Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
With the morning sun streaming through the windows, Melody sat at her writing desk, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edges of the coded message before her. She was so close to deciphering it; she was sure of that. Yet, despite her determination, her thoughts were straying from what lay in front of her. Instead, her mind kept wandering back to Wesley. It was infuriating. He was a distraction, a nuisance, so why did she allow him to occupy any space in her thoughts?
She shook her head, frustrated with herself. She needed to focus. She was a spy, not a love-craved debutante. Lives depended on her ability to crack and replicate this code to confound the French. Unfortunately, no matter how hard she tried, Wesley’s face kept creeping into her mind, breaking her concentration.
Melody sighed deeply and was about to tuck the coded message into the desk’s top drawer when something caught her eye. A pattern she hadn’t noticed before emerged from the seemingly random letters. Her heart skipped a beat. She quickly placed the paper back on the desk and reached for the quill to transcribe the message:
I
AM
COMING
FOR
YOU
Melody’s quill slipped from her fingers as the final word formed on the page. She leaned back in her chair, her mind racing. There was no doubt in her mind that this was the message, but its meaning was a mystery that sent a chill down her spine. Who was coming, and for whom? For her? Could it possibly be a coincidence? No, she didn’t believe in those.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
“My lady, may I enter?” Lydia asked.
Melody pushed back her chair and rose, quickly locking away the coded message before crossing the room to unlock the door. “Good morning, Lydia,” she greeted, opening the door wide.
Her lady’s maid entered with a bemused expression. “Dare I ask why you started locking your door?”
Not wanting to reveal the true reason, Melody responded, “With guests in the manor, I thought it prudent.”
“Are you concerned about a particular guest?”
“No, but it is better to be safe than sorry,” Melody responded, knowing how ridiculous she must sound to Lydia.
Fortunately, Lydia didn’t press the issue but moved towards the wardrobe instead. “Shall we dress you for the day?”
“I think that is a fine idea.”
Lydia selected a pale green gown and held it up for her inspection. “Will this do?”
“It will,” Melody said as she removed her nightgown.
Once dressed, Melody sat down at the dressing table and removed her cap on top of her head. Lydia picked up a brush and began arranging her hair into an elegant chignon.
As Lydia stepped back to admire her handiwork, she remarked, “You seem troubled this morning, my lady.”
“Do I?” Melody asked, feigning innocence.
“Is everything all right?”
Melody rose and turned to face her lady’s maid. “Yes, everything is just fine. I was merely woolgathering.”
A knowing smile came to Lydia’s lips. “Were you thinking about Lord Emberly?”
“Heavens, no!” Melody exclaimed, a little too quickly. “He is the absolute last person I would think of.”
Lydia put her hands up in front of her in mock surrender, her smile widening. “My apologies,” she said, though her words lacked sincerity.
Melody crossed the room to her bed, slipped her hand under her pillow, and retrieved the small pistol she had started keeping there. She held it at her side as she turned back to Lydia.
Lydia glanced at the gun with a curious expression. “Do you intend to practice your shooting at this early hour?”
“I do,” Melody confirmed.
“Are you not concerned about waking up Lady Elodie?”
Melody glanced at the clock on the mantel. “It is almost time for breakfast. My sister should be awake for the day.”
“Very well,” Lydia said, tidying the room as Melody made her way to the door.
As she stepped out of the bedchamber, Melody slipped the pistol into the folds of her gown. She needed time to think. If someone was truly coming for her, she needed to be ready to defend herself. But what if that person was already here, within the walls of the manor?
Determined to clear her mind, Melody hurried out of the main door and headed towards the side of the manor where her servants had set up targets for her shooting practice. She positioned herself in front of one of the targets and aimed, firing a shot that hit dead center.
A footman stepped forward and asked, “Would you like me to reload your pistol, my lady?”
Melody handed the weapon to him without a word, her thoughts still occupied by the message she had deciphered.
Once the pistol was reloaded, the footman extended it back to her.
“Thank you,” Melody acknowledged, taking the weapon from him.
As she went to aim again, something in the woodlands beyond the targets caught her eye. She turned, her grip tightening on the pistol, only to see a tall, dark-haired figure stepping out from the covers of the trees. Jasper, the Bow Street Runner, raised his hand in greeting.
