Henry was on the doorstep of the Half Moon Street house at ten the next morning. Melissa answered his knock. She looked heavy-eyed and on edge.
‘Oh. Henry. Gertrude has just gone out with a note for you. The most ridiculous thing has happened.’
‘I know.’ He followed her into the hallway and closed the door behind them. ‘Someone appears to have seen us at The George in Aylesbury and is spreading the story all around town. How did you find out?’
‘Verity and Prue came to see me late last night. They had heard the whispers at Lady Troughton’s ball.’
‘Damn.’ Henry followed her through into the drawing room and they sank down on the sofa. ‘I heard it at a gaming club off St James’s Street and hoped I’d stopped the mouth of the rumour-monger who was sniggering about it, but if it has reached the society matrons, then we have a problem.’
‘Verity says the story is that we were at your father’s house near Daventry, which is ridiculous. I mean, why would we go all that way for a couple of nights when we could perfectly well misbehave ourselves in London?’
‘Quite. But logic doesn’t enter into it. It’s a good story, so why spoil it with the facts?’
‘That’s what the others said. And that kiss at Aylesbury—that is true. I thought I saw someone at the window.’ The look she sent him was puzzled, hurt. ‘Who would be so unkind? Who have either of us so injured that they would want to make such unpleasantness for us? The only person I can think of is Charles Harlby, but surely he would have gone straight to London, to sell Letitia’s jewellery.’
Henry moved along the sofa and put his arm around her. It was painful to see the look on her face and he wanted to make it go away, protect her. And he could not. ‘I do not know, but as you say, it seems unlikely to be Harlby. There must have been someone there—it is a busy town with several routes converging on it. We were recognised and some people like to make trouble, just for the sake of it. Having a story to tell, some gossip to spread, makes them feel powerful.’
‘It gives me a powerful urge to box their ears,’ she said, with a flicker of her usual spirit. ‘I shall not regard it.’
‘Things could be quite unpleasant at social events,’ Henry warned. ‘But you may be right—if we do not react, then it may well simply fizzle out, like a damp fuse.’
‘I will kiss everyone, all my friends and especially the men,’ Melissa said suddenly. ‘I have seen other ladies do it—they drift around, gushing and kissing cheeks and calling everyone daahling. I shall do the same—to you, to Will and Ross and Max and all the ladies, of course. And if anyone says anything about us I shall look blank and confused and demand to know what they are talking about.’
‘It might work,’ Henry said, rather dubious. ‘Certainly if any gentlemen make remarks I will demand an apology or—’
‘Don’t you dare fight duels, Henry Cary!’
‘Not much choice,’ he said lightly. ‘Not to would be to acknowledge that you are my mistress, not a lady.’
‘Oh. Could you not simply hit them?’
‘I will try to avoid any such situation arising,’ he said, crossing his fingers behind his back. Not that he actually wanted to fight a duel, but if honour demanded it, he most certainly would. ‘Have you any invitations for this evening?’
‘There is a reception being held by Lady Oswestry to welcome home her brother who has been on a scientific expedition to the South Seas. He is going to display some of the items he collected and there will be music, I expect, and a supper. It will be easier to go about talking to people than it will at a dance.’
Her chin was up and her smile was fixed and he had to fight down the urge to take her in his arms and tell her to stop being brave and sensible and he would make it all go away. Which of course, he could not, unless...
‘Melissa, you have been compromised, quite innocently, obviously, but that is neither here nor there. There is a perfectly straightforward remedy in this situation: we should get married.’
If he had stuck a pin in her, she could not have recoiled more violently. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said fiercely from the other end of the sofa where she had come to rest, trapped against the arm. ‘You do not want to get married, do you? No, don’t answer that. If you wanted to marry someone else you would probably have told me, because we are friends. And if you wanted to marry me you would have asked me. And you would not have done so because you know I do not wish to marry anyone. So this is simply a pointless, gallant, gesture to convention. I thought you had more sense.’
‘Confound it, Melissa! I am only trying to make things better for you.’
They sat at either end of the seat, glaring at each other until he suddenly found himself laughing. ‘Oh, for goodness sake, look at us—like a pair of glowering bookends on a shelf. Very well, I promise not to make any more gallant gestures unless you want me to, although I deny that such things are pointless.’
‘Thank you.’ She visibly relaxed, reminding him of nothing more than a flustered hen settling back on her nest and smoothing her ruffled plumage. The fact that she was wearing a rather charming morning dress in shades of brown and russet only added to the fantasy. ‘I am surprised you can find anything to smile about, though.’
