“Lady Beaufort, am I to understand you would rather not beat around the bush?” Melissa asked as they had sat down and were left alone save for Betty, the maid, who hovered off at the edge of the room waiting to be needed.
“That is correct, Lady Belmont,” Lady Beaufort responded, shaking her head. “I am afraid I may be going mad.”
Melissa furrowed her brow and scrutinised the lady. “You look perfectly sane to me, Lady Beaufort. What is troubling you?”
“Oh, terrible, terrible things,” Lady Beaufort exclaimed, shaking her head and looking quite panicked. “Headaches and terrible hot flushes. I am quite tired and I … I have not bled in quite some time.”
The way the lady inclined her head downwards towards her womanly parts told Melissa all she needed to know.
“Hmm … Lady Beaufort, forgive me for asking such a delicate question, but how old are you?”
The woman, with her greying hair and wrinkles around her eyes, opened her mouth wide as if she was utterly shocked and perhaps even offended at the question.
“I … I am coming up to my forty-ninth year,” Lady Beaufort explained, her pallid cheeks growing quite red indeed.
Melissa smiled gently, hoping the woman would not be too offended by her line of enquiry. “And, Lady Beaufort, though you are a widow, can I assume you are not entirely celibate?”
Melissa knew it might be a dangerous enquiry, but she needed to know the entire truth. She had to be sure she wasn’t missing anything.
“Lady Belmont, I …” Lady Beaufort began looking as though she might deny any kind of wrongdoing. Melissa gave her a pointed expression before she could finish, hoping she would remind the woman that she could not help if she did not know all the facts.
“Speaking widow to widow, Lady Belmont, I am certain you are as practised as I when it comes to bedfellows.”
Though she spoke confidently, Lady Beaufort looked quite embarrassed at her own words, and her cheeks grew even redder, the colour travelling down her neck and onto her chest.
Melissa gulped at her words. She had not taken anyone to her bed since Thomas. The thought of doing so had often made her feel sick even when there had been several handsome gentlemen making it clear they would willingly join her thanks to her widow status and the fact she was far less risky territory than many of the unmarried beauties of her own age, not to mention her wealth and status and her lack of a need to find herself a husband. To many, she was likely a suitable plaything. And it was clear from what Lady Beaufort had just said that she had taken the opportunities where Melissa had failed.
“And how do you find it?” Melissa asked out of medical curiosity rather than a true desire to know the answer. “Is everything in working order?”
Glancing down to illustrate her point, Melissa waited, half expecting the other woman to take offence again.
Instead, Lady Beaufort looked quite flushed again and shook her head. “I … I have noticed things are a lot … drier than they once were.”
Knowing well from past clients that such a thing was difficult to admit, Melissa leaned over and took hold of Lady Beaufort’s hand. She squeezed gently and said, “It is nothing to be ashamed of, My Lady. I am afraid what you describe is something that comes to us all as we age.”
Lady Beaufort’s expression grew horrified, and she snatched her hand away from Melissa’s. Again, Melissa prepared herself for the woman to insist she wasn’t old and not afflicted by whatever she was trying to diagnose her with. But instead, Lady Beaufort asked in a pleading tone, “Is there anything you can do for me?”
At that, Melissa smiled gleefully. “Lady Beaufort, I can assure you I have everything you need to alleviate your symptoms.”
Rising to her feet, she turned to Betty and said, “Please keep Lady Beaufort company while I go to my study to collect what is needed.”
“Of course, My Lady,” Betty said with a dip of her head, stepping forward.
Melissa turned and quickly left the room, glad to hear that Lady Beaufort had actually taken up the opportunity to make pleasantries with Betty as she went.
She collected a couple of tonics and a balm-type cream she had concocted over the years before returning to the drawing room to find that Betty was pouring the tea Mr Winston had brought from the kitchen.
The man had made himself scarce once more, and Melissa was thankful for it. After so many years in her employ and her father’s before that, he always seemed to know just when to leave and right when he was needed, discreetly going about his business just as Betty and her other small household of staff did. Though Melissa had no real family left, they had become somewhat of an adopted family to her over the years, and she was mighty grateful to them, especially when it came to moments like these when she was struggling with her emotions and trying not to over-analyse things.
Though she forced herself to concentrate on the matter at hand, she was still feeling greatly off-kilter after the night before, and no matter what she did, she found her mind returning to what had happened with Lord Spurnrose the evening before.
If only she were like Lady Beaufort and older, maybe then she would feel less concerned about whatever was coming between her and the viscount. Maybe then she could simply accept that she deserved a little fun. Maybe she would even forgive him his secrets because time was precious at Lady Beaufort’s age.
Melissa had lost enough people to know that was true anyway, yet she still couldn’t get over the fact that the viscount had kept important information from her.
Stop thinking of him!Melissa snapped at herself as she returned to the drawing room to offer her medicines to Lady Beaufort. She had more important things to worry about than Lord Spurnrose.
“Take the tonics morning and night, and the balm is for use whenever you have one of your … bedfellows,” Melissa explained, handing the medicines to the lady, who quickly shoved them into the reticule wrapped by a drawstring strap around her wrist.
