A Harlequin Undone Special Story: The Heroines Take Tea

“Would you care for a cup of finest bohea tea and a slice of plum cake?” Lady Melicent Beaumont asked, regarding the guests in her drawing room with a lively eye. She was not at all sure where these ladies had come from – if ladies they were – but she was very pleased to see them, for life in the Yorkshire village of Fortune’s Folly could be somewhat staid. But these ladies were a breath of fresh air and judging by their appearance and expression they seemed a spirited bunch, with a great deal about them. Melicent positively detested simpering milk and water misses and there was no way in which these women would fall into that category. Her mama might cast aspersions on their quality, perhaps, but she had no complaint. She suspected that they were in for a lively party – just her sort of affair.

One of the ladies in particular was a girl who was dressed somewhat outlandishly in a costume Melicent did not recognise, and she was looking at the cutlery in a rather odd manner, running her finger along the blade of her knife in a way Melicent could only imagine as slightly threatening. Melicent cleared her throat.

“I cannot imagine what is keeping the gentlemen,” she said. “What shall we discuss whilst we wait for them to join us?”

The lady sitting on her left, the one whom Melicent had particularly been studying covertly for the last few minutes looked up. A second later, one of the knives was missing. Melicent blinked at the cutlery as though the knife had suddenly vanished, but no, it seemed the woman called Aisling had stolen the blade.

“I beg your pardon, but is something the matter, my dear? Did you, er, need that knife for something?”
Aisling Ó Brannon lifted her chin and met Melicent’s stare. While she was grateful to be included in a fine feast such as this one, she was uneasy about the strange foods and the odd manner of dress. By the saints, how many layers of clothing did one woman need? Her own léine was cut of the finest silk, embroidered by the women of her tribe. And yet, she felt wholly unworthy to be here.

A loud crashing noise interrupted, and she leapt to her feet, knife in hand. Melicent, her hostess, looked appalled. “Really, do you think that is necessary?”

“Can’t you hear them?” Aisling strode toward the window, then stopped a moment to trace her hand along the glass. She’d never seen such fine workmanship.

“Hear what?” Melicent asked.

“The fighting. I think some of King Magnus’s men are attacking Tharand.” Aisling gripped the knife she’d taken from the table. “He might need my assistance.”

“You’re not going to stab someone, are you?”

Aisling turned in surprise. “Why, no. I’m going to throw it.”

“Not at my husband, you aren’t,” a third woman interrupted. Contessa Isabella whipped out her thin, Spanish steel rapier, brandishing it above the table. “I shall defend my Carlos to the last drop of blood! I shall—oh, Madre de Dios, but what is this delightful confection?” She laid her sword down to examine an apple tart. “We have nothing like this in Santo Domingo.”

As Isabella and Aisling put aside their weapons in favour of pastry, Melicent sighed in relief and turned to her fourth guest.

This was the guest she felt she would have the most in common with given the chance to strike up a real conversation. Sophie DuPlessy, now Lady Burke, was married to Julian, an English Viscount of similar rank to her own Alexander. Melicent opened her mouth to say something and halted, perplexed by the rapt attention Sophie was giving Aisling.

“I know, isn’t it disgraceful,” Melicent said in quiet tones, her impatience with the other ladies getting in the way of her manners.

Sophie blinked and turned towards her. “Not at all. I was contemplating her hand work. I use to be a jewel thief before I married Julian. That’s how we met, you know.”

“No, I didn’t know.” Melicent said with raised eyebrows. She was an adventuress in her own right but Lady Burke was quite over the top.

Sophie dismissed her look of concern with a wave of her hand. “I wasn’t a bad thief. I only stole things so that they could be returned to their rightful owners.”

“Oh of course.” Melicent replied coolly as if these kinds of explanations occurred at her teas daily. “I understand completely.”

“Yes, Julian and I were both after the same jewels. I picked his pocket and took the jewels during a rather heated bout of kissing, but later discovered I’d stolen the paste set he was using to replace the real set he was after. That’s how it all started.” Sophie turned her blonde head back to Aisling and Isabella. “I’ll have to ask Aisling about her technique. As for swords, I’m a gun girl myself.” Sophie deftly retrieved a small silver gun from a deep pocket in her skirt.

Melicent stifled a laugh. She was done being surprised. Why she should have expected the wives of unconventional men to be anything but unconventional themselves was beyond her. She held her palm.
“May I?”

“Of course.” Sophie passed her the gun.

Melicent tested its weight. “Very nice.” Then she aimed it harmlessly in the air and fired. Bits of plaster fell down around her but she had their attention now. It was most satisfying. “We’re not here to quarrel with one another. Please, Aisling, put down the knife. Isabella, sheathe the blade. The men can take care of themselves. Meanwhile, we should turn our attention to more useful matters.”

“Like what?” Aisling asked dubiously, setting down the knife with a wary glance at Isabella.

Melicent’s eyes sparkled . “Like seduction. I bet if we put our heads together and traded ideas we could come up with some very inventive ways to entertain our husbands when they return.”

Isabella actually blushed. “That’s not the usual tea party conversation. Is it? I fear I have not attended a tea party before, they are not the style of entertainment in Santo Domingo.”

“Neither is bringing weapons.” Melicent challenged in a friendly tone.

The other two climbed down from the table. Melicent poured them another cup of tea.

Sophie raised her delicate tea cup and grinned at the ladies assembled. “Here’s to the heroine’s tea party. May our heroes appreciate our efforts.”

Tags: Amanda McCabe, Harlequin Historicals Undone, Michelle Styles