A Shadowed Charade (The Lockwood Family #4)

Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The moonlight streamed through her window as Melody lay in bed. Though it was late, sleep eluded her. Her mind whirled with the ever-present reminder that she was in danger. From whom, she still did not know.

Wesley had urged her to trust him, to rely on him, but fear held her back. He was a good man, that much was clear, but she had learned to depend on herself rather than others. It was much easier that way.

Dinner had been a somber affair. Mr. and Mrs. Nelson had dined with their son, Artemis, and Wesley had hardly spoken a word to her. Not that she minded. She needed to keep him at arm’s length to avoid deepening these inconvenient feelings for him.

A sudden knock at the window startled her, snapping her out of her thoughts. She instinctively reached for the pistol she kept under her pillow, gripping it tightly.

Another knock.

Melody turned her head slowly, her breath catching as she saw a figure’s shadow outside the window. Who would knock at her window at this hour, and for what purpose? She cautiously rose from the bed, her pulse quickening with each step she took towards the window.

As she drew closer, the figure became more apparent in the moonlight—Wesley. Relief mixed with confusion as she hurried to open the window. “What are you doing?” she whispered.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wesley replied, matching her hushed tone. “I am here to protect you.”

“From what?” she asked, still trying to comprehend the situation.

Wesley shifted his grip on the window frame, his expression solemn. “Can we have this conversation inside your bedchamber?”

Melody’s eyes widened in shock. “Are you mad?”

“No,” he answered, a slight smirk on his lips. “Surprisingly, that is not the first time someone has asked me that today.”

“You can’t come in here. I would be ruined if anyone discovered you were in my bedchamber,” Melody protested.

Wesley gave her a pointed look. “Well, I can’t stay outside your window all night.”

Melody glanced nervously at the door, torn between propriety and practicality. With a resigned sigh, she conceded, “Fine. You may come in, but only until we settle the matter.”

“Thank you,” Wesley said as he climbed through the window.

Melody hurried to slip on her wrapper, tying it securely in the front. “What do you think you are doing?” she demanded, being mindful to keep her voice low.

“You already asked that,” Wesley replied, amusement in his eyes.

“I know, but I cannot fathom what you were thinking. Do you not care for my reputation?”

Wesley brushed off his trousers, his expression earnest. “I care greatly for your reputation, which is why I waited until now to climb the ivory walls to your bedchamber.”

Melody walked over to the window, peering out into the night. “How were you able to climb up here so easily?”

“It wasn’t easy,” Wesley admitted, “but I used to sneak out of my bedchamber at my country estate all the time. It is all about finding your footing on the bricks jutting out.”

She closed the window and turned back to Wesley. “You should have told me what you were planning to do.”

“If I had, you would have said no,” he pointed out, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Of course, I would have,” she retorted. “I am perfectly safe in my bedchamber with the door locked.”

“Locks can be picked,” Wesley countered, his tone matter-of-fact.

Melody held up her pistol, her grip steady. “Which is why I have my pistol with me.”

“A pistol only has one shot.”

“You seem to forget that I have remarkably good aim,” Melody remarked, a touch of defiance in her voice.

“I have yet to see it,” Wesley said.

Melody slipped her pistol under the pillow. “What now?” she asked.

Wesley settled into a chair by the window. “I will stay here and make sure you are safe,” he informed her, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“You intend to watch me sleep?” Melody asked in disbelief.

“Yes.”

Melody bit her lower lip, a flicker of embarrassment creeping in. “What if I snore?”

“Do you snore?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She shrugged. “I don’t rightly know.”

Wesley’s smile widened. “I do not care if you snore.”

“You might not, but I do,” Melody declared.

He chuckled softly. “Is that your only concern?”

“Yes, but it is a big concern.”

Reaching behind him, Wesley drew a pistol and placed it on the table beside him, the metal gleaming faintly in the dim light. “I am only here to keep you safe—nothing more,” he assured her, his voice unwavering.

Melody knew she was fighting a losing battle but couldn’t help but voice her thoughts. “You do realize I can take care of myself, don’t you?”

“There is no need, not when I am here,” Wesley said, leaning his head back against the wall. “You should get some sleep.”

Melody glanced over her shoulder at the bed. Could she really sleep with Wesley in her bedchamber? The mere thought sent a shiver of unease through her. What was he thinking, putting them both in such a precarious position? Surely, he understood the implication of being here.

But she suspected he did.

