Miss Merton's Last Hope (Miss Mayhem 4)
Julia perched on the edge of the bed. “He’s not the only one who goes.”
“True.” All his friends went. Walter went.
Melanie kept her gaze on the fine white curtains shrouding the window. She hadn’t thrown them wide today. The muted light suited her mood better than the clear day outside. “I would not recommend that you try to join them if you ever want to impress other women.”
Julia giggled. “They swim naked, you know.”
A blush swept Melanie’s cheeks. “The less said about that the better, if you don’t mind. I don’t like to imagine my brother’s friends in that fashion.”
“Not even one of them?” Julia discarded her cup and settled herself more fully on the bed, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “I know you say now that you do not wish to marry, but hadn’t you set your cap for Hawke not so long ago?”
Melanie frowned at the change of topic. “Anyone could see he was fondest of Abigail.”
“And Sir Peter,” Julia mused, her brow wrinkling. “Don’t you tell me you were not wildly impressed by his title last year?”
“A baronet deserves respect.”
Julia, clearly unsatisfied by that answer, jumped to her feet and came closer. “I saw you flirt with him when he came back to Brighton.”
Melanie sighed at the memory of that night. “And did you see how well that worked out?”
Julia frowned, her confusion evident. “He asked for Imogen’s hand in marriage a second time not long afterward.”
Melanie had been relieved by that development. “He did indeed.”
“But you couldn’t have known he would ask her again.”
“His heart always resided there. He just needed another push—or a fright, as the case was that night—in her direction.”
“You flirted with him so he wouldn’t consider you? Was that why you were so obvious about it?” Julia slouched untidily, her mouth agape.
She smiled slightly. “Nothing terrifies a man more than a woman who appears hell-bent on marriage.”
“Do you know you might just be the most wretchedly devious woman I’ve ever met?”
She shrugged. “His title, my dowry. Some would have considered that a match made in heaven. Which it would not have been, I assure you. It would not have taken long for some well-meaning person to suggest the match to him, so I made sure the idea was entirely unpalatable to begin with.”
Julia grunted. “Teresa said you kept a list of bachelors.”
“The list is, was, merely an amusement to pass a tedious and dull winter in Oxford while my mother urged me to impress other gentlemen.” She eased a folded sheet of paper from between the covers of an older K.L. Brahms book. “I used to try to predict who would make a match before I returned in the summer. I wasn’t often wrong.”
She passed it to Julia and waited while she read it. It was a single page of neat script. An idle fancy of hers. A gentleman’s name, and several potential spouses. Some names had been scratched out, others underlined as she’d settled on her choice for their wife. A few were circled as matches were made.
“Heaven help the man you do set your cap for,” Julia whispered. “He would have no chance of escape.”
Melanie’s smile vanished. “I don’t want children, so marriage isn’t an option for me.”
Julia met her gaze. “I’ve seen you with children, too.”
“As I said, I like other people’s children but I don’t have the temperament for my own.”
“How can you be so sure until you have them?”
She thought about her answer a moment. “I can’t. But I won’t be a willing party to neglect.”
“Should I prepare myself for Valentine to be a terrible father to our children?”
“No. My brother will be an exemplary parent.”