleared his throat. “And what of his estate?”
Fitz’s knuckles whitened around the arms of his chair. The blackguard. Starling—more like Vulture—was younger than Mel’s mother, perhaps the same age as the man he called his nephew. Perhaps younger than himself even. He’d probably never bothered to attempt an acquaintance with his bride’s father.
Color flooded Mel’s cheeks and then drained, and her lips quivered with the shakiness that came over her when she was about to be ill.
He pushed out of his chair. They were finished with this group of predators. “Miss Parker will send you the name and direction of Mr. Sawley’s solicitor so you may make inquiries.” He nodded to her encouragingly, watching her gather her composure.
“Most certainly, I will,” she said. “Leave word with Lord Loughton’s butler where you may be contacted.”
Hermione and his mother stood, raising Mel up between them.
She was ill. He needed to shuffle these bloody vipers away.
“You will want to rest from your journey,” Mother said. “You will find the Royal Swan to be a very comfortable and respectable inn, one of the best in England.”
Starling was enough of a gentleman to rise with the ladies, but Mel’s mother remained firmly seated, even sliding back further upon her chair. “We have not finished here. You are not free to marry Lord Loughton. Especially now, so soon after your grandfather’s death, with the estate to be settled. I must firmly object. We must object, Lord Starling and I.”
“Duly noted,” Fitz said. There were no legal grounds for an objection. Mel was of age when her father died, and she claimed to know nothing about a contract. The banns were properly posted and the vicar had the living on the Loughton estate.
Still, given enough time, Mel’s mother might throw up an objection the Church would feel obligated to consider.
While his mother and Hermione moved toward the door, Fitz tucked Mel’s frigid hand over his arm. “I am sure that Miss Parker will give as much consideration to your feelings as you have given to hers and those of the late Major Parker. Mr. Sawley’s feelings will be evident to you in his will once that is revealed. Now, I must speak candidly as well. You must be on your way. The ladies have had a tiring day with the children.”
“I could use a pint now,” Mr. Starling muttered.
Mel’s mother’s lips firmed. “Before I leave, Mary Elizabeth, I would hear your promise that you won’t marry.”
Mel scoffed and opened her mouth to speak.
“Give it back.” Maniacal laughter flowed through the open parlor doors along with the sound of pounding feet. James burst into the room, the three younger boys in pursuit. At the sight of the visitors, James froze, but the other three saw only their prey. They pounced, and all four boys collapsed onto the carpet in a giggling, raucous, free-for-all.
Next to him, Mel had begun trembling, one hand over her mouth. She caught his eye, and he saw she was laughing.
Mel’s mother spluttered and waved a hand. “Why I…Aren’t you going to stop them?”
“Boys.” Mother shook her head. “I have six of them, Lady Starling. Sometimes it’s better to let them settle on their own.”
Fitz beckoned Biggs and the two sturdy footmen who’d joined him in the hall.
“Shall we break them up, my lord?”
“Best give those three a moment to set James straight. I’m sure he’s done something to deserve this. The visitors are leaving now. Please escort them out to their carriage.”
“Tossed out,” Mr. Starling muttered. “Good work, Gwen.”
With a huff, Mel’s mother finally stood. Soon enough they’d closed the door on the family of Starlings, and Fitz went to sort out the tangle of boys.
“I am so very sorry.” Mel wiped a tear that had come from laughing so hard. Good Lord, Mother’s face. “My mother is the sort to push and prod, and unsettle the world around her until she gets exactly what she wants. I thought she’d never leave.”
“We had to unleash our secret weapon.” Fitz’s smile warmed her down to her toes, making her laugh again.
“Wild little brothers and their friends.”
“The Glanford boys will be family soon. James and Edward are gloating about being their uncles.”
“Can you truly tolerate the connection to my mother?” If not, perhaps Mr. Smith would escort Mel to Grandfather’s estate in Bedfordshire.
Her hand went to her stomach. No, Bedfordshire might be out of the question for the next several months.
She glanced at Fitz and found him watching her. Oh, Jupiter, she was being ridiculous. Fitz had risen to her defense, as had his mother. And she could help them and the tenants now that she was Grandfather’s heir.
The thought of the money… the bank… the responsibility… The carpet rippled beneath her.
Her feet left the floor. With a great rustling of skirts Fitz deposited her back on the sofa where she’d sat confronting her mother, her head now cradled against his shoulder. She inhaled the comforting scent of fresh air, starch, and horse, and the undefinable musk she recognized as his.
He slipped away and moments later pressed a tumbler into her hands. “Brandy,” he said. “Drink.”
She peered at him over the glass. “People are always handing me drinks, as if I’m some addlepate.”
“Or perhaps a ninnyhammer.”
She laughed, swallowed and choked. Fitz patted her on the back until she’d finished coughing.
“I never did acquire a taste for spirits.”
“One more sip,” he said. “Slowly this time.”
She complied, and set the glass aside. “I ought to have told you more about my mother. She was already living with Starling while Father was dying. She came for Papa’s funeral, and then returned to Kent and married him almost immediately. But before that, she was unfaithful. Often. With many different men. I ought to have told you.”
“Your grandfather hinted at that when I asked for your hand.”
“He knew?”
“He kept abreast of her whereabouts and activities through the years.”
“Perhaps he meant to leave her something if he found that she’d changed.”
He shrugged. “What about your father? Was he faithful to her?”
Oh Papa. “I always forgave him because of what he put up with. Fitz, I won’t have that sort of marriage—arguing, going off with other lovers, living in the same home like strangers. I swore I’d never be as impetuous as them. But here I am.”
