The Gift of Love (The Book of Love #8) - Meara Platt Page 0,56

am terribly concerned. She has shut me out completely, and I am not used to this. We have always been very close.”

The table was long but not very wide, so the duke managed to introduce them without having to shout. They were able to engage in occasional conversation across the table. Dahlia was surprised to find Lady Melinda witty and intelligent.

She liked her. Perhaps it was because of how much she really did resemble Heather. They were similar in height and build, had the same dark hair, and even had similar gestures and laughs.

So what was going on with her?

Why was she giving her father fits by behaving so secretively?

When their feast was over, Dahlia made a point of approaching her to continue their dinner conversation, even if it was considered forward of her. She knew that she risked being given the cut direct. To her surprise, Lady Melinda was actually quite friendly. “My father rarely likes anyone,” she explained. “Nor is Captain Brayden an easy one to please. If they both like you, then perhaps there is something to you, Miss Farthingale.”

“They both have only good things to say about you, Lady Melinda. Of course, it is to be expected in a doting father.”

“What is this nonsense my father has been spouting about redecorating our home? It is much the way it was when my mother was alive. I am not keen to change anything.”

Dahlia’s heart gave a little tug. How awful it must be for an only child to lose her mother. “I am so sorry for your loss. You must have loved her dearly.”

“I did. So did my father.” Sadness reflected in her eyes. “But it was a very long time ago. Almost ten years past.”

“I expect you are missing her, particularly now.” She smiled sympathetically. “Fortunately, my mother has remained in York with my father. She is wonderful, and I love her, of course. But her advice is usually terrible. If she suggests a thing, we immediately know to do the exact opposite.”

Lady Melinda laughed. “Did she advise you to run from Lord Wainscott? She would have been right about that.”

“Alas, she gave me no guidance on him. The mistake was all my own, and I got quite the comeuppance for it. But I have a large and loving family in London to help me get over the embarrassment. By the way, all Farthingales love to meddle. If you ever need help, please do not hesitate to ask. Offering our opinions, whether wanted or not, is something we excel at.”

“Miss Farthingale, I can see why my father and Captain Brayden like you. Even though I ought to consider you competition for his affections, I find I cannot gather even a smidgeon of resentment. I like him, mind you. But I do not love him.”

“Is there someone you do love? Someone other than the fake marquess you’ve been spreading the word about?”

She arched an eyebrow in surprise. “How do you know he is fake?”

“Because you are a beautiful woman, Lady Melinda.” Indeed, she had her father’s gray eyes, but hers were warmer, almost slate blue in color. Her hair was dark and was done up in a style that perfectly framed her pretty face. “You are also smart and witty. If he exists and you’ve set your cap for him, I don’t think he’d have the will to resist you.”

“Your Captain Brayden did not fall in love with me.”

Thank goodness. But she was not going to repeat this to Lady Melinda. “Toss in your dowry and your father’s title, and I think your marquess would have at least made his presence known. Yet he remains unseen by anyone except you.”

“Fine.” She shrugged. “If you believe there is no man, then you may report this to my father and ease his mind.”

“No, it is not my place to tell him what you are thinking or feeling. I wish you would. Just don’t lie to him. He raised you and loved you and cared for you, would give his life to protect you. Does he not deserve something better?”

She emitted a wistful sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

Dahlia did not press Lady Melinda any further on this topic. Perhaps there was no marquess, but Dahlia suspected there was someone else. What if this someone else was married? Oh, dear heaven. That would be a disaster in the making.

“Has my father invited you to our home yet? On the pretext of viewing it for our redecorating scheme? If not, I shall