Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Dressed in a pale yellow gown, Melody descended the stairs and headed towards the dining room. As she approached the door, she came to an abrupt halt when she saw Wesley seated at the table, looking as composed as ever. The memory of his words from the previous night weighed heavily on her mind, and suddenly, she wasn’t ready to face him.
Not after what he had said.
After a long, restless night, she had made a decision. She wanted to marry him, but not like this, not out of practicality or duty. She wanted Wesley to fall in love with her, the way she was already halfway there with him. He made her feel safe, protected and cherished, but she longed for more. She wanted to feel loved. Truly loved. She wanted everything—or nothing at all.
Her eyes darted towards the doorway behind her, plotting her escape. Wesley hadn’t acknowledged her yet, so perhaps she could slip away unnoticed. But just as she picked up her foot to retreat, he turned, his eyes meeting hers with a knowing smirk at the corners of his lips.
“I thought we were past this childish behavior,” Wesley teased.
Melody stiffened, knowing she had been caught. She raised her chin, determined to maintain her composure. “I don’t know what you are referring to,” she replied, walking towards the table with as much grace as she could muster.
Wesley stood, pulling out a chair for her as if nothing had changed between them.
With a polite nod, Melody sat, trying not to let his proximity affect her. But it did. She reached for her napkin and placed it on her lap to distract herself.
“Good morning, Melody,” Wesley greeted as he returned to his seat.
She briefly spared him a glance, but she could feel his eyes on her. “Good morning.”
“I trust that you slept well,” he remarked.
No.
She had hardly slept at all, her mind haunted by thoughts of him. But she didn’t dare admit that to him. “I slept well,” she lied.
Wesley leaned in, his voice dropping just for her. “You look lovely this morning.”
She let out a sigh as a footman placed a plate of food before her, and she hurriedly reached for her fork and knife, needing something—anything—to occupy her trembling hands. The last thing she wanted was to fall into a conversation with Wesley where she might say something foolish, like confessing how deeply she cared for him.
“Would you like me to switch plates with you?” Wesley asked, remaining close.
Melody shook her head. “I do not think that is necessary. We have been switching plates intermittently for the past few days, and neither of us has been poisoned.”
Wesley leaned back in his seat. “Will you tell me about yourself?”
She hesitated, taken off guard by the sudden shift in conversation. “That is a long, convoluted answer,” she replied. “Can you be more specific?”
He grinned. “Let’s start with an easy question. What were you like as a child?”
Placing the fork and knife down, she shifted towards him. “I was an inquisitive child,” she began. “I always wanted to know how things worked, constantly taking things apart to figure them out. Sometimes I succeeded, other times… well, not so much.” She laughed softly. “It drove my parents mad.”
“I think I would have liked to have seen you as a child,” Wesley said.
Melody returned his smile. “I may not say—or do—outlandish things like my sister, but I do have my moments of humor.”
Wesley’s expression grew more serious, his voice gentler. “Why do you insist on comparing yourself with your sister?”
Her smile faltered slightly. “We are twins,” she said simply. “I do believe that goes with the territory. I will always be the boring one compared to her.”
Wesley leaned forward, their faces now just inches apart, and his eyes locked on to hers with a fierce intensity. “You, my dear, are nothing short of extraordinary. In my eyes, there is no comparison.”
Melody could feel her heart pounding in her chest, and she hoped that Wesley couldn’t hear it. “That is because you are biased,” she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“There are very few women in the world who can do what you do,” Wesley said. “You are kind, compassionate and strong. Do not forget that.”
She felt her throat tighten as his words sank in. She always felt overshadowed by Elodie, but not in Wesley’s eyes. He made her feel seen. And important.
Elodie’s overly cheerful voice rang out from the doorway. “Dear heavens, what am I interrupting?”
Wesley immediately leaned back, clearing his throat awkwardly as Melody forced a smile to her lips. “Nothing,” she attempted.
“It definitely looked like something,” Elodie responded, her words holding mirth. “Good thing it was me who walked in and not Father.”
Elodie made her way around the table and sat down, studying both Melody and Wesley with a curious glint in her eyes. “I wonder what you two are hiding.” She paused. “Last night, you two barely exchanged a word while playing cards, and now, suddenly, you are back to being thick as thieves.”
Melody’s attention dropped to her plate. She was afraid of what Elodie might see in her expression. “Can we just eat and forget about what you saw?”
A terse moment followed before Elodie relented. “I suppose we can, but I am in need of a favor.”
Wesley spoke up. “What kind of favor?”
Elodie waved a dismissive hand in front of her as though it were the simplest of matters. “Mother has decided that we are to play pall-mall after breakfast. But I refuse to partner with Anthony.” She looked pointedly at Melody. “Will you do it?”
