Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Dressed in an elegant green gown with an intricate lace net overlay, Melody descended the grand staircase. Just as she reached the bottom step, a knock echoed through the entry hall. She paused as White crossed the marble floor to open the door.
As the door swung open, it revealed her Aunt Sarah and Jasper standing in the doorway. Melody blinked in surprise, her gaze landing on Jasper, who looked almost unrecognizable. He wore a finely tailored jacket and trousers, his usually unkempt hair neatly combed to the side. Despite the transformation, he stood stiffly, clearly uncomfortable in his new attire.
“Jasper, you look…” Melody began.
Tugging down on the lapels of his jacket, Jasper interrupted with a grimace. “Like a dressed-up cretin.”
Sarah smiled gently, stepping in to explain. “You will have to excuse Jasper. He is not accustomed to such fine clothes.”
“They are deucedly uncomfortable,” Jasper muttered under his breath. “I much prefer my usual clothing, but Lord Emberly was insistent I wear what he sent over.”
Melody couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the mention of Wesley’s name. It was thoughtful of him to ensure Jasper was properly dressed for dinner. A small, secret smile tugged at her lips, but her sister’s voice cut through her thoughts before she could respond.
“So, the rumors were true. We do have a real Bow Street Runner joining us for dinner this evening,” Elodie said, appearing at Melody’s side.
Jasper bowed. “Lady Elodie,” he greeted. “The pleasure is mine.”
Elodie’s eyes sparkled with curiosity. “Does Father know?”
“I informed Mother that I invited Sarah and Jasper to dine with us,” Melody replied, though she knew her father’s reaction might be less than welcoming.
Elodie smiled. “This should be fun. Our dinners have been far too dull as of late.”
Gesturing towards a door off the entry hall, Melody asked, “Shall we wait for the others in the drawing room?”
Jasper nodded, offering his arm to Sarah. “I think that is a splendid idea.”
Once inside the drawing room, the warm light of the fireplace cast a soft glow over the room’s furnishings. Melody turned to her aunt. “You look lovely this evening, Aunt Sarah.”
Sarah ran a hand down the fabric of her gown. “You are most kind, Dear. I am fortunate that your mother and I are of a similar size. I only had to do a few alterations.”
Melody noticed Jasper’s gaze fixed on Sarah, approval shining in his eyes. “You are being far too modest, my lady,” he said softly.
Sarah let out a light laugh, her cheeks flushing faintly. “What a pair we make,” she remarked, glancing at Jasper. “I feel like we are both playing dress up.”
Elodie walked over to the settee and gracefully sat. “If you are in need of more gowns, I will be happy to give you some. The dressmaker and I had a bit of a disagreement on some of the styles Mother insisted on commissioning.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I prefer the more simple gowns, especially lately,” Sarah said.
As the conversation flowed, the door opened again, and Wesley entered the room. Melody’s breath caught as his eyes immediately sought her out, his gaze as intense as it always seemed when he looked at her. “Lady Melody,” he greeted, tipping his head in a formal nod.
Unwanted warmth spread across her cheeks, and she cursed the blush that seemed to rise whenever Wesley was near. “Lord Emberly,” she replied, her voice steadier than she felt. Why did she always act like this around him? The man was maddening, yet her heart refused to listen to reason.
As more guests began to fill the room, Melody drifted towards the settee where Elodie sat. She sank into the seat beside her sister, but her mind remained far from the conversation happening around her. She couldn’t shake her thoughts of Wesley. Earlier, he had told her he cared for her, but what did he mean by that? Did his feelings run deep, or was she simply a friend to him?
Her mind was filled with uncertainty as she replayed the memory. She had always told herself she wasn’t interested in Wesley that way, but how her emotions twisted at the mere idea of him feeling something for her—or not—betrayed her true feelings. With a mix of reluctance and hope, she was beginning to realize that maybe, just maybe, her heart had been his far longer than she was willing to admit.
Elodie nudged her shoulder with hers. “Melody, did you hear me?”
“Sorry, I was woolgathering,” Melody replied.
In a conspiratorial voice, Elodie said, “Artemis has just arrived. A botanist and a Bow Street Runner at the same table. I think I am going to rather like this dinner.”
