3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

N athaniel flexed the arm Melior held. Why had he told Eddie's far too vain sister that he was happy to help her out of the situation? She was as upset about His Grace's upcoming nuptials as her mother, but it had only expressed itself as tears as she peered at the flowers instead of wild ranting.

If Eddie had not been such a good friend to him all these years, he would have separated himself from the whole Kendall family. They were pompous, self-absorbed people whose only aspiration was to outlive the Duke of Bedford. How many times had he overheard conversations about when Lord Kendall became the duke? Melior herself had tried to get them all to call her Lady Melior as a little girl. Perhaps that was why he never thought of her as Miss Kendall.

Then again, it would be quite a shock to suddenly lose a title one was certain they would receive.

Melior walked silently beside him as they exited the house into the gardens. A strong cold wind whipped through the air and she stepped into his side to protect herself.

"Perhaps a walk outside was not the best of ideas at this time of year," Eddie said.

She nodded, her teeth chattering. They had not collected their coats in all the rush and no one was dressed for the chill of February.

His friends spun around to face him. Algenon and Johnathan nodded in agreement, their arms wrapped around themselves as if in a personal embrace. For a prospective baron and a viscount, they did not look like it.

Al motioned with his head toward the conservatory. "Shall we reconvene in a warmer garden with actual live vegetation?"

"I concur with Mr. Roberts," Melior said, backing up toward the outer door. "We can go through the house and enter the conservatory through the inside door."

Everyone agreed and soon they were back into the semi-comfort of the large home. Melior asked a maid to bring her a shawl and once it was acquired, they proceeded to the appointed place.

"How was the card party, Lord Newhurst?" Melior politely asked John.

He glanced at Nathaniel and then rubbed both palms on his trouser legs. When Nathaniel did not answer for him, John locked his hands behind his back and looked at a spot above Melior's head. "It was put on well. The Fultons did a fine job of hosting and the company was enjoyable."

John never had been comfortable talking with beautiful women, and Melior was no exception. More often than not he expected one of his friends to answer her questions for him, but Eddie, Al, and Nathaniel had agreed not to do his talking for him anymore. They were not Harrow school boys any longer. He needed to break the habit if he was ever to find a wife, and of all of them, he needed a wife the most.

Melior cast him a social smile. "I am glad it went well, for your sake. Mr. Roberts, I saw you dancing with Miss Harris last night; I had not realized you two were on speaking terms again."

Al gave a lopsided grin. "We can never make up our minds if we are friends or enemies. Either way, Lord Penwick was pestering her for a dance again and you know how much she detests the man. Someone had to step in."

"As you should have." Melior ran her slender fingers along a small, white orange blossom. Nathaniel always found it odd how the trees could bloom even in the dead of winter. "I would not want to dance with the man either," she continued, "after what he did to her. To raise such expectations and then retreat to the country not once, but twice."

"Yes, it is only sad that she had to settle for a dance with me to escape him. But alas, I did my duty as a gentleman. How could I do any less?"

Melior did not bestow her true smiles often, so when one bloomed on her face at Al's pronouncement, Nathaniel stopped and stared.

She had such a beautiful smile, with those straight teeth and those full pink lips. Why did she not indulge in the action more often? He frowned.

Her gaze lifted to his and the smile fell. Of course it did.

She did not like him. He never had figured out why. To his recollection, he'd never done anything to personally offend her, but perhaps it was because out of all of Eddie's friends his title was the lowest in rank. It was no secret Melior did not keep company with any gentleman below an earl, excepting of course the three of them—four, really. Her brother had no title and never would. As the second son of a second son, he was bound to be a lowly gentleman his whole life.

"Say, Nate," Eddie said, "Are we still for Vauxhall's tomorrow?"

"If you are still up to it. Mr. Watt will meet us there at eleven."

"I am, more than ever. I could use a little distraction."

"What is this about a visit to Vauxhall Gardens tomorrow?" Melior tried to feign disinterest, but Nathaniel saw the moment her brilliant blue eyes lit with curiosity. Was she truly hoping for an invitation? It would be a first.

