A Shadowed Charade (The Lockwood Family #4)

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The morning sun streamed through the windows as Melody went down to the dining room. Today was the day her mother’s guests would arrive—an event she dreaded. She knew exactly what her mother was planning: matchmaking. The thought alone made her stomach twist with unease. She had no intention of marrying any man her mother paraded in front of her, no matter how eligible.

She wanted love and a family of her own, but she knew that would come at a great cost to her. She couldn’t bear the thought of giving up her work as a spy, the one thing that gave her life purpose and excitement.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs, White, the ever-dutiful butler, stood by the entry hall. His expression was as impassive as ever, though she could swear there was a flicker of warmth in his eyes. Perhaps it was his way of smiling.

“Good morning, my lady,” he greeted her in his usual composed manner.

“Good morning,” Melody replied as she passed by him.

Entering the dining room, her heart dropped as she saw Lord Emberly seated at the table, engrossed in the newssheets.

Drats.

He was the last person she wanted to see that morning.

Melody hesitated in the doorway, contemplating a quiet retreat. Maybe if she moved slowly enough, she could slip away unnoticed. But just as she was about to make her escape, Lord Emberly spoke without lifting his eyes from the newssheets. “Are you truly trying to escape from me?”

Melody knew how ridiculous she was being, but she didn’t want to converse with the infuriating lord, at least not at such an early hour. Perhaps a cup of chocolate would help her mood. That had always helped before.

Stepping forward, she replied with a feigned air of nonchalance, “I was merely being considerate. I thought you might prefer some solitude during breakfast. If anything, you should be thanking me for being so courteous.”

Lord Emberly placed the newssheets down and stood, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing glint. “Your consideration is noted, but I find I prefer your company. It allows me to keep a watchful eye on you.”

Melody raised an eyebrow. “How noble of you. Because I am in such dire danger here at the breakfast table,” she mocked as she took her seat.

“One can never be too cautious. You will have to grow accustomed to my presence,” Lord Emberly responded, returning to his seat.

“Oh, wonderful,” Melody muttered under her breath.

At that moment, Elodie swept into the room, her face full of enthusiasm. “Good morning, Sister. Lord Emberly.”

Lord Emberly pushed back his chair and stood once again. “I trust that you slept well, my lady?”

“I did indeed,” Elodie responded as she settled into her chair opposite of Melody. “I have decided that I am going to seize the day.”

Melody tilted her head. “And how do you intend to do that?”

Elodie leaned in conspiratorially, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Mother’s guests are set to arrive any time, and I refuse even to consider marrying the buffoons that she is presenting us with.” She stopped speaking and had the decency to look slightly ashamed as she shifted her gaze to Lord Emberly. “My apologies, my lord. I am not referring to you.”

Lord Emberly waved off her apology with a slight nod. “I did not take offense. Please, continue.”

Elodie’s smile returned, and she pressed on with renewed vigor. “As I was saying, Lord Belview and Mr. Artemis Nelson may be eligible, but they are?—”

“Buffoons,” Lord Emberly interjected, his lips curling into a smirk.

“Precisely. Which forced me to devise a plan,” Elodie declared.

Melody reached for her chocolate cup and brought it to her lips. “What is this devious plan?”

Elodie’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “That is the beauty of it, Sister. There is nothing devious about it,” she revealed. “I am simply going to be the perfect daughter, the perfect hostess—essentially, I will pretend to be you.”

Placing the cup back down, Melody protested, “I am hardly perfect. And how, pray tell, would that deter Mother from her relentless matchmaking?”

Elodie leaned back, a self-satisfied smile on her face. “No gentleman wants a perfect wife,” she responded.

Melody wasn’t sure whether to feel insulted or amused by her sister’s remark. “So, in this scenario, I’m considered perfect?”

“Well, I daresay that you have never made a misstep before,” Elodie said.

“That doesn’t mean I am perfect,” Melody countered.

Elodie shrugged. “No, but there is not one thing you are not good at. It can be rather grating for us ‘normal’ people.”

Melody sat back in her seat, folding her arms. “Regardless, I do not see how you pretending to be like me will help the situation.”

“Trust me,” Elodie said.

She shot her sister a dubious look. “I am not sure that I should, since you just soundly insulted me.”

Elodie picked up a knife and spread butter on her toast. “I did not mean to offend you. I meant to offer you the highest of compliments.”

