Chapter 14

CHAPTER 14

E lwood slumped in his chair in the study at his London townhouse, convinced that he had been wrong before. He thought he'd slipped into the realm of hell when he had been chased with the proverbial pitchforks and torches, but it was nothing compared to the misery he was going through now.

He hadn't intended on coming back here so soon, knowing that Meliah was somewhere in the same vicinity, but he told himself that he intended to suffer whatever ridicule and misery that he might have to endure because he was deserving of every bit of it.

It had been a sennight of self-loathing that he'd been unable to shake since she'd left. He had exhausted all his efforts at ridding his guilt in more than one bottle of brandy, but it had been for naught. As soon as his mind was able to regain some semblance of normalcy, his thoughts were flooded with Meliah and how he'd managed to ruin the one thing that might have actually mattered in his life. At the same time, he despised the way he yearned to run to her house and beg her forgiveness and pour out his heart. After running from love for nearly twenty- eight years, it had struck him unaware, and with all the force of a lightning bolt to the chest.

Determined to focus his attention on something other than Miss Newton, he riffled through the mail on his desk that had been sorely neglected. He passed over the invitations and correspondence that held his mother's handwriting, but paused when he saw a notice from his solicitor.

Feeling a shiver of apprehension traveling up his spine, Elwood broke the seal and read the brief, but overwhelming missive that claimed he'd found a buyer for the hunting box and they were ready to take possession as soon as he could find a time to meet. Although it was the marquess' choice to sell the land, he'd left it up to Elwood to finalize the particulars on his behalf. For all his faults, he had succeeded.

Tossing the letter on top of the desk, he put his head in his hands. It was as if he was losing another part of himself by letting that box go to someone else. But what purpose did he have to keep it? His townhouse was more than enough for a bachelor and when his father passed, he would gain the estate. His younger brothers all had residences and families of their own. That cottage was being sadly neglected of late, except for his recent stay there, and it was right that it should be sold. And yet, something rebelled at the idea of selling it. He had a lot of good memories from his childhood there, and then, of course, he would always remember Meliah and their brief liaison whenever he returned. That alone should have been enough reason for him to sign his name on the paperwork and hand over the keys, but he continued to hesitate.

There was a knock at the door and a footman walked inside. The stiff, formal man bowed respectfully to him. Again, Elwood thought of the staff that kept watch over the hunting box and he lamented their easy banter when they waited on him. But London was entirely too formal. Servants weren't about to cross that invisible line. He'd never bothered to think about the class difference so much before, because he'd grown up with the way things were supposed to be—but they were also the way things Meliah thought they should be, and he didn't like that comparison. "My lord, the marchioness is here to see you."

Elwood groaned inwardly. He glanced down at his rumpled clothing and the discarded jacket that was thrown over the settee. "Tell her I'm busy?—"

"Really, Belmont, you don't have time for your own mother?"

Elwood smirked as the elder woman sailed into the room. She looked as she always did, perfectly put together and fashionable. She was still a very handsome woman with her intelligent blue eyes and faded black hair threaded with bits of silver. She had always been the epitome of what a lady of breeding should be, and not only did his father love her for her smooth way of dealing with any situation, he adored her because his love was without restraint.

Elwood had never been immune to her charm and had nothing but respect for both of his parents, but right now, he wasn't in the mood to humor anyone.

He didn't rise at her entrance, but rather leaned back in his chair and waved a hand at her. "Of course, Lady Traverson," he drawled. "I thought my footman was referring to someone else entirely. My mistake."

She lifted a brow as she walked over and stood in front of the desk, staring down at him. "Don't be cross, Elwood." He knew when she adopted that tone and used his name rather than his title, she was expressing her annoyance. "You didn't return my letter. Since I learned of the horrid state you were in when your father returned home, I thought you might be acting foolishly." She stared pointedly at the nearly empty bottle close to him. "I see that you have, but not in the way I might have hoped."

He snorted. "Like marry the chit?"

"Actually, I hoped you had."

At that, Elwood perked up slightly. "What are you talking about? She's a commoner. No doubt both you and father would have an apoplexy if I dared to elevate a weaver's daughter to a countess."

She lifted her chin slightly. "While it has always been expected for you to marry a debutante worthy of the family lineage, it is not a requirement. Both your father and I have always wanted your happiness. There are very few couples in society that manage to obtain love and I have found much joy in doing so. That does not mean I don't expect certain qualifications for a potential daughter-in-law, but from what your father has said, Miss Newton acted with all the decorum and proper speech as any young lady who might choose to impress you by vying for nothing more than your title."

Elwood wasn't sure if he could quite believe what he was hearing. He sat forward slowly. "Are you actually saying that you are both giving your blessing on a match?"

"You find that difficult to comprehend?" she returned evenly. Sitting down in front of him, she set her hands together in her lap and said, "My dear boy, while you are a man grown and have done what you wished for a number of years, I was starting to despair that you would ever find someone to settle down with. It would be best for the entire family if you cease causing scandal and become the honorable Earl of Belmont, future Marquess Traverson, that we all know you can be. If this is the woman who can manage the impossible, then by all means, I am overjoyed that you have found someone who has captured your heart."

A strange sort of buzzing began to ring in his ears. Normally, it meant he was about to collapse from the strain of trying to ward off the marriage minded mothers and their daughters they kept flinging in his direction. But this time, it was the anticipation of approaching Meliah and bending down on one knee in front of her.

Unfortunately, there was one more impediment that kept him from running out the door. "I suppose wonders never cease," he murmured. "But what if her modest background is revealed? She will be ostracized from polite society."

His mother lifted a coy brow and rose to her feet once more. "You have always been resourceful in your endeavors. I'm sure you will find a way to make it work, if Miss Newton is whom you truly want. Your father and I will do what we can to support the union, but it will not come lightly for either of you. You just have to decide it she's worth it."

