Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

E lwood wanted to know what had suddenly upset her, but either Meliah was too embarrassed to say what it was that discomfited her, or she was too distraught to confide in him, he knew it was not something as inconsequential as she would like him to believe.

No doubt she might be worried about the possibility of being with child. He would ensure that any heir of his would not suffer the brunt of being called a bastard. He had already decided that he would take Meliah as his wife if she would give him but a chance to prove his worth. He hoped that their journey into the village to speak with some of the locals would do just that.

He drove them in the curricle that he had borrowed from Mrs. Jaeques. The day was bright and sunny, and Meliah's yellow dress made her appear as lovely as a spring daisy. She was certainly a welcome respite from the rest of the landscape that was starting to wither with the waning autumn. Soon all the leaves would be crushed by the turning of the wagon wheels and the branches on the mighty oaks would be barren. The grass had already lost its green luster and the nights were starting to linger.

Of course, with Meliah to warm his bed every night, he wouldn't mind the darkness at all, so long as a lantern remained burning so he could properly appreciate all her feminine curves.

He shifted in his seat, just imagining the sight of her bare skin shining in the soft glow of a flickering candle.

"Where are we going first?"

Elwood wasn't sure if she spoke out of genuine curiosity, or if the silence was becoming too much to bear. "The haberdashery."

"Really?" He could hear the surprise in her voice. "Have you done much for the community in regards to women's fashions then?"

"No." His lips twitched. "I intend to see that plain straw bonnet you own is properly decorated."

Her green eyes widened, and she adopted a slightly sheepish expression. "There is no need. Truly."

"Why not?" He tilted his head to the side as he glanced at her. "And if you say it's because you won't be able to pay me back, don't bother. It's a gift."

Her cheeks colored slightly. "It isn't mine." She exhaled heavily, as if grateful to finally be free of the burden of her subterfuge. "My best friend, Samantha, is an orange seller in Mayfair. She is seeing one of the footmen for a prominent family, and before you ask, I shall not reveal his identity. It is because of him that she was able to… procure the pink dress and bonnet for me."

This was interesting news. "Indeed?"

"Yes. The gown was supposed to be on the way to the dressmaker for repairs, but—" She worried her lower lip. "I'm afraid it was waylaid. I fear that the dress will not be presentable at all once I am able to return it."

"I suppose the reason for the dress was?—"

"To gain your notice so that I could enact my original plan, yes."

She appeared so chagrined that Elwood couldn't help but laugh. He didn't just chuckle, but he let loose a grand wallop of deep stomach rumbles that had her glaring at him. "It's not that funny."

"Of course, it is!" he wheezed. "To imagine that I am rumored to be a rake worthy of ‘The Belle's' notice, and yet, I am waylaid by a woman in a dress that is not even her own. You must appreciate the irony in the entire situation."

Her lips finally twitched. "I daresay when you put it that way it sounds a bit ridiculous."

"More than a bit ," he countered. "I shall be the subject of everlasting ridicule if you dare to add that to your article."

"I'm not going to write it."

She spoke so low, and while he was still trying to control his merriment, he nearly missed her confession. "Pardon?"

She straightened her shoulders and looked him squarely in the eye. "I said, I'm not going to write it."

He blinked, any further amusement vanishing. "But it was your entire purpose?—"

"I know," she admitted with another heavy sigh. "But I've found a certain… change of heart when it comes to writing about you any longer. I would feel like the worst sort of hypocrite when my recent actions have not been of any credit to me."

Completely sober, Elwood halted the pair pulling the carriage and set the brake as he allowed the reins to go slack in his grip. He reached out his other hand and laid it gently on her upper arm. "I would gladly bear whatever sort of punishment is coming my way if only to make sure that all of your dreams come true. Writing is your passion, and I would not let you strip yourself of the possibility of becoming published."

"Oh, make no mistake. I shall still do my best to approach the printers with my novel, but I will no longer do it by using someone else to succeed, however much I might try to make your good qualities shine through." She shook her head. "It was wrong of me to pursue you the way I did in the first place. If there is anything I regret about our time together it is that."

