nued distress Alanna had watched Melissa hide from others, she provided Ian with a concise report, and then added a suggestion. "I'm sure she'll feel better by this afternoon, should you wish to call on her."
"Do you really think so?"
"Yes, I do." Graham Tyler had been staring at her throughout that exchange, and she had not meant to exclude him. "Good morning, Lieutenant."
"Good morning, Miss Barclay," Graham greeted her, his grin wide. "You were so lovely in blue the other evening, but now I think pink is truly your color. Perhaps pastels flatter all blondes, but—"
Alanna attempted to feign interest as Graham continued to describe her as a fair beauty. He was attractive, and his gray eyes sparkled with admiration as he spoke, but she simply did not care to hear what he had to say. Although Randolph O'Neil was speaking with her uncle, he was still looking her way, and she began to regret letting Melissa talk her into having new gowns made. Not that she wished to embarrass her aunt and uncle with her old clothes, if truly she had, but if new gowns brought more unwanted attentions, then why should she buy them?
Her aunt and uncle had a great many friends, and it seemed as though each and every one wished to speak with them that morning, giving Graham an extended opportunity to talk with Alanna. His discussion of ladies' fashions reminded him of his three sisters, each of whom had her own interests, which ranged from playing the harp, and raising ponies, to painting watercolor seascapes. They sounded as though they might actually be delightful young women, but Graham described them in such minute detail, Alanna was again bored witless rather than entertained. When finally her uncle announced it was time to leave for home, she bid Graham goodbye in mid-sentence and hurried to their carriage.
As soon as Alanna arrived home, she traded Melissa's gown for one of her own. When new, the fabric had been a deep rose hue, but now it was faded to a soft shell pink. Comfortably worn, it required neither hoop nor an extravagant number of petticoats, and she wished she had worn it to church rather than a satin gown. Melissa was still in bed, and Alanna encouraged her to rise.
"Ian was disappointed not to see you at church. I think he may come by this afternoon. Of course, if you're still in bed, your mother won't allow him to come upstairs to see you."
Melissa threw back the covers. "Well, why didn't you say so?"
"I just did."
"I mean sooner, the instant you came through the door." Melissa raised her hands to her hair, felt the wild disarray of her sleep-tossed curls, sat down at her dressing table, and quickly went to work with her hairbrush. "Was he invited to dinner?"
"No, there will just be the four of us." Thank God, Alanna thought. She didn't remember Randolph O'Neil ever coming there to dine, but he had spoken with her aunt and uncle for so long, she would not have been surprised had he been invited that day. She walked up behind Melissa.
"You were right about Mr. O'Neil. He does like me more than I had realized. Is there a polite way to discourage a man's attentions that won't offend him?"
Melissa shot her cousin an exasperated glance in the mirror. "The man is absolutely perfect for you. Why would you want to discourage him?"
"I realize women usually wed men several years older than themselves, but—"
"Father is a dozen years older than Mother."
"Yes, I know, but even if Randolph were only twelve years older than me, I still wouldn't be interested in him."
"Whom do you like best, Randolph or Graham?"
"Randolph."
"Then you do like him," Melissa teased.
"Yes, I like him, but not the way you like Ian. As for Graham, I didn't think he had left any subject uncovered at the party, but this morning he told me more about his sisters than I will ever need to know."
Melissa leaned closer to the mirror to study her reflection. Despite her indiscretion, her prettiness was undimmed and reassured, she made Alanna a promise. "When Ian arrives, I'll invite him to stroll through the garden, and I'll make it plain to him that you'd rather not see Graham again. He might be with Ian today, but since this will be the last time, you can be nice to him, can't you?"
"I'd sooner throw myself into the river and drown."
When Melissa had contemplated just such a dire fate, she had been serious, and she did not find Alanna's comment in the least bit amusing. "Jokes about suicide are in extremely poor taste, Alanna. Don't make another."
Because they were so close in age, Melissa seldom spoke down to her, and predictably, Alanna rebelled. She left their room and went downstairs to ask her aunt's advice on how a young lady might tactfully rid herself of a boring admirer.
* * *
To Alanna's delight, Ian came calling alone that afternoon, and she went down by the river to read a favorite book while Melissa entertained the British officer. After daydreaming about Ian all morning, Melissa had been so thrilled to see him she had almost wept. As soon as they left the parlor to take a stroll in the garden, she reached for his hand.
"I'm so happy you came to see me today. We had such a wonderful time the other night, and I had hoped that you'd come to call on me again soon."
Ian was accustomed to Melissa's every gesture being flirtatious, but there was something else in her manner that day. Had he not known her better, he would have thought it desperation, but in the case of such a popular young woman, he discounted the possibility as absurd. As they entered a long row of azaleas, he pulled her around to face him and reached out to touch her forehead lightly.
"You don't feel feverish," he exclaimed. "To what do I owe this sudden enthusiasm for my company?"