"Nothing you'd be interested in, Mel. We are meeting Mr. James Watt, the man who invented the steam engine. Thanks to a letter Nate wrote to him back in November, he has agreed to explain how it works."

"Oh." She deflated. "This is one of those inventor things you all are so consumed with." She waved a hand in the air as if she were shooing away a fly, then sauntered to the next pretty plant. Why did she have to look so lovely even in a simple morning dress? It really was unfair.

If women appeared how they acted, she'd be an old crone with a wart on her nose. Maybe two for her dismissal of an interest that was so near to his heart. He loved to comb the pages of books to find out how things worked, and she acted as though he were a foolish child for his passions.

Had she looked at herself in the mirror lately? If one of them was childish, it would most definitely be her with her ridiculous obsession with perfection. Even now, she bent over a flower at the exact angle to both keep her posture correct and display her figure to best advantage. It was absolutely beautiful.

He shook his head. Admiring Melior would do him no good, it never had. All the appreciation in the world would not change the lovely creature before him into anything more than the pretty shell of a woman she'd become.

What had happened to the bouncy child he'd met on his first visit to Kendall House? She'd been ten and so full of excitement to see her brother after his term at Harrow. Nathaniel would never forget the way she hopped from foot to foot at the top of the stairs waiting for Eddie to run up and give her a hug. She'd caused so much commotion that Lady Kendall had exited the drawing room and scolded her for the noise.

Intelligent, kind, and excessively diverting, she'd been a delight to be around. He'd watched her grow into an intriguing young woman with fascinating ideas until the year before she'd come out in Society. Each year after that he'd seen less and less of that girl until she completely vanished into this excellently proportioned woman whose skin reminded him of porcelain and whose eyes could not be more blue if someone had painted them. It was almost as if she'd turned into a china doll.

That was it. She had changed from a living, breathing being to something decidedly not. A statue of a sort. Only this statue cared about titles and money and connections and… and… well, not him. Definitely not him.

"I think you all have bored Sir Nathaniel to sleep with all your talk of steam engines," she said with a smirk.

Nathaniel blinked a few times. He'd gotten so lost in his thoughts that he'd not paid any heed to the conversation around him.

"He is not bored; he's simply revisiting the past." Eddie waved his hand. "He does that often. You can tell because he gets that faraway look. What was it this time, Nate? Memories of your father, maybe your baby sister."

"Neither." The reminder of family long gone pinched at his heart.

"A closer past perhaps," Al said. "Maybe you were recalling your partners from the ball last evening. You had a great many. Some were uncommonly pretty." His eyes strayed to Melior and Nathaniel understood his friend's implication.

Melior smiled back at Al, most likely reveling in the praise, adding it to her already inflated opinion of herself.

Nathaniel crossed his arms. "Why yes, Miss Jenkins was quite beautiful, probably the prettiest woman I danced with."

Big blue eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed. He gave Melior a small smile and turned to inspect a plant with lots of thorns and a pretty purple flower.

"But did you not dance with Miss Kendall?" John blurted out, then flushed and dropped his eyes to the tiled floor.

A moment of guilt nipped at Nathaniel. John was the only one who knew how attractive he found Melior due to a conversation several years before. They had agreed she'd grown into a beautiful woman, likely the prettiest in London, and he'd admitted to his friend that he found himself ridiculously drawn to her. They both knew nothing would come of it, so Nathaniel had sworn him to secrecy and they'd never spoken of it again.

"Thank you for the vote of approval, Lord Newhurst," Melior said, raising her chin, "but I believe Sir Nathaniel does not find my sort of beauty enticing. He's drawn to a lighter complexion with fewer curves like Miss Jenkins's."

Al covered his mouth with his hand, doubtless to keep from blurting out what he knew. It really was a trial to have friends who had known him so long. Hopefully he would not divulge Nathaniel's affinity for dark-haired women.

