Imogen winced. “I hope not.”
“Melanie is not stupid. If she read the stories then she could very well have pieced together the inspiration for more than a few residing in the township of Brighton, and made quite a fuss.” That she hadn’t, pleased him. “Perhaps you should not do that again.”
Imogen collapsed back in her chair, her hands resting over her belly. “I am so ashamed.”
He glanced to where her hands rested. “How are you feeling otherwise?”
“Happy.”
“Good.” He smirked. “I am glad to hear that Peter is keeping up his end of our bargain and being a good husband.”
“He is wonderful.” Her gaze narrowed on him. “All we need to do now is see you settled.”
“I am settled.” He stood and caught his sister’s elbows as a knock sounded on his front door. “Don’t even think of setting up another dinner and playing matchmaker again. I won’t stand for it.”
Imogen resisted his efforts to haul her upright. “Is that because you’ve someone in mind?”
“None of your business.” He could tell her his hopes, but to do so would place undue scrutiny on himself and Melanie. He didn’t think that a good idea yet. He was hoping to have a chance to talk Melanie around. They had something, or could have if only she were brave enough to trust his love and that everything would be all right.
“Might I suggest something to you?”
Imogen smiled. “Anything.”
“Try again with Melanie. You might be surprised that what we thought of her past is quite wrong. Teresa Long embellished her flaws quite a bit, I’ve come to suspect.”
He opened his front door to find David Hawke grinning at him. “Mr. George.”
“Hawke. What a surprise to find you in Brighton. What is this, four times this year?”
“Five,” he countered then tapped a folded paper across his palm.
Excitement gripped Walter at the sight. Could it be the information he’d requested from Hawke about changing his finances for marriage? Hawke had not written but Walter did not want his sister to know about his interest in marriage until the moment after Melanie agreed to be his. “Are you hand-delivering the investment information I asked for?”
Hawke’s brow furrowed and Walter silently pleaded with him to play along with the pretense. At last the banker nodded. “Yes indeed. Everything you need to know.”
The paper passed to his hand and he sighed in relief. He nudged Imogen out the door. “Run along home now, little sister, and put your feet up. We have business to discuss.”
Imogen gripped the doorway tighter. “But I didn’t tell you the worst part. Does one nice thing and before I can get used to the idea I found out she’s returning to Oxford. So inconsiderate.”
“Whom are you babbling about?”
“Well, Melanie, of course. She leaves Brighton tomorrow. Valentine arranged it despite Julia being very upset to see her go. Melanie refuses to reconsider, even if she’s obviously very sad too.”
His stomach lurched. “That is news to me.”
“I expect Valentine will tell you all about it tonight at cards.”
He had other plans for tonight that did not need cards but was just as risky. He hoped to lure Melanie out tonight for another private conversation. “I must give my apologies, actually. I have something to do that cannot wait.”
Imogen kissed his cheek. “Come and have luncheon with me tomorrow and tell me about your business. I’m hosting a small dinner tomorrow night, but there will likely be no chance for private conversation.”
“No matchmaking, Imogen,” he reminded her quickly.
She merely smiled.
As soon as Imogen slipped out, Hawke closed the door. “Why is Melanie Merton leaving Brighton if she’s to be your wife?”
He did not know exactly, but he feared she was trying to run from her feelings. He sighed deeply and turned back to his desk. “She hasn’t agreed.”