Reluctantly, Melody moved to the settee and sat down, trying to gather her thoughts. “I understand that you spoke to Artemis,” she said, her tone cautious.

“I did,” Wesley confirmed.

“May I ask what you discussed?”

Wesley straightened in his chair, giving her his full attention. “I was curious as to how conveniently he was poisoned.”

“Conveniently?” Melody repeated. “Can anyone be ‘conveniently’ poisoned?”

“If he was sent here to kill you, he might have poisoned himself to deflect suspicion,” Wesley explained.

Melody stared back at Wesley. “I have known Artemis since he was young. He was not sent here to kill me.”

“What do you truly know about him?” Wesley challenged.

Melody pressed her lips together. “I know that he studied botany at university and he is socially inept. He has always been high-handed, even arrogant at times, but he is not a killer.”

“If it was indeed an accident, then how did a trained botanist manage to poison himself?”

“I can’t answer that,” Melody admitted. “Didn’t we surmise that the person who poisoned Artemis might have intended to poison me?”

“That is one theory, but I prefer to deal in facts,” Wesley remarked, using her previous words against her. “The only thing we know for certain is that you received a threatening message.”

Melody yawned, quickly bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. The exhaustion from the long day was finally catching up with her.

“It is late,” Wesley said gently. “You need to get some sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Melody confessed. “I haven’t slept in the same room with someone since I was in the nursery with Elodie.”

Wesley’s lips curved into a smile. “Your sister is quite a force to be reckoned with.”

“She is high-spirited,” Melody agreed.

“That is one way to put it.”

Melody rose, her thoughts lingering on her sister. “Elodie may say outlandish things, but she is my dearest friend. Sometimes, I worry that Society will stifle her spirit.”

“But not yours?”

Walking over to her bed, Melody sat down on the edge of the mattress. “I know the part that I am expected to play, but I don’t know what my future holds for me.”

Wesley considered her for a moment before asking, “Knowing what you know now, would you still accept my offer to become an agent?”

“I have never once regretted my choice, but I do know it would bring shame to my family if the truth ever came out,” Melody said.

“I won’t let that happen,” Wesley promised.

Melody slowly removed her wrapper, folded it neatly and placed it at the foot of the bed. “Sometimes, things are out of our control,” she said quietly, her tone laced with resignation.

Wesley settled back in his chair, watching her with a thoughtful expression. “Like you, I know the role I must play.”

“We make quite the pair, don’t we? Two people playing parts in a world that demands so much from us.” She hesitated for a moment, then asked, “May I ask you a question?”

“I suppose it is only fair.”

Melody lay on the bed, propping herself up slightly to keep her gaze on him. “How did you become an agent?”

Something flickered in Wesley’s eyes for a moment, an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “I was recruited at university by the spymaster.”

“Why you?” Melody pressed.

His lips twitched. “Why not me?” he asked, clearly finding her question amusing.

Melody sensed that he was intentionally being vague, guarding himself from revealing too much. But she wanted to understand him better, especially the parts of himself that he kept hidden.

“You picked me because of my linguistics background,” Melody began, her tone probing. “What did the agency want with you?”

Wesley’s expression grew solemn. “It runs in the family, I suppose. My father also worked for the agency when he was in the Royal Navy.”

“Is it not unusual for an earl to not only serve in the Royal Navy but also be a spy?” Melody asked.

He leaned forward slightly as if contemplating how much to share. “My father was the second son,” he explained. “He had already established a career in the Royal Navy when his brother died unexpectedly. He refused to give up that part of his life, leaving my mother to manage the estate in his absence.”

Melody could feel her eyelids growing heavy, but she had one more thing to say. “Thank you.”

Wesley tilted his head, his expression bemused. “For what?”

Melody offered him a weak smile. “For trusting me enough to tell me the truth.”

“I do trust you,” Wesley stated, his voice firm. The words hung in the air, a quiet acknowledgment of the fragile trust they were building in a world filled with secrets and danger.

Slowly, her eyelids grew heavy, and as she drifted off to sleep, the last thing she felt was the reassuring sense of safety that Wesley’s presence brought. The darkness outside seemed a little less daunting with him there, and for the first time in days, Melody allowed herself to surrender to the quiet peace of sleep, trusting that with Wesley nearby, she was truly safe.

Wesley departed from his bedchamber and made his way down the corridor, his footsteps echoing softly against the polished floors. As he reached the top of the grand staircase, he noticed Melody standing near the iron railing, her gaze fixed intently on the entry hall below. She caught sight of him approaching and quickly brought a finger to her lips, signaling for him to remain silent.

