Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Melody sat in the library, a book resting lightly in her hands as she waited for the dinner bell to ring. The quiet room was her sanctuary, where she could retreat from her relentless thoughts. Yet, as much as she tried to focus on the words before her, her mind wandered, half-hoping that Wesley might appear. The thought was absurd, she knew. She shouldn’t want to spend more time with him, especially when each moment they shared seemed to deepen the feelings she had tried so hard to suppress.
Determined to shake the thought, Melody focused on the page, forcing herself to concentrate. She just needed to read for a moment to forget about Wesley and the confusing emotions he stirred within her.
Elodie entered the room and promptly greeted her. “Good evening, Sister. I thought I might find you here.”
Melody held up her book with a small smile. “I am just reading a book.”
“Anything interesting?” Elodie asked, moving to stand beside her.
“Not particularly,” Melody replied, lowering the book to her lap. She knew Elodie well enough to sense that her sister had something on her mind. “What is it?”
Elodie feigned innocence, bringing a hand to her chest. “Whatever do you mean?”
Melody wasn’t fooled. “You can drop the act.”
A smile tugged at Elodie’s lips as she gracefully sank onto the settee beside her. “I just want to ask you a few questions.”
“What kind of questions?” Melody inquired.
“Oh, nothing too difficult,” Elodie said with a shrug. “At least, not for you. Just respond with whatever comes to your mind first.”
Melody knew she would most likely regret this, but she conceded. “Very well. Ask your questions.”
Elodie straightened, her words taking on a more serious tone. “Cats or dogs?”
“Dogs,” Melody answered.
“Summer or winter?”
“Winter.”
Elodie bobbed her head. “Soirees or balls?”
“Soirees.”
Her sister paused, then with a gleam in her eyes, asked, “Lord Emberly or Artemis?”
Melody blinked, caught off guard. “Pardon?”
Elodie waved her hand dismissively. “It is a simple enough question. Do you prefer Lord Emberly or Artemis?”
A frown creased Melody’s brow. “I am not going to answer that.”
Undeterred, Elodie leaned closer. “Let me put it another way. Imagine you are on a boat, and both Lord Emberly and Artemis fall overboard. If you could only save one of them, who would it be?”
Melody leaned to the side and placed her book down on the table. “Why are you asking these questions?”
“I am merely curious,” Elodie responded.
“Why?” Melody pressed, sensing there was more to it.
Elodie’s eyes danced with amusement. “You have been spending an awful lot of time with Lord Emberly lately.”
“We are friends,” Melody replied firmly.
“Interesting,” Elodie said. “Didn’t you once say you would never be friends with Lord Emberly?”
Melody was done with this ridiculous conversation. “Things can change,” she said, moving to stand.
But Elodie put her hand out, stilling her. “Do you hold affection for Lord Emberly?”
“We are merely friends,” Melody insisted, her frustration seeping into her words. “Now, can you stop with this interrogation?”
Elodie lowered her hand, but she didn’t relent. “I just find it odd that your face lights up when you see Lord Emberly the same way it does when you receive a letter from Josephine.”
“It is hardly the same,” Melody argued.
Leaning back in her seat, Elodie remarked, “Furthermore, you haven’t received one letter from Josephine since Lord Emberly arrived, nor have you posted one to her.”
Melody worked to keep her face expressionless, though her mind raced. “It is merely a coincidence.”
Elodie’s skeptical gaze lingered on her. “Perhaps, but I know how prolific a letter writer you are when it comes to Josephine. It just baffles me. Why stop writing now?”
As Melody struggled to concoct a plausible explanation, the distant chime of the dinner bell offered a welcome reprieve. “We should go down to dinner,” she suggested, quickly rising.
Elodie stood slowly. “Yes, we should,” she agreed.
Melody turned on her heel and started walking out of the library. Her sister caught up to her and they made their way to the drawing room together. Once they arrived, Melody’s breath caught in her throat when she saw Wesley standing by the mantel, looking deucedly handsome. No man had the right to look that handsome.
Wesley met her gaze and a slow smile spread across his lips. Melody approached him, stopping just a short distance away. In a hushed voice, she said, “We have a problem.”
He grew alert. “We do?”
“Yes,” Melody replied, glancing around the drawing room to ensure no one was listening. “My sister has noticed that I have not received a letter from Josephine since you arrived.”
Wesley’s brow furrowed. “She took note of that?”
