Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Curzon Street, Mayfair ~ The Next Day

T he bright sunshine filtering through her pale-yellow drapes woke Melanie, and she stared at the lovely white crocheted canopy above her. Her maid, anticipating her awakening, had already opened the drapes. That would explain why her head was under her pillow when she awoke. Rachel had already been in the room. She suspected the woman had stoked the fire. She could hear the crackling sound of the fire and smelled the scent of wood as it warmed her room. Feeling heat emanating through the room made it easier to contemplate stepping from the bed onto the cold floor. This was the same bedroom she’d had before leaving for Scotland.

“Meow,” the small kitten cried out, and Melanie realized the little rascal she’d rescued yesterday had tucked himself under her arm.

“Hello, little fellow. You seem no worse for wear.” She smoothed the kitten’s soft head with her finger. “That black carriage almost flattened us, my little friend.” An involuntary shudder shook her as she recalled the near brush with death. If it hadn’t been for Jonathan swooping in, her life would have come to a screeching end in that street yesterday.

Four years ago, Melanie had been only two balls into a Season— her first Season and was attending with her best friends, Lady Lydia Yarstone and Lady Lilian Harlow—twin sisters to Viscount Jonathan DeLacey. Since she had been a young girl, Jonathan DeLacey had been her hero, the man of her dreams. But as he clutched the hand of the woman he had just declared himself betrothed to, Melanie’s heart shattered.

And now, she had agreed to go to a bookstore with him. For all these years, she had focused on forgetting him. She had always been chatty, almost giddy when she was around him. How would she act around him? And worse…what would she say? Confusion, sadness—and if she was honest, a small amount of thrill were all feelings she wrestled. She had moved on. But here he is, still a bachelor and back in London. It didn’t mean a thing. Closing her eyes, she shook her head, summoning her resolve. She had her own life and purpose, and he was happy with his, at least according to rumors. Jonathan was a man with many mistresses.

Scotland was arrestingly beautiful, but nothing made much of a difference to Melanie. Sure. It had given her solace and a renewed sense of family—but that faded after the death of her mother. Except for her brother, she felt alone. How had it all happened? Her mother’s death had been unexpected. A woman who had never been sick became deathly ill. And not even the doctors understood what happened to her. She missed her mother. She would do anything to have one more day—one more conversation with her mother. Shrouded in loneliness, Melanie burrowed herself in books, transported by different authors to a different time and a different world. Best of all, she had discovered her talent as a writer. And even better, Gavin supported it. Her mother had never seen anything she’d written, but she knew wherever she was, she was happy for her.

“Mewww,” the kitten cried, stretching his legs playfully around her long curls. Rachel would be in here any moment with her morning chocolate, toast, and raspberry jam. She had shared the same “breakfast” with her mother in Scotland every morning. Melanie began to tear up as she remembered how encouraging her mother had been of her writing, always encouraging her to try. “ Melanie, darling. You can tell a story much better than many people. You should try,” she’d say. Even though her first Season had been a disaster, Melanie didn’t regret moving to Scotland with her mother and spending those last years of her mother’s life with her.

If given the chance to do it all again, Melanie would have been more biddable for her mother. She would have forced herself to enjoy that Season. They had been in Scotland for a year when her mother suddenly became ill. The countess died within months. The only thing she could not fulfill was her mother’s wish of settling down—which to her parents, meant marriage and having children. She wished she’d been able to give that to her mother, but she hadn’t, and suddenly there was no time. Even though she hadn’t found someone to share her life with, her parents had put their faith in their daughter’s sensible approach to life. Her parents had ensured she had the option to have her dowry accessible to her if she married or when she reached the age of twenty-five, whichever came first.

At twenty-one, Melanie was content to pursue her passion for writing her gothic mysteries under her assumed pen name, M. R. Stephens, and continue to read her mysteries and gothic novels. Women authoring books was frowned upon by Society. He kept her secret, telling her it was her secret to tell.

Melanie smiled as she gazed down at the adorable kitten now sleeping next to her, tangled in her hair.

