A Shadowed Charade (The Lockwood Family #4)

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Melody descended the rickety, uneven stairs to the kitchen, the wooden steps creaking under her weight. Her stomach growled, reminding her just how hungry she was, but the thought of eating the breakfast served earlier, with the ever-present fear of it being poisoned, had made it impossible to eat. Now, she was seeking something simple and safe.

As she stepped off the last stair, she nodded politely to the servants she passed. The warm, yeasty aroma of freshly baked bread filled the kitchen, drawing her attention to Mrs. Meek, the portly cook, who was kneading dough on the countertop.

Mrs. Meek looked up and greeted Melody with a warm smile. “Good morning, my dear. What brings you down to the kitchen?”

“Do you have any bread ready?” Melody asked.

The cook’s smile faltered slightly. “Was something wrong with the food I sent up with the servants?”

Melody quickly shook her head, trying to ease the cook’s worry. “No, nothing was wrong with it, but I find I am craving some fresh bread.”

Mrs. Meek’s expression softened again, and she gestured towards the large wooden table in the center of the room. “Take a seat, and I will bring you some,” she offered.

As Melody moved further into the kitchen, she saw her Aunt Sarah sitting quietly in the corner with a cup of tea cradled in her hands. “Good morning, Sarah,” she said, approaching her with a smile.

Sarah returned her smile, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes, the weariness she carried evident in her gaze. “Good morning, Melody.”

Melody took a seat across from her aunt, curiosity tugging at her. “Why didn’t you join us for breakfast this morning?”

With a glance at her tea, Sarah replied, “I was busy.” But the answer felt hollow, lacking conviction.

Melody wasn’t convinced and decided to pry a little deeper. “We have missed you these past few days,” she said gently.

Sarah waved her hand dismissively. “You don’t need—or want—me around your other guests.”

“And why not? It has hardly been uneventful,” Melody remarked with a wry smile. “Mr. Artemis Nelson has taken ill, presumably poisoned by handling a plant.”

“Regardless, it is best if I don’t come around,” Sarah said.

“Why do you say that?”

Sarah’s expression turned solemn, her voice softening with old pain. “I gave up that life when I eloped with Isaac. I do not belong in that world anymore.”

Melody frowned. “That is not the least bit true. You are still the daughter of a marquess.”

“But my station in life has changed dramatically,” Sarah countered. “I married a scoundrel, and I am now living off my brother’s good graces.”

“You will always be a part of our family,” Melody insisted, leaning forward, her voice filled with sincerity.

Sarah offered her a weary smile in return. “You are kind, but I am sure your guests don’t feel the same way.”

Melody met her aunt’s eyes with determination. “Who cares what they think? I certainly don’t.”

Sarah sighed, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. “I just don’t want to embarrass your family, especially after everything you have done for me.”

“If you truly wanted to thank me, you would come upstairs and save me from my mother’s matchmaking schemes,” Melody encouraged.

Sarah hesitated, clearly torn. “I know what you are trying to do, but I don’t belong.”

“You do. You just have to believe it.”

Before Sarah could respond, the door to the kitchen creaked open, and Jasper stepped inside, his arms full of firewood.

“Where would you like the wood, Mrs. Meek?” Jasper asked.

Mrs. Meek gestured towards the hearth. “Right there will do, thank you. You are a godsend,” she said with a grateful smile.

Jasper moved to place the firewood down, and as he did, Melody noticed the way Sarah’s eyes followed him, a look of longing softening her features. But as soon as he turned around, Sarah quickly ducked her head, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.

He tipped his head in greeting, his eyes first meeting Melody’s. “Lady Melody,” he acknowledged before shifting his gaze to her aunt. “Lady Sarah.”

Sarah lifted her eyes, her voice soft. “Jasper.”

“I trust that you slept well last night?” Jasper asked.

“I did,” Sarah replied, managing a small smile. “And you?”