Melody frowned. “It didn’t exactly sound like one.”

“Well, I must have said it wrong,” Elodie said, placing the knife down. “You know you are my favorite sister.”

Lord Emberly grinned. “I do believe Lady Elodie’s plan is flawless.”

Elodie flashed him a triumphant smile. “Thank you, my lord.”

Turning towards Lord Emberly, Melody asked, “Why are you encouraging her? My mother will not be amused with Elodie’s antics.”

“You seem to doubt my acting abilities,” Elodie said with a flourish of her hand. “I could have a career in the theater if I so desired.”

Melody sighed. “I see that I am outnumbered. I wish you luck.”

Elodie mimicked her sister’s tone, her voice full of mock seriousness. “I wish you luck.”

“What are you doing?” Melody asked.

Elodie placed her toast down and brushed the crumbs from her hands. “I am practicing being you.” Lowering her voice in an exaggerated manner, she repeated, “I wish you luck. There. That was much better.”

Melody looked heavenward. “I do not sound like that, and this conversation is utterly ridiculous. Mother will see through what you are attempting to do.”

Just then, White stepped into the room and met Melody’s gaze. “Mr. Bramwell is requesting a moment of your time, my lady.”

Elodie perked up. “The new vicar?” she asked. “Why is he here, and why does he want to see you?”

“I don’t know, but I intend to find out,” Melody said, rising from her chair.

Lord Emberly stood as well, offering his hand to assist her. “If you have no objections, I shall accompany you.”

“I do have objections,” Melody said, her tone firm as she pulled her hand back.

Unperturbed, Lord Emberly offered his arm instead, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I shall accompany you anyway. I have a great appreciation for vicars.”

Melody bit back a retort, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort to argue further. “Very well, but do not make a nuisance of yourself.”

“That is something I strive for,” Lord Emberly quipped.

Resigned, Melody took his arm, and they approached the drawing room. As they entered, she released his arm and stopped abruptly. Mr. Bramwell, the new vicar, stood tall and strikingly handsome with jet-black hair and a long, angular face. His straight nose gave him an air of quiet dignity.

Mr. Bramwell’s face lit up with a warm smile as he bowed respectfully. “Lady Melody, I do apologize for calling at such an early hour.”

She dipped into a curtsy. “There is no need to apologize. You are always welcome in our home.”

“That is kind of you to say,” Mr. Bramwell said, his gaze shifting briefly to Lord Emberly before returning to Melody.

Sensing the need for introductions, Melody gestured towards Lord Emberly. “Allow me to introduce Lord Emberly to you. He is a… family friend,” she said, tripping over her last words.

Mr. Bramwell inclined his head politely. “My lord, it is a pleasure to meet you.”

Lord Emberly returned the gesture with a respectful nod.

Bringing his gaze back to Melody, Mr. Bramwell said, “I understand you have a lovely singing voice.”

“I am merely proficient,” Melody responded, brushing off his praise.

“That is not what Lord Wythburn told me,” Mr. Bramwell countered. “He said you have the voice of an angel, and I was hoping to convince you to sing at our next church service.”

Melody’s smile faltered slightly. “I am flattered, truly, but as I have told him, I only sing for friends and family.”

“Are we not all friends?” Mr. Bramwell asked, spreading his hands out.

She shifted slightly, feeling the weight of his kind but insistent gaze. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I do not enjoy being the center of attention. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable.”

Mr. Bramwell’s eyes softened with understanding. “I would never wish to cause you discomfort, my lady. I merely wanted to extend the invitation.”

Melody nodded, grateful for his consideration. “Thank you for your understanding.”

“I do hope that one day I might earn a place in your circle of friends,” Mr. Bramwell said before he bowed. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must prepare for my first sermon at this parish.”

After Mr. Bramwell departed from the drawing room, Lord Emberly said, “My sister did say that you had a lovely voice.”

“It is nothing special, I assure you.”

Lord Emberly turned to face her. “Why do you do that?” he asked.

“Do what?”

“You deflect every compliment that comes your way,” Lord Emberly replied, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Melody moved past him, unwilling to delve into the topic. “I don’t need to explain myself to you, my lord.”

Lord Emberly easily caught up to her and met her stride. “That is true, but you are doing yourself a disservice.”

