Bewitching the Forbidden Duke: A Steamy Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 7

  “You mean the amuser?”

  “Yes.”

  Brynn grinned. “Yes, that story is amusing.”

  Melissa sighed, her face falling.

  “What is it now?” Melissa asked taking the seat next to her.

  “I want to go home.”

  Brynn reached out and squeezed her hand. “Just a few more days and you’ll be good as new. Come on, cheer up. The water is doing wonders for your skin, he will not be able to resist you once you get home.”

  “Oh, you are peddling Spanish coin there, my friend.”

  “I am not. You only need to find a looking glass to know that I tell you true.”

  “Mmph. Shush, I need to write my letter.”

  It was clear from his expression that The Duchess had apprised The Duke of exactly what she had seen in Patrick’s conservatory. If looks could kill, Patrick was quite sure he would be on six men’s shoulders. He took a deep breath and prepared to ask for Lady Rose Greyfield’s hand in marriage.

  It was surprisingly not as hard as he had envisioned. He knew all the platitudes that needed to be said and was able to inject a tone of sincerity somehow into his speech.

  The Duke issued some warnings about what would happen if Patrick mistreated his daughter in any way. Patrick acknowledged it and assured The Duke of his intention to cherish the girl to her last breath.

  The Duke gave his grudging permission and then Patrick was walking to the drawing room in order to make an offer directly to the girl. She was waiting with her mother, the eagerness in her expression undisguised. Patrick’s heart sunk because he knew he could not match her enthusiasm for this union. He regretted once again, that he had let his baser instincts get him in this situation.

  He pasted a smile on his face and got through the proposal with a minimum of fanfare. As soon as he could, he excused himself, pleading work. Lady Rose offered him her gloved hand to kiss, with a beaming smile. He took it, concealing his expression by bending over it and kissing the air above it.

  “Your Grace, My Lady,” he murmured before turning and leaving the room. He climbed wearily into his coach and headed for home. As he stepped in the door, the butler handed him his mail. Right on top was a letter from Lady Melissa.

  Chapter 8

  Trapped

  Dear Lord Bergon,

  Forgive me if this is forward. It is not my intention to make you uncomfortable. I do hope that you don’t mind me reaching out to you in this manner.

  I am currently taking the waters at Bath as my wound from The Incident became inflamed and I suffered a fever as a result. I am almost all better and so my aunt has allowed me to sit and write.

  What shall I tell you about?

  Shall I tell you that this is my first time in Bath? I find myself surprised at the number of amenities available here for there are theatres and other entertainments. My aunt says I am not well enough to go out but has invited me to stay after I feel better.

  It is a tempting offer but I think I would rather come back to Town. I can visit Bath another time. Perhaps we can come up together.

  Forgive me, that was very forward of me.

  I have had a lot of time to think while I have been here and more and more, I find my thoughts turning to you. It is disconcerting. I feel bewitched.

  Have you bewitched me Lord Bergon?

  Patrick put the letter down, closing his eyes and breathing hard. What were the Greyfield sisters doing to him? He imagined that she had no idea of his engagement to her sister. Should he tell her? He did not think he had the strength for that. He hardly felt he had the strength to finish reading the letter, and yet, he could not stop.

  He lifted it up and resumed reading.

  I am being silly. Of course, you have not bewitched me. Please blame my nonsense on my fevered brain. Brynn says I should tell you of this charlatan we encountered on the way to the springs. He claimed to be able to heal any illness by use of a stone.

  He held a demonstration with what he said was a member of the crowd. He seemed to be a cripple but the charlatan rubbed the stone down his leg and, lo and behold, the man was healed!

  It was quite a spectacle.

  I might have believed it too if I had not caught sight of the so-called cripple the day before, lurking in an alley and in deep conversation with the charlatan. They seemed thick as thieves. Still, it was good entertainment. Brynn and I laughed so much.

  Silly me, you do not know who Brynn is...she is my lady’s maid and a good friend. She has kept me company on this and many other occasions and if it were not for her, I should be so lonely. I am ever so grateful for her.

  You won’t tell my mother that I told you that I am friends with my lady’s maid, will you? I know I can trust you.

  I will sign off here. I do hope you will write back.

  Yours sincerely,

  Lady Melissa Greyfield.

  Patrick sighed deeply as he put the letter aside and stared into space. This simply made it all the more difficult to accept that he would not be able to court Lady Melissa. It physically hurt him to fold up her letter and put it away in his chest of drawers. She was not only a delight in person but in writing as well. She made him laugh.

