Ruthlessly dashing water onto her cheeks and laying a wet cloth across her eyes made no improvement in her appearance. In the mirror a pale, stricken face stared back at her. Her eyes seemed abnormally large. And her lips ... Melissa raised her hand gingerly to touch them. Her lips were not painful or bruised exactly. But they felt tender, sensitive. The girl in the mirror had a wanton look. Melissa pressed her lips together severely and pulled her hair back tightly from her face.
Sir Adrian ambushed her as she entered the parlor, armed with a charming smile. “I haven’t seen you all day,” he complained. He contrived to make it clear he had spent the intervening time thinking of nothing else. “Tell me more about this encounter with the desperados,” he demanded. “I find myself possessed of a most pressing interest.”
Melissa returned some random polite answer, extricated her hand from his grasp, and slipped beyond the range of conversation. Anna, all unwitting, aided her in this by jealously claiming Sir Adrian’s attention. There was no intention of doing any favor. In fact, Anna looked triumphant.
“I practically swooned in fright, Sir Adrian, as you can imagine,” Anna recounted dramatically.
Melissa could feel Sir Adrian’s eyes boring into her back as she selected one of the Dresden figurines on a table and pretended to find the insipid shepherdess a fascinating study. There was an almost physical itch between her shoulder blades. She gave herself a little shake and crossed the room to where Lady Dorothy was seated. I’m imagining things, she thought. He’s no doubt a very ordinary sort of fellow, and that mysterious, reckless expression is caused by nothing more than dyspepsia. He’s probably trying to remember where he pawned his watch last time.
It was all very embarrassing. Was there anyone in the house who didn’t know Giles had been kissing her in the library? Just what kind of speculation was going on in Sir Adrian’s sleekly groomed head?
Anna was saying, “Then this great vile man said, ‘Your jewels or your life!’ 1 don’t mind telling you that I was quite faint with fright. He pointed the gun right at me, and he had the most horrid look on his face, as if he wanted to eat me right up. Then he pulled the rings off my fingers with his great nasty hands.” Anna interrupted Lady Dorothy for confirmation of a detail. “That little pearl ring, set in a circle with the topaz chip. It was my grandmother’s, wasn’t it? It was quite my favorite. I have nothing that goes so well with my yellow silk now.” She devoted herself to Sir Adrian again. “It was the same style as this one.” She held out one limp hand gracefully. “See?” She dangled her hand in front of his face. “And look at the bruises he gave me when he grabbed me. Here and here.” She pointed to two nonexistent bruises on wrist and forearm.
The most gratifying response to this came from Harold Bosworth, who tut-tutted over the pale little hands and stroked them soothingly. Sir Adrian examined Anna as if she were the artwork of an earnest amateur.
Melissa ceded Anna the center of attention gratefully. Edgar, with a carefully blank expression on his face, was leaning against the wall and pointedly not looking in her direction. If anything, it made Melissa even more uncomfortable.
“Giles was shaking with anger when he saw what that peasant was doing to me.” Anna babbled on. “He was just sitting there, literally petrified with rage. It was so dreadful for him to be there and be unable to defend me.” One hand draped itself decorously across her white décolletage.
“Ah,” Sir Adrian breathed thankfully as Giles entered. “Miss Merringham here has just been telling me how you sat helpless and dismayed in front of that rascally highwayman, Giles. Must have been a great shock. Doesn’t sound in the least like you.”
Melissa was looking elsewhere, not at Giles. She heard him reply calmly, “You never know what you’ll come to in your old age, Adrian. Be warned by my example.”
“I am, I am. I’m watching it with considerable interest, believe me.”
Melissa allowed herself only the briefest glance away from her fixed regard of the Dresden shepherdess. Giles was staring directly at her. Their eyes locked. Melissa’s lips broke from their firm control and quivered. Her fingers gripped the tabletop. Giles’s face was unfathomable. There might have been the glint of a grin. It was gone so swiftly she could have imagined it. He nodded courteously.
Melissa looked down at the rug. Then she could have kicked herself. If she had shouted aloud to the whole room that something was going on between the two of them, she would not have made it any clearer. Harold’s face was a study in sympathy.
“So, Giles.” Lady Dorothy’s sour voice greeted him. “If you’re finally through keeping us waiting, we’ll have dinner. You may tell me more about this extremely tiresome run-in with the elements of lawlessness. I warn you, at this point I am prepared to be bored.”
