The trouble was, she was having a lot of up and down moods, which would be fine if they weren’t such extreme ups and downs. As it was, she could spend hours daydreaming, imagining all kinds of wonderful encounters with Lincoln Burnett, each of which ended most happily, as daydreams tended to do. It was a pleasant enough pastime, though she’d prefer to be having the actual encounters instead. Or she could spend hours dealing with doubts and trying to reassure herself that she shouldn’t be having them.
Both were keeping her from getting quickly to sleep, and in the emotional form of excitement or anxiety, waking her sooner than intended and keeping her from getting back to sleep. The doubts were winning, though, and filling much more time than the pleasant daydreams.
But then, seeing a man only three times in nearly five weeks just didn’t feel like a courtship to her. The first couple of weeks she couldn’t count, when Lincoln had tried to see her but couldn’t get in—at least that had been his contention. The four days in the country that had turned into a week she could count, but she preferred to be optimistic. She had decided that the invitation she’d arranged for him hadn’t reached him, and that was what accounted for his absence. It was disappointing, but no tragedy. They could make up for lost time as soon as she got back to the city.
The optimism at least allowed her to enjoy her sojourn in the country. There had been yard games, an afternoon of golf, a picnic, riding each morning, and dozens of other activities lined up for a wide variety of choices. She’d even met two new gentlemen she’d been quick to discourage simply because they were ideally suitable, but she considered herself already off the marriage block.
Now she was having some definite doubts again about the man of her choice. She couldn’t help it. If Lincoln were really interested in her, wouldn’t he make an effort to see her more often? Wouldn’t he at least send ’round a note to explain why he hadn’t come to call?
She really had expected him to come by almost immediately upon her return to the city. He hadn’t, not once. Five days later she had to own up to the possibility that he wasn’t going to. She just couldn’t figure out why, and she was getting more and more melancholy trying to.
“So you are still here?” Justin said as he entered the breakfast room, riding crop in hand.
She’d lingered longer than she’d realized, lost in her thoughts. It was nearly noon. She’d sat there for three hours with a full plate in front of her, untouched. This had to end. They were becoming unhealthy, her erratic moods.
“Where else would I be?”
“Gone home. I wasn’t sure. I hadn’t seen you since that ball. How’s the romance going, by the by?”
She burst into unexpected tears, then was appalled by it. But his expression turned even more horrified. It was so unlike him that it actually made her laugh. Was she going crazy? She wouldn’t be half surprised.
He took the seat next to her, reluctant to say anything else, and regarded her cautiously. She gave him an embarrassed smile.
“Dinna mind me, Justin. Female vagaries.”
For a moment it looked as if he’d gladly accept that excuse, but then he snorted. “Nonsense. What’s happened to bring you to tears?”
“Nothing.’’
“I don’t believe—’’
“Nay, I meant…nothing. I havena seen Lincoln since the day after that ball. I havena heard from him. He said he was going tae court me, then…nothing. If he hadna kissed me, proving that his courtship was sincere, I’d be thinking he’d just toyed with me.”
Justin frowned, then said hesitantly, “I hate to mention it, Meli, but kissing can have absolutely nothing to do with courtship.”
She waved a dismissive hand at him. “Och, I know what you’re thinking, but it wasna like that. He kissed me afore he mentioned the courting. And he said he already had m’da’s permission. He wouldna have asked m’da for it if he werena serious.”
Justin grinned at that point, because he had to agree. “No, I don’t think any man would care to get that seven-foot giant angry with him.”
“That’s allowing everything he’s said is the truth,” she added reluctantly, one of her more recent worries.
That brought Justin back to his feet rather quickly, growling, “The bastard. Of course, if he’s out to seduce you, he’d be lying to do it. Comes part and parcel with the scheme, don’t you know. And I wasn’t going to mention this, since he seemed respectable, but I have heard he runs with a more…disreputable crowd.”
“Heard?”
“I asked around. Now, don’t give me that look. Just because a man’s titled, that doesn’t make him automatically acceptable. You’re acting purely on emotion. I merely wanted to know a little bit more about him, since we’d never heard of him before now.”
“What d’you mean, ‘disreputable’?”
“Third and fourth sons, the sort that don’t give a bloody damn if they blacken the family name, since they aren’t likely to be inheriting anything from it. Nothing serious, mind you. And he’s never got into mischief himself—at least, that made the gossip rounds—but some of his friends have. They’re a bunch of rakehells, Meli. Now, I wouldn’t personally tar and feather a man just due to association. And I did give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, many a rakehell in his youth has turned out to be an outstanding member of society after he settles down. But if Lord Cambury doesn’t have a really good excuse for getting your hopes up and then ignoring you—”
“You think there can be a good reason?” she interrupted hopefully. “I’ve tried tae think o’ one, but the only thing I would’ve found acceptable was dismissed last night when I ran into his cousin Edith and she said he’s still in town, if somewhat moody.”
“And there’s your answer, m’dear,” Justin said. “People can behave quite bizarrely when moody. Take yourself, for example.”
