A Shadowed Charade (The Lockwood Family #4)

Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Melody quietly slipped out the back door of Brockhall Manor, her footsteps quick as she hurried down the garden path. She needed to reach her Aunt Sarah’s cottage without being noticed, especially without Wesley’s watchful eyes following her every move. She wanted to speak to her aunt privately, free from prying ears.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess, her mind swirling with too many questions and too few answers. And much to her frustration, her thoughts kept drifting back to Wesley. It was infuriating. He was supposed to be her partner, nothing more. Yet, her heart betrayed her with its racing beats.

Drats. She couldn’t afford to be distracted by such nonsense. Wesley was just a man—a handsome man, yes, but still just a man. She shook her head, hoping to clear her mind of him. Right now, she needed clarity, and there was only one person she could trust to provide it—Aunt Sarah.

Melody’s eyes darted across the fields, making sure no one was giving her any heed. She knew Wesley would be furious if he found out she had left the safety of the manor without him. But she had to do this.

As she neared the cottage, the rhythmic sound of chopping wood reached her ears. She circled to the back and found Jasper, mid-swing, splitting logs with practiced precision. She waited until he set the ax aside before approaching, lifting her hand in greeting.

“Good afternoon,” she called out.

Jasper glanced up, a smirk already forming on his lips. “Where is your shadow?”

“My shadow?” Melody asked, feigning ignorance.

His smirk deepened. “Lord Emberly,” he said with a knowing tilt of his head.

She pressed her lips together before saying, “Lord Emberly is not my shadow. He is…”

“Your friend,” Jasper interrupted, amusement dancing in his eyes. “An unusually close friend, I’d say.”

Melody was not in the mood for this line of conversation. Eager to change the topic, she said, “I have come to invite you and Sarah to dine with us this evening.”

Jasper raised an eyebrow as he bent to gather the chopped wood. “Truly? Your father wishes to dine with a Bow Street Runner?”

“I haven’t spoken to him about it, but it won’t be an issue,” Melody replied.

“I will pass.”

Melody had expected as much but wasn’t ready to give up. “It could be fun,” she insisted.

Jasper gave her a pointed look as he cradled the chopped wood in his arms. “Fun?” he huffed. “I don’t even have anything to wear.”

“You can come as you are,” Melody said.

He chuckled. “That would be a sight to behold,” he remarked. “Your family in their finest, and I stroll in wearing this?” He gestured to his work-worn clothes.

Melody crossed her arms over her chest. “My father may be a stickler for propriety, but I am not. Neither is Elodie. You are welcome as you are.”

Jasper’s expression softened, but he shook his head again. “Thank you, but I must decline your invitation. It is best for everyone if I stay here.”

“Including Sarah?” Melody pressed.

He paused. “What does Lady Sarah have to say about this?”

Melody shrugged. “I haven’t asked her.”

“I’m sure she would think it is utter nonsense,” Jasper said. “A Bow Street Runner has no right dining at the same table as a marquess.”

“Shall we ask her?”

Jasper shook his head, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Why are you being so insistent about this?”

Melody stepped closer to Jasper, lowering her voice so only he could hear. “Artemis will be at dinner tonight. Do you not want to be there when Lord Emberly and I speak to him?”

Indecision flickered across Jasper’s face as he weighed the situation. “I do,” he admitted.

Before he could say more, the cottage’s back door creaked open, and Aunt Sarah stepped out, wiping her hands on her apron. “Melody, what a lovely surprise,” she said. “What brings you by my home?”

Jasper spoke up. “She has come to invite us both to dine at Brockhall Manor this evening.”

Sarah smiled, but it looked forced. “What wonderful news,” she said, her voice a little too cheery.

Jasper raised an eyebrow, his disbelief evident. “Is it, though?”

“Yes, I will ask Mrs. Warren to watch Matthew this evening,” Sarah said.

Jasper exhaled in resignation, shaking his head slightly. “I shall go, but only because you wish it.”

Sarah’s smile softened into something more genuine as her gaze met Jasper’s. “You will get a glimpse into the life I once belonged to.”

Jasper shifted the pile of wood in his arms. “I should put these down,” he said, gesturing towards the woodpile. “I will come back later to escort you to dinner.”

“Thank you, Jasper,” Sarah acknowledged as she watched him walk away.

Melody couldn’t help but notice the unspoken tension between them, the way they looked at each other with emotions neither seemed willing to admit fully. There was something deeper between Sarah and Jasper. She was sure of it. Now, how did she go about having them recognize it for themselves?

Sarah turned to Melody and gestured towards the door. “Come inside. I need to speak with you in private.”