Melody nodded. “My sister is clever—more so than most people give her credit for.”
“I will take care of it,” he assured her.
Relief washed over Melody as she returned her gaze to Wesley. “Thank you,” she murmured.
Wesley’s eyes perused the length of her, and she could see the approval glinting in his eyes. “You look lovely this evening.”
Melody was secretly pleased by his compliment, but she was determined not to let it show. “Flattery, my lord?”
“Can I not offer a compliment when the situation calls for it?” Wesley inquired.
“This situation does not warrant it,” she countered.
Wesley looked amused by her response. “Pray tell, when would the situation warrant it?”
Before Melody could respond, her mother stepped into the drawing room and announced, “White has just informed me that dinner is ready to be served.”
Wesley offered his arm. “May I escort you to the dining room?”
Melody placed her hand on his sleeve, feeling the warmth of his arm beneath her fingers as they departed the drawing room together. As they walked, she lowered her voice and said, “By the way, I never did thank you for protecting me in the carriage.”
Wesley’s gaze softened. “It was the least I could do.”
Melody looked up at him, her heart betraying her as she allowed herself to be vulnerable, if only for a moment. “I thought it was rather brave,” she admitted.
“It is my duty to keep you safe,” Wesley responded.
Duty.
There it was again—the word she had come to dread. To Wesley, she was merely a responsibility. Why did she allow herself to believe, even for a second, that his actions were driven by anything more than obligation?
Wesley must have noticed the shift in her demeanor because he asked, “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” she replied quickly, forcing a smile to her lips.
They stepped into the dining room, and she slipped her hand off his arm. Wesley rushed forward to pull out her chair, and she murmured her gratitude before taking a seat.
Across the table, Lord Belview’s gaze met hers, and he offered a warm smile. “You look especially lovely this evening, my lady,” he praised.
Melody inclined her head in acknowledgment. “Thank you, my lord.”
Wesley leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You accept his compliment and not mine?”
“He was more sincere,” Melody murmured.
“It didn’t sound more sincere,” Wesley countered with mirth in his voice.
Melody reached for her glass, trying to maintain her composure. “Will you not drop it?”
Wesley’s smile widened as he straightened in his chair. “I will, but only because you asked nicely.”
The delicate clink of silverware against glass caught everyone’s attention. Her mother, seated at the head of the table, announced, “I have the most wonderful news. Doctor Anderson informed me that Artemis has nearly recovered, and he will be joining us tomorrow.”
Lord Dallington raised his glass. “That is indeed wonderful news.”
“I have so many questions for Artemis,” Elodie chimed in. “I find that I am most curious about poisonous plants, especially the ones in our gardens.”
Melody gave her sister a quizzical look. “Is there a particular reason you are so interested in poisonous plants?”
A mischievous glint flashed in Elodie’s eyes. “There might be a time that I need to poison someone.”
Melody laughed. “And what purpose would that serve?”
Elodie’s gaze flickered briefly to Lord Belview before she returned her attention to Melody, her expression one of innocence. “Oh, no particular reason.”
Lord Belview furrowed his brow. “You don’t intend to poison me, do you?”
Elodie gasped dramatically. “Heavens, no!” she exclaimed. “Why would you think that?”
Her mother quickly interjected. “No one is going to poison anyone, much less one of our beloved guests. Isn’t that right, Elodie?”
Elodie nodded. “I wholeheartedly agree, Mother. I do not know why Anthony is so paranoid. It is not very becoming of him.”
Lord Belview’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Perhaps I have good reason to be paranoid,” he said, his words light.
“I assure you, my lord, you are perfectly safe… for now,” Elodie replied.
Melody settled back in her chair as she listened to Elodie. She knew that her sister would never actually poison someone—least of all Lord Belview. Despite her sister’s frequent claims of despising him, Melody wasn’t entirely convinced of such a thing. There was a spark in Elodie’s eyes when she quarreled with Lord Belview, a liveliness that was absent when she interacted with anyone else.
Wesley gritted his teeth, trying to ignore the sharp pain in his hands as he scaled the rough stone wall of Brockhall Manor. Climbing at night was no easy feat—each ledge and crevice seemed designed to resist him—but there was no room for failure. Melody’s safety depended on him, and he was willing to risk anything to protect her.