“I have never quite understood your aversion to Anthony,” Melody said.
“He is most insufferable,” Elodie declared. “He had the nerve to compliment me on my dancing yesterday.”
Melody suppressed a laugh. “Why did you take issue with that?”
Elodie huffed. “We both know I am a terrible dancer. He only said it to be polite.”
“I do not see what the problem is,” Melody responded.
Elodie shot her an exasperated look before turning towards Wesley. “Do you see the issue, my lord?”
Wesley tipped his head thoughtfully. “I believe I do. You want someone to be genuine in their words and actions.”
“Precisely,” Elodie remarked.
As if summoned by the conversation, Lord Belview entered the room, a smile on his face. “Good morning,” he greeted.
Melody looked over at him. “Good morning, Anthony.”
Lord Belview came around the table and sat down beside Elodie. “Lady Dallington just informed me that we are to play pall-mall after breakfast.”
“Yes, we were just discussing that,” Melody said. “I should warn you that playing pall-mall with our family is not for the faint of heart.”
Elodie bobbed her head. “We take winning very seriously here.”
Lord Belview leaned back in his chair. “Then I will do my best not to embarrass myself.”
As Elodie placed her napkin on her lap, she remarked, “You must do better than just ‘try.’ If your performance at whist is any indication of your skills, you are in trouble.”
Lord Belview grinned, clearly amused. “I seem to recall besting you at whist a time or two.”
Elodie reached for a knife and began to butter her bread with slow, exaggerated precision. “Only because I let you win.”
“You let me win?” Lord Belview repeated. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
“I merely felt bad for you,” Elodie said.
A smirk tugged at Lord Belview’s lips. “Why, Elodie, it almost sounds like you hold me in high regard.”
Elodie tightened her grip on the knife, her eyes narrowing playfully. “You would be wrong, my lord. The word you are looking for is pity . I pitied you.”
Lord Belview’s smile broadened. “I don’t think that is it at all,” he said, leaning forward slightly. “I think you fancy me, at least a little.”
Elodie’s mouth dropped open. “Heavens, no! You would be undoubtedly wrong to think such a thing.”
Undeterred, Lord Belview had a smug look on his face. “I don’t know. You obviously think about me, despite your insistence that you do not.”
“No, my lord, I assure you that you are the farthest thing from my mind,” Elodie contended as she jutted her chin in the air.
Melody found the exchange between her sister and Lord Belview to be rather amusing. But as they continued their sparring match, her thoughts kept drifting back to Wesley—who, despite his calm exterior, seemed to have just as much on his mind.
A short, light-haired man stepped into the room and met Wesley’s eye. “May I have a word with you, my lord?”
Wesley nodded and set the napkin from his lap onto the table. “You may.” Then, turning to Melody, he extended his hand. “Lady Melody, would you care to accompany me?”
Melody quickly realized that this man was Wesley’s valet—the agent he had mentioned earlier. “I would like that very much.”
As they left the dining room, she was touched that Wesley had taken her words to heart. He was including her, valuing her input. For the first time in a long while, Melody felt seen. Heard. Respected. It was impossible not to care for this man, who seemed to understand her in ways she hadn’t expected.
Once they reached the corridor, the short man bowed before introducing himself. “I am Watkins. Lord Emberly’s most trusted confidant.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Watkins,” Melody responded.
Wesley, however, was quick to get to the point. “What is it?”
Watkins’s face grew solemn, the lightness in his earlier tone disappearing. “I have discovered that one of the footmen was caught sneaking out late last night. It might be nothing, but it is equally possible that it could be something more significant. He may have been meeting with someone.”
Wesley considered this for a moment. “That is certainly a possibility,” he said slowly. “Although I didn’t encounter this footman last night. I was keeping watch over Lady Melody’s window from a distance.”
Melody turned towards Wesley, her eyes wide with surprise. “You were watching my window last night. Is that why you didn’t come inside?”
Wesley nodded. “I thought it was for the best. Lady Elodie nearly caught us the night before, and I couldn’t risk putting you in that kind of position again. But I couldn’t simply do nothing. I needed to make sure you were safe.”
Melody felt deeply moved by Wesley’s words. Even though she would have never admitted it out loud, she had been slightly disappointed when Wesley had not come to her bedchamber the night before. But knowing that he had still been there, watching over her from afar, filled her heart with an unexpected sense of comfort.
Watkins cleared his throat, returning the conversation to the matter at hand. “What would you like me to do, my lord?”
Wesley’s eyes flickered to Melody for a brief moment before answering. “Keep an eye on the footman, but don’t raise suspicion. We can’t afford to alert anyone that we are onto them.”