Melody followed her aunt into the cottage, watching Sarah pacing the small space, her brows knitted in concern. “What is wrong?” she asked.

Her aunt stopped and threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Why did you have to invite Jasper?”

“Is that a problem?”

With a sigh, Sarah slumped into a chair, rubbing her temples. “I no longer belong in that world, Melody. What if Jasper starts thinking it is the life I deserve?”

“It is what you deserve.”

Sarah shook her head. “You are kind, but we both know I am an outcast amongst Society. I made my choices and now I must live with them.”

Melody took a step closer to her aunt. “You are family, and we love you dearly.” After a pause, she added gently, “And I suspect Jasper cares deeply for you as well.”

Her aunt’s eyes drifted towards the window, her expression distant. “I care for him,” she admitted quietly. “But even if my feelings were reciprocated, it cannot be.”

“Why not?” Melody asked, sensing there was more to her aunt’s hesitation than she was letting on.

Sarah’s gaze grew heavy with sorrow. “I want Matthew to grow up surrounded by family, especially now that your father has agreed to oversee his education.”

“I fail to see the problem,” Melody said.

Turning to face her, Sarah replied, “If I did marry Jasper, he would have to give up his work as a Bow Street Runner. He would have to stay here. With me. I cannot ask him to give up something he loves.”

“Have you discussed it with him?”

Sarah huffed. “Heavens, no,” she declared. “Jasper is a kind, considerate man. I won’t trap him in a life he doesn’t want.”

“But what if it is a life he does want?” Melody pressed.

Her aunt looked at her, clearly torn. “Who would want this life?” she asked. “I have seen the way he speaks about his work, the passion in his eyes when he talks about being a Bow Street Runner. I won’t be the reason that light fades.”

Melody sighed softly, realizing the depth of her aunt’s struggle. Sarah wasn’t just worried about herself—she was trying to protect Jasper from a decision he hadn’t even made. But what if she was wrong to take away Jasper’s right to choose?

Sarah rose from her chair, smoothing her skirts as she did. “I suppose I should find something suitable to wear for tonight.”

“Would you like me to help?”

Her aunt laughed. “It is not too difficult. Fortunately, your mother sent over a few gowns for just this sort of occasion. I only need to make a few adjustments to ensure they fit properly.”

Melody smiled. “I am quite proficient in needlework if you need a hand with those modifications.”

Sarah’s gaze drifted towards the window, her eyes lingering outside. “It would appear that Lord Emberly has come to escort you back to the manor.”

“He has?” Melody asked, moving to stand beside her aunt. Her eyes followed Sarah’s gaze, landing on Wesley, who was in a conversation with Jasper near the woodpile.

“Do you have an understanding with Lord Emberly?” Sarah asked.

Melody shook her head vehemently. “No, absolutely not. We are merely friends.”

Sarah eyed her curiously. “Does he know that?”

“Yes, we have discussed marriage—” Melody began, but her words were cut off as Sarah’s expression shifted to surprise.

“You have discussed marriage?”

Realizing the implication of her own words, Melody hurried to correct herself. “It was not like that. It was a passing conversation, truly! He mentioned a marriage of convenience, and I told him I wanted more than that.”

“As well you should,” Sarah said approvingly. “But it is evident that you care for him.”

Melody pressed her lips together, feeling the warmth rise in her cheeks. “I may have developed the tiniest of feelings for Lord Emberly, but that doesn’t mean I intend to act upon them.”

Sarah shifted to face her, her expression thoughtful. “Whyever not?”

“It is complicated,” Melody replied, hoping to end this line of questioning.

An understanding look came to Sarah’s expression. “It always is.”

Melody glanced back at the window, watching Wesley as he stood in the yard, still conversing with Jasper. His presence was commanding, and for a brief moment, she imagined what it would be like to be married to him. He was a good, honorable man. Life with him would be safe—perhaps even content. But would she ever capture his heart?

Did she want to?

The answer came to her before she could stop it. Yes.

As she watched him, her heart betrayed her with a sudden, undeniable truth. She cared for Wesley far more than she had allowed herself to admit. The realization tightened her chest, knowing she was falling for the most infuriating man she had ever known.

Sarah placed a gentle hand on her sleeve. “It is all right to feel confused, especially regarding matters of the heart.”

Melody took a step back, overwhelmed by the moment. “I should go,” she said, the words coming out a bit too quick. “I do not wish to keep Lord Emberly waiting.”

“I shall see you tonight.”

Spinning on her heel, Melody made her way to the cottage's back door. She stepped outside and immediately met Wesley’s eyes, sensing his annoyance even from a distance. Not that she had expected anything different.

