She rubbed her hand between her brows to smooth things down. It worked for about a second. She tried pulling at them, arching her brows, any number of things while Eleanor watched in silence. And then, about when Melinda had given up, Eleanor spoke gently.
“I have a potion that might help, though in my experience, it is a losing game. The best plan is not to allow lines to appear in the first place. That is done by adopting a serene expression at all times. In truth, that is the source of an aristocratic bearing.”
“No wrinkles?”
“Total serenity. At all times. No matter the provocation.”
Melinda stared at the woman, studying the flawless perfection that was Lady Eleanor. Her skin was pristine, almost translucent. No wrinkle, no freckle, no unsightly blemish or unattractive lump marred the perfection of her features. And given that she’d lost practically her entire family to disease not more than a year before, Lady Eleanor’s perfection indicated she was either the very definition of serene or a coldhearted shrew.
No, Mellie thought, that couldn’t be true. Shrews, in her experience, had tight expression and pinched brows. Which meant that Eleanor managed a serenity beyond comprehension.
“How?” she whispered, awed by the woman before her.
“Practice. A great deal of practice.”
Melinda shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
To which the lady allowed her lips to curve just enough for a smile, but not too much to create lines. “Good. Because in your case, it isn’t necessary. Remember, the plan is for you to be outré.”
“But—”
“That means you are expected to have lines and wrinkles young. If you were outrageousandbeautiful, the ladies of thetonwould turn on you like rabid dogs.”
Which, she supposed, meant that she wasn’t beautiful. That wasn’t much of a surprise, yet it still stung to hear it spoken so baldly. But she wasn’t given time to ponder that as Eleanor paused enough to narrow her eyes—slightly—before smoothing them out and speaking in a low tone.
“That is your first and most important lesson, Melinda,” she said, her words almost too quiet to hear. “Everyone in thetonhas a plan, and I do mean everyone.”
“A plan?”
“A stratagem. A way of acting. A reason they do things.”
Mellie suddenly understood. “Like the gentleman’s code.”
“Ah yes, but you will soon learn that one gentleman’s code is vastly different from another’s.”
That she’d already discovered.
“You must use that prodigious mind of yours to figure out their code and circumvent it. Unless of course, it aligns with yours.”
Melinda nodded, though her heart rebelled at the idea. “But that means I shall be constantly looking for hidden meanings behind every action and every word.” That would be exhausting.
This time, Lady Eleanor beamed at her enough that a faint line appeared about her mouth. “Excellent. You understand. Now hurry! Our stratagem begins in ten minutes.” And with that, she flowed out of the room. She didn’t seem to walk, but just rippled her way out the door, moving like air over water.
Serenity personified. Mellie was impressed and suitably intimidated. Because that was not something she could ever do. She had always known she had no halfway point. She either retreated into herself such that she became a statue, or she invested herself fully. In her scientific pursuits. In her father’s experiments. Or…
In what she and Trevor had done last night.
Full sensuality, full engagement in absolutely every aspect of their exploration. Which meant that it was a good thing she was set to become outré. She would have to commit to it, of course. She would have to learn and act her part as devoutly as she might some new chemistry exploration. But that was something she could do.
So with renewed determination, she cleaned up and readied herself to become something entirely different than the woman she was now. It was strangely easy. All she had to do was stop thinking and allow everyone else to do exactly as they pleased.
* * *
Trevor woke with a raging headache and a stiff cock such as hadn’t happened since he was a teen. Dreams of Mellie, of course. One after another until he couldn’t breathe without thinking he’d explode. So for the second time in a matter of hours, he indulged himself in dreams of her while stroking himself to the inevitable conclusion. And just like last night, it wasn’t enough. He clearly wanted the real woman.
So with that thought in mind, he cleaned himself and dressed with more care than he had in ages. It was a difficult task to strike that balance between personal perfection and casual insouciance. After all, he didn’t want to look as if he’d made an effort. Matters were made all that more difficult since he had no valet and half his body was stiff or discolored from his bout with Ronnie. His clothes were crushed, his hairbrush was missing, and he had the distinct fear that his breath was strong enough to make a dog run. Not a very auspicious beginning to the day.
Still, he managed and was rather proud of the result. Then he went down to luncheon with the happy expectation of greeting his fiancée. He found Eleanor instead. She was calmly stirring her tea as she stared out the window at the most boring garden he’d ever seen. Exactly two bushes of a hardy variety and neither faring too well. Not surprising. It was London after all. It was impressive enough that there was any patch of green outside this back parlor.