Then, suddenly, the pleasure intensified, and a rush of light and color, explosive in its brilliance, made her body jerk against his hand. It stunned her, for nothing in her life had ever felt quite so good, this pulsing pleasure that flowed from her center, to her toes, to her breasts. She slowly came to her senses, her hand still on his man-part, and she opened her eyes dazedly. John suddenly turned away, pressing himself against the cold stone of the manor house, and let out a deep groan as he clutched himself almost frantically.
In a few moments, his breathing, ragged and heavy, calmed, and he turned his head to look at her, a faint but vaguely apologetic smile on his lips.
“That was wonderful,” she said. She should have known he wouldn’t agree.
“Oh, God, Melissa, I’m so sorry.” He turned his forehead against the stone wall and banged his head lightly, muttering something unintelligible to himself.
“Stop that, you ninny. You’ll hurt yourself.”
He turned to look at her again, but this time his expression was agonized.
“Don’t you dare apologize again. It was wonderful, and you have nothing to be sorry for.”
“But I compromised you,” he said, apparently stunned that she didn’t realize it. “I was supposed to keep such a thing from happening. Oh, God.”
The horror of the situation suddenly dawned on her, and she pulled her dress up over her breast as if that would erase what had happened. “Do you mean to say I’m not a virgin anymore?” She knew, from all those lectures from her governess, that maintaining one’s virginity was of utmost importance. She didn’t truly know what that entailed, but she did know that no man other than her husband was ever—
ever
—allowed to take it. Was that what had just happened?
“Good God,” he said, burying his face in his hands.
“John?”
He rearranged his trousers, a faint flush staining his cheeks and making him look almost boyish. “Your virginity is intact,” he said. “Just barely.”
“Oh. That’s good.”
He looked at her again, then shook his head. “I want to kiss you, even now,” he said, letting out a bitter laugh. “I want to hold you, lie with you. I want to take your virginity. The thought of another man touching you so drives me mad. I want to drown in you.” He swallowed. “But I can’t, you see. It’s impossible. And even thinking of such things is not only dishonorable to you, but to my father, who trusted me to protect you.”
He tucked in his shirt with near-violent gestures.
“Please don’t be angry,” Melissa said, laying a hand upon his shoulder.
He moved away, out of her reach. “I’m angry with myself.”
“I know.”
“My father trusted me. I have betrayed him. I have betrayed myself. Don’t you understand?”
She didn’t understand. Not at all. “But nothing irreparable happened, John.”
“Nothing happened?” he said in disbelief. “Nothing
happened
?” He repeated the words and stared at her, shaking his head as if in horror. “I‘ve fallen in . . .” He closed his eyes briefly, and for a terrible moment, Melissa thought he might actually weep. “I’ve fallen in my own esteem,” he said, then let out another sad laugh.
“I wish you would stop,” Melissa said, hugging her arms about herself. “I rather liked it, and you’re making something wonderful sound sordid. It wasn’t sordid.”
Suddenly, John slapped his hand hard against the stone wall. “It was. It was wrong. Of both of us, but I’ll accept the blame.”
Melissa stared at him, hating that he wasn’t as pleased as she about what they’d just shared. It hurt.
He looked at her, deadly serious, and tugged at her dress. Then he drew her against him and gave her a quick, hard kiss before pushing her back from him. “That was our last kiss,” he said with force. “Do you understand?”
She nodded, her eyes filling with tears.
“Don’t cry,” he said, softly. “Please don’t cry.”
“I didn’t like that kiss,” she said, her voice wavering. “I’d like our last kiss to be nicer.” And so she moved to him, laid her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him with everything she felt. Every bit of love, every bit of desire. It was a kiss they would both remember, she vowed. He let out a groan, deepened the kiss, and Melissa felt a small amount of bitter triumph. He might say what they did was wrong, but he wanted to do it again. He wanted to, but she also knew he wouldn’t. She pulled away and forced a smile.
“That was a better last kiss,” she said, then turned and walked into the library, away from his pain-filled eyes.
Chapter 12
That evening after dinner, the ladies gathered in the Rose Room, a small, feminine drawing room that had seen little use in the past few years. Melissa had discovered the room only two days earlier and had asked that the maids give it a good cleaning so that she might take it over as her very own. It was a lovely room, sun-filled in the daytime, with white-washed walls, deep red cushions on the sofa and chairs, and lighter pink accents. It was an oasis of femininity in this decidedly bachelor house.
Melissa’s nerves were rather frayed, and just being in the room was soothing. She was glad the men had gone off to have a game of poker and drink their awful port. If she had to spend one more second in John’s presence, she just might scream. He was as solicitous as ever but otherwise completely ignoring her. Anyone seeing him that evening would never have imagined the agonized look on his face after they’d touched.
The women, but for Miss Stanhope, who read by the fire, sat comfortably, talking about the upcoming season and discussing various people Melissa would likely meet.
“Do you remember when Lady Ashton’s daughters both came out the same year?” Laura said, laughing. “That poor father, can you imagine? They are twins. Identical,” she said, stopping to explain to Melissa.