Melissa blushed. “Moody doesna keep me from normal activities.”
“No?” he replied, staring pointedly at her full plate of cold food.
She blushed again, mumbling, “I wasna hungry.”
“Ah, you just like staring at food all morning, then,” he returned.
Her cheeks couldn’t get any redder. “Verra well, I’ll be agreeing with you that moody can produce abnormal behavior. But I fulfill m’schedule. I dinna lock m’self away tae brood in solitude.”
“But, Meli, everyone is different in the matter of moods, doubts, or whatever. What you might do in the doldrums, another might scoff at. What they might do in the doldrums, you might find utterly appalling. A man might go out and sock someone for no apparent reason, just to try to release some of what’s bothering him. Or take off riding and be so absentminded he ends up in the next county before noticing.”
“Now, that sounds like you’ve been there.” She grinned.
He gave her a sour look before continuing, “Whereas a woman might thrash about on her bed in tears, scream out the window, snarl at everyone she passes. By the by, you’re to be commended for only starving yourself.”
He finally got a laugh out of her, which had the amazing effect of making her worries seem unfounded. “I take it you think I’m being silly.”
“Not at all!” he replied, tongue in cheek, ending in a grin. “I merely think you’ve jumped the gun, as it were. Until you actually hear otherwise, assume he’s got a perfectly good reason for not coming ’round. You may only have been able to think of one reason for his absence, but I can think of half a dozen. Business, other worries, estate problems, family crisis—any number of things that could be consuming all his energies, leaving him no time for socializing at the moment. Remember, you were wrong before, about why he hadn’t come around to call on you.”
She beamed a smile at him. “I knew there was a good reason I love you so much. Are you sure you dinna want tae marry me?”
He snorted. “When my desire is to tweak your nose rather than kiss you? Not bloody likely.”
She chuckled. “Just making sure. And thank you. I shoul
d’ve searched you oot when we got back from the country and saved m’self four days o’…screaming oot the windows.”
Sixteen
LINCOLN opened the door to his study, where he’d been told his visitor was waiting, and only just managed to move out of the way of the fist that immediately came flying at his face. The owner of the fist wasn’t as lucky. The momentum behind the swing carried Justin St. James out into the hall; the smooth marble tile there kept him from stopping. He actually slammed into the side of the grand staircase, nearly flipping over the ornate balustrade.
When he corrected his posture and jerked his coat back into place, he found both Henriette and Edith standing in the doorway to the parlor just down the hall, staring at him wide-eyed. Which probably accounted for the splotches of red showing up on his cheeks.
He gave the two ladies a brief, embarrassed nod, then turned to Lincoln to say stiffly, “I’d like to have words with you.”
Lincoln couldn’t help it, he raised a brow. “It that what it’s called these days? Or do you always attack first and ask your questions later?”
At that point the young man sighed. “My apologies. I’m not used to being kept waiting. I was beginning to think it was deliberate.”
“I wasn’t here. I only just got home,” Lincoln replied. “But I’m inclined to think more than a simple delay prompted your greeting?”
“Well, yes, a lot more, actually.” The stiffness was back. “That was merely the crowning touch.”
“I’m sure you’re eager to be more specific, so do come in,” Lincoln said, moving into the study to take the seat behind his desk.
Justin followed him in but ignored the chairs available for his use, preferring to pace about in an agitated manner. His black hair was disheveled, as if he’d been raking it—or trying to pull it out. He seemed a short fuse ready to ignite, but whether that was a normal state for him—the impatience of youth—or related to something in particular, Lincoln was still waiting to find out.
He watched Justin for a moment before he said, “Spit it out, man. Leaving me to guess what brings you here will get us nowhere.”
Justin marched over to the front of the desk, crossed his arms, and demanded baldly, “Why haven’t you come ’round to see Melissa?”
Lincoln sat back in his chair and crossed his arms as well. “Is that a trick question?”
“Trick?” Justin replied belligerently. “Sounded direct. I’m sure it was direct. You bloody well can’t get much more direct than that!”
“Sit down, St. James,” Lincoln said. “You might try calming down as well.”
The lad didn’t take well to either suggestion. He scowled. “You’re not going to answer me?”
“Considering whom I’ve been dealing with, mine was a legitimate question. I’m not going to spill my guts only to have you repeat every word to the MacFearsons.”
The scowl changed to a confused frown. “And why don’t you want Meli to know?”
“I wasn’t talking about her.”
“Who, then?”
“Her uncles, of course.”
“You’ve something against her uncles?”
“In self-defense, most assuredly,” Lincoln replied coldly. “But the more accurate statement would be, they have something against me.”
“What?”
“You’re just full of questions, aren’t you?” Lincoln remarked dryly.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Obviously, but what gives you the right to ask them?” Lincoln demanded.
Justin started holding up fingers one by one as he ticked off his reasons. “Because I’m Meli’s best friend. Because your treatment of her is now suspect. Because you stated your intent to court her, then bowed out of the running. Because she doesn’t know whether to give up on you or not. Need more reasons?”