Even with a cheery blaze crackling in the fireplace, she knew that once she emerged from her warm cocoon, her room would be frosty. Needing to start her day, Melanie spent a few moments more absorbing the warmth of the sheets and blankets, as she mentally prepared herself for her day.

A light knock on her door brought a light sigh to her lips. Her day was about to start. She looked up when Rachel entered her room with her silver breakfast tray. “Good morning, milady,” Rachel said, setting a small bowl of milk on the floor, accompanied by a plate with two rashers of bacon.

“Morning, Rachel,” Melanie said, stifling a yawn.

The kitten’s ears perked up and his nose wiggled as he rolled over and sat up. “Good morning, Smoot.” She’d named the kitten yesterday when she introduced him to Shep. “I see the only thing that could tempt you from this warm haven is your belly, eh, little one?” She giggled, tapping the little fur ball’s nose.

A sharp bark retorted from behind her pillow letting her know that her white, fluffy puppy had always slept on her pillow and was no fan of the intruder. She had her work cut out for her. Melanie blew out a breath. “Shep, you need to get along with your new brother. Smoot needs your guidance, especially since he wandered onto a busy road and almost got himself killed,” she admonished in a gentle but firm voice.

Shep’s huff of resignation, along with the jingle of his collar and name tag, was his answer. She glanced at her beautiful puppy and burst into laughter. Shep lay with one paw over his head—a clear sign of his exasperation.

Smoot waved a splinted paw as if challenging the dog. On three legs, the kitten hobbled from his warm spot next to her pillow to the floor and began lapping the milk.

“I didn’t even have to ask.”

“He’s a smart little one,” Rachel said. “Knows where the goodies are, he does.”

“Can you ask one of the footmen to take both of them to the fenced area behind the kitchen to do their business?”

“Yes, of course, milady,” Rachel said. “I will see it done. Do you think the puppy and the kitten will get along?”

“I do.” Melanie was determined they would be friends. Her dog—still a puppy at a few months shy of one—was an offspring of the adorable dog that the Earl and Countess of Worsley had rescued years before they married. Having met the puppy’s sire, Melanie had instantly fallen in love and had asked if they should decide to breed Shep, if could she have one of the pups. As it happened, Shep Senior did sire a litter and Gavin delivered it to Scotland on one of his visits. Shep Junior, who was only a year old, helped Melanie heal through her grief over the passing of their mother. Melanie and Shep adored each other.

He was loyal, happy, and her constant companion. And having witnessed a few potentially dangerous stand-offs with feral dogs during her time in Scotland, Melanie was in awe of her puppy’s willingness to put himself in harm’s way to protect her. Just as Melanie would always look out for Shep. Even Sable, the horse she’d raised from birth, loved the puppy, and they frequently played in the horse pen. Shep Junior was a tribute to his sire who’d saved the Countess of Worsley several times.

Melanie spent hours each day training Shep in Scotland, she was certain that with kindness and patience, both animals would get along. She’d make sure of it. Right now, her only obstacle was convincing her grandmother that the kitten should stay.

“Milady, your grandmother asked me to invite you to join her and break your fast. I’ve brought your chocolate but left off the biscuits. And your water is ready behind the screen for your bath,” Rachel said, placing the tray on a table next to the bed.

“Very good. I’ll hurry, Rachel.” Melanie sat up in bed and gave a wan smile. “Goodness! I fear I slept like the dead, Rachel. I never heard you dragging in the water.”

“Several maids helped, milady. Lord DeLacey will be here soon to take you to the bookshop this morning. The Dowager Countess would like to have a word before you depart, she said.”

“He said he’d pick me up at eleven.” Oh, drat! Why did I accept? She knew better. “What time is it now?”

“Milady, it’s half past eight,” Rachel said.

Melanie took a slow, deep breath to temper the wild beating of her heart. Just the thought of Jonathan created anxiety—a reason she’d tried to forget him. Why had she not told him no? It was impossible to politely refuse his invitation now, so she pushed herself to get up and padded behind the screen. “I’ll have my bath and then my chocolate, Rachel.”