Her patience was wearing thin, but she decided to ask the question anyway. “Why am I doing myself a disservice?”

Lord Emberly paused for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Accepting a compliment honors both you and the person giving it. It is a way of acknowledging their sincerity and their effort to offer you praise.”

Melody stopped and turned to face him. “It is much easier for me—and what I do—if I remain unnoticed.”

“I can appreciate that sentiment, but singing in a church isn’t exactly the kind of attention that will disrupt your life,” Lord Emberly remarked.

Melody narrowed her eyes at him. “Has anyone told you that you are an infuriating man?”

A smirk tugged at the corners of Lord Emberly’s mouth. “Not to my face. People tend to be rather nice to me, given that I am an earl.”

“Well, I am not one of those people. I think you are a complete muttonhead,” Melody said.

Lord Emberly’s smirk grew. “Are you trying to flirt with me, Lady Melody?”

Melody’s mouth dropped in sheer disbelief. “Heavens, no! I would never flirt with you. Ever.”

But Lord Emberly was not deterred. His grin only grew more smug. “I don’t know. It seems like you are flirting with me, even if you won’t admit it,” he teased. “I must say, I am flattered, but perhaps we should keep our relationship purely professional.”

Melody could only stare at him, stunned by his audacity. Without another word, she shook her head in exasperation and turned on her heel, walking away from Lord Emberly. She couldn’t help but wonder how much longer she had to endure his insufferable presence.

Wesley sat in the drawing room, a book in hand, while the soft melody of the pianoforte filled the room. Elodie was seated at the instrument, her fingers dancing across the keys, while Melody sat nearby on the settee, engrossed in her needlework.

As the afternoon light streamed through the large windows, Wesley’s gaze drifted towards the sprawling gardens of Brockhall Manor. The lush greenery reminded him of his estate, where countless responsibilities awaited him. Yet, far from home, he was bound by a duty that transcended any obligation to his estate. His priority was ensuring Melody’s safety, whether she appreciated his presence or not. Her reluctance didn’t matter. He had vowed to protect her and would see it through, no matter the costs.

The music abruptly ceased as Elodie lowered her hands from the keys. “I would hope that is enough playing to satisfy my mother.”

Wesley glanced over at Elodie. “Do you not enjoy playing?”

Elodie sighed, a hint of frustration in her tone. “Every young woman in the ton plays the pianoforte. I want to play the bagpipes.”

“Then why don’t you?” Wesley asked.

“My father would never approve,” Elodie responded.

Still focused on her needlework, Melody looked up and teased, “When has that stopped you before?”

“True, but I am trying to be perfect,” Elodie said. “I keep asking myself, ‘What would Melody do?’”

“You should just be true to yourself,” Melody suggested.

Before they could continue the conversation, Lady Dallington swept into the room and announced, “The dancing master is ready for your lessons.”

A bright smile came to Elodie’s face. “Wonderful. I was thinking it was time for me to dance,” she said, her enthusiasm almost too earnest.

Lady Dallington eyed her daughter curiously. “Are you being facetious?”

“No, Mother, I do enjoy a good dance,” Elodie said, her smile intact. “Dancing is my favorite pastime.”

Turning towards Melody, her mother asked, “What has gotten into Elodie?”

Melody shrugged. “Who knows?”

Lady Dallington still seemed unconvinced, but she decided to let it go. “Shall we adjourn to the music room, then?” she asked. “I do not want to keep the dancing master waiting.”

Leaning forward, Melody placed her needlework onto the table and rose. “How many more lessons must we endure?”

“I suppose it depends on what the dancing master recommends,” Lady Dallington responded.

Suddenly, a knock echoed from the main door, drawing everyone’s attention.

Lady Dallington’s face lit up with a delighted smile. “How wonderful! Some of our guests have arrived,” she said, her tone filled with anticipation.

“Mooo,” Elodie muttered under her breath.

Lady Dallington lifted her brow. “What was that, Dear?”

Elodie quickly adopted an innocent expression. “I said, ‘Marvelous.’ I do so adore having guests over.”

Wesley couldn’t help but grin at Elodie’s antics, though he quickly brought his gloved hand to his mouth to hide his amusement. It wouldn’t do to show too much approval of her irreverent behavior.

Moments later, the butler entered the room and announced, “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson and their son, Mr. Artemis Nelson, have arrived.”