“Lady Melody,” Wesley greeted her, his tone formal despite the tension in his voice. “I have come to escort you back to Brockhall Manor.”

Melody forced a smile. “Wonderful.”

Wesley stepped closer, his voice lowering to a hushed but curt tone. “Are you mad? How could you leave Brockhall Manor without me?”

“It is good to see you, too,” Melody said dryly as she brushed past him.

Wesley trailed after Melody, trying in vain to calm his frustration. His anger was simmering just beneath the surface, barely in check. What had she been thinking, taking such a risk? She could have been killed. How could she not understand the danger she was in? Did she not care about her own life?

Or worse, did she not care for him?

The thought brought him to a halt, rooting him in place. What would have happened if Melody had been hurt, or worse—killed? Could he live with himself knowing he had failed again, failed to protect someone who mattered to him? And more troubling than that, could he live without her? She had started as just another assignment, a duty, but she had become much more than that somewhere along the way.

Blazes.

Wesley rubbed a hand across his face. He couldn’t afford to let these pesky feelings distract him. Melody had made it clear she had no interest in marriage, especially to him. But it would have been the perfect solution to all their problems. If they were married, he would take her to his estate and hire as many guards as it took to keep her safe.

As his gaze swept across the woodlands, his instincts remained on high alert, scanning for any sign of danger, any lurking threat. But the woods were still, offering no sign of a hidden enemy. He shook off his unease and hurried to catch up with Melody, who was walking briskly ahead, her chin lifted high, and her back rigid. She was angry with him, but she had to understand that he would do anything to keep her safe, even if she resented him for it.

After a long stretch of silence, Wesley decided it was time to speak. “I know you are angry at me?—”

She spoke over him, her tone clipped. “Why would you think that, my lord?”

Wesley sighed, recognizing the trap in her words. His mother had once warned him about questions like these. There were no right answers. Still, he decided to be frank. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I wanted to invite my Aunt Sarah and Jasper to dine with us this evening,” Melody said, barely sparing him a glance.

Wesley frowned. “Why didn’t you ask me to accompany you?”

“Because I am perfectly capable of walking down a path to my aunt’s cottage,” Melody replied, her words sharp with defiance.

He stopped in front of her, gently taking her hand and turning her to face him. “Your thoughtless actions could have gotten you killed,” he said, his voice lower but no less intense.

Melody refused to meet his gaze. “I needed a moment alone, considering you are always underfoot.”

“You know why I have to stay close. It is because I need to protect you.”

“Yes, I am your responsibility,” Melody stated flatly.

Wesley dropped his hand from her arm and placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. “You are more than just a responsibility to me, Melody.”

Her eyes searched his as if trying to decipher his meaning. “What am I, then?” she asked, her voice quiet, uncertain.

“I don’t know,” he admitted honestly, surprising himself. “But I care for you. You must know that.”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Then please, do not do something so foolish again,” Wesley said. “I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

A flicker of annoyance crossed her face. “It was not foolish. I can take care of myself.”

Wesley dropped his hand. “Not this argument again,” he muttered.

Melody’s expression grew guarded. “You seem to think I am some weak, simpering miss, but I am anything but.”

“Why do you insist on being so obstinate about this?” Wesley demanded. “I am trying to keep you safe.”

Before she could respond, a voice called from behind them. “Mother has requested we begin our dancing lesson soon,” Elodie said, smiling innocently as she approached.

Melody turned towards her sister, her frustration still evident. “Good, because I have reached my stupidity limit for today.”

Elodie giggled. “You have a stupidity limit? I think that is brilliant.”

“Lady Melody…” Wesley started, but she raised her hand, stopping him.

“I’m sorry, but I am needed in the music room. I wouldn’t want to disobey my mother, now, would I?” Melody asked, her tone sharp as she turned towards the manor.

“You are welcome to join us, my lord,” Elodie offered cheerfully, clearly enjoying the tension.

Melody shot her sister a withering look. “I’m afraid Lord Emberly is much too busy to attend a dancing lesson.”

Wesley considered pressing the matter but decided it was best to give her space. “I will leave you to it,” he said, bowing slightly. Just because he gave her space didn’t mean he wouldn’t be watching over her. He would always watch over her.

Elodie looped her arm through Melody’s, and the two sisters began their walk back to the manor. Wesley trailed a few steps behind, his sharp eyes scanning their surroundings, ever alert for any sign of danger.

A footman opened the door, and they stepped inside. The ladies continued towards the music room while Wesley paused outside the doorway. He had no intention of joining the dancing lesson, and it wasn’t because he disliked dancing. No, it had to do more with the eccentric Mr. Durand. The last lesson had been memorable, to say the least.