As he reached her window, he noticed it was ajar, the faint glow from within guiding him. He hoisted himself up and went through the opening. Straightening, Wesley was met with the sight of Melody seated near the hearth, bathed in the fire's soft glow. She was wearing a white wrapper, a book resting on her lap, and her expression was a mix of irritation and something far more resigned.
“Wonderful,” she muttered. “You have decided to risk my reputation once more by sneaking into my room at this late hour.”
“It is for your own good,” Wesley said.
“Is it?” Melody asked, setting her book aside. “Because for all your noble efforts, we have made little progress in discovering who wants us dead.”
Wesley crossed the room and settled into a chair in the corner. “I am working on it.”
But she had a point, and Wesley knew it. He had no solid leads—nothing to connect the attempt on his life and the poisoning of Artemis. The frustration gnawed at him. He was missing something crucial, but what?
Melody leaned back in her chair, her expression softening, though worry still lingered. “What happens if we don’t discover who is after me after the other guests have departed? What will be your excuse for staying?”
Wesley met her gaze, his voice steady. “I have already told you the lengths to which I would go to keep you safe.”
Her lips twisted into a wry smile. “Yes, you have made that quite clear. You would marry me—out of duty.”
“You say that as if it were a bad thing.”
Melody turned her gaze to the fire, her voice filled with emotion. “I don’t want to be a duty to anyone. I want to marry for love.”
Wesley sighed. “I know you have grand delusions of love, but we could make a marriage work between us.”
“I want more, Wesley.”
At that moment, Wesley knew she deserved more than what he could offer. Melody had dreams of a future filled with love and hope, things he wasn’t sure he could give her. If she chose him, she would be giving up those dreams, which wasn’t fair—to either of them.
“I just want to keep you safe,” he stated.
Melody’s eyes sharpened, her determination shining through as she squared her shoulders. “Why don’t you believe I can protect myself?”
Wesley had known this would be her response. Melody was strong, and capable of so much more than what Society gave her credit for. But his fear wasn’t rooted in her abilities. “It is not that I don’t believe in you. It is that I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said firmly.
“I wish it were that simple,” Wesley responded. How he wished he could silence the constant dread that gnawed at him, the fear that something would happen to her, that the life he had created for her would pull her into danger.
A silence fell between them before Melody tilted her head. “Will you tell me about Dinah?”
Wesley's entire body tensed at the sound of her name, and the air around them felt heavier. Dinah. The name alone was enough to bring the rush of guilt, pain, and regret flooding back. He didn’t want to talk about Dinah, not with anyone, least of all Melody. “There is not much to tell,” he replied, his voice tight.
“I think there is more to the story than her being murdered,” Melody pressed, her gaze unwavering.
His hands balled up into fists as he fought to steady his breathing. The mere thought of Dinah stirred something dark and painful inside him, a wound that had never truly healed. Why did her memory always cut so deep?
Melody’s voice turned almost pleading. “Let me in, Wesley.”
“It is not a matter of letting you in,” Wesley remarked. “I do not like speaking about Dinah. She was a very important part of my life—until she wasn’t.”
The fire crackled in the silence that followed. He could feel Melody’s eyes on him, searching, wanting to understand, but some parts of his past were too dark to share, even with her.
In a soft voice, she said, “I’m sorry. I should have never asked about Dinah. Everyone has a right to their own secrets.”
Wesley felt a wave of guilt wash over him. Melody had done nothing wrong. His regrets had stirred up the pain, not her curiosity. He felt like a jackanapes for making her feel uncomfortable. “You do not have to apologize.”
“I do.”
“No, you don’t. You did nothing wrong.” He hesitated, the words heavy on his tongue. Could he trust himself to speak about Dinah, to let Melody glimpse the grief he carried? After a deep breath, he continued. “Dinah was more than an agent to me.”
Melody’s eyes widened as realization dawned. “You loved her?” Her words were tentative, more a question than a statement, as though she were trying to tread carefully.
He nodded. “I did,” he admitted. “I still do, in some way. I thought we were going to build a life together, but she was taken from me far too soon.”
“That is awful,” Melody whispered.
Wesley turned his attention towards the crackling fire. “I have tried to forget about her, but I can’t. When you have truly loved a woman until the end, you have known the deepest love. And the deepest pain.”
Melody moved to sit on the edge of her seat. “I can only imagine,” she replied. “But you keep her memory alive by continuing to live your life.”
“You say that as if you have never had any heartache.”