A tall, heavy-set man appeared with a silver-haired woman by his side. Mrs. Nelson smiled at Lady Dallington. “Catherine, it has been far too long.”

Lady Dallington approached the woman and embraced her warmly. “I am so pleased that you have arrived. We have much to discuss.” She turned her attention to Mr. Nelson. “Adam, you are looking well.”

Mr. Nelson patted his ample belly. “It is only because of my wife. She insists I do not overindulge myself these days.”

“That is because I want you to live a long, healthy life,” Mrs. Nelson responded, exchanging a look of love with her husband.

“Where is Lionel?” Mr. Nelson asked, glancing around the room.

Lady Dallington waved her hand in front of her. “Where else is my husband but in the study? He is always working, I’m afraid.”

Mr. Nelson chuckled. “I am glad that my brother is alive and well. I have no desire to become an earl and take on all that responsibility.”

Gesturing towards Wesley, Lady Dallington said, “Speaking of earls, have you met Lord Emberly? He was most gracious to join us.”

Wesley stepped forward and offered a polite bow. “Mr. and Mrs. Nelson. It is an honor to meet you,” he said.

Mrs. Nelson’s eyes shone with kindness as she returned the greeting. “Are you acquainted with our son, Artemis?” Her eyes roamed the room, suddenly realizing something. “Where is he?”

Mr. Nelson cleared his throat, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Pardon me for a moment,” he said before quickly exiting the room.

A short time later, Mr. Nelson returned with a tall, blond-haired man by his side. “This is Artemis,” he said. “He was admiring the plants. He is quite passionate about botany.”

Artemis bowed stiffly, his expression as flat as his tone. “Thank you for inviting me to your lovely home,” he said, his words sounding more like a formality than genuine gratitude. “You are a most gracious host.”

Mrs. Nelson swatted at her son’s sleeve. “We agreed that you would be pleasant at Brockhall Manor,” she whispered sharply. “Now, do greet Lady Melody and Lady Elodie politely. It has been ages since you have seen them last.”

Artemis cast a brief, disinterested glance in their direction before bowing. “My ladies, it is a pleasure to see you again.”

“Haven’t they grown to be beautiful young women?” Mrs. Nelson asked.

“I suppose so,” Artemis said as he approached the large window overlooking the gardens. “May I tour your gardens? From the coach, they were rather impressive to look upon.”

“You are welcome to—” Lady Dallington began, but Artemis was already out the door before she could finish her sentence.

Mrs. Nelson’s lips pressed into a tight line as she watched her son go. “He is trying, but he is far more interested in botany than the marriage mart,” she confessed.

“With any luck, he will find a young woman that shares his passion,” Lady Dallington said kindly before shifting to face her daughters. “Girls, would you be so kind as to give Artemis a tour of the gardens?”

“But what about the dancing master?” Elodie asked.

“The lessons will have to wait. We must attend to our guests,” Lady Dallington responded.

Wesley stepped forward, offering an arm to each of the sisters. “It would be my privilege to escort you to the gardens.”

Elodie placed her hand on his with a playful smile. “I am unsure what is more exciting—dancing or looking at plants.”

Melody took his other arm, and Wesley led them towards the manor's rear. A footman opened the door and discreetly followed them outside, standing watch on the veranda.

As they strolled down one of the gravel paths, Elodie glanced around with a hint of concern. “Where do you suppose Artemis went?”

Melody scanned the surrounding gardens. “Not sure, but the gardens are extensive.”

Elodie went to sit down on a bench. “I think I will rest while you search for him,” she said. She settled in, and no sooner, a goat emerged from the bushes and hopped onto the bench, curling comfortably in her lap.

Wesley stared at the goat in surprise. “Where did that goat come from?”

Elodie lightly stroked the animal’s fur. “This is Matilda, the Warrens’ goat. She has a particular fondness for this bench and tends to claim it as hers. You can’t sit here without her joining in.”

“Do you like goats, my lord?” Melody inquired.

Wesley hesitated, considering the question. “I do not have a strong opinion either way,” he admitted. “I own goats, but I leave their care to others.”

“If you are lucky, you will see Matilda perched up in a tree,” Melody shared. “Just don’t sit under her for too long, or you might receive an unwelcome surprise.”

Wesley smiled. “I shall heed your advice.”