‘I am merely enjoying your company,’ he said mildly, finding that it was true, even under these circumstances.
‘Really?’
She sounded so weary that he moved along until he was sitting beside her again and put his arm around her shoulders. Some instinct told him that a hug might be welcome, but Melissa turned towards him, burrowed up against him and rested her head on his shoulder.
‘That is so comfortable and everything is so horrid. I hate that people can be so unkind.’
‘Shh.’ He held her close and felt her curve against him and then, with a little sigh, she was asleep.
Of course, she had probably had a sleepless night after her friends had called. It said something for her courage that he had not found her packing her bags when he arrived.
She was fast asleep now, snuggled firmly into the crook of his arm and making rather endearing soft whiffling sounds.
Henry settled himself more comfortably, rested his cheek against the top of her head and found himself drifting off, too. He did not fight it. They had a difficult evening ahead of them and he had not exactly spent a tranquil night either, once he had finally got to his bed.
A sudden unpleasant thought had him opening his eyes. Gentlemen of the diplomatic corps, those of junior rank, at any rate, were not expected to make themselves the subject of gossip and speculation. He foresaw a rather difficult interview ahead of him.
To hell with it. This feels good.
He closed his eyes again, thought of nothing but the feel of warm, soft woman against his body, of the scent of her, subtle and fresh, of a bubble of peace before it all became very, very difficult.
Something unpleasant was waiting for her, but if she did not open her eyes, then she did not have to remember what it was.
And wherever she was, it felt so good. Warm, safe, firm. There was silk under her cheek and the smell of clean linen and starch, something citrusy, the subtle undertone that said Henry.
‘You are awake.’ Yes, that was Henry.
‘How do you know?’ She stayed where she was.
‘Your breathing changed.’
A clock struck with silvery, familiar notes. The over-mantel clock. She counted... Ten, eleven.
‘Have I been asleep?’
‘We both have. Neither of us had a very good night.’
His voice sounded extra-deep with her ear pressed against his waistcoat. Comforting. Then she remembered what it was that was lying in wait when she opened her eyes.
‘It was no dream, then?’
‘No.’
She felt his sigh and opened her eyes, twisted round so she could look up into his and, without conscious thought, lifted her face for his kiss.
There was no hesitation. His mouth was firm and warm on hers, then hot as he parted his lips and she did the same, gasping softly as his tongue touched hers. It should have felt strange, but somehow she knew what to do in response. Or her body did. She stroked her own tongue against his, exploring, letting him explore in turn.
The urgency, the sudden fire, that had sprung up between them in the inn yard was there again, but controlled now, waiting to be unleashed. In its place was a warm wash of sensation, the wonder of discovery.
And this is only a kiss. Only...
Henry lifted his head, sat back, steadying her as she swayed. ‘Not a good idea,’ he said with a lightness belied by his breathing.
‘No.’ Melissa tugged her rumpled gown into some kind of order. ‘It must not look as though we have ever exchanged more than a peck on the cheek in our lives.’ She was surprised at how calm she sounded to her own ears when, in reality, she was feeling anything but composed.
She wanted Henry in a thoroughly carnal way and suspected that he felt the same. Although, she cautioned herself, men did appear to feel like that about almost any female. And Henry had reacted strongly when she had carelessly mentioned taking a lover and had then never mentioned it again, so it seemed unlikely that he had any thought of doing more than kiss her.
Which was all to the good, given the situation they found themselves in. The last thing she wanted was Henry talking himself into offering for her again. That would be disastrous. For a moment she struggled to recall just why that should be, before common sense reasserted itself.
‘I had better go,’ he said and stood up. ‘Practise your gushing, Melissa.’
A note arrived mid-afternoon from Verity in answer to hers. Her four friends had consulted and agreed hers was a good plan to try. Their husbands were briefed and they would arrive at the reception at half past nine, allowing her to sweep in a few minutes later with a wide field of men—and women—to embrace in a light-hearted manner.
Melissa scribbled a note to Henry to warn him to be there and ready at the same time and then devoted the remainder of the afternoon to soothing Cousin Almeria, who had heard the rumours in the unlikely setting of the Royal Institution and was berating herself for her careless approach to chaperonage.
She got changed far too early, could not find the slightest appetite for her dinner and finally sent Gertrude out to hail a hackney carriage at a few minutes to half past nine.