Jasper nodded. “I did. I noticed that your son is outside playing with the other children. He seems to be getting along just fine here.”

A hint of pride and warmth crept into Sarah’s voice. “Yes, it is true. For so long, Matthew had no one to play with. It warms my heart to see him making friends.”

“Perhaps I can take him out hunting tomorrow, assuming you have no objections,” Jasper suggested.

“I have none. He really enjoyed it the last time you took him,” Sarah responded.

For a moment, Jasper lingered, his eyes locked on Sarah’s as if wanting to say more. But then he cleared his throat and broke the connection. “I should be going,” he said before he turned to leave.

As he departed, Melody couldn’t quite believe what she had just observed between Jasper and Sarah. It was evident that there was more to the story than either was willing to share.

Mrs. Meek walked over with a slice of bread and placed it down in front of her. “Enjoy,” she encouraged.

Melody had so many questions as she reached for the bread. Did she dare ask them? It was, after all, none of her business. But her curiosity got the best of her. She met Sarah’s gaze. “Do you have an understanding with Jasper?”

Sarah’s reaction was immediate, her eyes widening in shock as her mouth fell open. “Good heavens, no!” she exclaimed. “Why would you think such a thing?”

“But you fancy him, don’t you?” Melody pressed.

Sarah placed her teacup down with a slight clatter, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She began to rise from her seat. “I should be going. My son needs his lessons…”

Before she could leave, Melody interrupted her. “Please, don’t go. I am sorry. I had no right to pry.”

Sarah’s shoulders slumped as she slowly returned to her seat. “I know you mean well, but you must understand that the life I once dreamed of—the future I envisioned—is all gone. Marrying Isaac destroyed those dreams.”

Melody’s heart ached for her aunt, but she wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “Then maybe it is time to find a new dream,” she urged.

Her aunt looked at her with a sad smile. “You are young and kind, but I live in a far less forgiving world. A world that doesn’t easily accept those who defy convention,” she replied. “And besides, you are wrong about Jasper. He was there to protect me from Isaac—nothing more.”

Despite her aunt’s words, Melody couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more between Sarah and Jasper than her aunt was willing to admit. She had seen how they looked at each other, the spark that flickered when they were near. It was a spark that could grow into something much brighter with a bit of encouragement. But first, she needed to convince Sarah to see it for herself.

As Sarah rose to leave, she said, “I do need to go, but thank you for your kind words. I am grateful to have you in my life.”

Melody watched as Sarah left the kitchen, a heavy silence settling over the room. It was Mrs. Meek who finally broke it, her voice filled with quiet sympathy. “Poor woman. She has been through so much and she doesn’t have much to show for it.”

“How can we help her?” Melody asked.

Mrs. Meek shrugged. “I don’t know if there is much we can do,” she responded. “Lady Sarah is trying to find where she belongs, but it isn’t easy. She is caught between two worlds, neither of which seems to accept her fully.”

At that moment, Wesley appeared in the doorway, his presence filling the room. “There you are,” he said, a note of relief in his voice. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Here I am,” Melody responded, gesturing to the seat beside her.

Wesley sat down next to her, glancing at the slice of bread on the table. “I can understand now why you retreated to the kitchen.”

Mrs. Meek approached him with a plate of bread, placing it in front of him. “It is fresh from the oven.”

Wesley took a bite, savoring the simple offering. “Thank you. It is delicious.”

“I shall have to send more bread up for breakfast,” Mrs. Meek said, her voice trailing off as she busied herself in the kitchen.

Melody shifted in her seat to face Wesley, feeling determined. “I want to help my Aunt Sarah. She seems so sad, and I know the perfect way to cheer her up. We will play matchmaker.”

Wesley arched an eyebrow. “We?”

“Do you have anything else pressing at the moment?” Melody asked with a playful challenge in her voice.

Wesley shot a glance at Mrs. Meek before lowering his voice. “How about the threat on your life?”

