Miss Merton's Last Hope (Miss Mayhem 4)

Valentine turned away.

“Wait,” she called out to him. “We should discuss when I could return to our parents.”

“Never.” Valentine reappeared at the doorway. “Why on earth would you want to go back to them?”

Melanie shook her head. “We never spoke of it, but my stay should have only ever been a temporary tactic to divert Father’s temper. With Mrs. Hartwood’s support for Julia assured, and her doing so well, it is high time I got out from underfoot.”

“I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I am trying to understand your decision, truly I am, but you must know how strange it is for me. I’d always assumed you were waiting for the right gentlemen to ask for your hand.”

“I do understand how strange my decision must seem to you.” She shrugged. “I tried to tell you once before, but you laughed and turned away without realizing I was in earnest. I lost my courage then. It is time I went home.”

“This is your home,” Valentine insisted.

“No, it is Julia’s, and I promise you I am happy for that.” She smiled at him, but could see he was torn. “Could you please make arrangements for a carriage, or I can take the stage on my own if that is more convenient and thrifty. I don’t wish to be a burden to you.”

Taking the stage on Friday would allow her time to say goodbye to Mrs. Clemens and to Walter.

Valentine sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “A private carriage and a suitable chaperone, as always. I won’t have you placed in any danger, and I expect you to return for the summer each year without fail.”

“If you insist.” Melanie would not come again. It was time to let go of the past and this place. She grasped the door and slowly shut it in his face.

However, she trembled so badly, she climbed onto her bed and grasped the small pillow to hug against her chest. She was being torn in two by conflicting desires.

She wanted to stay with all her heart, but Walter would always yearn for children and the idea he’d have them with someone else caused her more pain than she’d ever imagined possible. She hadn’t felt this wretched since Andy had passed away.

Twelve

The obligations of meeting expectations, even if it were

to his married sister on her birthday, were becoming a trial. This extravagant dinner could not be over soon enough for Walter’s taste. He kept his eyes on his plate, a smile on his lips and ignored the subtle flirtations aimed at him from his left.

“Have you traveled much, Mr. George?”

Walter was hard pressed not to groan each time Miss Lane opened her mouth. She was determined to make him notice her. He glanced along the table and regretted Melanie’s absence from the festivities. If only she had come, he would not be the target of a marriage-minded miss. “Yes, I’ve traveled all over, but I prefer Brighton.”

“And London, I hope.” The woman giggled and glanced across to her parents. The family lived most of the year in London, from what he could tell, and it was becoming blatantly obvious where she was attempting to lead the discussion. If he hinted he visited the capital on occasion then an invitation to call on them would undoubtedly be extended.

He shrugged. “I’ve no need for London.”

Given the strength of the sigh that followed, Walter assumed the girl was disappointed in him but he didn’t care.

He was the only single man at this dinner. Miss Lane the only one unmarried. He was highly sick of the matchmaking attempts. Soon, if he had his way, he would not have to endure such indignities.

He knew his own mind.

He was decided on Melanie for a wife, and no amount of flirtatious looks from young Miss Lane would ever persuade him to give up what he wanted so easily. It would take time, but he was sure he could change her mind. She’d changed it once to allow him to kiss her, and the rest would surely come eventually if he did not rush her into a situation that went against her morals.

Luckily he was possessed with abundant patience.

The meal ended and, to his relief, the women filed out for the drawing room soon after. Miss Lane threw a swift smile over her shoulder as she stepped across the threshold. Although it was his brother-in-law’s duty, Walter stood immediately to serve port. He needed the drink to brace himself for what remained of the evening.

Peter sidled up to him. “What did you think of Miss Lane?”

He tossed back the contents of his glass and continued pouring for everyone else. “What’s to consider?”

He shared the glasses around and then made himself comfortable for some peace, quiet and preferably masculine conversation.

Miss Lane’s father, now with port in hand, raised it in a toast. “To the ladies.”