Lord Belview strolled down the corridor and caught his eye. “What are you doing loitering outside the music room?” he asked. “I would make a run for it if I were you, or else you might be drawn into the lesson. Surely, you remember the last time?”

Gesturing towards the parlor, Wesley asked, “Care for a drink?”

Lord Belview’s face brightened. “I was hoping you would ask.”

They made their way into the parlor and Wesley moved to the drink cart, his fingers lightly brushing over the decanter of brandy. “What has been occupying your time?” he asked, pouring two glasses.

“Elodie,” Lord Belview replied without a hint of shame, his tone casual, though there was something more behind his words.

“Are you interested in pursuing her?” Wesley asked as he handed one of the glasses to his friend.

Lord Belview took a sip, leaning back with a thoughtful expression. “I don’t rightly know. She despises me, I think.” He looked over at Wesley. “Do you know why that is?”

Wesley shrugged. “I don’t. Lady Elodie is a mystery to me as well.”

Lord Belview chuckled. “It is odd. The more she dislikes me, the more fascinated I am by her. And I can’t quite figure out why I care so much.”

“What do you intend to do about it?” Wesley asked as he sat down on a chair.

Lord Belview sighed. “I don’t know if anything can be done. Everything out of my mouth seems to irritate Elodie. She is impossible to figure out.”

“I feel your pain, considering I have the same effect on Melody. No matter what I do, I somehow manage to vex her,” Wesley shared.

Lord Belview gave him a knowing glance. “You two appear rather… close.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, I’m afraid.”

Lord Belview dropped into a chair next to him. “What happened to us?” he mused, staring into his glass. “We used to be carefree, with women flocking to us at every turn. Now, it seems we can’t say anything right.”

“It matters little to me. I have no desire to fall prey to the parson’s mousetrap at this time,” Wesley responded.

“My mother wants me to marry, and quickly,” Lord Belview said, his tone more serious now. “She is convinced it will bring me happiness.”

Wesley noted the pain in his friend’s words and asked, “Are you happy?”

Lord Belview grew silent. “I thought I was,” he responded, his voice trailing off. “But now… I don’t rightly know anymore.”

Swirling his drink, Wesley admitted, “I stopped being happy long ago. It is much easier to live with disappointment.”

“That was rather morbid,” Lord Belview said, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

Wesley’s fingers tightened around the glass. “It is the truth.”

Lord Belview tossed back his drink and placed the empty glass on the table before him. He sat back, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “We should do something fun tomorrow. What will it be—angling, shooting, pall-mall?”

“Shooting?” Wesley asked. “You have always been a terrible shot, Belview.”

“I have gotten better,” Lord Belview defended, adopting a mock air of wounded pride.

Wesley smirked. “I doubt that.”

With an exaggerated grin, Lord Belview puffed out his chest. “I can now hit the target… on occasion,” he said, smiling broadly.

“Whatever you do, never challenge anyone to a duel. You would be dead before you even raised your pistol,” Wesley joked.

Lord Belview waved his hand dismissively. “Duels are pointless and immature. Besides, I do believe I have learned from my brother’s idiotic mistakes.”

Wesley’s smile dimmed. “He was lucky he wasn’t thrown into jail for his part in the duel. It could have ruined him and your family.”

“I have no doubt my father paid off the magistrate. But Stephen? He will never take responsibility. Not for that, nor anything else,” Lord Belview said.

“Some people never do,” Wesley mused.

Lord Belview picked up his glass and said, “I could use another one.” He rose and moved towards the drink cart, refilling his glass with deliberate slowness. “I wonder how we turned out so well. Especially considering the families we come from.”

Wesley grinned. “Luck, perhaps. Or sheer stubbornness.”

Lord Belview raised his glass in a mock toast. “To sheer stubbornness, then.” He took a sip, his smile fading slightly as his thoughts drifted elsewhere.

Lady Dallington entered the room, causing Wesley to rise. “Wonderful, you both are here. The dancing master has requested your presence in the music room.”

Wesley resisted the urge to groan. “Who are we to turn down such a request?” He hoped the faint smile he wore seemed cordial enough despite his inner reluctance. He doubted Melody would be pleased with him joining the lesson, but he wasn’t about to defy Lady Dallington.

“I expect nothing less from gentlemen such as yourselves,” Lady Dallington said, turning on her heel, leaving them no choice but to follow.

As Lady Dallington led the way, Wesley exchanged a glance with Lord Belview, who sighed dramatically before tipping his glass towards him in a final, silent toast.