Melody couldn’t suppress a grin. “You would be happy with a clown at supper.”
Elodie’s eyes lit up. “Do you think Mother would let us see Grimaldi’s performance when we are in London?”
“I doubt it,” Melody replied. “I have heard his shows can oftentimes be immoral.”
Her mother stepped into the room as if on cue and announced, “White has just informed me that dinner is ready. Shall we adjourn to the dining room?”
Wesley appeared at Melody’s side, offering his hand with a smile. “May I escort you, my lady?”
Melody hesitated for the briefest moment before accepting his hand, rising to her feet. “Thank you.”
Wesley kept hold of her hand and moved it to rest in the crook of his arm. His presence beside her was steady and comforting, though it unsettled her in ways she wasn’t quite ready to acknowledge.
Leaning slightly, she whispered, “It was thoughtful of you to send Jasper proper clothing for this evening.”
He brushed off the compliment. “It was the least I could do. I didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable this evening.”
Melody glanced at Wesley. “I hope my father behaves.”
“He will.”
“I wish I shared your confidence,” Melody murmured, falling quiet as they reached the dining room.
Melody was pleased when Wesley sat beside her as they took their seats. His subtle scent of orange drifted towards her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the almost irresistible urge to lean closer.
Her parents, seated at the head of the long, grand table, welcomed the guests with their usual formality. Most of the seats were filled, save for one conspicuously empty chair beside Lord Belview. Elodie, who stood hovering near the door, seemed reluctant to take it.
“Elodie, take your seat,” her mother encouraged, though her tone had an unmistakable edge.
Elodie cast a sideways glance at Lord Belview before speaking. “That particular seat is notoriously drafty. Perhaps I should fetch my shawl, or better yet, move the chair to sit by Melody? By doing so, there is less chance of catching a cold and dying.”
“I am sure you will be fine,” her mother said.
“But there is a perfectly good spot next to Melody and a footman only needs to move the plate setting…” Elodie began to protest, only to be cut off by their father’s stern voice.
“Sit, Elodie.”
With a resigned frown, Elodie slid into the seat beside Lord Belview, her movements stiff and reluctant.
Their mother’s face brightened with an exaggerated smile as she addressed their guests. “We are delighted to have Mr. and Mrs. Nelson, and their son, Artemis, joining us for dinner once more.”
Melody, who was seated next to Artemis, turned towards him. “I am glad to see you are feeling much better.”
Artemis reached for his glass, not bothering to hide his disinterest. “Yes, bravo,” he muttered before taking a long sip.
Melody smiled tightly, forcing herself to remain civil. She had made the effort; no one could say she hadn’t. Artemis, however, seemed intent on being as ungracious as ever.
The footmen stepped forward, placing bowls of soup in front of each person at the table. Melody reached for her spoon, but her father’s voice cut through the quiet clinking of silverware. He turned his attention towards Jasper, who sat somewhat stiffly in his borrowed finery.
“It is not every day that one has a Bow Street Runner seated at their table,” Lord Dallington remarked.
Elodie bobbed her head enthusiastically. “No, it certainly is not. Perhaps he could regale us with tales of criminals he has arrested?”
Jasper opened his mouth to respond, but Lord Dallington waved a hand dismissively before he could speak. “That is hardly an appropriate conversation for dinner, Elodie.”
Undeterred, Elodie flashed a mischievous grin. “But it would make dinner so much more interesting.”
Jasper cleared his throat. “I would rather not discuss my cases, if you don’t mind.”
Elodie’s shoulders slumped slightly. “Well, how will I ever learn how to commit the perfect murder?”
Lord Belview chuckled. “First, poison, and now murder? You really should find better hobbies, my lady.”
With a gleam in her eyes, Elodie leaned forward. “I don’t intend to kill anyone, but I was thinking about trying my hand at writing a book.”
Her father’s spoon clattered into his bowl and his expression hardened with disapproval. “Absolutely not! No daughter of mine will write a book. It is unseemly.”
Elodie gave a half-shrug. “‘A Lady’ wrote two books, which are all the rage right now.”
“I am well aware of this unfortunate reading mania,” Lord Dallington said, his brow furrowing , “but that doesn’t make it right.”