Intrigued, Wesley moved closer, positioning himself beside her as he followed her line of sight. Below, in the entry hall, Elodie and Lord Belview were locked in what appeared to be a heated argument, their voices low but clearly agitated.

Wesley leaned in closer to Melody. “Can you hear what they are saying?” he whispered.

Melody nodded, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “They were just fighting about how Lord Belview doesn’t enjoy poached eggs for breakfast.”

“That is an odd thing to argue about.”

“I know, which makes it all the more entertaining,” Melody said with a giggle.

Wesley chuckled softly and placed his hands on the railing to watch the scene unfold. “How long have you been eavesdropping?”

“About five minutes now,” Melody confessed. “I don’t dare interrupt them, especially since I am most curious to see how it all ends.”

“Are you not the least bit famished?” Wesley asked.

Melody turned her gaze from the scene below to Wesley, considering his question. “You make a good point. Perhaps I will ask my lady’s maid to bring a tray to my room.”

Wesley grinned. “That is ridiculous.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Before he could respond, Elodie’s voice rang out from below. “Are you two quite finished?” she asked, clearly aware of their presence. “Mother has called a family meeting in the dining room.”

Melody groaned softly. “I do not like family meetings. No good ever comes from them.”

Wesley offered his arm. “May I escort you to the dining room?”

“Very well,” Melody agreed, slipping her hand into the crook of his arm.

As they began descending the grand staircase together, Wesley glanced at her with a gentle smile. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, actually,” Melody said. “When did you leave?”

Wesley kept his voice low, leaning slightly closer. “Before dawn,” he replied. “I didn’t think it was prudent to stay much longer.”

“That was wise.”

He smirked. “You sound surprised.”

“Well, sneaking into my bedchamber could have had disastrous consequences,” Melody pointed out.

Wesley couldn’t resist teasing her. “By the way, you don’t snore,” he said, his grin widening.

Melody looked relieved by his admission, but her cheeks flushed with a hint of embarrassment. “That is a relief.”

“But you did snort a few times,” Wesley joked. “I was a little worried for you.”

A deeper blush spread across Melody’s cheeks, and she ducked her head. “A gentleman wouldn’t comment on such things.”

He patted her hand reassuringly. “I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“You’d better not,” she warned with a mock-serious tone. “If you did, everyone would discover the truth.”

At that moment, Elodie appeared beside them, her sudden presence catching both of them off guard. “What truth?” she asked.

Melody quickly withdrew her hand from Wesley’s arm. “We were just talking about…” She hesitated briefly. “The weather.”

“The weather?” Elodie repeated, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t actually expect me to believe that, do you? No one really talks about the weather.”

“The weather is a perfectly acceptable topic of conversation,” Melody said with a slight shrug of her shoulder.

Elodie shook her head, clearly unconvinced. “Fine. Do not tell me, but I will discover the truth eventually.”

As Elodie disappeared into the dining room, Wesley leaned closer to Melody and whispered, “That was impressive.”

Melody frowned, glancing after her sister. “I do believe my sister is a ninja. I didn’t even see her. I will need to be more careful.”

With a smile, Wesley gestured for Melody to enter the dining room first. He followed her inside and moved to pull out a chair for her, ensuring she was situated before taking the seat beside her. Across the table, Lord Belview and Elodie were already seated, their earlier argument seemingly forgotten, though the tension between them still lingered.

Lady Dallington swept into the dining room with a bright smile lighting up her face. “Wonderful, you have all assembled.”

Elodie, reaching for her cup of chocolate, looked up with mild amusement. “You did call a family meeting,” she remarked dryly.

“Yes, I did, and that is what I wish to discuss with everyone,” Lady Dallington acknowledged, moving to the head of the table. “I have arranged for the four of you to go on a carriage ride this morning.”

“Wonderful,” Elodie muttered under her breath, her tone lacking any genuine excitement.

Lady Dallington ignored Elodie’s lackluster response and continued, her voice full of cheer. “I thought you would enjoy a ride through the countryside. The fresh air, the scenery—it will be quite refreshing.”

Elodie raised her hand.

“Yes, Dear?” Lady Dallington sighed.

“May we take the coach?” Elodie asked.

Lady Dallington shook her head. “I thought a carriage would be more pleasant, allowing you to enjoy the countryside as you pass through.”

Elodie raised her hand again.