“I’ll move it by the fire, and it’ll stay warm, milady,” Rachel said. “I’ll return in twenty minutes to help you dress and do your hair. “

As Melanie leaned against the back of the tub, she reflected on the spirited dialogue between her and Jonathan. He remembered how she couldn’t resist rescuing kittens. He remembered her nickname. The one he gave her. She caught herself smiling at the memory. And then admonished herself. Her gaze fell on the basket on the floor in the room’s corner where Smoot slept, snoring. The empty small bowl beside him confirmed that the warm milk had relaxed him.

As if I might rescue another kitt en. An unladylike snort escaped, and she threw her hand over her mouth. “I guess he knows me better than I realized.” Despite her nerves, about seeing him again, she had to admit she was curious over what he had been doing for four years.

Her mind wandered back to yesterday. Her driver had approached Jonathan just as he’d escorted her and Rachel to his carriage… Melanie had assured him that she would be fine taking her carriage home, but Jonathan would have none of it. Instead, he told her driver he would bring her home and sent her carriage on ahead. Maybe it was the feeling of being in his company again, the warmth of his presence, that made her heart flutter. She didn’t know—but at this moment, part of her was excited and part of her was nervous or anxious. Suddenly, she realized she looked forward to seeing him. Melanie hurried through her bath and was already dressing when Rachel returned.

Thirty minutes later, she entered the morning room and greeted her grandmother.

“Melanie, darling. I’m glad to see you’ve decided to join me,” the Dowager Countess of Rochester said as she buttered her toast. The dowager countess took her cane and tapped the seat next to her.

Melanie knew what that meant. Her grandmother was directing her to a seat. She would bet her biscuits that Grandmama knew Lord Jonathan DeLacey had walked her to the front door, she thought irritably as she filled her plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. She had thought herself lucky to find her grandmama visiting one of her friends at the time. Melanie had a feeling Rachel had been talking.

As soon as she sat down, a footman served her a second cup of chocolate for the day.

The dowager laid down her toast and, wearing a smile, turned towards Melanie. “My girl, tell me about the accident. As I understand it, you were nearly run over by a carriage, and we have Viscount Jonathan DeLacey to thank for saving your life. I had no idea he was even back in London. No wonder he was such a successful spy for the Crown. He comes and goes like a ghost. Not that I am advocating the existence of spirits. It was merely an expression. Although I have heard a few strange noises at night, I assume it’s just dear Rodney, your late grandfather, who’s come for a visit. How I miss that dear man. She took a sip of her tea. “Have you named the kitten yet?”

That was fast. “I’ve named him Smoot. I considered other names…”

“That’s perfect,” The dowager countess said. “I understand he’s black and white. Have I ever mentioned the little black and white kitten I had when I was younger?”

“No, Grandmama,” Melanie said.

She picked up her toast and took another bite, washing it down with a sip of tea. “My girl. You already have a dog. What are you going to do with a cat? Will you even have time for both?”

Melanie coughed and gulped down a mouthful of her chocolate. “I haven’t forgotten, Grandmama. I will do my best to care for them both.”

The Dowager Countess of Rochester smiled. “See that you do, my dear. However, if you need me to, I would be happy to be a surrogate for you with the kitten, particularly since it’s black and white. As I mentioned, I had one many years ago…and named it Salem.” A look of pain crossed her face. “I loved that cat. I had him for almost twenty years. Even though your grandfather always sneezed when he was around him. Bless that dear man.”

“Grandmama, I would be happy to gift Smoot to you,” Melanie said, rising from her chair to kiss the dowager countess on the cheek.

“Oh, my goodness, I don’t think?—”

“Would you consider watching over him today while I am on my outing?” Melanie interrupted. “Given your experience with cats in the past, you are a perfect choice to watch over Smoot while I am out.”

The dowager countess gave a regal nod. “Very well, that is a reasonable proposal. While you are out with Lord DeLacey today, I shall get to know young Smoot. And we shall see if we are compatible.”