In response to his disdain, Elodie just smiled. “Father, I need something to occupy my time besides endless hours at the pianoforte.”
Lady Dallington interjected, “You will have plenty to do when we arrive in Town for the Season.”
“I suppose so,” Elodie murmured, not appearing entirely convinced.
Lord Belview shifted in his seat to face Elodie. “If it pleases you, I would be honored to take you for a carriage ride through Hyde Park when we are in Town.”
Before Elodie could reply, Lady Dallington said, “She would be honored.”
Elodie lifted her gaze to meet Lord Belview’s. Her voice was flat, her words lacking any genuine enthusiasm. “Yes, nothing would give me greater joy.”
Lord Belview’s lips twitched, clearly amused by her lukewarm response. “I shall plan on it, then.”
At the other end of the table, Jasper, who had been listening quietly, placed his spoon down and dabbed the sides of his mouth with his napkin. “As to Elodie’s earlier comment about committing the perfect murder, I would say it is becoming increasingly difficult,” he remarked. “A good coroner conducts a thorough investigation, and poisons almost always leave some trace.”
The light returned to Elodie’s eyes. “Interesting,” she said, almost to herself.
Artemis raised his hand slightly to draw the table’s attention. “I do not mean to contradict you,” he began, though his tone carried no real hint of apology, “but it depends on how the poison is administered.”
Elodie leaned forward in her seat. “Please, do continue.”
Lord Dallington shot Artemis a stern look. “Please refrain from indulging my daughter’s curiosity any further.”
Artemis gave a slight, almost dismissive nod. “Very well.”
Melody exchanged a glance with Wesley, her gaze lingering on his tense expression. His jaw was clenched, his thoughts clearly troubled by the talk of poison and perfect murders. Her heart ached for him, and she wished she could do something to ease his burden. But it was not her place to do so.
Wesley silently sat through the rest of dinner, his mind whirling, though he listened intently to the conversation around him. He had heard everything he needed to know about Artemis’s discussion about the perfect murder. The way he had spoken, so calculated and self-assured, sent a shiver down Wesley’s spine. This wasn’t the first time Wesley had suspected Artemis of being far more dangerous than he appeared.
Artemis was a botanist. His knowledge of poisons was extensive. Wesley couldn’t shake the unsettling thought that Artemis might have poisoned himself deliberately to divert suspicion. He had to find out the truth.
Melody cast him worried glances throughout the meal, but Wesley’s focus remained on Artemis. He needed answers and he wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away.
At long last, Lord Dallington pushed back his chair, signaling the end of the meal. “I do believe it is time for a glass of port. Gentlemen, shall we?”
Wesley rose, as did the other men. Just as he was about to follow Lord Dallington to the study, Melody gently touched his sleeve, leaning in close. “Be careful,” she whispered, her eyes filled with concern.
“I will,” he replied. Her quiet show of worry touched him, but this was something that had to be done.
The men made their way into the study, the heavy door closing behind them with a quiet thud. Wesley stood back, biding his time, waiting for the right moment to speak to Artemis.
Lord Dallington poured glasses of port and handed them out. “Enjoy, gentlemen.”
As Wesley took a sip, Lord Belview approached him, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. “Why are you staring daggers at Artemis?”
Wesley didn’t bother denying it. “Am I?”
“You are,” Lord Belview said with a knowing look. “And you’ve been doing it since the soup was served. What is the matter?”
Wesley tried to keep the emotions off his face. “It is nothing.”
“Doesn’t seem like nothing to me,” Lord Belview countered.
Jasper placed his nearly full glass onto the drink cart and turned towards Artemis. “Our conversation earlier got me thinking. What poisons could be undetectable if administered correctly?”
Artemis’s face grew solemn. “There are several poisons that mimic natural illnesses—arsenic, nightshade, and oleander, to name a few. But I am sure you already know that.”
“I do,” Jasper said. “Is there not oleander in the gardens of Brockhall Manor?”
The shift in Artemis’s demeanor was subtle, but Wesley noticed it. His posture stiffened ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed. “That is true. What about it?”
Wesley interjected, “Could someone administer oleander in a way that would leave no trace of poison?”