Lady Dallington glanced heavenward, clearly exasperated. “You don’t need to raise your hand.”

“I would still prefer the coach,” Elodie insisted. “I seem to attract bugs, and I would rather not spend the entire ride swatting them away.”

Lord Belview puffed out his chest. “It would be my honor to protect you from the bugs, my lady.”

Elodie shot him a skeptical look. “You say that now, but wait until you swallow one. It is most unpleasant.”

“Then I suggest keeping your mouth closed during the ride,” Lady Dallington remarked.

As the footmen stepped forward to place plates of food before them, Wesley instinctively went to switch his plate with Melody’s, but she gently placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

Leaning closer, she whispered, “What if someone anticipated that we would switch plates?”

Wesley paused, considering her point. “You are right. Perhaps we should eat what is on our own plates.”

“I think that is wise,” Melody agreed.

Elodie spoke up. “Take Lord Belview’s plate away,” she ordered. “It has a poached egg on it, and he has made it quite clear he does not care for those.”

Lord Belview waved the footman off with a slight chuckle. “That is not what I said.”

“That is what I heard,” Elodie retorted.

“I am beginning to think you have selective hearing,” Lord Belview said. “You only hear what you want to hear.”

Elodie picked up her knife, carefully buttering her toast with precision. “That is not true.”

Melody chimed in, “I do think Anthony has a point.”

“Traitor,” Elodie declared, though her voice was more playful than accusatory. “I should have known that you would take his side since you are not particularly fond of poached eggs either. It is a poached egg conspiracy!”

Lady Dallington put her hands up. “Elodie, you digress, as usual. There is no conspiracy, and you should be nicer to Anthony. He is our guest, after all.”

Lord Belview smirked. “Did you hear that, Elodie? You should be nicer to me.”

Elodie rolled her eyes dramatically. “When pigs fly.”

With a glance at the toast in her hand, Lord Belview remarked, “Why do you take such care to butter your toast?”

“Because, my lord,” Elodie drawled, “a piece of toast must have the perfect ratio of butter to bread in each bite. Anything less would be a culinary tragedy.”

Wesley couldn’t help but notice that Melody was absentmindedly pushing her food around on her plate, seemingly uninterested in eating. It was not surprising, given the circumstances. Not knowing if someone was trying to poison you had a way of dampening one’s appetite. He realized he wasn’t particularly hungry, either.

Elodie seemed to notice the same thing about her sister. “Are you not hungry, Melody?”

Melody set her fork down. “I must admit that I am not.”

“Well, if you find that you are hungry later, there will be plenty of bugs to eat on our carriage ride,” Elodie quipped.

Lady Dallington let out a slight huff. “A lady does not eat bugs,” she declared, clasping her hands with practiced grace.

“That is not entirely true,” Elodie responded. “Some people consider bugs a delicacy.”

Melody abruptly rose from her seat, causing the gentlemen to stand. “Excuse me for a moment,” she murmured before departing from the dining room.

Wesley’s gaze lingered on the door through which Melody had just departed, his mind racing with worry. What had prompted her sudden exit? He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

As Wesley returned to his seat, Lord Dallington entered the room, the newssheets tucked neatly under his arm. “Good morning,” he greeted, planting a quick kiss on his wife’s cheek before heading to his seat at the table.

Lord Dallington laid the newssheets on the table with a practiced motion, but Elodie reached for them before he could begin reading. Her father quickly pulled them back. “What do you think you are doing, young lady?”

Elodie looked unperturbed by her father’s rebuke. “I was hoping to read the newssheets.”

Lord Dallington’s response was immediate and firm. “I think not. Genteel women do not read the newssheets.”

With a defiant spark, Elodie asked, “Why, Father? Are you afraid I will start forming my own opinions, or worse, that I won’t share yours?”

Lord Dallington let out a scoff. “You haven’t shared my opinions in quite some time,” he said, pulling a page from the bundle. “You can read the Society page.”

Elodie didn’t bother to reach for the paper. Her disapproval was evident. “Oh, yes, because I care what someone was wearing or who attended which event.”

“What happened to you?” Lord Dallington asked, his tone serious but the glint in his eyes betraying his mirth. “You used to be such an agreeable young woman.”

Wesley found the exchange entertaining, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Melody. As much as he tried to focus on the lighthearted banter at the table, concern gnawed at him. Where had she gone so suddenly? He wanted to find her, to ensure she was all right, but propriety caused him to remain seated.