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whether to leave. “You may continue practicing,” she said, following in the servant’s wake.
    “I’m not a child,” Melissa grumbled, knowing she sounded very much like a child.
    “So. It’s true,” John said when Miss Stanhope was gone.
    “What is true?”
    “My father told me you’d stayed in a suite of rooms for years, that you’ve never been in the world. I find that completely fascinating.”
    Melissa stared at him. He appeared sincere, but she could not be certain. Small nuances in conversation that seemed so easy for other people to identify were quite difficult for her.
    “There you go, staring. You’re going to have to find a way to stop doing that,” John said.
    “Was I staring?” Melissa said, mortified. “I thought I was just looking.”
    He was instantly remorseful. “No, no. You weren’t staring. Well, perhaps a bit. You do have this rather intense way of looking at a chap. I suppose it is because of your lack of experience dealing with different people. Truly, you are remarkable.”
    “Oh.” She immediately dropped her gaze and looked down, only to have John laugh aloud. “I do wish you would stop doing that.”
    “What?” he asked, all innocence.
    “Laughing at me. Even when you’re not laughing at me, you’re laughing at me. Like now,” she said accusingly, pointing a finger at him. “Your eyes. You are laughing at me, aren’t you?”
    “Yes,” he admitted easily. “I am. You must understand that I’ve never met anyone quite like you. As a man of science, I find your circumstances quite interesting.”
    She suddenly felt rather crestfallen. She’d never thought of herself as different or strange. It had never occurred to her that when she finally did go into society, it would be difficult. After all, her father had hired the best governesses and tutors to make certain she would know what to do. “Am I so very unusual?”
    “Of course. But in a very nice way. You see, women are a deceptive bunch, never saying what they mean, always hiding what they’re feeling. You, on the other hand, are delightfully easy to read.” He peered at her face. “Right now, for instance, you are feeling quite self-conscious and embarrassed that I’m staring at you. ”
    “I fear I shall be an utter failure and embarrass Miss Stanhope, as well as my uncle.”
    John shrugged, as if such an occurrence wasn’t in the least consequential. “What is the worst that could happen? You refuse to give your hand to some oily gentleman who is only interested in your dowry? I hardly think that would be a tragedy.”
    “But what if I refuse to give my hand to a man who would otherwise have fallen madly in love with me?” Honestly, Melissa had never considered such a thought. She’d never considered leaving Bamburgh, never mind falling in love and marrying. Such things always seemed to be reserved for characters in the books she’d read, not for her.
    John threw back his head and laughed, and Melissa wasn’t certain whether she should be insulted or laugh with him. Was it so ridiculous that someone would fall in love with her? It suddenly seemed as if it were something she very much would like. She didn’t want to be left alone to molder away into her old age. Did she?
    “Love,” he said, still sputtering. “Men don’t fall in love, my dear. They only want two things. And money is one of them.”
    “And the other?”
    “Good God, you cannot be that . . .” He stared at her again, and Melissa thought she saw another bit of pity. “Then again you probably are,” he muttered.
    “I am what?”
    “Innocent. A man wants women, especially beautiful ones like you. He’ll want to . . . do things.”
    Melissa felt her cheeks turn pink. “I may be innocent, but I’m not stupid. You are talking about fornication, are you not?” She felt ridiculously proud that she did know what he was referring to—which probably was even more a mark of just how naïve she was.
    He let out a choking sound.