Artemis’s voice grew lower, more guarded. “It is possible, but only if the person was not discovered for several hours after death. If ingested, oleander causes nausea, vomiting, and increased heart rate.”
“Yes, we know all of that,” Wesley said impatiently. “But what if it were inhaled?”
Leaning forward, Artemis placed his glass down on the table. “If oleander were burned and inhaled, it is possible a person could fall asleep and never wake up.”
Jasper crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze steady. “Surely, there would be some signs.”
“Perhaps,” Artemis admitted. “Foaming at the mouth is a common symptom, but it would fade within an hour, leaving little trace of the poison.”
Wesley frowned. “How much oleander would need to be burned to cause death?”
Artemis shrugged. “I can’t say for certain. But it is more than a theory. Our gardener died by burning oleander bushes at our country estate. We found him hours later by the remains of the fire.”
Lord Dallington clasped his hands together, breaking the tension. “What a dismal topic for after dinner. Why don’t we join the ladies in the drawing room for some card games?”
Lord Belview spoke up. “That sounds like a grand idea.”
After the two men departed from the room, Artemis cleared his throat and turned his attention to Wesley. “I was hoping to ask you a question, Lord Emberly.”
Wesley raised an eyebrow. “I had a question for you as well. But go ahead.”
With a sigh, Artemis asked, “Do you have an understanding with Lady Melody?”
Wesley stared at Artemis for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected turn in the conversation. “No, I do not.”
Artemis nodded, his lips twitching into a brief smile of approval. “Good. I intend to ask her to marry me.”
“You… what !?” Wesley managed, his voice edged with disbelief.
Walking over to the settee, Artemis dropped down onto it. “My parents are forcing me to marry, and I have decided that Melody is agreeable enough.”
Wesley’s temper flared. “Agreeable enough?” His hands clenched into fists at his sides. “That is your reasoning?”
“She likes flowers and is pleasant to look at.”
Wesley pursed his lips together. “She is so much more than that,” he growled. “She is beautiful, inside and out.”
“That is what I said,” Artemis remarked.
“No,” Wesley said, “you said the opposite.”
Artemis waved a dismissive hand in front of him. “Do you think she will agree to a marriage between us?”
Wesley already knew the answer and saw no reason not to tell him the truth. “No, she won’t.”
Artemis gave him a bemused look. “Whyever not?”
“She wants a love match,” Wesley replied. “She will never agree to a marriage of convenience.”
Artemis turned his attention to Jasper with an air of arrogance. “What say you, Runner?”
Jasper grew visibly tense. “What did you call me?” His voice held a dangerous edge, but Artemis was too self-absorbed to notice the shift in tone.
“A Runner,” Artemis repeated. “I thought that is what you preferred to be called.”
Jasper’s lips twisted into a grimace. “No, you are quite mistaken.”
Artemis didn’t appear too upset by his mistake. “Casper, was it?”
The tension in the room thickened as Jasper’s eyes locked on to Artemis, his expression hardening. “It is Jasper .”
“Ah, yes, Jasper,” Artemis repeated. “Unusual name, is it not?”
Ignoring Artemis’s question, Jasper shifted his focus to Wesley. “I will leave you to it,” he muttered before turning on his heel and exiting the study.
Artemis stared after him, looking genuinely perplexed. “What is the matter with him?”
Wesley shook his head, torn between disbelief and suspicion. How could Artemis be so blind to the tension in the room? But then again, perhaps this was all an act. No one could truly be that stupid, could they?
“Didn’t you have a question for me?” Artemis asked.
“I do.” Wesley sat down across from Artemis. “Do you truly intend to offer for Lady Melody?” It wasn’t the question he had initially planned to ask, but it seemed far more urgent right now.
Artemis leaned back, smoothing down his already slicked-back hair. “I don’t know what else to do. My parents are pressing me to marry, and I am tired of their incessant pestering.”
“That is not a good enough reason to marry.”
Artemis shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable for the first time that evening. “I know plants, but women…” His voice trailed off. “They are a mystery to me. It was much easier when I lived in France.”
Wesley’s brow shot up. “You lived in France?”
“Yes, for many years while I studied botany. I traveled all over Europe, documenting my findings.”