Her cousin, resplendent in a purple toque and grey satin and emanating respectability, insisted on accompanying her. ‘Shutting the stable door after the horse has bolted,’ she said, ‘but I will do what I can.’
‘Do not forget that I was out of London at the time, visiting my old governess who is very sick in Birmingham, and accompanied by a friend who I refuse to name in case any of this nonsense rubs off on her.’
‘If only I had not met so many people while you were away,’ Almeria lamented. ‘There was that afternoon lecture and then I attended Mrs Lamprey’s At Home and I saw quite a few of my acquaintance when I was shopping. I should have mentioned in a casual manner that you were out of town. Now it will seem strange that I did not.’
‘You weren’t to know. If I could name Miss Houghton, I would, but we cannot risk it. We are here.’
They shed their cloaks into the hands of waiting maids in the foyer, then climbed the sweep of stairs to where Lady Oswestry stood with her husband and recently returned brother.
To do her credit, Her Ladyship did not as much as blink when she saw Melissa, although her very lack of reaction was telling. Melissa shook hands, was introduced to the very tanned Lord Algernon Black and, head up, sailed into the ballroom, the location of the reception.
She saw Ross Vincent, the Marquis of Cranford, first. The tall, scarred and powerful ex-privateer was not someone she had ever imagined herself kissing, but she could not pick and choose now.
‘Ross!’ She rushed up and kissed him on the cheek. She had to stand on tiptoe, but that made the whole thing more obvious. ‘Dear man. It has been ages!’
Heads turned as Ross bent to kiss her cheek in return. ‘At least a week. I swear you look lovelier than ever.’
‘Flatterer.’ She dealt him a light blow on the arm with her fan. ‘Where is darling Prue?’
‘Over there, I think.’ He gestured and she swept off, feeling curious eyes boring into her back as she went.
‘Prue, darling. I’m so glad to see you.’ There was quite a large group near Prue, who was talking to a rather imposing matron whose toque was a rival to Cousin Almeria’s. ‘Oh, good evening, Lady Spratt. Honestly, I did not think I would come this evening—I was so exhausted after that journey, but I told myself not to be feeble and make the effort.’
‘What journey might that be?’ Lady Spratt had clearly heard the gossip. She raised an eyeglass and regarded Melissa critically.
‘Oh, Birmingham. My poor old governess. Sick and pitifully short of funds.’ She lowered her voice a little. ‘Spends all her pension on good causes, which is all very well, but no help when she herself is ill. But I think she will be all right now—I found her new lodgings and a most respectable maid.’
‘It must have been very wearying,’ Prue said, full of sympathy.
‘Three days travelling, and one day rushing around house and servant agencies! I swear that I can still feel that post-chaise swaying.’
‘One had heard that you had been out of town,’ Lady Spratt said, her gaze avid.
‘Really? I wonder how.’ Melissa smiled vaguely, her hands tight on her fan to stop them trembling.
‘You were seen in an inn yard in Aylesbury,’ the older woman said.
‘Was that The White Hart or The George?’ Melissa mused. ‘I stopped at one going north and the other coming home.’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I thought you were fully informed about my movements,’ Melissa said, feeling her self-control slipping. The nosy old vulture. Then she saw Henry. This was the moment. She had to carry this off and then, at least, they would have muddied the waters.
‘Lord Henry! How lovely to see you again.’ He took her hand as she reached him and bent his head so she could kiss him on the cheek. ‘My saviour from Aylesbury.’
Now there was no doubt about it: everyone around them had abandoned all pretence and were watching and listening. ‘It is infuriating how people will try to take advantage of ladies travelling alone. If it had not been for Lord Henry’s intervention, I would have probably still been on the road back behind a pair of complete slugs,’ she informed Will, the Duke of Aylsham, who had strolled up with Verity on his arm. She blew him a kiss, just so he did not feel left out.
‘Yes, we were so grateful when we heard of it,’ someone standing behind her said. Mrs Grainger, she realised as she turned. ‘I was dubious about allowing dear Letitia to accompany Miss Taverner, but you know what these girls are, always wanting to rush off and help their friends. But there,’ she added comfortably to Lady Spratt, ‘it all turned out well, thanks to Lord Henry.’
‘Oh, good evening, Mrs Grainger.’ Melissa beamed at her. ‘It was so kind of you to allow Letitia to come with me.’
