“What?” A petite elderly lady sat upright in a daybed, surrounded by white lace and ribbons and bows. She held a long brass horn to her ear, which she swiveled in their direction. “What?”
Jasper bent and spoke into the ear horn. “She’s Lady Vale now.”
“Who?” Miss Rockwell lowered the ear horn in evident exasperation. “Melisande, dear, it’s so nice to see you, but who is this gentleman? He says he’s a lady. That can’t be right.”
Jasper felt a tremble go through Melisande’s slight frame, and then she was still again. He had a violent urge to kiss her, but he suppressed it with effort.
“This is my husband, Lord Vale,” Melisande said.
“Is he indeed?” The lady didn’t look particularly pleased at the news. “Well, why’ve you brought him ’round here?”
“I wanted to meet you,” Jasper said, tiring of being talked about as if he weren’t there.
“What?”
“I heard you had the best cakes,” he bawled.
“Cheek!” The old lady’s head reared back, making the ribbons on her cap tremble. “Who told you that?”
“Oh, everyone,” Jasper said. He sat in a settee and pulled his wife down to sit beside him. “Isn’t it true?”
The old lady pursed her lips in a manner he’d grown to recognize from Melisande. “My cook does make rather good cakes.”
She nodded at the butler, who looked somewhat surprised to be sent from the room.
“Splendid!” Jasper crossed one ankle over the opposite knee. “Now, I’m hoping you know what kind of mischief my wife used to get up to as a child.”
“Lord Vale!” Melisande exclaimed.
He looked at her. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were wide in irritation. She was quite lovely, in fact.
He tilted his head toward her. “Jasper.”
She pursed her lips.
His eyes dropped to her mouth and then rose again to meet her own. “Jasper.”
Her mouth opened, vulnerable and a little tremulous, and he thanked God that the skirts of his coat covered his groin.
“Jasper,” she whispered.
And at that moment, he knew he was lost. Lost aady lost. nd blind and going down for the third time without any hope of salvation, and he didn’t give a damn. He would give anything to unravel this woman. He wanted to search out her innermost secrets and bare her soul. And when he knew her secrets, knew what she kept hidden away in her heart, he would guard it and her with his life.
She was his, to protect and to hold.
IT WAS WELL past midnight by the time Melisande heard Vale return home that night. She’d been dozing in her own room, but the muted voices in the hall brought her to full wakefulness. After all, she’d been waiting for his return. She sat up in excited anticipation, and Mouse stuck his black nose out from under the covers. He yawned, his pink tongue curling up.
She tapped his nose. “Stay.”
She rose and reached for the wrapper laid out in the chair beside her bed. It was a deep violet color, shaped almost like a man’s banyan and without the usual feminine frills and ribbons. Melisande pulled it on over her fine lawn chemise and shivered from the sensuous weight. It was of heavy satin, overembroidered in fine crimson thread. As she moved, the fabric subtly changed color from violet to crimson and back again. She crossed to her dresser and dabbed scent at her throat, trembling as the cold liquid slid between her breasts. The scent of bitter oranges rose in the air.
Thus armored, she went to the connecting door and pulled it open. The rooms beyond were Vale’s, and she’d never ventured into his domain. She looked about curiously. The first thing she saw was the enormous black wood bed, draped in linens of such a dark red it was almost black. The second thing she noticed was Mr. Pynch. Vale’s man had straightened away from the banyan he’d laid on the bed and now stood, huge and immobile, in the middle of the room.
Melisande had never actually spoken to the valet. She leveled her chin and looked him in the eye. “That will be all.”
The valet didn’t move. “My lord will need me to undress him.”
“No,” she said softly. “He won’t.”