Melody lowered her pistol. “Whatever are you doing here?” she asked. “I thought you had returned to London.”
“I had every intention to, but Lord Winston asked me to remain here while he was on his wedding tour,” Jasper explained, stepping closer. “He wanted to ensure his family remained safe, despite my many objections.”
Melody felt a subtle sense of relief knowing Jasper had remained behind, but she didn’t dare reveal her thoughts to him. She had to keep too many secrets, even from those she trusted. She noticed Jasper’s approving gaze as he glanced at the target she had just hit.
“You are an excellent shot, my lady,” he praised.
Melody waved off the compliment. “I have had plenty of practice.”
Jasper turned his attention back to her. “I daresay that Lady Sarah could learn a great deal from you.”
“You have done a fine job of teaching her how to handle a pistol,” Melody replied, offering him a small, sincere smile.
“Yes,” Jasper agreed, but his eyes showed a trace of regret. “But it is time that I pass the torch, so to speak.”
“I would be happy to teach my aunt everything I know, assuming she is interested.”
Jasper looked away, his expression turning serious. “Now that the immediate danger has passed, it is best for me to spend as little time as possible with her—for propriety’s sake.”
Her smile dimmed. “Is that what Sarah wants?”
Jasper didn’t answer, instead choosing to change topics. “I heard that Mr. Nelson managed to poison himself through his carelessness last night.”
Melody kept her face expressionless. “I am not entirely sure what happened.”
With a lifted brow, Jasper asked, “Do you think there was something more to it than that?”
She bit her tongue, knowing that revealing her suspicions could lead to trouble. Without any real evidence, there was no point in alarming anyone.
Melody shrugged, feigning indifference. “What more could it be?”
Jasper studied her closely as if trying to discern the truth from her composed expression. “Indeed,” he murmured, his tone skeptical.
Feeling uneasy under his scrutiny, Melody shifted her body slightly, putting a little more distance between them. “I should head in for breakfast,” she said. “Would you care to join me?”
Jasper scoffed lightly. “A Bow Street Runner sharing your dining table? I am sure your father would have plenty to say about that.”
Before Melody could respond, her sister’s voice called down from above. “What are you two yammering about outside of my window?”
Melody looked up to see Elodie leaning out the window, her hair still tousled from sleep. “We are not yammering,” she retorted.
“Regardless, I do hereby declare that you cannot practice shooting until after breakfast,” Elodie exclaimed. “I nearly had a heart attack when the pistol was discharged.”
“You should have been out of bed already,” Melody countered.
Jasper cleared his throat, drawing Melody’s attention back to him. He subtly pointed towards the manor, and Melody turned to see Wesley approaching, his expression stern and his gaze fixed intently on Jasper.
Wesley stopped a short distance away, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked Jasper up and down. “Who are you?” he asked, his tone clipped.
Melody shook her head, exasperated. “You are in a fine mood this morning, my lord,” she remarked dryly. She gestured towards Jasper. “This is Jasper. He is a Bow Street Runner my brother hired to watch over us.”
“For what purpose?” Wesley asked.
In a low voice, Melody replied, “He was hired to protect my aunt from her abusive husband.”
Realization dawned on Wesley’s face, and his expression softened slightly. “My apologies,” he said, his tone more measured. “I found it disconcerting that you were speaking to a man that I was not acquainted with.”
Jasper inclined his head politely. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord.”
“You know who I am?” Wesley asked.
An amused look came to Jasper’s face. “I make it my business to know all about the guests staying at Brockhall Manor.”
Wesley shifted his gaze to Melody. “Why didn’t you wait for me to escort you outside?”
“There was no need. I did not think I needed an escort in my own gardens,” she replied. “Besides, I have a pistol.”
Wesley’s expression darkened with disapproval. “You think you are safe…” He trailed off, his voice dropping to a tense whisper. “May I speak to you privately?”
From above, Elodie chimed in, “Don’t go. I was just starting to enjoy the show.”
Melody glanced up to see her sister munching on a biscuit as she leaned out the window. “Where did you get that biscuit?”
“I keep one on my nightstand for situations like this,” Elodie replied with a grin.
