The Unmasking of Lady Loveless Read Free

known from the very start that he had never wanted to marry her. She had buried her grief and regret and had tried to banish the foolish, childish infatuation she had felt for him. She had thought she had succeeded. But now, with one touch of his hand, he had shown that for the lie it was.
    “Melicent,” he said softly. His lips brushed her cheek, sending quivers of sensation tingling through her. Her breath hitched in her throat. She reminded herself that she was angry and hurt at his neglect and his callous indifference. She could not feel that and yet still respond to his touch. But when she looked up into his eyes she almost gasped at the expression of intense, dark desire she saw there. Her hands trembled in his. He drew her closer.
    The front door opened and a young man of about twenty years burst in, shattering the moment. His fair hair was disordered by the wind. His clothes stank of stale ale. He skidded to a halt and blinked at them, swaying slightly.
    “Melicent? Beaumont ? What the hell—”
    “Alex, you will remember my brother Aloysius?” Melicent said hastily.
    Alex freed her gently. “Of course,” he said. “How are you, Durham?”
    Aloysius Durham squared up to him pugnaciously. “I said what the hell are you doing here, Beaumont? How dare you just walk in? I’d like to rearrange your face—” He stumbled, almost falling, and knocked over the hat stand.
    “He’s drunk,” Melicent said. “I do apologize.” It was not an uncommon occurrence with Aloysius, but she wished it had not happened now.
    “No need for apologies,” Alex said. He gave her a lopsided smile that set her pulse awry. “He does have a point. However—” he grabbed Aloysius by the scruff of the neck “—I think he should sober up before he is permitted to upbraid me.”
    Before Melicent’s fascinated gaze he dragged her brother down the passage and out into the yard. She heard the sound of the water pump and then Aloysius howling. The noise was matched by a cantankerous wail from upstairs.
    “Melicent!” Her mother was calling. “What is happening?”
    Smothering a smile, Melicent ran upstairs. She was almost certain that her mother would have a miraculous recovery in order not to miss anything else. One way and another, Alex’s arrival in their household had set the cat amongst the pigeons.
     
    Alex built up the fire in the drawing room and settled back in a comfortable but faded Chippendale chair to the side of the hearth. This seemed to be the only warm room in the house. The rest of the place was colder and less welcoming than the grave. He disliked the thought of Melicent almost literally freezing to death in here, shivering in her plain, worn worsteds. It puzzled him, too. He had been meticulous in making sure that his agent paid her a monthly allowance. Where had the money gone?
    He thought of Melicent in her stained apron, her hair awry, the lines of worry and tiredness etched deep on her face. A wave of tenderness took him by surprise. She deserved better than to have to manage a young drunkard of a brother and a bully of a mother.
    He had sobered Aloysius up somewhat abruptly and dispatched the youth upstairs to find a change of clothes. Aloysius had grumbled but had succumbed to Alex’s authority. The lad was clearly running wild and, if the large bag of money in his pocket was anything to go by, was a gambler as well as a drunk.
    Alex looked about the room. It was as bare and unappealing as the rest of the house, the furniture battered and old. From the drawer in a side table a few sheets of foolscap poked out. Alex took them out and held them up to the faint light, perusing them with mild curiosity.
    “The Further Adventures of a Woman of Pleasure by Lady Loveless … ”
    Lady Loveless, he thought, should be more careful in concealing her inflammatory manuscripts. Not that Melicent looked anything like a writer of erotic fiction. One would never guess. The thick, heavy material of her winter gown