Page 48 of The Meaning of Love
The only reason they were presently unencumbered by guests was that they were strolling in a fixed direction as if on a mission; it was one they had invented, namely, to check on Melissa’s grandmother. As that august lady continued to terrify a good portion of the ton, they’d reasoned that as they were currently in her good books, by taking refuge in her orbit, they would be able to catch their breaths.
Since the first guests had arrived, they’d been greeting, chatting, and accepting congratulations nonstop; the activity had started to grow wearying after the first thirty minutes. Two hours on, and Julian had admitted he was approaching his limit of being unfailingly polite. As Melissa had been in much the same case, she’d joined him in casting about for a means of gaining some respite; visiting her grandmother had been her idea.
As they approached the chaise on which the old lady sat in state, presiding over a circle of older matrons who were busy watching their descendants with varying intents, with a last wary glance at the rest of the room, Julian admitted, “I’m not overly surprised by who is here. After all, attending events such as this is part and parcel of being in the upper echelon. What does surprise me is the unremitting delight everyone is exuding.”
They halted by Lady Osbaldestone’s side, and she proved that, despite her age, her hearing was excellent. She fixed them with a gimlet gaze. “Naturally, everyone here is thrilled by your engagement. For the ton at large, it’s a positive sign, a good omen for the future.” She searched their faces for signs of understanding, then detecting none in their bemused expressions, humphed and explained, “Everyone has great hopes of you both. It’s transparently obvious to everyone that, with any luck at all, this marriage will be the making of you both and the foundation of something remarkable.” She waved. “No doubt your mothers will have been hearing that from every possible source.”
Julian and Melissa shared sidelong glances, then Melissa asked if her grandmama was comfortable and required anything, and after being assured she wanted for nothing, rather than dally close and catch their breaths—and invite further disturbing insights—they moved on as fast as they dared.
They clung to the wall, and leaning close on Julian’s arm, Melissa grumbled, “Now we’ve reassured the ton regarding our engagement and eventual wedding, apparently, they’ve shifted their expectations to what we’re going to do next!”
His social smile once more in place, Julian nodded at several guests and, biting the bullet, steered Melissa in their direction; at least there was no one likely to gush at them in that group. In contrast to his easy expression, his tone was grim as he replied, “If I’m reading this correctly, the elite are now watching us with great interest in anticipation of seeing us evolve into some sort of ideal socio-political couple.”
“Exactly!” She sounded disgusted. “I just wish they’d stopexpectingthings—it’s as if they’re writing rules for us to live by.”
He couldn’t deny that. Now that Lady Osbaldestone had opened his eyes, several comments he’d previously thought somewhat strange made greater, albeit unwelcome sense. “At least,” he murmured, in the seconds before they came within hearing of the group, “being inside Carsely House means we don’t have to constantly look over our shoulders in search of errant assassins. That does make a pleasant change.”
“There is that.” Melissa increased the brightness of her smile as they joined the group, most of whom were married couples of similar age to them.
While they chatted, endeavoring to allow none of their weariness with the social round to show, she reflected that being safely inside Carsely House and also the center of all attention was, indeed, a good thing and something of a relief. Ever since the incident in the park, at all times that they’d been out of their respective homes, she’d been on high alert, and so had Julian. He’d even insisted on accompanying her to her appointments with her modiste, causing considerable consternation as everyone else present was adamant that he could not see any of her new gowns and especially not her wedding gown.
He’d merely smiled at the fussing, unmoved and unmoving, and left Madame Henriette to reorganize her showroom and fitting rooms.
While Melissa understood that his intention was to ensure she came to no harm—even though it was obvious it had to be him who was the assassin’s target—she reasoned that in keeping his guard high, he would also end up protecting himself.
Of course, she’d kept watch as well, just as religiously, but neither they nor Felix, who had taken to accompanying them on their rides, had seen hide nor hair of the Irishman or of any would-be assassin.
The constant tension and the escalating anxiety had added to the already trying situation and further eroded their holds on their tempers. Even more frustratingly, they couldn’t directly confront the targets of their ire, meaning the assassin and the wider ton.
Although they both had tempers, presumably because of his service in Ireland, he was more adept at managing his than she was hers.
When, still smiling brightly, they moved on toward the next group of guests eager to speak with them, she murmured, “I had hoped to make this my last Season, and now that I’m so delighting the ton by marrying you, I can only hope that once we’re wed, we’ll be less…” She gestured.
“In the ton’s eye?”
She nodded. “Exactly.”
He smiled, bent his head, and whispered, “In that case, you’ll be delighted to discover how far Carsington Castle is from anywhere the ton gathers.”
Her smile more genuine, she met his eyes. “I’m already looking forward to escaping there.”
Their gazes held for a second, then as one, they faced forward and engaged the next knot of guests.
Later in the evening, after waltzing with several of her ex-would-be suitors, all of whom had claimed to be devastated to have lost their chance with her—not that even one of them had had a chance with her in the first place—Melissa finally found herself once more in her intended’s arms, whirling slowly around the ballroom.
She sighed. “This is pleasant.” It was heavenly to be able to relax, place her trust in her partner, and let go and allow her senses to revel in the sensation of his arm banding her back, his hand splayed across her spine, the contact searing through the fine silk of her new celestial-blue gown. He moved with accomplished grace, and all she had to do was let her feet follow his lead.
From beneath her lashes, she studied the aristocratic planes of his face and smiled. “If we could only spend the rest of the evening here, slowly waltzing, I would be content.”
He huffed softly. “You and me both.” He drew her closer as they went around the turn, and the silk of her bodice brushed against the fabric of his coat, and a frisson of heat bloomed and sank deep.
Once they were on the straight again, he murmured, “I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been away from London for so long, but I can’t recall there being quite so many predatory ladies haunting the ton.” His lips quirked as he confessed, “I’ve been subtly propositioned three times.”
She laughed. “I should have warned you. Those ladies do like to hunt, and they’re very much of our circle, but for their purposes, a gentleman isn’t fair game until at least officially engaged.” She tipped her head consideringly. “And truth be told, they’re usually careful to ensure that the wedding is definitely on.” She returned her gaze to his face and arched an amused brow. “Apparently, we’ve been convincing, and no one any longer doubts that.”
He grunted and gathered her closer, a possessive reaction she didn’t miss but to which—oddly for her—she didn’t feel compelled to take umbrage. “Luckily,” he continued, “our weddingisgoing to take place in seven weeks at a place very far from here.”
Her inner smile was much more smug than the one curving her lips.