Eddie clapped him on the back. "Nate likes a woman with a fuller figure as well as the next man."

"I hardly think this is an appropriate conversation with your sister, Eddie. Perhaps we should move on to a different subject."

Al grinned. "For what it's worth, Miss Kendall, I believe you were by far Nate's loveliest partner last evening as you were every man's."

Leave it to Al to charm Melior into a good humor. Nathaniel could always count on him to spill flattering compliments like excessively sweet tea all over the ladies of London without a thought for how they might be taken.

"Thank you, Mr. Roberts." Melior took his arm as they made their way back to the main part of the house. "It is a comfort to know that at least one man appreciates my efforts."

Her efforts indeed. Melior was naturally beautiful. She could put no effort at all into her appearance and still outshine all the ladies of the Ton.

Nathaniel stopped walking. He was falling into the same thoughts that always got him in trouble. Comparing Melior's beauty meant he was thinking about her, and thinking about her always made him wish things were different. It was never good for his spirits to wish for something that could not be. Time to switch his line of thought and put on a mask of unconcern. He'd worked hard these last few years to squelch the last dregs of his feelings for her, he could not lose headway now.

Mr. Watt was older than Nathaniel had realized as evident by the wrinkles that covered his face when they met him at Vauxhall the next day. But his explanations of how he created the steam engines used in mines was enthralling. The men all talked as they walked about the gardens.

There were not many people about, as the day was quite dreary, but every so often they passed an adventurous group.

"What other things do you think your invention might be used for in the future?" John asked. Although quiet in large groups, he became talkative and animated in a group of men, especially when new inventions were the topic of discussion.

Mr. Watt elaborated how others were using the technology that he'd created, and his hopes for the future of steam engines. Just as he was explaining how he hoped to improve upon his invention, a familiar laugh caught Nathaniel's attention.

He glanced up to see Melior walking towards them escorted by Lord Caraway, Lady Edith and Lady Agatha trailing along behind them. The marquess tipped his hat as they passed and Melior sent them all her brightest smile, but Nathaniel could not help thinking that compared to her natural smile it looked like a wax figure.

Eddie, who was standing at the back of their group, stopped her. "Mel, I did not know you were going to be here today. I thought you said it was too cold." His eyebrows raised. "Oh, how do you do, Lord Caraway?"

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Kendall. I am afraid I am to blame for your sister being out. I invited her and her friends for a stroll and then we are going to visit Gunter's to warm up. It is only fair after all, since I convinced them to brave the cold."

"I see." Eddie turned to Melior. "Did not Mother—"

Melior's blue eyes held a warning and he stopped. Nathaniel waited as a silent conversation seemed to pass between the siblings, while Lord Caraway chatted amiably with Al. His gaze strayed to the other two ladies of the party.

Lady Agatha smiled politely but said nothing. Lady Edith on the other hand, lifted her pointy chin and glanced away. What gave her the right to think she could snub anyone? Everyone knew her father, the Earl of Mayfield, was empty in the pockets due to his gambling. With a family as large as hers and little beauty to speak of, she would need to marry soon or risk losing some of her dowry to a younger sister. He did not know her exact age, but she had to be near his own age of twenty-five.

"Thank you," Lord Caraway said to whatever Al had offered, "but I am engaged to dine elsewhere that evening, perhaps next Thursday."

"That will work just as well, until next Thursday then."

The gentlemen tipped their hats and Nathaniel got one last look at Melior's rosy cheeks before Lord Caraway led her away. She seemed happy. He supposed she should be with the attention of marquess squarely on her. She should be congratulated on her apparent success, but it would not be by him.

Not that Caraway was a bad sort; he simply felt sorry for the man if he offered for Melior. He'd been effectively hunted like prize game and all that was left for her was to get off the right shot. Poor man did not even know what kind of chaos he was stepping into at present with her family in such upheaval. For his sake and only his—for Nathaniel was most definitely not jealous—he hoped Lord Caraway's interest wandered elsewhere.