Yes, because—as he was now very aware—the future Duke of Timby stank of shite.
* * *
“This is just so unlike you.”
“You’ve never done anything like this before.”
Melinda didn’t respond to her father or her uncle. They were pacing about the room, shooting furious comments at her every second step, but her mind had gone far, far away. Normally, she would wander about in her chemical recipes, mentally playing with ingredients and speculating as to the results. It had been a favorite game of hers for as long as she could remember. But this time, her thoughts were locked inexorably on kisses. A thousand kisses in an infinite variety but all from one, mischievous aristocrat.
“Your mother, of course—”
“But you don’t want to be like that.”
“No. Not like your mother.”
“I’m just so concerned, my dear.”
“This is so unlike you.”
Thenhewalked in. His hair was wet and slicked back, but as his curls dried they started to spring about his head in a casual wildness she found very appealing. His expression was guarded, but his smile was as wide as the morning sun. She focused there—on his mouth—because he was infinitely more interesting than anything else at the moment.
“Well, I feel much better,” he said. “And I wager that I smell infinitely more appealing.” He crossed to her side, drawing her lax hand to his mouth for a kiss. “How about you? Are you recovered from my stench?”
She smiled because he seemed to want her to. “Of course, Mr. Anaedsley. It was only a little bit of shite.”
He chuckled. “It was a great deal more than a little. Your cousin aimed me exactly.”
She nodded. “And you let him do it. Did you know at the time what he intended?”
He shrugged. “I did. And I thought a single blow that landed me there was adequate recompense for his wounded pride.”
If only Ronnie had thought the same. “I did warn you,” she said softly.
“So you did. And I have learned my lesson.”
“Not to underestimate Ronnie?”
He chucked her under the chin. “No, silly. To heed what you say. You are of an uncommonly levelheaded nature.”
She winced, knowing what was coming. After all, her levelheaded nature was exactly what was in question here. And her uncle lost no time as he pounced on Trevor’s words.
“And just what have you done, you whoremonger, to turn her head so? Good God, do you routinely make a spectacle of the women of your acquaintance?”
Far from being insulted, Mr. Anaedsley appeared to be amused. “Only those who enjoy the spectacle, sir.”
“Well, I assure you,” inserted her father, “she did not enjoy it. She did not enjoy it one bit.”
Her fiancé arched his brows as he turned to her. “Is that so, my dear? Not even a little?”
She felt her body heat under his gaze, warming from the frozen place she’d existed before he’d walked into the room.
Meanwhile, her uncle was making disgusted noises. He was rather good at them actually. He combined outrage and a snort to a loud sound that never failed to draw everyone’s attention. Well, everyone, it seemed, except Trevor. He was busy teasing her knuckles with his thumb while his eyes sparkled with a dark mischief she found completely mesmerizing. Especially since his lips curved upward in a secret promise.
“I think we should be away to London with all speed,” he said. “Have you directed your maid to pack?”
She nodded. He had reminded her twice of this plan before heading to his bath. But she had not had a chance to tell her father, who was right now sputtering with rage.
“L-London? What? Good God, Mellie! But I have my experiments, and you must help. And—and—London? Why?”