Jasper chuckled softly. “If you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to,” he said, bowing slightly before turning to leave.
Wesley reached for Melody’s arm, guiding her a short distance away from the manor before releasing her with a grim look. “You are being too careless with your safety.”
“A little louder, please!” Elodie shouted from her perch.
Melody bit her lip to suppress a smile, but it was a losing battle. Wesley, however, was far from amused by her sister’s antics. “You can’t go traipsing around?—”
“I am not traipsing around,” Melody interrupted, placing a hand on her hip. “I merely stepped outside to practice my shooting.”
“That was foolishness on your part,” Wesley stated bluntly.
“You do not get to have an opinion on the matter, my lord,” she shot back. “I will do what I want, when I want.”
“That is a sure way to get yourself killed,” Wesley said, his frustration evident. “And I won’t allow it.”
Melody’s brow arched. “You won’t allow it?” she repeated back slowly.
Wesley held his ground, his expression resolute. “I won’t. From now on, you will listen to what I have to say.”
“Are you sure you want to try to order me around when I have a pistol in my hand?” Melody asked, bringing her pistol up.
He reached out and gently pressed down the pistol, lowering it back to her side. “You are the most maddening woman I have ever known.”
“Thank you,” Melody replied.
“It wasn’t a compliment.”
Melody was tired of this conversation. Wesley had no right to order her around. Without saying another word, she turned on her heel and headed towards the manor.
Wesley watched as Melody walked away, knowing he had reacted poorly. He shouldn’t have yelled at her, but his frustration and fear had gotten the better of him. Melody was far too reckless with her safety, and it was his duty to keep her safe. But could he fulfill that duty when she resisted him at every turn?
He should just let her walk away and give them both time to calm down. Instead, he found himself following her towards the manor.
“Melody,” he called after her.
She kept walking, ignoring him.
He raised his voice, more insistent. “Melody!”
At last, she stopped but didn’t turn around. “Yes, my lord?” she responded, her voice curt.
Wesley quickened his pace until he was in front of her, forcing her to meet his gaze. “It is Wesley, if you don’t mind,” he said, the sharpness in his voice softening. “I’m sorry.”
Melody crossed her arms over her chest, her expression unreadable. “For what?” she asked, her voice laced with a challenge.
Wesley winced inwardly, knowing she wasn’t going to make this easy. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”
“Are you also sorry for ordering me around when you had no right to?” Melody asked.
“You must understand. It is for your own good,” Wesley replied, frustration edging into his voice.
Melody let out a huff, clearly unimpressed. “That didn’t sound like an apology,” she said.
“Melody—”
Before he could finish, she uncrossed her arms and moved to brush past him. He reached out and gently grasped her arm. “I can’t lose another agent,” he said in a low voice.
Melody gave him a curious look. “Another agent?”
Wesley nodded, the weight of past memories heavy on his shoulders. “Yes. I was assigned to protect another agent before you, and she was murdered.”
Compassion crept into Melody’s eyes. “May I ask what happened?”
No.
He didn’t want to tell anyone.
Wesley hesitated, the memory still too raw, too painful. He didn’t want to talk about it or revisit the darkness that had haunted him since. But he knew he owed her some explanation. “The details are not important,” he finally said, his voice tight. “Dinah is dead. That is all that you need to know.”
Melody shook her head. “You are never going to let me in, are you?”
“That is amusing, coming from you,” Wesley replied. “You have kept me at arm’s length since I arrived here.”
“That is only because you are making a nuisance of yourself,” Melody shot back, her tone defensive.
Wesley held her gaze. “I want you to trust me.”
“Trust is to be earned,” Melody countered. “And you have given me no reason to trust you.”
The worst part was that he knew Melody wasn’t entirely wrong. He had kept a part of himself hidden from her—from everyone. He gestured towards a bench on a nearby path. “Will you sit with me for a moment?”
Melody glanced towards the manor, uncertainty clouding her expression. “We should be going in to breakfast.”
“It won’t take long,” Wesley encouraged.
After a brief pause, Melody relented and walked over to the bench. She sat on the far edge, leaving a significant gap between them, as if still wary of him. Wesley took a deep breath, knowing he needed to open up, even a little, to gain her trust. He needed her to understand the gravity of the situation they were in.
