“Very well. I’ll see if I can find something else for you to wear.” He glanced at the bed, which now seemed larger than life with Lord Belmont standing right beside her. “Make yourself at home. I shall return shortly.”
As Elwood shutthe door to Miss Newton’s bedchamber, a frown creased his brow. For someone who acted as though she were part of the gentry, both in manners and speech, she had appeared rather overwhelmed by the opulence around her. Of course, these surroundings were nothing compared to his townhouse, and more notably his father’s estate.
It made him wonder if she might be hiding some secrets of her own, and that bothered him more than it should. However, they had a few days in which to learn about each other, and he intended to do just that. For every question he answered, he intended to learn something about the lady.
Thus decided, he headed for the room at the far end of the hall. Although his mother hadn’t been at the hunting box in some years, she often kept some clothes here for emergency use in case her trunks were disrupted on the journey from London. Thankfully he had recalled that small detail, as entertaining a guest was the only thing that Elwood hadn’t prepared for in advance.
He gathered a nightdress, robe, and a day gown out of the wardrobe that he hadn’t recalled his mother wearing before. She had entirely too many clothes, in his opinion, and it was a good thing, because he didn’t really want to think about removing anything from Miss Newton’s delectable body and knowing that they had graced his mother’s figure first.
When he returned to her room, he offered a brief knock before he entered. He was surprised to see her standing in front of one of the floor length windows and looking out over the grounds.
She didn’t move when he entered, but jumped slightly and turned when the door shut behind him. He held up the material before he laid the articles over a nearby chair. “These may not fit perfectly, but they should suffice until I can procure you something from the local seamstress.”
She walked over to inspect the clothes and he watched as she rubbed the delicate lace between her thumb and forefinger. “Thank you.”
As she dropped her hand, she fell silent, as if unsure of what to do next. In truth, she appeared almost shy as she stared at the floor. What had happened to that confidant woman who had accosted him just hours earlier?
He moved to stand in front of her, and when her eyes lifted, he was glad to see a definite spark was in those emerald depths. He reached out to cup her cheek and although she didn’t meltinto his touch, he was glad to see that she didn’t refuse him. “Are you happy, Miss Newton?”
She blinked. “I… I don’t…”
He took pity on her. “I know it was an unexpected query. I was just curious as to your answer.” When she didn’t seem capable of speaking again, he chuckled. “Since you are determined to ferret out the facts of that blasted article, I shall offer a simple truth about me.” He paused, wondering why he had thought to tell her anything at all, but he found the words spilling forth. “I’m not happy. My parents are ridiculously so, and I believe my brothers are content, but for me—” He shrugged. “Happiness is an emotion that continues to elude me.”
“How can you say that?” she whispered. “You are standing in the midst of all of this—” She waved her hand to encompass the room. “And you can actually claim you aren’t grateful?”
“Gratitude and happiness are not the same thing,” he pointed out. “I’m talking about this.” He took her hand and placed it on his chest, directly over his heart. “This organ that beats so steadily to ensure that I survive has never actually made me feelalive.” Standing so close to her, he could feel her every breath as it fanned his chin. “Passion—lust—that is the one thing that has come close to offering me the sole means of escape from my staid existence.” He lowered his head, until their lips were inches apart. “So I ask again—are you happy, Meliah?”
He could almost see the thoughts rushing through her mind. Finally, she said, “Writing. Writing makes me happy.”
“Is that all?” he whispered.
She visibly swallowed. “That’s all I know.”
He leaned down and murmured in her ear. “Would you like to know more, sweet Meliah?”
She opened her mouth, closed it. “I should like the respectable distance that I asked for, my lord.”
Disappointment mixed with respect coursed through him as he took a step back, released all contact between them. “Then I shall leave you to get settled, but I must insist that you join me for breakfast in the morning room.”
He started to leave, but she stopped him with a query. “Where is that?”
His lips twitched with amusement, but he carefully concealed it before he glanced back over his shoulder. “You’re a resourceful woman. I’m sure you will figure it out.”
The moment he was gone,Meliah grasped the bedpost before she sank onto the mattress. She swallowed hard, because she wasn’t sure how she might manage to survive being under the same roof with Lord Belmont and resist his rakish demeanor. Already, she was a flurry of nerves and she had merely shared a single carriage ride with him!
She set her head in her hands with a groan, allowing herself this moment of weakness, and then she got to her feet. She would have to rethink her approach to the earl if she intended to keep her virtue intact and gain the information she needed to impress upon society that she was the next Brazen Belle. He certainly wasn’t making it easy to prove he was other than the rake she’d claimed in her article.
Pacing about the room, she paused when she gained a look at the dressing table mirror. Her eyes widened when she caught her appearance. Her reflection showed a woman who looked as innocent as any other. She had believed the pink dress she’d gotten from Samantha was perfectly suitable. But she had to wonder if perhaps it was too much. It certainly made her look like a sheep standing before the dangerous wolf.
She immediately walked over to the gowns he’d selected for her and hoped it was something that might make a better impression, to prove to Lord Belmont, and to herself, that she was the resourceful lady she claimed to be—that sheintendedto be.
Unfortunately, it was still quite simple, a sprigged muslin with violet flowers embroidered on it. It was the nicest things she’d ever donned, other than the pink dress. Then again, for someone who toiled for a living, muslin was not generally a garment that might be found in her wardrobe.
Careful to remove her current gown so that she might return it to Samantha unhindered, she folded it as neatly as possible and set it on the chair, before she donned the other dress. She turned to the right and then the left to check her appearance. It was slightly big on her, but it was clean and a slight improvement to the pink.
Sitting at the dressing table, she started to rummage around in the drawers, hoping to find something other than the few toiletries on display. While she wasn’t expecting to find jewels, she hoped for some perfume, or enhancements that would turn her into a coquette. When she came up empty handed, she set her elbow on the top of the table in discouragement. Without any cosmetics, she was forced to pinch her cheeks to gain some color. She untied her hair and brushed it until the long strands crackled. Pulling it back up into a knot at the nape of her neck, she had no choice but to re-pin it in a simple fashion. Again, it wasn’t as though she’d had a reason to try anything different with her hair before.
She eyed herself critically in the mirror and then decided that, without the assistance of a ladies’ maid, her current appearance would have to do.
