They dealt with the latest crop of well-wishers. As the group moved on, Melissa seized the moment to murmur, “If I had to be caught in such a situation, I admit I would rather it was with you than with your cousin.”
She felt Julian’s gaze on the side of her face. After a moment, he dryly replied, “That’s comforting.”
She wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but didn’t get a chance as Lady Hamilton and her daughter-in-law came up to offer their congratulations.
As the Hamilton ladies glided away, Melissa, inwardly frowning, said, “I’m rather surprised. The vast majority of those congratulating us have been entirely sincere.”
After a moment, Julian asked, “Why does that surprise you?”
Somewhat patronizingly, she pointed out, “Because as far as they know, I’ve just snared London’s most eligible noble bachelor before most of the ton even knew you were in town. I’ve taken you off the matchmakers’ lists, and I can’t fathom why so many seem genuinely happy about that.”
He grunted.
More people descended, intent on wishing them well.
It was a considerable time later before she managed to murmur, “So how are we going to reverse this without causing a scandal?”
He didn’t reply for some time but, eventually, chose a moment between well-wishers to suggest, “After a suitable time, you can simply cry off.” He cast her a swift, unreadable glance. “Can’t you?”
She forced her lips to remain relaxed. “Theoretically, yes. But given what we’ve weathered tonight, I foresee a potential problem with that.”
Julian forced himself to shrug. “We’ll work it out.”
Although he’d been the one to suggest she cry off—standard procedure in such cases—he was already thinking about how to convince her to choose the other option.
The constant stream of guests fetching up before them meant he couldn’t pursue that line of thought all that far.
Finally, Lady North declared they could leave, and their ordeal was at an end. He accompanied Melissa and her mother into the Connaughts’ front hall and took Melissa’s midnight-blue velvet cloak from the butler. As he draped it about her shoulders, he murmured, “I’ll call on you tomorrow morning at…is it Mount Street?”
“Yes, North House.”
“And we can discuss what to do.”
She threw him a speaking glance, one he interpreted as“We most certainly will.”But all she said was, “Indeed.”
He kept his grin to himself. He’d already had it borne in on him that this Melissa was a significantly more forceful young lady than the Melissa he’d known long ago. What had surprised him was the realization that the Melissa of now was far more to his liking and spoke far more to his needs, those of the man he now was, than that girl of long ago.
They’d both matured and changed, their personalities and characters growing more definite and defined, yet instead of growing apart… After having stood by her side for just a few short hours during which they’d interacted with what had seemed like half the ton, he firmly believed that the pair of them had independently evolved into the person the other most needed now.
He glanced at her. He already saw her as his most appropriate partner, his best choice of wife. He hoped that in the same way, she would come to see him as the best husband for her.
He wouldn’t have labeled himself an impulsive man, but in this…given he’d known her for so long, deciding that she was the right wife for him didn’t seem impulsive at all.
He dutifully escorted her and her mother to their carriage, handed Lady North up, then took Melissa’s hand.
He captured her gaze, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed the backs of her gloved fingers. Straightening, he said, “I’ll call at eleven tomorrow.”
A hint of wariness had entered her gaze, but her lips firmed, and she nodded, and he handed her up the steps.
The footman shut the door—looking curiously at Julian as he did—then the carriage jerked and rattled off.
Julian watched it go, then set off walking to Carsely House. His gaze fixed ahead, he strolled with nonchalant ease. He knew he should be thinking about the situation—about the meeting tomorrow and how best to manage it and her—yet all his mind and senses wanted to dwell on was that utterly amazing kiss.
The following morning, Julian sat at the breakfast table, remembering the kiss in all its glory and dwelling on its revelations.
The arrival of his brothers, Felix and Damian, put an end to that pleasant exercise. They’d been out the previous evening; this was the first he’d seen of them since he’d returned to the house.
They bade him good morning with their usual grunts.