Undeterred, Melody’s enthusiasm didn’t waver. “We can handle both,” she insisted. “I want to do this. No, I need to do this. Will you help me?”

Wesley sighed. “All right. Just tell me what you would like me to do.”

Melody felt the corners of her lips curving upwards. “I don’t have a plan just yet. But I will, in time.”

Brushing the crumbs from his hands, Wesley gave her a knowing smile. “Well, I do not think it will take much effort,” he remarked. “My valet informed me just this morning that the gossip around Brockhall Manor is that Jasper is quite taken with Lady Sarah.”

“That is my conclusion as well,” Melody said. “But how, exactly, does one go about playing matchmaker?”

“You could always ask your mother,” Wesley suggested.

A shudder ran through Melody at that thought. “Heavens, no. There must be another way.”

Wesley pushed back his chair as the legs scraped lightly against the wooden floor. “Regardless, we have a carriage ride awaiting us that Lady Dallington has so graciously arranged,” he said, rising to his feet and extending a hand to assist her.

Melody accepted his hand, standing with a graceful nod of thanks. “A carriage ride could be the perfect opportunity to gather some ideas.”

Wesley sat uncomfortably in the carriage, the heat of the morning sun bearing down on him as sweat trickled down his back. He wasn’t entirely sure why he had agreed to the carriage ride, but he couldn’t deny the small pleasure he found sitting so close to Melody. The delicate scent of lavender drifted off her person and he had to force himself not to lean in closer. He needed to remain a gentleman despite the temptation.

Sitting across from him, Elodie swatted with a dramatic flair at the air. “Yuck, bugs,” she complained. “I do not know why Mother insisted on this open-drawn carriage. A coach ride would have been perfectly acceptable.”

Melody had a fan open in front of her, gently waving it back and forth to ward off the bugs. “Just use your fan, Elodie,” she suggested.

Lord Belview chuckled from his seat beside Elodie. “That would be far too simple, and Elodie does not like to do things the simple way.”

Elodie shot Lord Belview an annoyed look. “Says the man who is constantly pettifogging.”

“I do not pettifog,” Lord Belview retorted.

“You do. You are a pettifogger,” Elodie declared.

Lord Belview’s smile widened, clearly enjoying the conversation. “Fine, I will admit that, on occasion, I might pettifog. However, it takes one pettifogger to know another, does it not?”

Elodie straightened in her seat, her posture rigid. “You think you are so clever,” she remarked.

“I do, actually,” Lord Belview responded. “Besides, it is rather easy to vex you. I think I could do it in my sleep.”

Elodie’s eyes narrowed. “Please do not think of me when you are sleeping. In fact, I would prefer if you did not think of me at all.”

Lord Belview leaned back, chuckling softly. “You take issue with me dreaming about you?”

“Yes, I do,” Elodie stated. “I forbid it.”

Lord Belview chuckled again. “You cannot forbid someone from dreaming about you. It doesn’t quite work that way.”

Melody shifted towards Wesley, her words light. “The weather is quite pleasant, is it not?”

Wesley caught the hint and nodded, adjusting his top hat as he replied. “It is, though the sun is particularly strong.”

“I would agree,” Melody said, her fan continuing its steady rhythm.

Elodie leaned closer to Lord Belview, lowering her voice. “I do believe they want us to stop arguing.”

“Were we arguing?” Lord Belview asked, feigning innocence. “I thought we were merely engaging in a lively debate.”

Elodie shook her head. “You are an infuriating man,” she muttered.

Lord Belview’s gaze lingered on Elodie a moment longer than was proper before turning his attention towards Melody. “Are you excited for the upcoming Season?”

Melody hesitated slightly before answering. “I am, for the most part,” she replied, though her voice lacked enthusiasm.

“Why did that not sound convincing?” Lord Belview joked.

Melody brought a smile to her lips, but it did not fool Wesley. “I have been looking forward to the Season for so long that I do hope I will not be disappointed.”