“No. And it sounds like you’re unaware that I’ve been warned to stay away from the girl.”
“What! By whom?”
“Who else? Her uncles can be quite persuasive when they show up en masse.”
Justin’s turquoise eyes flared. “They’re all here? I doubt Meli is aware of that. Only one of them is staying with us.”
Lincoln shrugged. He couldn’t care less where the savages were staying. But if Justin didn’t know that he’d been scratched from Melissa’s list of suitors by her family, he had to wonder now if she knew and simply hadn’t mentioned it to Justin—or if she didn’t know either.
Lincoln found it extremely hard to believe that they wouldn’t have told her first, before they sought him out. Or perhaps her preference in the matter made no difference to them. Actually, the latter did sound more like them. Not that it decreased his fury or made her suddenly available again.
“I believe you have the answer you came for,” Lincoln said, his voice clipped.
Justin shook his head stubbornly. “What I have is more questions now—”
“Too bad,” Lincoln cut in, losing some of his own patience. “Aside from the fact that it’s none of your bloody business, it was an occurrence nineteen years old. Count them, lad. Nineteen years! Most of those involved were children at the time—you might not even have been born yet. Melissa certainly wasn’t. For animosity to last that long…no amount of talking is going to make it go away. I’ve been warned off. I’m not going to end up with sixteen savages trying to break the rest of my bones, the ones they didn’t get around to breaking the first go round, thank you very much.”
Justin winced. “They ganged up on you?”
“A family creed of theirs. I honestly don’t think they know any other way to go about it.”
“So you’re giving up?”
“You see another option, do you?”
“Well, no. But—”
“Go home, St. James. By the by, you should work on that right swing of yours.”
Justin gave him one last glare before he stalked out of the room, leaving Lincoln to curse again the day he’d met the MacFearson brothers. And what was he supposed to think now? What if Melissa didn’t know that he’d been warned off. What if, as Justin had implied, she’d been left to wonder why he was ignoring her. No, she had to know. Savages that they were, even they wouldn’t leave her in that kind of doubt. But what was going to drive him crazy was wondering if she agreed with her uncles.
One of the easier courtships of the decade? Wasn’t that what the duchess had said? What a bloody joke.
Seventeen
JUSTIN hadn’t worked on his right swing, as had been suggested—he was positive the last blunder had merely been a matter of bad luck—but he was better prepared this time in only having to wait for the door to open and expecting it to open immediately. It did open, and his fist connected solidly with Ian MacFearson’s chin.
The blow sounded nice, but it didn’t move the older man very much—barely turned his head a bit. It was still satisfying for all that. And Justin was ready to deal out more punishment. When he’d told Melissa that men sometimes chose to release what was bothering them by throwing punches, he’d definitely been thinking of himself.
Not a very good habit to get into, and one his father would most likely frown on, but at the moment it was working. He felt better already, particularly since Ian Six gave no indication of wanting to retaliate.
Justin’s intention hadn’t been to thrash the man senseless—he might have had a little trouble trying it, considering that Ian was older, taller, and probably much more experienced at such things. No, he’d merely wanted to make his point rather quickly and to release some of the frustration he was feeling in knowing that there wasn’t a bloody thing he could do about the current state of affairs.
Ian moved aside to allow entry into his bedroom. Justin took that as a clue and lowered his fists before entering the room. He was still agitated, and it was rather deflating to have got so little reaction—even a bit of surprise would have helped—out of Ian. But the Scot seemed to have expected the attack, or at the least felt it was due.
Ian nodded, closed the door, and moved over to the window, out of Justin’s reach. His downcast look had nothing to do with a sore chin.
“Did he tell ye everything?” he asked.
“He barely told me any thing!” Justin growled. “So I’ve come to you next for some answers, because I’m sure there has to be a good reason Meli is being left to suffer with not knowing what’s happened.”
“I wanted tae tell her,” Ian admitted. “I can barely look at her now wi’oot feeling guilty.”
That was the last thing Justin expected to hear. It just made him want to hit the man again. “You’re a bastard, you and your brothers.”
“Aye, we are.”
“I’m not talking about the circumstances of your birth, you ass,” Justin stated baldly.
“Aye, I know.”
“Then why?” Justin demanded. “And I don’t mean why d’you hate the man. I couldn’t bloody well care less about that. I want to know why Melissa wasn’t told about it, so she could forget about him.”
“Because she’s a mind o’ her own. Because she might no’ hae forgot aboot him a’tall. The thought o’ her running off wi’ him was weighed against the wee bit o’ wondering she might be doing now.”
“‘Wee bit’? Have you even talked to her lately? And if it was so clear cut as that, then why are you feeling guilty about it?”
“Because I do ken what she’s feeling, e’en if she’s trying tae hide it,” Ian replied. “Ye forget I know her as well as ye do, lad. And I’m the only one o’ my brothers who saw Linc afore he knew who she really is. I’m no’ sure we made the right decision. We ne’er gave him a chance tae prove if he’s changed or no’.”