“She could hardly have one come out without the other,” Lady Juliana pointed out.
“That is true, but I cannot imagine the confusion for all those poor chaps. It was the talk of the ton that year. I remember, even though I was only fourteen at the time. They were beautiful, too, but more than one fellow thought he was falling in love with one when it really was the other that he’d danced with.”
“Are they that alike?” Melissa asked, fascinated. She’d never seen a twin before.
“In every way,” Lady Juliana said. “They sound alike and dress alike, too. I can’t tell them apart. At least I couldn’t until they got married.”
“Oh, I could,” Laura said. “Georgina’s hair is parted on the left, and Georgette’s is parted in the center. At least I think that’s correct. It could be the other way around.”
“Georgette and Georgina?”
“Their father’s name is George, you see.”
Melissa laughed. “And is there a George?”
“Oh, yes, indeed, but . . .” Laura stopped and blushed, shooting a look at Miss Stanhope and Lady Juliana.
Lady Juliana gave Laura a small smile of encouragement, while Melissa looked from one to the other.
“I’m hardly one to repeat gossip,” Laura said.
“It’s not gossip at this point. It’s common knowledge,” Lady Juliana said. “And this is something Miss Atwell should know if she is to come out this year.”
“Before he died, Sir George was quite ill,” Laura explained. “He was bedridden. For years. He fell from his horse shortly after the twins were born and could not walk. Sir George and his wife are both brunettes with brown eyes
.”
“George junior is
blond,
” Lady Juliana stressed.
Melissa knew the two girls were hinting at something, but she still didn’t know what.
Laura gave her a look of exasperation. “George junior cannot be Sir George’s son.”
“Legally, he is Sir George’s heir,” Lady Juliana pointed out. “So it’s really not that much of a scandal, I suppose, even though I did hear rumors that the father was wholly unsuitable. One of their servants, I believe. But it could have been worse for poor George. It’s not as if he was born after Sir George died. Then he’d be . . .” Lady Juliana flushed.
“He’d be what?” Melissa asked.
“A bastard,” Laura whispered dramatically.
“It could have destroyed the family,” Lady Juliana said. “I doubt the twins could have married as well as they did if that were the case.”
“I know a girl whose father was a baron, but whose mother was a scullery maid. Do you know how I know her? She works in our kitchen. Papa didn’t want to hire her at all, but Mother has a soft heart and Papa relented.”
Lady Juliana looked thoughtful. “I suppose it’s not the girl’s fault her mother was that sort of woman. Though, it’s likely she’s the same way. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
Melissa felt herself growing hot. They could have been talking about her. She was a bastard. She was, and yet she’d never thought of herself as anything other than her father’s daughter.
“No one wants tainted blood, you see,” Laura explained. “Poor George. His father could be anyone.”
“It matters so much?” Melissa asked past a growing tightness in her throat.
“Of course it does,” Laura said. “My goodness, you have been sheltered, haven’t you? Did no one tell you these things, about fortune hunters and eligible men and such? No one would purposely marry out of their realm and certainly not someone illegitimate. It just isn’t done. It only brings heartache. That’s why a commoner cannot marry a peer. It upsets the entire order of society. It’s why we keep to our own.”
Melissa felt her cheeks flush and her stomach give a sickening twist. “What if you were to fall in love with such a person?”
“A bastard? Oh, goodness, no self-respecting person would,” Lady Juliana said. “It would never happen. No one would want that sort of blood in their line.”
Melissa knew the two girls were not being vicious or cruel, but were simply stating what they believed to be right and true. Unfortunately, every word they uttered only made Melissa cognizant for the first time in her life that she might not be who she’d always thought. She was a bastard, something to be scorned and avoided. She was someone, she realized, who wouldn’t even be in this room wearing a fine dress and speaking with these two girls if anyone knew.
“What if someone posed as a peer and you fell in love but found out later that he was . . .”
“Illegitimate?” Laura said, her eyes sparkling with excitement at this apparently lurid conversation.
Melissa swallowed. “Yes. Would you still not love that person?”
“I’d be devastated,” Lady Juliana said. “Not only because of who he was, but because he lied.” Then she giggled. “But mostly because of what he was. I cannot even imagine such a thing. No bastard would pass him or herself off as legitimate.”
Laura nodded. “I think the lie would be the worst. The deception.” She looked from one girl to the other. “Have either of you read
Ruth
?”
“No, you didn’t—” Lady Juliana gasped. At Melissa’s questioning look, she explained. “It’s a scandalous book about a girl who has a baby even though she’s not married! She gets her comeuppance because she dies in the end, though.”
“I thought you didn’t read it,” Laura said with a laugh.
“Oh, I didn’t. But Mary Chalsford has and told me a bit about it,” Lady Juliana said. “Did you read it?”
Laura nodded. “I actually thought it was quite horrid what happened to poor Ruth.”
“Mary said Ruth got what she deserved.”
“I don’t think you’d say that if you read the book,” Laura said.