“I have lost loved ones; we all have,” Melody said. “Although I can’t know precisely what you are feeling, I can have an inkling of such.”
Wesley’s gaze locked with Melody’s, his voice low but with barely controlled fury. “Someone took Dinah from me. I intend to find that person and make them pay,” he said, the harshness of his words surprising even him. The anger was always there, lurking beneath the surface, waiting to boil over whenever Dinah’s name came to mind.
“I believe you,” Melody responded.
Some of the anger drained from him, replaced by a pang of guilt. He realized he had been unfair to Melody, taking his frustrations out on her when she had done nothing to deserve it. “Now, it is my turn to apologize?—”
Melody put her hand up, silencing his words. “There is nothing to apologize for.”
Wesley tipped his head in appreciation, though he retreated to his own thoughts. He didn’t feel like talking anymore, not about Dinah and certainly not about the failure that haunted him. He had failed to protect her, and the weight of that failure was something he carried with him every day. It was no secret; everyone knew it, just as he did.
Melody reached for her book. “It is late. I should be going to bed.” She stood, but she remained rooted in her spot. “How did your father die?”
Wesley’s heart sank at that question. Botheration. The last thing he wanted was to delve into his father’s death, especially after discussing Dinah. But as much as he hated discussing it, Wesley was tired of secrets. He realized at that moment that if he truly wanted Melody to trust him, he had to start trusting her in return. He had to share the darker parts of his life, the parts he had locked away for so long.
He sighed heavily. “His heart supposedly gave out.”
“But you don’t believe that, do you?” Melody pressed, her eyes searching his.
The memories came rushing back and he fought back his emotions. “My father had gone ashore for an important meeting,” he began slowly, carefully choosing his words. “The next morning, they found him dead in his bed. The coroner did a quick investigation and ruled it natural causes.”
He paused. “But there were things that didn’t add up. His death was sudden. Too sudden. And it mirrored Dinah’s in a way that I can’t ignore. The circumstances were too similar.”
Melody’s eyes softened, her voice filled with quiet compassion. “You have experienced so much death for your age.”
Wesley let out a slight huff. “It is the natural order of our work, I suppose.”
“It doesn’t make it any easier.”
“No, it does not,” Wesley agreed.
Suddenly, a noise from outside the window broke the stillness of the room. Wesley raised a finger to his lips, signaling for Melody to remain silent. With practiced ease, he retrieved his pistol and rose from his chair, moving swiftly to place himself between her and whatever threat lurked beyond the wall.
Moments later, Jasper's unmistakable head poked up from the window, his breath coming in labored gasps. “Good gads, scaling that wall is no easy task,” he muttered, pulling himself into the room.
Wesley lowered his pistol. “What, pray tell, are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question, my lord,” Jasper said, brushing the dust off his clothes. “You made that look easy, by the way.”
Returning his pistol to the waistband of his trousers, Wesley asked, “You saw me?”
“I did,” Jasper said, still catching his breath. “I followed you, though at a far less graceful pace. I wanted to see for myself what you were doing in Lady Melody’s room.”
Melody stepped out from behind Wesley. “I can explain…” she started.
Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, his face stern. “I am listening.”
With a glance at Wesley, Melody said, “Lord Emberly has started coming into my room to protect me.”
“Protect you?” Jasper asked. “From what, exactly?”
Melody pressed her lips together. “Does it matter?”
Jasper scoffed. “Yes, it does matter,” he replied. “Lord Winston instructed me to keep you safe while he was away, and I am sure he would be furious to know that Lord Emberly is visiting your bedchamber.”
“It is my fault,” Wesley interjected, stepping forward. “After Artemis was poisoned, I felt especially protective of Lady Melody.”
“You think Artemis was poisoned intentionally?” Jasper asked.
“I do, and I believe that Lady Melody was the true target,” Wesley replied.
Jasper’s eyes flickered around the room, his mind clearly working through the implication. “And why do you believe this?”
Wesley’s gaze hardened, unwilling to reveal the full extent of his suspicions. “I cannot say.”
“You can’t say or won’t say?” Jasper pressed.
Wesley held Jasper’s intense gaze without flinching. “I assure you that my intentions are entirely honorable,” he said, his voice unwavering.
Jasper uncrossed his arms, his posture relaxing slightly, but his eyes were still sharp and distrustful. “Then we are at an impasse, my lord.”
Melody spoke up. “You are not going to tell anyone about what you saw, especially not my brother.”