“Dinah was an agent much like you,” Wesley began, his voice tinged with sorrow. “She deciphered enemy codes, just as you do, until one day, she was found dead in her bedchamber.”
“How did she die?” Melody asked.
Wesley took a deep breath before revealing, “She was found alone in her bed. The door was locked, the windows were closed and there were no marks on her body.”
“Then how do you know she was murdered?”
“Dinah was thirty years old and in perfect health,” Wesley replied. “The doctors claimed she passed away in her sleep, but I do not believe so. I think she was poisoned.”
Melody arched an eyebrow, her skepticism evident. “Did the coroner do an investigation?”
“Yes, but he came to the same conclusion as the doctors,” Wesley replied. “But Dinah’s death was eerily similar to two other agents who have also died in the past few years.”
“It could be a coincidence,” Melody suggested, though her tone lacked conviction.
Wesley shot her a disbelieving look. “Do you believe in coincidences?”
“No, I do not,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Which is why I have a problem.” She frowned. “I deciphered the code that was sent to me this morning.”
He straightened in his seat. “What did it say?”
In a steady voice, Melody replied, “ I am coming for you .”
Wesley leaned back, his mind racing through all the possibilities. Someone was coming for Melody, and he had a sinking feeling that whoever it was might already be among them, watching, waiting for the perfect time to strike. He could see that Melody was trying to remain brave, but there was a flicker of fear in her eyes that she couldn’t completely hide.
“It will be all right,” he said, though he wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince—her or himself.
“How?” Melody asked. “We don’t know who is coming or when. What if the person is already here and poisoned Artemis by mistake?”
“We don’t know anything for certain, but I think it would be best if you left Brockhall Manor,” he said, his mind working quickly. “We could go to my estate, where my staff is loyal to me.”
Melody reared back. “I am not leaving my home.”
“It isn’t safe for you here,” he argued.
“Why do you think the person wouldn’t follow me to your estate?” Melody asked. “Besides, my reputation would be ruined if I left with you.”
“Not if we married,” Wesley suggested, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Melody rolled her eyes. “Not this again,” she muttered.
But Wesley wasn’t ready to let it go. He knew his suggestion was unconventional, even absurd, but it was the only solution that made sense to him. He needed to protect her. The only way to do that was to keep her close. He just had to find a way to make her see that.
Wesley shifted in his seat to face her, his expression serious. “I will not stand back and let anything bad happen to you. I will protect you.”
“Wesley—” she began, but her words were abruptly cut off when a goat suddenly jumped onto the bench beside her, its head nestling comfortably in her lap.
Wesley tried to push the goat off the bench, but the animal responded with a loud bleat of protest, clearly unappreciative of his efforts.
“Oh, you can’t push Matilda off,” Melody said, her tone light. “This is her bench.”
“How can a goat claim a bench?” Wesley asked.
Melody shrugged. “I don’t make the rules.”
“But you let the goat dictate your actions?” Wesley countered.
“The goat was here before me.”
Wesley couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, especially when far more pressing matters were at hand. He decided to cut through the nonsense and get to the point. “Marry me, Melody.”
“No.”
“No?” Wesley repeated. “You haven’t even considered it.”
Melody kept her gaze fixed ahead of her, her voice calm but firm. “We will find another way.”
“There is no other way,” he insisted.
“Then we aren’t very good spies,” Melody said. “I am not going to enter a marriage of convenience. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us.”
Wesley looked heavenward as he tried to calm his anger. She was being so stubborn, and he was determined to make her see reason. He would get Melody to marry him if it was the last thing he did.
Melody shifted her gaze towards him. “I know you think you are doing what is right, but I won’t let you throw your life away for me.”
“I am an agent of the Crown. That is where my duty lies,” Wesley said. “You are my responsibility?—”
She cut him off with a glare. “I swear if you say that one more time, I will shoot you.”
“It is merely the truth.”
As if to emphasize Melody’s point, the goat turned its head and let out a loud bleat, almost as if it were agreeing with her.
Melody grinned. “The goat has deemed you unworthy to sit on her bench.”
“You speak goat now?”
“I do.”