Meliah could tell that she'd shocked him, but she would rather not dwell on the fact that her actions had been for naught. Being with Lord Belmont might not have fulfilled her dreams the way she had initially intended, but she would hold their memories close to her heart for the rest of her days.

She placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Let's enjoy the day, shall we? I should still like to spend it with you."

He inclined his head, but as he picked up the reins once more, he said, "This conversation is not yet over."

She wasn't quite sure how to take that, but rather than spoil another moment that she could carry with her when they parted, she remained silent on the subject. Hoping to turn the tide on the earl's morose mood, she asked, "What is the name of the local village?"

"Doncaster."

His stilted reply didn't hold much encouragement. "We are in Yorkshire?" she prodded.

"Indeed." He finally glanced at her. "Have you not been this far north?"

She shrugged. "I haven't been out of London."

He blinked, and then she saw the slight softening of his expression. "In that regard, I'm pleased to be your honorary guide, and you must allow me to procure something for you to celebrate your first holiday."

Meliah had never considered looking upon her time with Lord Belmont as an actual holiday, but now that he'd mentioned it, she found the idea quite appealing. "Only if it is something small," she noted. "I shouldn't accept that, but I daresay I can't find it within me to say no."

He smiled. "As you shouldn't." He dared to wink at her and she could feel the heart immediately start swirling in the pit of her stomach. "Consider it payment for putting up with my beastly nature these past couple of days."

She laughed a bit breathlessly. Had it truly been such a short span of time that she'd known the earl? What a wicked whirlwind. "You have been rather unruly, but you are not without redemption."

His brows drew together slightly, as if he were seriously contemplating that statement. Not wanting him to be upset for long, she quickly turned the conversation to inquiring about his younger days. She asked him about his childhood, and he regaled her with stories that nearly had her in tears with merriment. She wasn't surprised to learn that he was just as incorrigible then as he was now.

As they entered the outskirts of Doncaster, it didn't take long before his presence was noted. Broad smiles appeared on most everyone they passed as they offered a curtsy or friendly wave. Meliah noticed that she was looked upon curiously. No doubt they would be under the assumption that they were courting.

When the earl guided them to the local livery and handed his reins off to a man who came out to greet them, he tipped his hat to the earl. "My lord." When his focus lit on her, there was an obvious question in his gaze.

"This is Miss Newton. She is a guest at Belmont Hall." He looked at her and his blue eyes twinkled. "She fancies herself something of a writer and wanted somewhere quiet to work on her next novel." The groom murmured something noncommittal, obviously not as impressed with the earl's fabricated tale as he'd made it seem.

He offered his arm to her and they walked away. "Why did you say that?" she whispered.

"Isn't it true?"

"Well, I suppose, but the way you phrased it?—"

"Are you a writer or not, Miss Newton? If so, then perhaps you have gained some resources for your next story."

Her lips twitched and she finally relented. "Perhaps you are correct, my lord."

For a time they strolled down the main thoroughfare of the town. It was quite freeing to walk alongside a man like Lord Belmont without a care in the world. Whenever someone stopped to inquire about their day and gain an introduction to Meliah, the earl continued to regale her attributes. They must have wondered where her chaperone was, but no one said anything against the earl, and many of the others were impressed that she was a prospective author.

The lady who ran the millinery said as much when they entered her shop. But when the earl walked over to a bonnet and glanced at her, as if trying to decide something, she had a sinking sensation. "Don't think about it," she warned.

"You said you would allow a gift."

"Yes. Something small, like a… letter opener or something useful."

He held up the bonnet he'd been perusing. "Is this not useful?"

She set her mouth in a mutinous line. "It's not generally something a weaver's daughter might wear, so no."

He scoffed, and without taking his eyes off of Meliah, handed it over to the shop owner. "We'll take it."

As they left the shop, hat box held loosely in his grasp, she asked, "Why did you do that? I explained what was acceptable and what was not."

"There are two answers I might give for that," he noted nonchalantly. "One, I'm not in the habit of doing what other people tell me, and two—" He paused and turned to her. "I wanted to see you dressed as you deserve."