  He wanted to know her more.

  What cruel fate was this that forced him toward the elder when he was more than half in love with the younger? He thought about going to speak with his father, asking for his help in resolving this issue. But he already knew that his father, as well as The Duchess of Greyfield, were of one mind.

  Patrick laughed tiredly. “I feel like a damsel in distress desperately searching for someone to save me.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Patrick jerked in surprise, not having noticed that there was anyone else in the room with him.

  “I was not speaking to you, Jeffries.”

  “Very good sir.” Jeffries picked up the refreshments tray and walked out, closing the door of the study quietly behind him.

  Patrick sighed again. He stared at his stationery unseeingly for a long while. Then he grabbed a page and began to write.

  The carriage came to a stop in front of Greyfield House and Melissa peered out with a sigh.

  “We’re back.”

  Brynn simply looked at her.

  “Well Rose isn’t going to get any less engaged the longer we sit here so we should go in and offer our congratulations.”

  Brynn snorted. “Congratulations? Are you quite sure about that?”

  Melissa shrugged one shoulder. “I was outmaneuvered. I can be a good sport.”

  “You can, but will you?”

  Melissa simply turned away to stare out the window.

  They sat there long enough for The Duchess to come out and see what was keeping them. “Melissa, why are you just sitting there? Do you need a footman to carry you into the house?”

  “No, ma’am. I am quite fine.”

  The Duchess continued to stare quizzically at her.

  “I was simply enjoying the view. I have missed this street.” Melissa finally said.

  The Duchess rolled her eyes. “Would you get in the house this minute and stop reminding me how peaceful it has been without you here?”

  Melissa swallowed the hurt and slowly alighted from the vehicle. She adopted the most leisurely pace she could because she was in no hurry to confront her sister.

  The letter from Patrick burned her pocket, so formal, so distant.

  I wish things could have been different.

  Why had he written that to her? What did it mean? Did he not want to marry Rose? It was very confusing. Brynn brushed past her. “I go in search of news,” she whispered as she hurried off toward the kitchens. Melissa decided to go and hide out in her room until Brynn resurfaced, no doubt armed with some water to wash off the grime of the journey and the news of how exactly this engagement had occurred.

  She took her clothes and shoes off, discarded her stockings and then jumped onto her bed in nothing but her shift. She extracted the lett
er from her pocket and unfurled it, reading it again.

  My dear Lady Melissa,

  I read your letter with great lightness of heart. I do not think I have smiled so much at any time after the death of my mother as I did when reading your missive.

  First things first, no. I have not bewitched you.

  If I could, however, perhaps I would.

  Forgive me, that was very forward of me to say.

  This is the single most irresponsible thing I have ever done save one and I cannot bring myself to regret it–unlike that other thing. I am glad to hear that you are feeling better. I was worried, even considered coming down to Bath to see you.

  Of course, that would have been the height of foolishness.

  I think if anything, we have bewitched each other, because here we both are, thinking of doing foolish things on each other’s behalf.

  This is the first and last letter I will be able to write to you in good conscience for you see, I recently plighted my troth to none other than your sister, the lovely Lady Rose.

  What is done is done and cannot be undone. I wish things could have been different.

  I wish you well in the rest of your repairing lease. I would suggest you stay as your aunt has asked, and take in the sights of the city. Bath really is quite an interesting place as you have seen.

  Thank you for your letter.

  Yours faithfully,

  Bergon

  She flopped back on the bed with a sigh. What did it all mean? She was distracted from her descent into the blue devils by the arrival of Brynn. As predicted she arrived accompanied by two maids bearing pails of steaming hot water. They poured it in the tub before hurrying out to bring more cold water. Brynn came toward her, indicating that she should take her shift off and put on her robe as they waited.

  “Well?”

  “As far as I have been able to find out, your Marquess was caught kissing Lady Rose in the conservatory and then your mother ordered him to propose.”

  Melissa’s eyes narrowed, “Is that so?”

  “As far as I can tell.”

  Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, “That must be the thing he did, that he regretted,” she murmured to herself.

  Brynn shook her head. “Melissa, what are you…”

  Melissa stood up abruptly, forestalling Brynn’s question. She slipped out of her robe and stepped toward the water. “Do you know where the Marquess lives?”

  “Melissaaaa.” Brynn whined.

  “I just want to ask him a question.”

  The next morning, Brynn woke her up at their usual early hour.

  “Oh, are we going to the market today?”

  “No. We're going to Grosvenor Street.”

