Page 8 of The Scarlet Lady's Duke of Desire
“Don't act so surprised,” Melody said in a huff, handing the invitation back to her friend. She shrugged her shoulders as she did so, hoping to look as though she really paid it no mind at all. She could never admit that the lack of invitation from one of her own family members was painful.
I hope mama and papa do not get wind of this,Melody thought, her throat threatening to entirely close off.
“You are lying! I do not believe you,” Petunia insisted, her expression becoming one Melody knew well, one of stubbornness and irritation. Melody only half wished that her friend was right. Maybe then she wouldn't feel quite so much pressure in her gut at the thought of not being able to attend an event being held by her own uncle.
There was only one good thing about it. At least she wouldn't be forced to spend an evening in the presence of Lady Florence. Even if they were cousins, there had never been any love lost between the two of them.
“You are just telling me so, so that you can avoid going!” Petunia insisted and the gnawing in Melody's stomach made her wish it was so. After her small glimmer of hope the night before—in the form of a dance with a duke—she almost wished that she had been invited. Perhaps if she had it might have been a sign that things had finally turned a corner.
Instead, she was forced to remind herself that it had been over twenty-five years since the feud between her father and her grandfather and consequently her uncle, had begun. She couldn't imagine that one dance with a well-respected yet well-talked-about nobleman would change any of that.
In fact, she thought that if she had received an invitation after one such event, she might have grown entirely too suspicious to go in the first place. For all she knew, it might well have been a trap to encourage her into another awkward situation, to renew the scandal surrounding their family.
She was certain that would be the only reason her uncle would ever invite her and her parents along to one of his functions, to break their bond even further to leave him even less reason to invite them in the future.
Struggling to keep her tone from trembling, Melody looked her friend dead in her eye and said, “I can assure you and swear upon our friendship that I have received no invitation to this ball.”
“But look at the signature,” Petunia protested, wiggling her finger at the invitation still clasped in Melody's hand. The businessman's daughter need not look at her uncle's penmanship. One glance had been enough to sear it into her mind.
Melody shook her head and pointed out, “Very few people are aware of my family's connection to the Earl of Faversham.”
She had to say the words through gritted teeth to keep her emotions in check. The last thing she needed was to show her friend just how deeply she had been cut. “My uncle would never readily invite myself or my parents to one of his events.”
At that Petunia's mouth dropped open and she looked so horrified that even before she spoke Melody knew she had realised her mistake.
“Oh, Melody, forgive me! I have been an utter fool!” Petunia insisted. She leaned forwards from where she had been kneeling with her rear upon her heels and reached for Melody's hand. “I am entirely too stupid. I allowed my excitement to get the better of me and I entirely forgot your situation.”
Melody had known as much and so she quickly waved the words away with a shake of her head. She could not say she blamed her friend. In fact, in a way it was an odd sort of relief to know that her scandal was not always at the forefront of her friend's mind as it seemed to be with every other member of theton.
Melody was surprised when Petunia squeezed her fingers tightly and huffed, “Suddenly I am far less eager to attend. I think I shall decline the invitation.”
Though her heart swelled at her friend's loyalty, Melody knew she could never allow her friend to do such a thing. If she declined such an invitation without good reason, perhaps a prior engagement or even an illness, Petunia would invite the wrath of the gossip mongers.
“Oh no, Pettie, you can't not go on my account,” Melody insisted, squeezing her friend's hand, and shaking her head. “I appreciate the sentiment, but it is truly not necessary.”
Petunia looked down then as though she couldn't bring herself to look Melody in the eye. “I suppose it would be silly of me not to go.”
Melody's stomach twisted. Her friend was right. The talk about her was bad enough without her friend being added to such gossip. Silently, she squeezed her friend's hand for reassurance.
After several moments of continued silence, Petunia looked up again and met Melody's gaze. As if attempting to change the subject, she asked, “How are you feeling after last night?”
Melody pursed her lips. She hated questions like that. They always led to Petunia reading far too into things.
“Last night was as all balls are,” Melody insisted with a shrug and removed her hand from her friend's, so she could properly place her bookmark in her book.
When she looked up again, Petunia had cocked her head to one side, looking a little like an inquisitive spaniel. “I meant, how are you feeling after your dance with the duke?”
Melody's cheeks immediately started to grow hot with embarrassment. Why did she have to ask such a question?
Melody felt as though she had spent half the night and most of the morning trying to forget all about it. There would be no way of doing that at all if her friend continued to bring such things up.
“A dance is a dance,” Melody said nonchalantly though she couldn't meet Petunia's gaze as she spoke. “It was pleasant enough.”
“I would like to think you more enthusiastic about it than that!” Petunia protested, furrowing her brow. “What if the duke was to call upon you?”
Melody laughed aloud at that, unable to believe her friend could ever suggest such a thing. Had she already forgotten how much scandal surrounded her family?
It had taken Melody years to come to terms with the fact Petunia was persistent in her friendship where nobody else ever bothered with her. The thought that a duke would visit her after a single dance that was a startlement in and of itself was entirely too laughable.