Still petting Matilda, Elodie said, “I think it would be fun to have a pet goat. Or perhaps a miniature donkey.”

“If Father won’t let you get a cat, I doubt he will let you have a pet goat or a miniature donkey,” Melody pointed out.

“Good point,” Elodie mused. “I shall have to make do with Matilda, then.”

Wesley shifted his stance towards Melody. “If you could choose any animal to be your pet, what would it be?”

Melody considered his words for a moment. “I suppose I would like a messenger hawk. It is practical and could be quite fun.”

“I would pick a unicorn,” Elodie declared.

“Again, unicorns are not real,” Wesley reminded her.

Elodie smiled. “We shall have to agree to disagree on this.”

Melody gave him a curious look. “What of you? What animal would you choose to be a pet?”

“None,” he replied. “I am content alone, and I see no need to care for an animal, especially in the home.”

“That sounds rather lonely,” Melody said.

Wesley grinned. “You seem to forget that my mother has two cats and they are determined to follow me everywhere. It is as if they know I am not particularly fond of them, and they take great pleasure in tormenting me.”

Melody studied him briefly before asking, “Are you close with your mother?”

“We used to be quite close, but my mother has become withdrawn since my father died,” Wesley responded. “She is not the same vibrant woman she once was. Her eyes always seem so sad. I’m not quite sure what I can do to help her.”

“Would your sister be willing to return home to care for her?” Melody asked.

Wesley huffed, the sound laced with frustration. “Rosella does what she wants when she wants. It has been this way since she was a little girl. No one can tell her what to do.”

Elodie chimed in, “I think Rosella is brave. She defies convention and works as a teacher because she wants to.”

“Sometimes I think my sister has something to prove, but I cannot say what that is,” Wesley admitted.

“Do we not all have something to prove to others or ourselves?” Melody asked, her gaze growing distant.

Elodie rose gracefully from the bench and began to smooth down her gown. “My lady’s maid won’t be pleased by the amount of goat hair on my gown.”

Melody laughed. “You brought it upon yourself by sitting on Matilda’s favorite bench.”

“It was worth it, though,” Elodie replied.

As she uttered her words, Artemis appeared from behind a hedge, his expression as solemn as ever. “Who is responsible for your gardens?” he demanded.

Melody furrowed her brow at his sudden question. “The gardeners, I suppose.”

“I need a name,” Artemis insisted, his voice firm. “Some fool planted butterfly weed right next to impatiens.”

Elodie gasped dramatically, covering her mouth with her hand. “The horror!” she exclaimed. “I understand why that is wrong, but I doubt my sister does. Will you kindly explain it to her in the most layman's terms?”

Artemis pressed his lips together. “These plants may attract pollinators, but they have different growing needs. One thrives in full sun, while the other prefers shade. It is a basic gardening principle that should never be overlooked.”

With a bob of her head, Elodie said, “We can’t let such an error stand. I will speak to the head gardener at once and see to it that this grievous mistake is corrected.”

Artemis nodded approvingly. “Thank you,” he said before continuing down the garden path, his focus already shifting back to the plants around him.

Watching him go, Wesley turned to the ladies with a bemused smile. “Which one of you was responsible for inviting Mr. Artemis Nelson to this house party?”

Melody groaned softly. “That would be me,” she admitted. “When we were children, Artemis and I would play together. My mother has this misguided notion that our childhood friendship might blossom into something more.”

Wesley chuckled. “I must say, you two would make quite the pair.”

“As long as you don’t put butterfly weed next to impatiens,” Elodie quipped. “I am fairly certain even Parliament would grant a divorce on those grounds.”

Melody placed her hand on her hip. “Are you two quite done?”

Elodie exchanged a mischievous glance with Wesley. “I am, are you?”

Wesley decided to take pity on Melody. “I am, as well,” he said. “Since Mr. Nelson is nowhere to be found, should we go inside?”

“Yes, I would greatly appreciate that,” Melody remarked. Without waiting for Wesley to offer his arm, she headed towards the manor at a brisk pace.

Coming to stand next to him, Elodie said, “Give her time.”

He turned his attention towards Elodie. “Pardon?”

“Melody doesn’t like to be teased, but she will come around,” Elodie responded. “But, if you don’t mind, we should go inside before we give my mother any matchmaking ideas.”

Wesley tipped his head in acknowledgment as he offered his arm.