  “What’s on Grosvenor Street?” Melissa asked even as she wore the familiar clothes that Brynn passed to her, including the shawl.

  “Your Marquess.”

  Her heart rate immediately sped up. “Really?”

  “Yes, now hurry up.”

  Patrick was shocked when his butler walked into the dining room to inform him that he had two visitors who were not willing to identify themselves.

  “They seem to be ladies’ maids,” Jeffries frowned at this unconscionable breach of etiquette. They should have used the servants’ entry.

  Patrick got to his feet and went to see for himself. There were two ladies standing just outside the door, one wearing a very familiar shawl.

  “It’s you!” Patrick blurted before he could think about it. He had forgotten about the girl from the market in the wake of his dilemma. The girl with the shawl turned sharply to face him and he saw that it was Lady Melissa.

  His eyes widened in disbelief.

  “It's you?” he said coming closer.

  “Yes, Lord Bergon, it’s me. I had to see you.”

  Patrick shook his head, “No, I meant…” he let the thought trail away. Very likely Lady Melissa did not want the world knowing she regularly went to Convent Garden in the early morning dressed as a lady’s maid. He stepped back. “Come in.”

  He led them to his study, in the interests of privacy.

  “I’m sorry, can I offer you some refreshment?” he asked, feeling bemused and confused.

  “No. I need to ask you something then we have to go.”

  “I see. What is it you need to know?”

  “Why?” Lady Melissa asked.

  Patrick stared at her, brow beetled, waiting for some clarification. “I beg your pardon?” he said when she simply continued to watch him, expecting an answer.

  “Why did you do it? Did you want to ask my sister to be your wife or was it some sort of accident?”

  “It was no accident! I was the one who kissed her, and now I am paying the toll.”

  She sighed at him in frustration. “But why? Why did you do it?”

  “Because I was foolish. Men are weak creatures, easily tempted, My Lady. Do not waste a single tear on me.”

  “I’m not crying because…” she paused to impatiently wipe a tear away, “I-it’s just such a waste!”

  Patrick was agreeing before he could think about it. “Yes, it is. But everyone seems to have their heart set on me marrying Lady Rose. It does not make sense to fight it.”

  “Does it not? What about what you want? Is that not important?”

  Patrick just sighed, marveling at her naiveté. “That is not how life works.”

  She sniffed, wiping away a stray tear even as she denied that she was crying. He took a step toward her because he could not help himself and her lady’s maid cleared her throat loudly. Patrick froze.

  “Listen to me, My Lady, meeting you has been one of the high points of my life. I had hoped…” he stopped, not seeing the benefit of saying the words. “However, things have unfolded in a different manner. We must accept it.”

  “I don’t accept it. Unless you tell me that you don’t care for me, I do not accept it,” she clenched her jaw stubbornly. For a few minutes, Patrick was lost in admiration and thus lost his chance to decisively dissuade her from her course of action. She took the step that brought them flush against each other and then her mouth was on his.

  He froze in shock, not having expected it. Her lips moved against his, soft and giving. He wanted to press his own against them harder, coax her into opening her mouth and letting him plunder her to his heart’s content.

  What are you doing? Alarms were ringing in his mind and this time, he did not ignore them. If someone were to come in, Lady Melissa’s reputation would be ruined and there would be nothing he could do about it. Very gently, he pushed her away from him, shaking his head.

  “We can’t.”

  She stared at him, eyes wide and wet. “We cannot is not the same as I do not want to,” she whispered.

  He nodded in agreement. “That is true, and yet it changes nothing.”

  “Oh no, Lord Bergon, it changes everything.” With that she turned on her heel and left, her lady’s maid trailing resignedly behind her.

  Patrick found that he was unable to move, his feet glued to the spot as he watched her go.

  What are you doing to me?

  “What are you up to?” Brynn asked tiredly as they rode back home.

  Melissa looked over at her and smiled. “Don’t look so scared. I am up to nothing. We are simply riding home.”

  “Mmm.” Brynn injected all the disbelieving sarcasm she could into that one sound. “You cannot win this.”

  “Why? Why can’t I win it?”

  “How? How can you? They are engaged. Your father has given his permission. Your mother is organizing an engagement dinner at which to announce the happy news. Your sister made sure she was compromised. Your Marquess knows that he is trapped. So what can you do?”

  Melissa looked away, a stubborn set to her jaw. “I will find a way.”

  Brynn snorted. “I do hope for your sake that you do, but My Lady, you have to be prepared for failure.”

  Melissa looked over to her with a wide, contrived smile. “Failure?
I do not know them? Who are they?”