Fitz put aside his brandy and leaned close. Mel had set her hand to her waist again in that same protective gesture. “You said your father and mother anticipated their vows.” As we did?
She raised an eyebrow, and he wanted to laugh, but instead he reached for her. He was an idiot. It had taken months and months before Alice conceived Mary. The thought that Mel might be with child hadn’t crossed his mind when he was swanning about London and visiting country houses. “I know,” he whispered.
A frown furrowed her brow. “Your mother, Hermione, Mrs. Astrop, all think I’m increasing. How can anyone possibly know? How do they know? How do you know?”
“I’m the eldest of ten.” He ought to have been an accoucheur, he was that good at spotting the signs that a new sibling was coming.
“Did everyone know but me?”
“You were in denial, Mel. In your heart, you knew. That’s why you allowed yourself to be led to Loughton Manor.”
She scoffed. “I didn’t…” Color rose in her cheeks and her lips quirked. “When did you know?”
“The day you arrived here, I suspected. The next morning when you picked at your breakfast, I was almost certain. We’ll know for sure when the baby quickens in the next month or so.” He traced a finger over her full breasts, down her bodice to the swell of her abdomen. “I should examine you now and give a more informed diagnosis.”
She huffed and laughed but the shiver that went through her raised his spirits. He touched his lips to hers, relishing the softness and the way she opened her mouth to welcome him.
“What say you?” He murmured against her lips. “Are you too great now to be tied to a bumbling baron who’s only argument is that he loves you and doesn’t want to live without you?”
Soft fingers stroked his jaw. “Oh, Fitz. You’re not a bumbler. You’re quite wonderful, actually. I ought to have done more than write to you. I ought to have come after you. I was being a coward, and then when my mother’s letter arrived, I decided to run. It’s what Papa used to do when Mama… when he’d had enough of her, and when she was unfaithful.”
“I wasn’t unfaithful to you.” He swiped a hand over his face thinking about his first marriage. During the long separation, he’d always been discreet, but not always faithful. “With Alice, I wasn’t always—”
“No.” Mel set a finger over his lips. “That is the past. I’m neither my mother, nor Alice. I’ll be true to you.”
“And I to you.”
She offered her hand. “We must shake on it.”
Her smile reminded him of the evening they spent at the inn. He took her hand, flipped it over and touched his lips to her palm, so warm and soft. The other warm and soft parts of her beckoned, and he would uncover them that very night, but first they must settle things.
“When shall we marry? Your mother and her husband had no right to sign a contract on your behalf. Any lawsuit for breach of promise will be between them and the nephew.”
“And if she rushes into church to object?”
The mantel clock chimed and he glanced out the window. Darkness had settled on Leicestershire. “Is your mother the sort to attend morning services?”
“Only if the vicar is virile and handsome.”
He laughed, thinking of the elderly man who’d served their parish for so many years. “Good. I’ll hie to the vicar’s and interrupt his dinner.”
“Papa?”
Mel peered around him and smiled. “Mary?”
His little girl stood in the doorway, clutching a book.
“Come, my darling.” Fitz beckoned and she crossed the room. He pulled her onto his lap, and inhaled her sweet scent. “What’s afoot, lambkin?”
“Grandmama is cross with us. She promised a scavenger hunt tonight, but the boys ruined things and now we must put it off until tomorrow.” She wrinkled her brow. “I heard a lady shouting.”
Fitz glanced at Mel. She bit her lip and said, “That was my mother.”
“Why? Did you spill something on her gown or interrupt her when she had company? My mama used to get angry when I did that.”
“She was unhappy with me.”
“But why?”
He could see that Mel was searching for how to answer. His girl could be a relentless inquisitor.
“Mary, my darling girl,” he said. “I’ve asked Miss Parker to be my wife.”
“You did that months ago, Papa.”
Fitz laughed and touched her nose. “You knew?”
“Of course. Miss Parker, don’t you want to marry my papa?”
Mel nodded. “I do.”
“Why is it taking so long? Is it b-because of me?”
The quiver in her voice pricked at his guilt. He’d neglected Mary as well.
“Not at all.” Mel reached out, and when Mary went willingly onto her lap his heart swelled. Mel would make a caring mother.
She brushed a lock of hair back from Mary’s face. “I’m delighted with you and so happy I’ll be your mama.”
“Will you shout at me like your mother shouted at you?”
“I will certainly shout if you are about to fall into the fire or the brook, or encounter some other danger, and maybe, on very, very rare occasions when I am very tired or very cross and you misbehave.” Her pause, and the wink she sent Fitz made him swallow a laugh. “But you must tell me, do you misbehave often?”
“Hardly ever.” She handed Mel her book. “Will you read me a story?”
“Mary.” Mel tucked the book under her arm. “Is there perhaps a nursery maid looking for you?”
Mary lifted a shoulder.
“Well then. Your papa has an errand to attend to, and I will escort you upstairs and we’ll let the maid know you’ve been found. Will you give me a tour of the nursery? I haven’t seen it yet. And then I’ll read you one story.”
Fitz plucked Mary from Mel’s lap and set her on her feet, then dropped a quick kiss on Mel’s lips and Mary’s head. “I’ll stop at the Swan and rescue Smith from the Starlings. Please ask Turner to ready a bedchamber for him. And Mel?”
“Yes?”
“Do wait up for me.”
Color flooded her cheeks as she nodded.
Mary tugged her hand. “Why not two stories?”
When Mel sent him a smile over her shoulder, Fitz laughed out loud.