“I am certain Smoot will enjoy spending time with you, Grandmama.” Melanie was hoping her grandmother would fall in love with the kitten and want him around permanently.

A knock preceded the butler’s entry into the dining room. “My ladies, Lord DeLacey, is here to see Lady Melanie.”

“Have him join us, Duckett. He can join us for breakfast. Surely, he isn’t in too much of a hurry to take you on this outing,” the dowager countess said.

A moment later, Jonathan DeLacey entered the room. “Good morning, Countess, Lady Melanie. Isn’t it a fine day for an outing?”

“Pish! It’s a wonderful day because of you, my lord. You saved my granddaughter from certain doom. And I thank you so much. Would you join us?”

“I would be delighted.” Jonathan poured himself a cup of coffee and filled his plate with bacon and eggs before taking a seat. “As for saving Melanie, I had no idea it was Melanie at the time. I was quite surprised that it was her. But then again, perhaps not all that surprised, since I have a history of saving her in the past,” he said with a wink in Melanie’s direction.

Melanie could feel her cheeks blazing.

“Yes, well, I do recall a few of those incidents, including one with Melanie atop a runaway horse.” Her grandmother shook her head. “Dearest, what is it about your penchant for getting into trouble?”

Melanie picked up her chocolate and drank deeply. Luckily, the chocolate had cooled.

“I haven’t been in that kind of trouble in years,” Melanie mumbled.

“I think in future you must be more careful. Particularly when you are rushing headlong into danger to save one of your creatures.”

“I don’t make it a habit of rushing into danger,” Melanie added.

“Thank goodness Jonathan was there. And thank goodness he will be escorting you to that dusty bookshop you love so much.”

Melanie sipped her chocolate and avoided looking at either of them.

“Now then, Jonathan, Melanie, and I plan to go to Gunter’s tomorrow, and your company would be most welcome. I know you have not been back long and must have much to do with all that spying business?—”

“I accept, my lady,” Jonathan said with a smile. “I would be pleased to escort you ladies tomorrow to assure your safety, of course.” He turned to look at Melanie, his sky-blue eyes almost daring her to argue.

Melanie refused to rise to his challenge. Assure their safety? She wasn’t a child anymore and certainly didn’t need someone watching over her. Yesterday had been a complete fluke. She had spent the past four years living a completely placid existence. What did he think she was going to do—turn somersaults in the middle of the street?

“Very good. Then it’s settled.” The dowager countess gave a satisfied smile as she took another sip of tea. “By the by, in one week, I shall be turning seventy years old.

“Congratulations, my lady,” Jonathan said, his eyes gleaming with humor.

“Pshaw! I hate growing old. But I do enjoy a good party. We will have a house party at our family’s manor house near Bath. I would like it very much if you’d join us.”

Melanie gaped. She hadn’t expected this. But she could do nothing about it. Grandmama had invited him, she certainly couldn’t interfere and uninvite him. Although she wanted to. Instead, she waited for his reply, hoping against hope he had a reason to decline.

“I would be delighted. My sisters mentioned they would be attending your celebration along with their husbands. It will be an enjoyable way to spend the early part of the holiday season,” Jonathan said.

“Excellent. That’s what I was hoping you might say. It’s a week-long party. It will be mostly family—people that I adore—and, of course, friends. And now I must see to the kitten that I shall be watching over while you and Melanie are on your outing.” With twinkling eyes, she smiled at Melanie. “Lord DeLacey, I look forward to our Gunter’s outing tomorrow.”

“As will I.” Jonathan smiled, standing and bowing as the footman helped the dowager countess from her chair.

Melanie couldn’t help but wonder if her grandmother had just hoodwinked her. The question was, was Jonathan attending because he could not refuse the invitation, or was there another reason why he was going? Melanie filed her questions away for now. She would have to ponder what was going on when she was alone and could sort out her thoughts. She had gone four years without seeing Jonathan; suddenly, she was not only being escorted by him on not one but two outings, but she would be in his presence for an entire week. How in the world would she be able to manage being around the man she’d dreamed of her entire life until he broke her heart? It was going to be a challenging couple of weeks!