Meliah wasn't willing to air her grievances out in the middle of the street, but she could tell that this obstinate man wasn't going to listen unless she became more forceful. "It doesn't matter what I deserve or not. It's my situation, and that doesn't call for fripperies such as that. If you were to give that to me, I daresay I will be forced to sell it rather than find an occasion in which to wear it, so you might as well keep it for your next paramour."

He sighed, a slight frown forming between his brows. "Forgive me, I suppose I didn't think?—"

"No, you didn't." Meliah glanced about and the earlier cheer she'd imagined had suddenly turned into curious onlookers watching their exchange. Dear God, what was she doing there? She must have forgotten reality for a time, lost to the luxuries that would never be a part of her future. She had come there with a purpose, but somehow, that had faded, while her emotions had risen to take its place.

She looked at Lord Belmont— Elwood —with his slight stubble along that strong jaw, the dark hair and piercing blue eyes, and she realized that she had fallen prey to more than just a deceptive rake.

She had fallen in love.

In three days.

Putting a hand to her stomach, she feared she might retch at the danger she had put herself in. Without knowing exactly how it had happened, she had lost all control. "I'm not feeling well. If you don't mind, I should like to go now."

He grasped her elbow. "Of course."

She was grateful he said nothing more as they made their way back to the livery. After he assisted her into the carriage, he climbed into the vehicle and with a flick of the reins, they were on their way once more.

When they were safely out of earshot of any villager, Elwood asked, "What's really bothering you?"

"Nothing."

He clenched his jaw. "You can't expect me to believe that."

She didn't reply, but looked out over the landscape.

"Meliah, answer me."

She spun on him. "Leave it alone. I don't want to discuss this with you."

He'd had enough. Pulling back on the reins, he set the brake and put his hand on her arm. He was surprised to see her green eyes shining with unshed tears. "Talk to me, Meliah. What is it?"

"Please, just take me back home. To London. Where I belong."

He lowered his head and tried to make sense of her sudden change in spirits. "Is it the bonnet? If it bothers you that much, I will return it right now."

She closed her eyes and his chest ached at the pain that shot through the center of it.

"All I ask is that you just let me go."

"How can you ask that of me now?" Her eyes opened and he grasped her other arm, dragging her to him for a kiss that left them both wanting more. "Is it the article you say you will no longer write?" He found he had to swallow past the lump in his throat before he could speak again. "It's all true. Is that what you wanted to know?"

She gasped. "What?"

The grip on her arm tightened slightly. Not enough to cause pain, but combined with the look on his face, he hoped it was enough to convey his seriousness. "Every word that was written about me was true. I did it all. I was the most worthless rake that you could ever hope to meet. Anyone would have warned you to steer clear from me and with just cause. I would court a lady just for fun and discard her at the earliest opportunity. The thought of being with anyone for long turned my stomach. I was with my last mistress for four months. It was the height of any relationship I've had thus far." Elwood found that once he had started speaking, the words wouldn't stop. This confession had been long overdue. "I brought you here because I thought it would be a lark, have a bit of fun before you went back to London, but there is… something about you that I can't explain. I just know that I've never felt this way before. It's madness, it's absolute insanity, and I have no idea how to react to it, except make a complete fool out of myself, apparently."

His mouth crooked, hoping that she would laugh at his attempt at a jest. But her continued silence was almost condemning. She looked ill, as if she had bitten into something unsavory. And for the first time in his life, he started to feel true fear. "I know I don't have the right to ask you to stay, but I would make it worth your while."

She stilled. "You're asking me to be your mistress again?"

"Yes. No." He shoved a hand through his hair. "I don't know. I just know I don't want whatever we have to end yet. I don't want you to go back to London."

She exhaled slowly. "You know it's impossible for me to stay and retain my reputation. I would never survive the scandal."

"You think I would just toss you to the wolves when we parted?" He shook his head. "I might be a scoundrel, but I'm not ruthless, as much as you might believe me to be. You would be well compensated." When she looked back over the distance of the rolling hills beyond, he put a finger under her chin and urged her back around to face him. "Say something, please."