With each word the girls uttered, Melissa felt more and more despondent. She was a bastard. Her mother was a promiscuous woman who had lain with the Duke of Waltham knowing he was married. And she was the by-product of that act. If any man knew her background, he would never marry her. He would . . .
A stunned thought came to her, a wave of realization that made her heart contract painfully and the blood drain from her face. They had lied to her. Her uncle and John had lied about the reason for her deception. It was not to save the heart of some duchess, but to make her marriageable. No one would marry her if they knew of her birth. No one would want her “tainted” blood. In a rush of humiliation, she had a vision of herself, panting and spreading her legs for John, standing up against that stone wall, her hand on his man-part, letting him touch her, like some . . . hussy. She couldn’t picture Laura or Lady Juliana acting in such a wanton way.
They had lied to her, just so they could get her off their hands, just so they could lie to others if people noticed the likeness between her and her true father. She felt sick to her stomach.
“Are you quite all right?” Lady Juliana asked.
“No,” Melissa said, shaking her head, feeling hot tears press against her eyes. “I suddenly feel quite ill. Perhaps I should retire.”
The two women stood, eyes filled with sympathy and concern—emotions they might not feel if they knew they were in the presence of a bastard.
“Good night,” Melissa said, rising and walking on shaking legs from the room. Her stomach twisting from nerves, she went directly to her uncle’s library, where the men were enjoying their cards. She stood at the open door, feeling as if her world were slowly falling apart. Would John have dared touch her the way he had if she had not been a bastard? Was that the true reason he could not marry her, because of her birth?
John noticed her at the door first, lifting his head, his eyes lighting before he lowered his gaze. He stood, and the other men, seeing her, rose as well.
Melissa looked at her uncle. “May I speak to you and John in private, please?” she asked, hating the quick look of panic that struck John’s face. No doubt he feared she would tattle about their encounter. She kept her face passive, wanting him to think that, wanting him to suffer just a little after what they had done. The two younger men excused themselves, Charles leaving only after giving Melissa a searching look. She had no patience for Charles, whom her uncle was duping into believing she was a proper matrimonial candidate. How dare they? How dare they lie not only to her but to Charles, as well? When the other men had gone, Melissa took a step toward her uncle, her throat burning with anger and unshed tears.
“You lied to me,” she said, her gaze moving from one to the other.
Her uncle smiled gently. “My dear, what are you talking about?”
“I’m a bastard,” she spat. “Shall we go into the other room and make that announcement?”
They looked from one to the other, matching wary expressions on their lying faces. She wished she could slap them both.
“No one would want me because I’m illegitimate. Who my father truly is and the sensibilities of his wife are beside the point.”
“Melissa, sit down,” her uncle said, taking a step closer to her.
“No, I will not. And I will not be patronized. Tell me that any man would want me as his wife if he knew. Tell me that is not why you lied.”
“It is why we lied,” John said. “We were only trying to protect you, Melissa. Perhaps we should not have lied, but it was only because we didn’t want you to feel the taint of illegitimacy.”
Melissa blinked, and two tears fell from her eyes. She dashed them away. “And if a man should come to care for me? If he should ask for my hand in marriage? Do I tell him? Do I keep my secret? Do I lie to the man who has asked me to be his wife?”
Her uncle swore beneath his breath, and John strode over to her, grasping her hand and leading her toward a set of chairs. “Sit down,” he said, and exerted a bit of pressure so that she sat.
He pulled another chair over to hers, sitting close. His father did the same. “You haven’t been in society, so you do not know the taint of illegitimacy,” John said. “It is wrong, I know that. Many people know that. But there are others who zealously defend the treatment of unmarried mothers and their illegitimate offspring. Father and I are working with a group of men to change this, but no one in power wants to listen.”
“It is rather futile, my dear,” her uncle said, his face lined with worry.
“We thought it best to shield you from that venom.”
Melissa looked from one man to the other. She was the same girl she’d always been. Was she supposed to feel ashamed of who she was? People couldn’t be that cruel. She couldn’t believe it of them, not when her father had loved her so, not when her uncle and John had been so kind. “Would it truly be so bad if people knew?” she asked, her voice small.
“Society has no sympathy toward women who bear children out of wedlock. None,” her uncle said. “It is by God’s grace alone that your mother was found by my brother. Anyone else would have cast her out, would have let the two of you starve.”
“I can’t believe that,” Melissa said.
John took a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of baby farmers?”
“No, John,” her uncle said.
John ignored his father. “Have you?”
Melissa shook her head.
“They are women who prey on those poor souls unfortunate enough to have a child out of wedlock. Our grand society gives such women nothing. Legally, the father has no obligation to aid the woman or the child. More often than not, the women are cast out. They are fired from their positions. They are forced to leave their families. And when they give birth, they are on their own. Such a woman must work to support herself and her child, but no one will hire her. Orphanages will not even take in illegitimate children. These women have no choice but to go to baby farmers.”
“John, I don’t think Melissa needs to hear all this.”