“I will strive not to disappoint you,” Giles assured her.
Bedford opened the double doors leading to the dining room and announced that dinner was served.
“And about time,” Lady Dorothy said querulously, pulling herself to her feet. One imperious hand grabbed hold of Anna for support as the girl sauntered past. “What’s that scent you’ve drenched yourself with, Anna?” she demanded. “You smell like a civet cat.”
Anna pulled away with a little moue of distaste. “I purchased it at Charmain’s in James’s Square. It comes from Paris, Aunt Dorothy. It’s called La Nuit d’Amour. It’s very popular with the regent’s set, so you needn’t say nasty things about it.”
“The things they don’t scruple to sell to young girls these days,” Lady Dorothy grumbled. “No, Miss Rivenwood, I have no need of your arm, thank you. I am not a complete invalid, no matter what some people may have been telling.” She glared accusingly at Giles. “If you are all through standing about like a bunch of waxworks, I, for one, am ready to eat.”
Despite Anna’s best efforts, the tale of the robbery as related by Giles became merest commonplace, an incident scarcely worth noticing.
“What are you planning to do about all this?” Lady Dorothy demanded gruffly, squelching Anna’s well-meant efforts to relive the scene just once more.
Giles motioned indifferently with his wineglass. “I’ve sent a message to Edgewater. He’s magistrate. It’s his bailiwick. Let him handle it.”
Lady Dorothy approved of that, at least enough to refrain from biting criticism. “They’ll find them soon enough,” she said with satisfaction. “Then we can forget this nonsense.”
“I will never get over it,” Anna stated, glowering.
“Enlighten me, Miss Rivenwood.” Sir Adrian, by ignoring precedence and his place at the table, had managed to seat himself next to her. “This robbery must have been a shattering experience for you as well as poor Anna, yet you show no ill effects. Why is that?”
“I have less tender sensibilities,” Melissa replied softly. She wondered if Sir Adrian, thinking her deep in some intrigue with Giles, had decided to mark her out for his own conquest. There was a new intentness in his eyes, not the mere reflex of flirtation he’d shown before.
“I don’t allow vapors in my companions.” Lady Dorothy frowned impartially at the entire table. “We shall now engage in a civilized conversation. That means we will talk about what interests me. Giles, you had a letter from Augusta today.”
“True,” Giles conceded. “Shall I tell you what she said or merely allow you to read it?”
“You may relate the highlights,” Lady Dorothy said graciously.
“There’s a fair amount of gossip. The Duke of Clarence’s marriage is settled. Adley’s made a bet at Brooks’s on who’s going to get the succession. Cumberland looks like a favorite, though what kind of degraded monster we can expect from that—”
“Don’t talk treason at the dinner table,” Lady Dorothy reprimanded him. “Wait until the tea tray is brought in.”
“Then we’d best avoid politics altogether,” Giles replied calmly.
“Definitely,” Anna said loftily. “It’s dull stuff, politics. There’s something so sordid about scrambling for influence among all those country clods and ill-bred cits. Don’t you agree, Sir Adrian?” She threw him a gay little smile.
“It’s a game some of us enjoy despite the vulgarity. Giles, for one,” Sir Adrian said carefully. “Certainly it’s a sport in which you should not indulge, Miss Merringham.” He was meticulously polite. “And you, Miss Rivenwood? You don’t find our little game dull. Do you lean to the conservative side of the fence with Lady Dorothy, or are you a Whig with Giles?” His eyes glittered with mischief.
Melissa gave up pretending to eat. If Giles could brazen it out as if nothing had happened, she could, too. She mustered her composure and replied, “By upbringing I’m a sound Tory. But the East End of London is enough to make anyone Whiggish. You might say that, womanlike, I’m swayed by my emotions, and that makes me inconsistent.” That ought to silence him.
It didn’t. “I might say that. But I wouldn’t be so rude. Do you despise politicians also? How awkward for poor Giles here, to be sure.”
Melissa didn’t look at poor Giles there. She stuck her fork savagely into an inoffensive piece of meat and made no move to consume it. She didn’t dare look up from her plate. “Most politicians, it seems to me, are more concerned with appearances than with reality. They won’t investigate the truth of … of an accusation that might make them look foolish in public. And their own behavior in private doesn’t always bear investigation,” she said darkly. “If a man is honest, I don’t care what party he belongs to.”