Jasper’s brow furrowed in skepticism. “And why is that?”
She took a step closer to Jasper. “Because nothing untoward is happening between Lord Emberly and me. There are strange things afoot at Brockhall Manor and I need his help to uncover the truth.”
Jasper frowned. “You do realize the implications of being found with a gentleman in your bedchamber, don’t you?”
“Of course, I am aware,” Melody responded. “And I am willing to risk it.”
Jasper shot a wary glance at Wesley before responding, “I don’t trust him, but I trust you, my lady.”
“Thank you, Jasper,” Melody murmured, relief softening her tone.
“You need to be more careful,” Jasper urged. “If I saw Lord Emberly sneaking into your bedchamber, others might have seen it as well.”
Before anyone could respond, a soft knock echoed at the door, followed by the handle turning. “Melody? Are you in there?” came a familiar voice.
Panic flashed across Melody’s face. “Quick, you must hide. It is my sister,” she whispered urgently.
“Where?” Wesley asked, his eyes darting around the room.
“Under the bed,” Melody replied, gesturing frantically towards it.
“Both of us?” Jasper asked.
Melody bobbed her head, her expression desperate. “Unless you have a better idea?”
Another knock came at the door, more insistent this time. “Melody? It is me, Elodie. Why is your door locked?”
Without wasting another moment, Wesley hurried over to the bed and slid underneath it. Jasper followed quickly, squeezing in beside him, making the already tight space even more cramped.
He heard Melody’s soft footsteps walk over to the door. As she unlocked and opened the door, she asked, “What are you doing awake?”
“I thought I heard voices,” Elodie responded.
Melody let out a light, airy laugh. “Voices? You must be imagining things. I’m the only one here.”
A terse silence followed. Finally, Elodie relented. “Perhaps I am more tired than I realized.”
“You should go to bed, Sister,” Melody encouraged. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Elodie replied, her footsteps retreating down the corridor.
The moment the door clicked shut, Melody hurried over to the bed, kneeling beside it and whispering, “That was entirely too close. You both need to leave, and quickly.”
Wesley came out from under the bed, dusting himself off. “Make sure to keep that door locked and your pistol under your pillow.”
“I will,” Melody assured him.
As Wesley approached the window, Jasper asked, “Is it harder to climb down the wall than up?”
“Yes, very much so,” Wesley said, giving him a wry smile. “Don’t break anything.”
Wesley carefully climbed out of the window, finding precarious footing on the jutting bricks that lined the manor. The cool night air brushed against his face as he descended with quiet precision, his hands gripping the rough stone. Once his boots touched the ground, he stepped back, scanning the area before turning to watch Jasper follow.
Jasper, breathing heavily, landed with a thud, muttering, “That wasn’t so difficult.”
Wesley took a step forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he kept his voice low. “Why are you really here, Jasper?”
The Bow Street Runner straightened, meeting Wesley’s gaze with a hardened look. “I could ask you the same thing, my lord.”
“I am here to ensure no harm comes to Melody or her family,” Wesley said, offering just enough truth to appease Jasper.
“Lord Winston hired me to do the same,” Jasper said. “But at least my presence makes sense. Yours does not. You appear out of nowhere, claiming your intentions are honorable, yet your actions suggest there’s more you are not telling me.”
Wesley glanced up at Melody’s window. “We don’t trust each other, but we share a common goal. We both want to keep this family safe, and it would be foolish not to work together.”
Jasper’s jaw clenched, his suspicion palpable. “I don’t like you, my lord. You are a man shrouded in secrets, and I have learned not to trust men like you.”
A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of Wesley’s lips. “As are you. We are not so different in that regard.”
Jasper considered him for a long moment. “Very well. But if I find out you are any kind of threat to this family’s safety, I will deal with you swiftly. No hesitation.”
“Agreed. And understand, if I find you to be a threat, I will handle it just the same.”
The tension lingered in the cool night air, but Jasper gave a curt nod. “Then we are in agreement.”
Wesley returned the nod. “Yes.”
“Goodnight.”
As Jasper turned and disappeared into the shadows of the nearby trees, Wesley remained rooted in his spot. Had he just made a dangerous pact with a man who could become his enemy at any moment? Or had he simply aligned himself with someone who might be crucial to protecting Melody and her family?
Only time would tell, but Wesley knew that Melody trusted Jasper. And he trusted Melody.