‘I could hardly refuse, my dear.’ She turned away with a smile, leaving Melissa trying not to look too relieved.
Henry had strolled away, chatting to an army officer in full dress uniform, she was glad to see, and none of her friends crowded too close in a way that might have suggested that she needed supporting.
‘How very fast of you, Miss Taverner,’ a honey-sweet voice said next to her.
She looked around, eyebrows raised, to find a slender blonde woman beside her. ‘I do not believe I have had the pleasure of an introduction,’ she said coolly.
‘Isobel Duncombe. But then, judging by your behaviour, you hardly need an invitation to become most intimate, do you?’
‘Lady Duncombe.’ She had no idea who she was or why she should be so very hostile. ‘You quite mistake me. I can assure you, I only become affectionate towards those who have shown themselves to be my friends and I do not believe that you are, are you?’
Lady Duncombe’s smile was thin. ‘No, I do not think I can be counted as such.’ She turned away, still smiling, and strolled across to a small group of ladies. They leaned towards her as if she was telling them something of great interest.
Melissa shivered. Perhaps her efforts at averting suspicion were not as effective as she thought, although what on earth had Lady Duncombe against her?
She began to circulate, taking care to greet all her acquaintances effusively and, when she encountered Jane with Ivo, her husband, she kissed them both on the cheek.
‘How goes it?’ Ivo, Lord Kendall, asked.
‘It has been partly successful. Mrs Grainger was a great help, but then, she is hardly a figure in society and her word may not carry much weight. I have just had a most prickly encounter with a Lady Duncombe. I cannot imagine what I may have done to offend her, but she is no friend.’
Jane frowned in thought. ‘I don’t know her, but we met her husband last week, did we not, Ivo? A prosy bore, I thought,’ she added in a whisper.
‘Well, he is a diplomat and I suppose he is employed to calm down heated discussions by smothering them,’ Ivo suggested.
A diplomat? Perhaps Henry knows her.
For some reason that made her feel uneasy. In fact, now that the energy she had expended to will herself up that staircase and into this reception was ebbing away, she was feeling decidedly fragile. Perhaps now was the time to retreat and go home.
She looked around for Almeria, hoping to locate her by her purple toque, and instead saw Henry emerging from a side room. For a moment she wondered at the grim expression on his face, then he was smiling, bowing slightly to a Roman-nosed matron. Melissa drifted towards him and they met in front of an unoccupied table and chairs. She did not make the mistake of sitting down with him.
‘Do you know a Lady Duncombe?’
Henry became very still and the social smile froze. He was relaxed and smiling again so rapidly that she thought she had imagined it. Then, when he spoke, she knew she had not.
‘Why?’ he said bluntly. ‘What have you had to do with her?’
‘Nothing, except that she spoke to me just now and in no pleasant manner either. I cannot imagine what I have done to make her dislike me.’
‘I suggest you go home now,’ Henry said. Then, as some other guests came closer, ‘I can assure you, Miss Taverner, it was no trouble at all.’ He bowed slightly and walked off leaving her even more confused and, somehow, more apprehensive.
‘Whatever is the matter, Melissa? You are standing there like Lot’s wife, petrified into a pillar of salt.’
‘Oh. Almeria. Do you mind if we leave now? I think... I feel we have done all we can for the moment.’
‘Yes, I agree. I had a most interesting discussion with Lord Black, Lady Oswestry’s brother, you know. Apparently the moths on the South Sea islands that he visited are of great size. He was most helpful in describing them...’
She talked on relentlessly, pausing while they thanked their hostess and took their leave, and persisting until they were in a hackney carriage and trotting home.
‘I think we have had some success,’ she said. ‘It helps that you are not prominent in society and that Lord Henry is merely a younger son. Mrs Grainger’s intervention was welcome, although she can hardly be said to have any influence with the arch gossips, and I did hear one spiteful soul say that the wife of a man who was virtually a cit would do anything to get in the good graces of the friend of a duchess.’
‘It is not easy killing gossip, is it?’ Melissa said with a sigh.
‘About as easy as killing cockroaches,’ Almeria said grimly. ‘Nothing works with them except a heavy weight. I suspect the only thing to do with this is to allow it to calm down and wait for someone with much higher social standing than you to commit an indiscretion.’
‘Or give up and move,’ Melissa said. She was weary, she was hurt and she was angry and London no longer felt the same place that it had when she’d arrived, full of excitement and hope, just a few weeks before.