Sensing her apprehension, Wesley decided to step in. “You won’t be,” he assured her. “Besides, I will be there to help you—if you so desire.”

“You will?” Melody asked.

He nodded. “We are friends, are we not?”

Something flickered across Melody’s face for a moment—an emotion Wesley couldn’t quite decipher. “We are,” she agreed.

Wesley nudged her shoulder gently with his. “And friends help one another.”

A genuine smile spread across Melody’s face, and this time, it reached her eyes. “That sounds wonderful.”

As the carriage continued its leisurely journey through the countryside, Wesley couldn’t help but feel that, despite the heat and discomfort, this moment—sitting beside Melody, sharing these quiet words—was worth every bead of sweat on his back.

Suddenly, the sharp crack of a rifle shot echoed through the air, cutting through the peaceful countryside like a knife. Without thinking, Wesley acted on instinct, throwing himself over Melody, shielding her with his body as his heart raced.

A moment later, Melody’s muffled voice came from beneath him, her tone surprisingly calm. “You can get off me now, my lord.”

Wesley straightened quickly, feeling slightly embarrassed, as he adjusted himself back into the seat. He noticed that Melody’s hat had been knocked askew. “I am terribly sorry,” he stammered, struggling to regain his composure. “I heard the shot, and I just reacted.”

Melody raised her hand to adjust her hat. “It is all right,” she assured him. “No harm done.”

Across from them, Elodie eyed Wesley with a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. “May I ask why you reacted in such a fashion?” she inquired. “Surely, you have heard a rifle discharging before.”

Wesley met her gaze, knowing he had to offer a plausible explanation. “I have, of course,” he replied, knowing how foolish he must sound. “But it was so close…”

“Why would you think someone was shooting at Melody?” Elodie asked.

Wesley should have known that Elodie wouldn’t let the matter drop. “It was merely a lapse of judgment on my part.”

Lord Belview spoke up in Wesley’s defense. “I think it was brave.”

“As do I,” Melody said. “Now, can we let the matter drop?”

Elodie’s lips were pursed as if she had more to say. But, after a moment, she gave a reluctant nod. “Very well,” she said. “We are almost home anyway.”

Lord Belview turned to Elodie with a playful grin as if to lighten the mood. “Will you play the pianoforte for me when we return?”

“No,” Elodie responded flatly.

Lord Belview clucked his tone in mock reproach. “I do believe your mother told you that you should be nicer to me. I am a guest, after all.”

Elodie shifted in her seat to face him fully, her expression one of exaggerated disdain. “You are merely an annoying gnat, my lord.”

Lord Belview placed a hand over his heart, feigning deep hurt. “You wound me, my lady. All I strive for is your approval.”

Elodie gave him an exasperated look. “You should have a career in the theater.”

As the carriage approached Brockhall Manor, Wesley’s eyes were drawn to Jasper, who stood out front, watching their approach with a serious expression. He wasted no time in exiting the coach to speak with him.

Jasper met him with a quiet intensity, his voice low as he asked, “Is everyone all right?”

“We are,” Wesley confirmed, though a new wave of concern washed over him as he watched Jasper’s actions. The man moved purposefully along the side of the carriage, his hands trailing over the wood as if searching for something.

Wesley turned back to the coach to help the ladies out, his mind racing with possibilities. He knew what Jasper was looking for but didn’t want to alarm the ladies.

Melody must have noticed Jasper’s odd behavior and looked at Wesley with a questioning gaze. “What is Jasper doing?”

Wesley forced a calm smile, though his mind was anything but at ease. “Why don’t you go inside with your sister?” he suggested gently. “I will join you shortly after I speak to Jasper.”

Melody seemed ready to argue, but after a brief pause, she conceded. “All right,” she agreed, though her reluctance was apparent.

Once Lord Belview escorted the ladies inside, leaving Wesley alone with Jasper, he turned back to the man with a sense of urgency. “Did the carriage get hit?”