On that note, she turned on her heel and sailed back out the door.

Elwood blew out a heavy breath, his mind suddenly racing. His mother had given him a lot to consider, not the least of which was the approval he didn't think he would obtain.

But it was enough.

Meliah was enough.

"Meliah?"

She blinked and looked up at her mother. "Yes?"

The middle-aged woman looked tired, her simple brown frock hanging loosely on her frame, but it was the concern in her tone that caused Meliah's heart to sink. "I called your name three times. Are you sure everything is well? You haven't been yourself since you returned from your extended visit with Samantha in London."

It was the same question that her mother had posed for the past week, and yet, Meliah was no closer to an answer. At least, none that would be truthful. She continued to mourn the loss of Lord Belmont, although she'd tried to convince herself that he had probably already forgotten her completely. They hadn't parted on the best of terms, and he was likely still upset she'd chosen to leave instead of stay and cause her heart further grief when they eventually parted.

"I think I just need some fresh air," she noted.

"Of course." Her mother looked at her curiously, but Meliah couldn't focus on that too much, or else she might find herself breaking down and explaining her actions, and that wouldn't be good for anyone. Her mother might sympathize for a time, but her father would surely be disappointed. The knowing looks he'd given her upon her return had nearly made her reveal the guilt of her actions.

Meliah walked outside and sat down on the stone steps in the alleyway beside her parent's shop. She stared at her plain shoes that were starting to need repaired again. The coarse wool gown she wore irritated her now that she'd worn fine muslins.

Tears stung the back of her eyes knowing that such luxuries were never to be hers again. But it was more than the fashions and the extravagant surroundings that she missed. She thought of Elwood constantly, the warmth of his touch and the feel of his lips on hers. She yearned for just a glimpse of him, but that would be a mistake. He likely wasn't back in London yet anyway. There were still more than two weeks of October and the new rake would not be revealed until the following month.

Nevertheless, she had caught herself contemplating a return to the hunting box and begging Lord Belmont to take her back. But she couldn't do that to her family—to disrespect them by being another man's mistress.

When the marquess had dropped her off near the Floris perfumery on Jermyn Street, Meliah had made haste to find Samantha and her orange cart. To say that her friend had been worried sick with her absence had been an understatement. After she'd explained in detail the whole sordid affair from her time with the earl, her devoted friend's face darkened with malicious intent.

"He is just as horrible as ‘The Belle' claimed!"

Meliah had immediately risen to his defense. "I believed so at first, but there is something… different about him from before. I can't explain it."

"Because he has used you most ill and convinced you that he isn't the worst man to walk this earth!" Samantha snapped, but then she'd softened her tone with a regrettable look in her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mel. I am not without blame. I encouraged you, so some of that guilt lays directly on my shoulders."

Meliah closed her eyes and released a heavy sigh. She still recalled every word of that exchange and she lamented hurting Samantha, because how could she tell her she'd fallen in love with the earl after such a short acquaintance? She would never believe it.

Following that unwanted exchange, Meliah had returned home and told her parents her fabricated story about being with Samantha. Afterward, exhaustion had settled in and she'd gone to bed and slept until the next morning. When she arose, the first thing she had spied was her novel, sitting inconspicuously on her desk. She recalled the hours she'd spent writing by dim, tallow light, her hand aching from holding the pen so long into the night.

She had ignored it then, and she continued to do so. She had planned to gain notice by confirming "The Belle's" article, but now, she had nothing to make the printers take notice of her talents. She certainly wasn't confident enough in her writing to do anything about it at the moment. Perhaps someday soon she would dare to find the courage.

"There you are."

Meliah's eyes flew open and she lifted her head to see her father standing in the doorframe. She got to her feet and brushed off her skirts. "I'm sorry, Papa. I was just gathering my thoughts. I'll return to work?—"

"There is someone here who wishes to speak with you."

Immediately, a strange fluttering started in the pit of her stomach. "Who is it?"

He smiled tightly. "First, let me say that I have noticed some reticence in your work since you returned from London." She started to open her mouth, but he held up a hand. "Please, let me finish." She fell silent. "I started to wonder if perhaps you are here because you have to be, not because you want to be. Your mother and I would like to see you take over the shop, but if you prefer another occupation, you have only to say so. I don't want to pressure you into something that will make you unhappy for the rest of your days. Life is difficult enough for people in our position without despising waking up in the mornings."

He glanced away, and Meliah wondered, for the first time, if he was speaking from experience and had a certain resentment toward his own occupation.

"I suppose I just want to secure your happiness above all else. But for a single woman in your position, it is difficult to do that." His focus swung back to her. "In that regard, I have taken the liberty of speaking to the baker's son about securing your hand in marriage. He is waiting at the front of the shop to speak with you, and I hope that you will consider his proposal. I believe that having a husband and children will suit you much better than this life."

For a moment, Meliah couldn't speak. Shock kept her immobile. When she finally found her voice, she was about to decline the offer, but it was her father's hopeful expression that caused her to hesitate. It was obvious that he was trying to do something right by her, and considering her actions of late, along with the slim chance that the earl might ever arrive to offer himself in the baker's stead, she squared her shoulders and reminded herself that things could be much more difficult. The baker's son had always treated her with polite decorum, and although she might not feel the same sort of all-consuming passion that Lord Belmont had caused in her chest, at least she could rest easy knowing that she had done the right thing by her parents. Happiness would surely come in time.

"Of course, Papa. I am sure he is a good choice." She walked over and grasped his hand. "I love you."

He kissed the top of her head. "And I, you."

As they walked away together, Meliah was rebelling at the idea of being with anyone else but the earl, but this man was here and Elwood was not, so what other choice did she have?