He smiled back. A faint purr emerged from within the spencer. All nature’s creatures would purr against Lady Mellicent’s bosom, including him. How idiotic he’d become. How susceptible to a woman’s charming face. Her beautiful eyes held his, and a curious light entered them, unsettling him further.
A few raindrops fell onto his cheek. He glanced at the sky. “I fear another shower is imminent. Best we seek shelter.” He must move on before he went down on bended knee before her and declared her to be his soulmate. Gene fought a wry grin. She was little more than a girl. Not yet twenty. His sanity had deserted him.
“Yes. I must take Rosie home. She is hungry.” Lady Mellicent bobbed. “Good day to you, Your Grace.”
Gene settled his hat back on his head and strode toward his accommodation in the hope that, once there, he might deal sensibly with what had just occurred. Like a man dying of thirst, he needed one last look and glanced back as she climbed the steps to the road. At the top, she turned to look at him. And for a moment held his gaze before crossing the road.
It should not have meant so much.
He grimaced. What was he doing here? He should be at home in Haverstock Hall, where any unpredictable actions on his part might go unnoticed. He wasn’t even sure why he’d come to stay in Brighton. The shops and inns were all but empty. None of the Prince of Wales’s set came at this time of the year. His wanderings had taken him past the Pavilion, where he studied the domes and minarets of the unusual structure. Only the men working on the grounds and the new stables were about. It was out of Season, and the breeze was too brisk to appreciate the seaside. The bathers would not brave the cold water until summer.
He had believed Brighton suited his mood perfectly. To be alone with his thoughts and be near the sea. The same sea that had claimed Harry. But Harry would hate for him to mourn. Harry would laugh at Gene’s profound reaction to Lady Mellicent and help him make sense of it. He shook his head. He would depart the seaside in the morning and return to the country. He knew who he was there.
As he left the shore, Lady Mellicent’s sparkling brown eyes appeared again in his mind. Was it merely her joie de vivre that caught him up? He considered the possibility of meeting her again. Might she be in London this April for her come-out? Not that it mattered. He would not be there. He’d refused invitations to several affairs this Season, intending to remain at Haverstock Hall, although Harry would disapprove of him shutting himself away.
He entered the White Horse Inn, where his bow-fronted suite overlooked the endless sea. But there was no peace to be found here.
He couldn’t face London now, the soirees, the balls, theton. He considered himself unsuitable for wedlock. Aware of the need for an heir, he had made an effort to find a suitable partner in life. During the past few Seasons, he’d met many pretty women intent on becoming his duchess. None lit a spark in him, not like Lady Mellicent had with very little effort. But what wife would be happy with a husband who preferred his horses, dogs, and his books to dinner parties, house parties, and squiring her around London? The marriage would quickly sour, as indeed his parents’ had. His mother suffered lowering moods, while his father spent more time in London than at home.
*
In the bedchamberof their rented rooms, Mellie washed her feet in a basin of warm water and dried them with toweling. Her fifteen-year-old sister, Vivian, sat on the bed with the kitten in her lap as Mellie rolled on her stockings. “The Duke of Chandos? What is he like?”
“Tall and imposing, as one imagines a duke should be.” Mellie paused as she tied her garters. The duke had stirred something within her breast she wanted to keep to herself. “Lovely dark hair, but the saddest gray eyes.”
“Oh, poor man. I wonder why?”
“I don’t know, but I wanted to hug him.”
Phillip wandered through the door. “Well, it’s a good thing you resisted the impulse. You are a hoyden, Mellie.”
“I didn’treallyintend to hug him.” She glared at her brother and pushed down her dress. “What are you doing in our bedchamber? Mama will be angry with you.”
“Another cat?” Eyeing Rosie, he threw himself into a chair. “Mama is visiting Katherine.”
“They are always together,” Vivian grumbled. “I wanted her to take me shopping in the Lanes.”
“Well, of course she’s with Katherine,” Mellie said. “That is the reason Mama came to Brighton. To visit Katherine while she’s here to take the air. You know she has not been well.”
Vivian nodded wisely. “She is increasing.”
“Ack!” Phillip put his hands over his ears. “A man shouldn’t hear about women’s troubles.”
Mellie noticed a spot on his chin but said nothing. Phillip had become sensitive since he turned fifteen. He would run his hand over his smooth cheeks and state that he would soon need the razor. Men were difficult beings, she had long decided. They only grew interesting when they matured. Perhaps in their late twenties. About the age the duke would be.
As Sally rushed to open the door to someone’s knock, they all hurried into the tiny entry.
“Good heavens, children. I didn’t realize I was so popular.” Mama untied her bonnet strings and carefully lifted the straw hat from her head, patted her hair, then handed the bonnet to their maid, who had come into the room. “Thank you, Sally.”
“Gordon told Katherine some very sad news,” Mama said when they’d crammed into the small parlor.
Mellie leaned forward. “What is it, Mama?”
“Lord Harrington, Viscount Felsted, has died.”
“Oh, Mama.” Mellie’s heart squeezed. She wished she’d known. It saddened her to think she might have offered some comfort, no matter how slight. She quickly explained about her meeting with the duke. “How did it happen?”
“Drowned, I believe. Chandos must be dreadfully pulled down. Katherine tells me the brothers were close. The viscount was one of Katherine’s suitors.” She gazed at Mellie. “Who introduced you to the duke?”