Wesley carefully shifted the goat away from him before rising to his feet. He dusted off the stray goat fur from his trousers. “I am beginning to hate goats.”
Melody covered Matilda’s ears. “Do not let Matilda hear you say that.”
The back door of the manor opened, and Lady Dallington stepped out into the gardens. Her eyes landed on them, and she headed towards them. “There you two are,” she said. “It is time for breakfast.”
Wesley wondered why Lady Dallington hadn’t sent a servant to relay that message, but he didn’t dare question it. “Thank you, my lady,” he responded.
Lady Dallington stopped a short distance away, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You two have been spending a considerable amount of time together. It is very encouraging,” she mused with a smile. “Come along. I am calling a family meeting and Lord Emberly is welcome to join us.”
Melody gently moved the goat to the side before standing. “What is this family meeting about?”
“You shall have to find out for yourself,” Lady Dallington responded before turning on her heel and heading back towards the manor.
Wesley offered his arm to Melody. “May I escort you inside?”
She accepted his arm, and they followed Lady Dallington into the manor. Once inside, Melody leaned in close, her voice a hushed whisper. “Be careful. I do believe my mother is attempting to play matchmaker with us.”
“I am not opposed.”
“But I am,” Melody said firmly.
They entered the dining room, where Wesley pulled out a chair for Melody before taking the seat next to her. Across from them, Elodie was meticulously buttering a piece of toast.
Lady Dallington clasped her hands in front of her at the head of the table. “I have called this family meeting because today will be spent with the dancing master.”
Elodie groaned in protest. “I do not like this family meeting.”
“Nor do I,” Melody said. “I have things I must see to.”
Lady Dallington held up a hand to silence their complaints. “The dancing master has traveled a long way, and you both must become proficient dancers.”
“But I will never be a proficient dancer,” Elodie argued. “Why can I not be an okayish dancer?”
“Do you not wish to get married?” Lady Dallington asked pointedly.
Elodie held up her toast. “If my husband only cares about my dancing abilities, then he is not the man for me.”
Lord Belview’s voice came from the doorway. “I can personally attest that Lady Elodie is a remarkable dancer. Do you remember the time you read about the dance that was supposed to summon rain?”
Elodie huffed. “Good heavens, I can’t believe you are bringing that up. I was ten.”
“Yes, but you danced in that circle all morning until it finally started raining,” Lord Belview said, approaching the dining table.
Elodie did not look the least bit amused. “It is England. It rains all the time.”
“Or perhaps it rained because of your dance,” Lord Belview teased. “I guess we will never know.”
Taking a bite of her toast, Elodie narrowed her eyes at Lord Belview, as if to silence him with her eyes.
Lady Dallington took control of the conversation by saying, “If the gentlemen have no objections, they are welcome to join my daughters in their dancing lesson today.”
Wesley resisted the urge to groan. The thought of dancing for hours was far from appealing, but it would allow him to keep a close eye on Melody, which was reason enough.
Lord Belview, on the other hand, seemed more than willing. “I’d be delighted,” he said. “I have been told that I am quite the accomplished dancer.”
“By whom, your mother?” Elodie quipped.
Lord Belview’s grin widened. “This may come as a surprise to you, but loads of women prefer my company. It is a burden I must bear.”
Elodie placed her toast back on her plate, wiping her hands clean of breadcrumbs. “I am not one of those women.”
“Elodie!” Lady Dallington exclaimed, her words holding a reprimand. “Be nice to Anthony. He is our guest, after all.”
Lord Belview’s grin didn’t falter as he held Elodie’s gaze for a moment longer, a playful glint in his eyes before she looked away, clearly uninterested in engaging further.
The footmen stepped forward and placed plates of food on the table. In a swift, almost instinctive motion, Wesley switched plates with Melody.
When he noticed the curious looks from those around the table, Wesley offered a quick explanation. “I preferred the portions on Lady Melody’s plate.”
“But they appear to be the same portions,” Elodie pointed out.
Melody spoke up. “They aren’t,” she said. “Thank you for switching plates with me, my lord.”
As they began to eat, Wesley couldn’t help but feel a twinge of unease. He hoped this wouldn’t be his last meal, but if it were, the knowledge that he had protected Melody, even in this small way, made it worth the risk.