Before he could respond, Melody stepped into the room and met Wesley’s gaze. “My mother was wondering if you intended to join us for games.”
Wesley rose. “I do, assuming I can be on your team.”
Melody laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in his chest. “I play to win, my lord,” she joked. “I hope you can keep up.”
Reluctantly, Wesley tore his gaze from her to address Artemis. “Will you be joining us?”
“No,” Artemis replied. “I am tired and intend to retire for the evening.”
“Very well,” Wesley said, offering his arm to Melody.
As they left the study and made their way down the corridor, Melody leaned closer to Wesley, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Did you discover anything of importance?”
“You were right. It is entirely probable to kill someone with oleander just by burning it and having them inhale it,” Wesley revealed.
“Which means the killer could just drop branches of oleander into the hearth, depart, and no one would be the wiser,” Melody said.
Wesley stopped just outside of the drawing room, his face serious. “We both need to be extra vigilant. We are dealing with someone who has killed multiple times and knows how to cover their tracks.”
“Do you think Artemis could be involved?”
“I don’t know, but he let it slip that he lived in France for an extended time,” Wesley replied. “That is a coincidence that we cannot ignore.”
“No, we cannot,” Melody agreed as she slipped her hand off of his and turned to face him. “I spoke to White about the staff and recent hires. He informed me that he already spoke to your valet about this.”
“That is true.”
“I thought we were going to work together,” Melody remarked. “Why have I not seen or heard of this list before?”
“My valet has been speaking to each of the recent hires and has started to eliminate suspects, one by one.”
Melody placed a hand on her hip, determination flashing in her eyes. “I can help with that.”
“Do you truly think it won’t raise suspicion if you are seen questioning the household staff? It would draw unwanted attention,” Wesley pointed out.
She stood her ground, her voice steady. “I can be discreet. Besides, they are more likely to open up to me than to your valet.”
Wesley studied her for a long moment, weighing her words. He couldn’t deny how capable she was. But the thought of her putting herself in any sort of danger left him uneasy. He decided to be honest with her. “My valet is not just a servant but also an agent. He is experienced with getting people to trust him and drawing out information without raising alarms.”
Melody’s posture relaxed slightly, her hand dropping from her hip. “I hadn’t realized.”
“I don’t tell very many people that piece of information,” Wesley said. “It is much safer that way for him and me.”
A shadow passed over Melody’s expression. “It must be nice to have someone to confide in about all of this. I have no one.”
Her words tugged at his heart, causing him to take a step forward. “You have me, Melody.”
Melody lowered her gaze to the lapels of his jacket. “Yes, but once this is over, you will go home and I will remain here. Alone. Unable to talk to anyone about what I do.”
He tilted his head, trying to catch her gaze. “Melody,” he murmured gently, “look at me.”
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to meet his. The moment their gazes locked, his next words escaped him before he could fully think them through. “Marry me,” he said, the intensity in his voice surprising even him. “And I promise you will never feel alone again.”
A flicker of sadness darkened her eyes. “You know why I can’t.”
Reaching for her hand, he brought it up to his lips. “What you are asking is not impossible,” he admitted, his lips brushing her gloved fingers. “But right now, is it not enough that I care for you?”
For a moment, her eyes stayed on him, her expression unreadable. He desperately wanted to know what was happening behind those eyes, what she was thinking at that precise moment. But she remained silent, and the silence felt heavier than any words she could have spoken.
Finally, she withdrew her hand, clasping them in front of her. “We should join the others.”
“Melody…” Wesley began, his voice low, almost pleading.
She spoke over him. “I know your heart still belongs to Dinah, which is all right. I hope to find a love so dear one day.”
“You are right. I do still love Dinah, and a part of me always will. But that doesn’t mean I can’t learn to love another.”
She winced. “I don’t want you to learn to love me. Love isn’t something you can teach yourself to feel. It is something that happens unexpectedly, when you least expect it. It is not a skill.”
“Perhaps I misspoke,” he attempted.
Melody’s voice dropped to a whisper. “No, I think you said it perfectly.”
Wesley watched her go, realizing that for all his logic, all his carefully measured words, he had no idea how to fix this. He wanted to marry Melody. More than anything else in his life. But how could he convince her of such a thing?