Free Never Run From Love (Kellington Book Four) by Maureen Driscoll Page A

light.”
    “Of course,” said Mel with a smile.  She knew Anne
was deliberately changing the subject, but she couldn’t force her to discuss
the future even if Mel believed the chance to start over in America would
benefit Anne a great deal.  Perhaps there she could see beyond her
disfigurement.  But Mel knew there was only so much you could push people
before they turned away. 
    Perhaps it would still work out somehow.
    *                    *                    *
    Mel took her leave, then hailed a hack to take her
to the meeting at Mrs. Seton’s house.  As much as she hated lying to her aunt
and uncle about anything, she knew that the best lies had some truth to them. 
There really was a reform meeting at Mrs. Seton’s house, only it had started
two hours later than she’d told her aunt.  After her stop at Mitchell House,
she would only be slightly late for Mrs. Seton’s, which was not a hardship
since she dreaded these meetings.
    As the hack made its way toward Cheapside, Mel’s
mood darkened considerably.  It’s not that she disagreed with the goals of the
group, as much as she found its leader to be disagreeable.  Mrs. Seton was a
widow past her fiftieth year.  Her late husband had been a successful solicitor
and had done business with some of the realm’s most distinguished peers.  Mel
knew that because Mrs. Seton took every opportunity to bring it up in
conversation.  Mel believed the older woman would never have allowed a lowly
American into the group had it not been for her connection to the Earl of
Heffner. 
    The reform group itself was comprised mostly of the
wives, widows, sisters and daughters of the wealthy merchant class.  Their
goals were laudable – the abolition of the harsh, cheaply made spirits that
poisoned those who drank it.  Although if Mrs. Seton had her way, all spirits
would be banned from sale, even those that were safe when consumed in
moderation.  Mel’s uncle had a store of French brandy that he enjoyed on
occasion and she could see little harm in that.  But Mrs. Seton was fond of
rants which lumped everyone who imbibed into one group of sinners.
    Mel also took issue with some of Mrs. Seton’s
methods.  While peaceful protests in the parts of town most frequented by peers
out for a night of adventure could do some good, Mrs. Seton favored taking her
fight to the enemy directly.  She wished to storm the premises of gaming hells
like Dill’s.  Mel wasn’t sure just what Mrs. Seton would do if she gained
entrance, but Mel was concerned the patrons wouldn’t take too kindly to the
interlopers.  When they protested on the streets, they usually just had to put
up with hecklers.  But who knew what dangers lay within the walls of the
establishments.
    As Mel arrived at Mrs. Seton’s, she briefly
contemplated having the driver take her home instead.  But she paid him off,
took a deep breath and entered Mrs. Seton’s house.   The butler took her
pelisse, then escorted her to the drawing room where Mrs. Seton and the other
ladies were having tea.  Mel was a bit late, but was confident she hadn’t
missed much of note.
    Once she was announced, she walked into the room
where about two dozen women were congregated.  There was something a little
different about the women, most of whom were matrons of middle age.  They were
smiling and one or two of them were tucking back their hair.  That was
certainly odd.  Mel continued to look around the room, but then found the cause
of the ladies’ unusual behavior.
    Lord Henry Kellington was in attendance, drinking
tea and grinning at her like an imbecile.
    “You’re late, Miss Sutton,” reproached Mrs. Seton. 
“You haven’t set a very good example for our newest recruit.”
    “Our what?” asked Mel, barely able to tear her eyes
away from Lord Henry.  And how the man could rake her with his eyes while
holding a delicate teacup was quite beyond her.
    “Your recruit,” said the