Melissa sniffled. But she smiled tentatively, and the tears stopped. She had no experience in accepting improper proposals, but the worst must be over. All that remained were the business arrangements. Mr. Biddle was a lawyer. She wondered if he’d be called on to draw up a contract or settlement of some kind. Or would she be expected to deliver the goods before a contract was signed? She studied Giles shyly.
“First of all, before you say anything more that you’ll never forgive me for, I want to make something clear,” Giles said, holding up a hand as she was about to speak. “There is a long list of reasons why a man in my position cannot possibly marry his aunt’s companion. Some of them are even splendid and excellent reasons. I can’t change a single one of them.”
Melissa wondered what he was getting at. She understood these things already. No one had to explain to her that marriage was impossible.
“Society would unhesitatingly condemn such an alliance,” he said composedly. “Isn’t it lucky I don’t give a damn about society? And how dare you assume that I’m the kind of man who goes about offering cartes blanches left and right to anyone who strikes his fancy. I’ll have you know that I’m a most respectable fellow and will settle for nothing less than marriage.”
“Marriage!”
“Yes. Marriage. Wedded bliss. The holy alliance. Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s respectable, safe, relatively cheap, especially compared to mounting a mistress, and, best of all, permanent. And how you ever got the doltish notion that I would have the raw courage to seduce Aunt Dorothy’s companion under her very nose, I cannot imagine. Fearless in battle, I will modestly admit myself to be. But face Lady Dorothy after setting you up in a snug little house in Saint John’s Wood, I could not. My soul shrivels at the prospect.”
“But I never ... That is, you never—”
“In all the excitement it has no doubt escaped your notice that we’ve had a deranged murderer running about the place. You’re such a sensible woman that I’m sure you’ll forgive my postponing my proposal for such a cause.”
“You can’t possibly marry me. I’m nobody.”
Giles, playing idly with a long strand of hair that had escaped to dangle along her cheek, said gravely, “I must beg to differ with you. I not only
can
marry you but
intend
to. If I need to marry a blueblood, that, too, can be arranged. With the aid of my knowledgeable and unscrupulous friend, Adrian, there’s no reason you can’t pass for just such a
parti.
We’ll arrange to make you the daughter of ... what? A marquis perhaps?”
Melissa’s jaw dropped.
“Yes?” he inquired seriously.
“That’s ridiculous, Giles. I’m a foundling, a nothing. Are you asking me to pretend to be somebody else? I couldn’t get away with it.”
“Yes, you can. Consider. Things would be much more difficult if you knew who you were. Providing a blacksmith’s daughter with a suitable background would challenge even Adrian. And background you must have. King Cophetua probably had a very uncomfortable queen. Luckily you have no origin whatsoever.
Tabula rasa.
You could be anybody. Mysterious woman flees from France at the height of the Terror and abandons baby. There’s a lot that could be done with such a story. It shouldn’t be hard to find a proper missing child from a noble French family. Lord knows there are enough émigrés in London who’ll be glad to claim kinship with you once you’re married to me. The beauty of it is that we don’t have to say a thing. Adrian drops a few hints into some indiscreet ears, I strenuously deny the rumors of noble French blood, and the thing is done.”
“You’re mad, Giles,” Melissa said with certainty. She stood up and began to walk distractedly around the room. “And Sir Adrian with you. What a witless scheme! Imagine the scandal if it ever came out. Besides, God only knows what my real parentage is. I couldn’t possibly marry into your family. I never dreamed of such a thing.” She’d dreamed maybe, but no more than that.
“Since the Tarsins have spent four centuries as notorious privateers and wreckers with occasional forays into plundering after battle, that sounds suspiciously like sarcasm, my girl.”
“But Lady Dorothy—”
“Is that the best you can do? I told her days ago what I planned. She’s all for it.” Giles added insouciantly, “Says it’s time I got married and settled down to give Robbie some cousins. She approves of you.”