“What? Truth before Whiggery? You’ll need some lessons in party loyalty, that’s clear,” Sir Adrian said musingly, as if to himself but loud enough to be heard at the head of the table. Giles grimaced angrily at his friend. It had no apparent effect.
“You’ll find that loyalty, Sir Adrian, cannot be taught.” Anna broke in fiercely. “Ideals, the constant regard for a single perfect principle, won’t be found except among the highest social order.” With a certain amount of obvious self-congratulation she smiled pointedly at Harold.
Harold, in his turn, looked long-suffering.
Sir Adrian smiled like a tomcat in the pigeon roost.
Harold cleared his throat and addressed Lady Dorothy diffidently. “That reminds me of another thing I’ve been meaning to ask you,” he said. “This boys’ school in Westminster that you busy yourself with, is it true ...”
The talk flowed to more general matters. Melissa took no part in the discussion, allowing it to swirl past her. Anna, whose somewhat sluggish wits were just beginning to suspect that Sir Adrian had been cool toward her, scarcely ventured to interrupt the talk more than twice or thrice.
Later, when Lady Dorothy took the two younger women with her into the parlor to await the gentlemen, Melissa tried to make an escape. Dinner had been trial enough. She had no wish to pass the rest of the evening with the majority of the company amusing itself by thrusting metaphorical pins into her quivering flesh.
“If I may be excused,” she said softly, “I’m very tired, and—”
“You may not,” Lady Dorothy retorted. “I’ve no intention of letting you run off and hide yourself in your room simply because you’re tired of the squabbling. So am I, with less to do about it. You call yourself a companion. Well then, keep me company. Besides, I think Sir Adrian is intrigued with you. He doesn’t waste serious conversation on women unless they’re in the muslin company or ancient crones like me and good for nothing else.”
Anna shrugged her pale, powdered shoulders pettishly, sending her long curls flying. “He can hardly think Miss Rivenwood is a septuagenarian, so that leaves the other thing.”
“My word, Anna,” Lady Dorothy snapped, stiff with disapproval. “I don’t know where you get your manners. This is beyond the line of what is pleasing. Apologize to Miss Rivenwood at once.”
Anna reddened and looked sulky. She mumbled something unintelligible that might have passed for an apology in a colony of deaf-mutes.
“Let’s have no more such talk out of you tonight, Anna,” Lady Dorothy ordered. “It’s most unbecoming.” She pointedly began speaking to Melissa. “Did you enjoy the robbery, Miss Rivenwood? It must have been invigorating.”
Melissa had begun, “It was certainly a memorable—” when Anna interrupted her.
“You always think Miss Rivenwood is such an utter paragon, Aunt Dorothy. Everything she does has to be right. But let me tell you what she and—”
Lady Dorothy stopped her sternly. “I will let you tell me nothing whatsoever until you learn manners. Moderate your voice, miss. You’re behaving like a spoiled child. Do you think these hoyden manners will get you a voucher for Almack’s?” Anna fell silent, her breast heaving and tears of rage gathering in her cornflower eyes. “If I hear another unsuitable word from you tonight, I’ll send you to your room like a ten-year-old. Impoliteness is all very well, Anna, but you must restrain yourself until you learn to do it with style.”
“But, Aunt Dorothy,” Anna burst out, “this Rivenwood, this companion of yours, was unforgivably rude to me before dinner. She said terrible things to me. And besides, she’s been—”
“Silence, Anna!” Lady Dorothy thundered. And Anna was silenced by very surprise. The dowager turned and calmly inquired of Melissa, “Have you been unforgivably rude to my niece, Miss Rivenwood?”
Melissa thought it over. Beside the robbery and Robbie’s accusations of murder and then Giles’s behaving in that very dismaying way, it seemed such a trivial thing. But on balance, it was a fair description of her behavior.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“Allow me to commend you,” Lady Dorothy said tranquilly. “You were saying about the robbery?”
Anna was not one of those fortunate people whose countenances are improved by passion. Her face got very red. It is only possible to speculate what might have been the eventual outcome of that accumulated fury because at that moment the door to the parlor opened and Harold and Edgar entered. Harold looked from one woman to the other anxiously. In his presence Anna managed to swallow her bile and smile. Melissa could only marvel at the reforming power of love.
“Where’s Giles?” Lady Dorothy demanded. “And Sir Adrian? Why haven’t they joined us?”