Page 7 of A Marquess of No Importance (Inglorious Scoundrels #3)

Melissande raised an eyebrow. “Elated? I am not elated at his death, no. I harbor no hard feelings toward him in particular.” She truly didn’t. She didn’t even know him. She wanted to get this ring to spite him, true, but she cared not whether he lived or died.

“Right, no hard feelings toward him , just toward the entire upper class.”

Right . And Rivendale was one of them.

“I need to bring him a gift,” Melissande decided.

“A gift?” Theo blinked. “Dear, the man is dead.”

Melissande let out a chuckle. “No, not the dreadful marquess…” She paused. “Or rather, another dreadful marquess.”

Theo smiled. “You mean Rivendale.”

“Yes, a get-well-soon gift. One that says, ‘I am sorry you were hurt because of my impulsive actions,’ and that also says, ‘I want you to fall in love with me and help me win my wager.’” She grinned. “What do you think he would want?”

Theo’s expression turned sardonic. “The ability to walk again?”

The pencil left Melissande’s hand before conscious thought could intervene, sailing across the desk to strike her friend squarely in the shoulder. “You are the worst friend in the world,” she said with a laugh.

“That is not true,” Theo replied, completely unruffled as she bent to retrieve the pencil from the floor. “I am the best friend you have, and you know it. That’s why I’m the only person who can tell you uncomfortable truths without worrying about your temper.”

Despite herself, Melissande felt her lips twitch into a genuine smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“I prefer ‘refreshingly honest,’ but I’ll accept insufferable if it makes you feel better.”

“Perhaps I should ask Gareth,” Melissande mused.

“Are you insinuating that he is smarter than me? Because if you are—?”

Melissande let out a laugh. “He is very clever. Not smarter than you are, though. No one I know is. But he is a man. He should know what a man would like to receive as a gift from a woman seeking his affections.”

Theo’s nose wrinkled with distaste, though she remained silent.

The expression was subtle, but Melissande had known her friend too long to miss it. “What?” she prompted.

“I don’t think it’s the best idea to ask Gareth what to gift another man,” Theo said carefully.

“Why not?”

Theo looked at her as if to say, You know why not. “Because he is in love with you.”

Melissande felt heat rise in her cheeks—not embarrassment, precisely, but something more complicated. Something like guilt.

“Perhaps he isn’t anymore,” she said, the words sounding unconvincing even to her own ears.

“Do not be naive, Meli. It doesn’t suit you.”

Melissande pursed her lips, fighting the urge to throw another writing implement.

“Fine. Perhaps he is still… attached to me. But he’s been in love with me for over a decade.

That doesn’t change anything between us.

He is still my closest friend, and he has always helped me with difficult situations. ”

Theo raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.

“ One of my closest friends,” Melissande corrected with an eye roll. “And he has excellent judgment about people. His advice has never led me astray.”

Theo’s expression turned decidedly sour, her mouth pulling into lines of disapproval.

“What?” Melissande demanded again. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“He is not an idiot, Meli,” Theo said. “And neither am I. There’s obviously something more that you feel toward this Rivendale fellow than just the urge to win the wager that prompted this entire debacle.”

“Why do you say that?” Melissande asked, not because Theo was wrong, but because she wanted to understand her friend’s reasoning.

“Because I know you,” Theo replied simply.

“I’ve watched you navigate the treacherous waters of London society for years.

I’ve seen you charm information out of the wiliest lords, manipulate the greediest gamblers, and outmaneuver opponents who thought they could crush you underfoot.

You are calculating, strategic, and utterly ruthless when the situation demands it.

” She paused to let the words hang between them.

“But this? This guilt-ridden spiral you’re trapped in?

This isn’t strategic, Meli. This is personal. ”

“You think I am suddenly infatuated with a man because I’m worried I might have crippled him?” Melissande snorted.

“Not at all,” Theo said. “Because you talk about him all the time. And when you’re not talking about him, you’re thinking about him so loudly that I can practically hear your thoughts from across the room.”

“I do not!” Melissande insisted, though she paused to consider whether her friend might be right. Had she really been so transparent? The thought was mortifying.

“Meli.” Theo’s voice was gentle but firm.

“You are intrigued by him. More than intrigued. And if I’ve noticed, then Gareth has certainly noticed too.

” She leaned forward, her dark eyes serious.

“I love both of you dearly, but I hope you wouldn’t want to purposely hurt him by asking him to pick a present for a man for whom you are developing feelings. ”

“I am not developing feelings,” she protested, though the words came out weak and unconvincing.

“Aren’t you?” Theo asked softly.

“I…” she began, then stopped, pressing her palms against her temples as though she could physically hold her scattered thoughts together. “I will take your words under advisement.”

“Thank you,” Theo said, genuine relief in her voice. “After all, have I ever led you astray?”

Melissande shook her head. “There’s always a first time for everything.”

Theo shrugged. “Not for me. I am never wrong. If I were, it would mean you made a mistake by hiring me, and we both know that’s impossible. Your judgment is far too excellent for such an error.”

The familiar banter drew a genuine laugh from Melissande. “You make a compelling argument. So help me, oh, wise one. What should I gift Lord Rivendale?”

Theo’s gaze swept around Melissande’s private office, taking in the rich furnishings, the carefully curated art, the shelves lined with leather-bound volumes, and a couple of plants tucked into the corners of the windowsills.

“Perhaps something personal. Something you already own that reminds you of him?”

Melissande glanced at the dying cactus on the windowsill and smiled. “I know just the thing.”