Jasper turned back to face him. “It did, but the shot landed near where you sat.”

Wesley reared back slightly. “Me? Why would someone shoot at me?” he asked, knowing full well there were plenty of reasons why someone might want him dead. However, revealing that to Jasper was an entirely different matter. Wesley wasn’t certain he could trust the Bow Street Runner and wasn’t about to tip his hand.

Jasper’s eyes narrowed slightly as if deep in thought. “Why, indeed?” he said. “That is what I intend to find out.”

Wesley, careful to keep his expression neutral, gave a casual shrug. “Well, when you do find out, please let me know.” He turned to leave, hoping to end this conversation.

But Jasper’s next words caused him to pause. “What are your intentions towards Lady Melody?”

Wesley turned to face Jasper. “Pardon?”

“Your intentions, my lord?” Jasper repeated, his voice firm. “It is a simple enough question.”

Keeping his face impassive, he replied, “We are friends.”

Jasper took a deliberate step closer to him, his scrutiny intensifying. “I find that hard to believe. You seem to follow her wherever she goes. Why is that?”

“I do not answer to you.”

“No,” Jasper conceded, “but Lord Winston asked me to watch over his family while he was away, and I intend to do just that.”

Wesley knew he didn’t owe Jasper an explanation, but revealing just enough might keep the Bow Street Runner at bay. “I can assure you that my interest in Lady Melody is honorable,” he said, his tone measured.

Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, his expression skeptical. “Just know, I will be watching you, my lord.”

“I have no doubt,” Wesley said before entering Brockhall Manor.

Once he stepped into the entry hall, he immediately spotted Melody waiting for him. Her face was calm, but her eyes held curiosity as she approached him. “What was Jasper searching for?” she asked in a hushed voice.

Wesley lowered his own voice to match hers. “A bullet, which he found. Apparently, someone was shooting at me.”

“Good heavens,” Melody muttered.

“Jasper also wanted to ensure my intentions towards you were honorable.” He paused, studying her reaction. “Do you trust Jasper?”

Melody didn’t hesitate. “I do, wholeheartedly,” she replied. “Don’t you?”

He shrugged. “I am not quite sure yet.”

“Jasper risked his life to save my aunt,” Melody shared. “I do not doubt he would do the same for anyone in my family.”

“That is his job, considering Bow Street Runners are for hire,” Wesley pointed out.

Melody’s expression tightened, clearly displeased by his remark. “I assure you that you can trust Jasper.”

Wesley gave a slight nod, though doubt lingered in his mind. “I hope you are right.”

“I usually am,” she quipped.

He chuckled softly, feeling the tension ease slightly. “I forgot how humble you are.”

Melody glanced towards the music room, where the faint sounds of the violin were drifting out. “You might want to save yourself. The dancing master is eager for us to begin our lessons.”

“I do not mind accompanying you. I rather enjoy having you in my arms as we dance,” Wesley said, surprised by his own admission. Why had he just said that out loud?

A charming blush spread across Melody’s cheeks, and she quickly ducked her head. “You shouldn’t say such things.”

Wesley reached for her gloved hand, bringing it to his lips. “I can’t speak the truth?”

She brought her gaze up, her eyes revealing a rare vulnerability. “Is it the truth, or are you just attempting to flatter me?”

“It is the truth,” Wesley assured her. He allowed the words to linger for a moment before brushing his lips lightly against her hand.

Just then, Lady Dallington’s voice came from the doorway of the music room. “Melody,” she called, her tone holding impatience. “Mr. Durand is ready for you.”

Wesley moved Melody’s hand into the crook of his arm. “Allow me to escort you.”

As they walked together towards the music room, Wesley couldn’t help but notice the tightening in his chest. The feelings he had so carefully tried to ignore, to push aside as mere distractions, were beginning to stir and awaken.

One thing was clear: Melody was becoming more than just a friend or duty.