Melissa wondered if she’d heard correctly. “Lady Dorothy approves?” she said unbelievingly.
“No nonsense about her. With her support the
ton
is in the palm of our hands.”
“I never... That is, I can’t possibly... It’s not necessary, you know.”
“Are you so willing to embark upon a life of sin in my company?” He laughed as Melissa glared up at him. He caught her hands in his, not without a wince of pain. She didn’t dare pull away for fear of hurting him. “This startling lack of respectability on your part might daunt a lesser man. But I’ve no doubt of my ability to keep you in line.”
“I can’t, Giles. It’s quite impossible.”
“Would you condemn me to a lifetime with some simpering society miss? It’s not kind of you.”
“Giles—”
“Disabuse yourself of the notion I’m doing you any favor. You will marry me because I intend to bind you to me for all time with bands of iron. Nothing less will do for me. Have you any objections to make?” he demanded with mock ferocity.
Melissa shook her head mistily. There were a thousand reasons against it, obviously. At the moment she couldn’t call to mind a single one.
Giles drew her closer to him. “Splendid. I had planned,” he said regretfully, “a slightly different ending to this proposal.”
He readjusted his sling and put both arms around her, favoring his left side. Melissa cuddled close to him confidingly. Giles sighed. “But you’re safe enough with me today. Salome herself couldn’t tempt me to anything in bed but sleep.”
Holding her for a minute longer, he appeared to reconsider the matter. “On the other hand,” he continued reflectively, kissing her eyelids tenderly, “I’ve no wish to wake up some morning soon and find you’ve run off because of some silly scruple. Every legal tie and every dastardly appeal to your affections or your senses are hardly enough to reassure me. You’re far too precious to be permitted to run around loose. So how am I going to make sure of you until I can get you into church, eh?” He began to kiss her mouth gently, several very light, soft kisses.
Melissa protested, “I have no intention of going away, sir.”
“Giles.” He corrected her and kissed her not so gently upon the lips, molding her willing body against his. If his arm pained him, he was ignoring it. “A wise man,” he murmured in her ear, “makes certain of his intended.” He kissed her earlobe, teasing it with his teeth. Melissa giggled uncertainly, turning her mouth toward him to be kissed again.
There was a cough at the door, and Sir Adrian walked in. He surveyed the couple benignly as they sprang apart. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said with no noticeable contrition.
“And what in the name of hell and damnation do you want?” Giles roared.
“Nothing to excite yourself about, old boy. Lady Dorothy sends her compliments and asks you and Miss Rivenwood to attend her in the drawing room for tea.” He added, with a straight face, “She says not to tire yourself unduly.”
“The devil fly away with Aunt Dorothy and with you, too, you interfering old busybody. I’ll join my aunt in the parlor when I’m through kissing my bride-to-be and not one minute before then.”
Sir Adrian raised a mobile eyebrow. “I take it I’m to wish you happiness at last then, Giles?” he asked formally.
“Yes. And you may go and so inform Lady Dorothy and Edgar and Bedford and all the kitchen staff and the cattle in the stables, too, if you wish, just so long as you go away. You may even start spreading a discreet rumor that you’re hot on the trail of something fantastic about my future lady’s background. Then you may take yourself off to begin discovering it. Or anywhere else, so long as you take yourself off.”
“I’m nothing if not discerning. I know when I’m being hinted away,” Sir Adrian said. “So I guess I’ll be off discreetly—that was the word you used, wasn’t it?—discreetly to spread the good news. We’ll expect you anon. My felicitations, Giles. You’re a lucky man. All my best, Miss Rivenwood.” He closed the library door behind him.
Giles settled Melissa more comfortably in his arms. “I predict we have about four minutes before Aunt Dorothy sends Edgar in to interrupt us,” he said. “Let’s make the most of them, shall we?”
TO MY FOLKS
Copyright © 1983 by Joanna Watkins Bourne
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.