Page 22 of The Meaning of Love
Melissa merely said, “We’ll see.”
But Mandy wasn’t finished. She halted at the top of the stairs and fixed Melissa with a firm look. “Just promise me that in making up your mind, you’ll do so with open eyes and an open heart.”
Melissa smiled lightly, but Mandy wasn’t about to be gainsaid. “Promise?”
When Melissa didn’t immediately do so, Mandy made her eyes huge and added, “As I’m about to make you an aunt for the first time, it’s the least you can do.”
Melissa laughed and capitulated. “All right—I’ll do as you say and employ open eyes and an open heart.”
Satisfied, Mandy beamed.
They returned to the drawing room to discover Rufus and Julian as thick as thieves over some parliamentary bill. The gentlemen came to their feet and set that topic aside as they repaired to the dining room and settled to consume the luncheon Mandy had arranged.
The exchanges over the table were far more relaxed than Melissa had anticipated; it was patently obvious that in the short time they’d been left alone, Julian and Rufus had struck up a friendship. Rufus was four years older than Julian, so they hadn’t rubbed shoulders before, but it quickly became apparent that they shared any number of interests.
Finally, after returning to the drawing room for a cup of tea and scones and jam, it was time for Melissa and Julian to head back to London.
“I have three events I can’t avoid appearing at tonight,” Melissa told Mandy as the four of them walked out onto the porch.
“Oh? Which hostesses?” Mandy rubbed her distended belly. “At times, I think I miss the social round, but then I remember all the rush and fuss”—she threw a smiling glance at Rufus—“and realize I don’t truly miss it at all.”
Melissa softly snorted. “You’re starting to sound like me. But to answer your question, Lady Haverford, Mrs. Quincy, and Lady Enderby.” She caught Julian’s resigned expression and smiled commiseratingly. “Luckily, all three events are soirées, and none is likely to be a major crush.”
After she and Mandy traded hugs and kisses and the gentlemen made their farewells, Julian handed her into his curricle, and they were off, rolling briskly down the drive.
Once they’d turned onto the lane, retracing their route from the capital, she asked, “How did you and Rufus get on?”
“Remarkably well.” Julian slanted her a glance. “It transpires we have much in common.”
Smiling rather smugly, she admitted, “I thought that would prove to be the case.”
“And what did Mandy have to say about our engagement?”
She pondered how best to answer and, eventually, vouchsafed, “She approved and was hopeful of a positive outcome.”
His gaze on his horses, he murmured, “Good to know.”
All in all, Julian felt heartened by how well the day had gone. Indeed, he felt reassured by how easily many individual elements seemed to be falling into the right position to support his push to make their engagement real.
Their conversation on the way home revolved about sights they saw along the way. When, eventually, they reached Mayfair and he was forced to slow his horses to a walk, he glanced at Melissa. “The Haverford, Quincy, and Enderby soirées.”
She met his eyes. “You don’t have to accompany me.”
He managed not to clench his jaw. “But as we’re a very recently affianced couple, people will notice and comment if I don’t.” Later, perhaps, he might acceptably leave her to waltz through the ton alone. Then again… “What time should I call?”
He felt her amused gaze on his face. “You don’t sound very enthusiastic.”
“You can’t possibly expect enthusiasm over attending not one, not two, but three haut ton soirées in one night!”
She laughed, then as he turned his horses onto Mount Street, said, “Very well. I accept your sacrifice. Shall we say eight o’clock?”
He agreed and felt contentment steal over him; indeed, he felt content with the entire day.
The gentleman intending to remove the current Earl of Carsely settled comfortably in the armchair in his sitting room, stretched out his legs, crossed his ankles, and flicked openThe Gazette.
He focused on the listing of court appointments, checking the names in case anyone he knew had been favored with a lucrative post, then idly skimmed the notices of births, deaths, engagements, and marriages.
He scanned past the crucial entry before the names registered, then his gaze jerked back to it, and he read the words, barely able to credit their meaning.