“And me?” Melody asked. She wasn’t about to sit idly by while danger lurked in the shadows.
Wesley’s expression softened as he looked at her. “Stay close to me. Together, we will get to the bottom of this.”
Melody knew that Wesley wasn’t giving her empty reassurances. He was promising to face the danger with her. And with him by her side, she felt ready to confront whatever came her way.
With Melody on his arm, Wesley led her out of Brockhall Manor and onto the expansive lawn where the pall-mall course had been carefully arranged. His alert eyes swept over the landscape, scanning for any signs of danger, though everything appeared calm. He inwardly cursed himself for indulging in such frivolousness. Playing games at a time like this seemed foolish, but maintaining appearances was crucial. The other guests needed to believe all was well.
Still, he couldn’t shake the satisfaction that came with finally having a lead in their investigation. Perhaps they would soon uncover who was after Melody, a thought that both relieved and troubled him. The sooner they caught the culprit, the sooner his time with Melody would come to an end. A time that had been far more enjoyable than he had anticipated.
Wesley found himself falling for her despite the constant reminders that he shouldn’t. He had vowed never to entangle himself with another agent. But Melody was not just any agent—she was becoming everything to him.
Melody slipped her arm off his and picked up a mallet. “Have you prepared yourself, my lord?”
Wesley quirked an eyebrow. “For what?”
She tsked, shaking her head with mock exasperation. “Dear heavens, you are not ready. Our family takes this game very seriously and you must be prepared for mockery. It is, after all, inevitable.”
Wesley picked up a mallet. “You do not need to worry about me. I am rather proficient at pall-mall.”
“We shall see,” Melody said.
At that moment, Elodie appeared by his side. “It has been decided that I will partner with Lord Emberly and Melody will team up with Anthony.”
Lord Belview moved to stand by Melody. “I have no objections.”
Wesley glanced at the manor. “What of Artemis?”
Elodie shrugged. “Last I saw him, he was wandering towards the gardens. No doubt he will be distracted by plants for the better part of the day.” Her eyes shifted to Wesley’s mallet, and she frowned. “Is that the mallet you have chosen?”
He held it up for her inspection. “Is there something wrong with it?”
Elodie crossed her arms, her expression serious. “Yes. That is not a lucky mallet. Pick another one.”
Wesley shot a glance at Melody, half-expecting her to laugh at its absurdity, but she merely smiled. “I would do as Elodie says, my lord,” she advised.
Suppressing a sigh, Wesley placed the mallet down and selected another, feeling somewhat ridiculous but knowing it wasn’t worth the debate. “Will this one do?”
Elodie shook her head. “I do hope you play better than your lackluster effort at choosing a mallet.”
Before Wesley could respond, Lord Belview picked up the mallet Wesley had just discarded. “I shall use this one,” he declared, testing its weight. “It feels rather lucky to me.”
“You would be wrong,” Elodie remarked. “Now, we shall discuss our strategies. The game will commence once we are all prepared.”
Wesley turned to face Elodie. “I thought our strategy was to win. What more should we discuss?”
Elodie stared at him as if disappointed in his lack of understanding. “Just follow my lead.”
He wasn’t quite sure what to say to make this situation better. It was just a game—not a matter of life or death. But Elodie was treating it as such.
Before he could question her further, Elodie leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I know you were in Melody’s room two nights ago.”
Wesley opened his mouth to object, but she put a hand up to stop him. “Do not even try to insult me by denying it. But do not worry. Your secret is safe with me. I would never betray my sister.”
Wesley remained silent, unsure of how to respond. He hadn’t anticipated Elodie to be so perceptive. Or direct, for that matter.
Raising an eyebrow, Elodie continued. “What are your intentions towards my sister?”
He straightened, meeting her gaze with a calm resolve. “We are friends,” he replied, hoping the statement would put an end to her questioning.
Elodie looked unimpressed. “Do you expect me to believe that, my lord?”
Wesley held her gaze. “I do, because it is the truth.”
Turning her attention towards the mallet in her hand, Elodie’s voice grew softer, more reflective. “You seem to think that your actions are going unnoticed. But you are mistaken. I notice everything. And I have noticed my sister’s behavior, too. You two are keeping secrets.”
Wesley’s mind raced, wondering how much Elodie truly knew and whether it was wise to continue this conversation. Hoping to steer away from the uncomfortable topic, he asked, “Shall we play the game now?”
Elodie smirked, clearly not fooled by his attempt to change the subject. “Oh, we will play,” she said, her voice light again. “But I am not done questioning you. There is much more we need to discuss.”
“Is there?”
Elodie cocked her head. “Why did you come here in the first place, my lord? And this time, I would prefer the truth.”
Wesley forced a smile, hoping to ease the tension. “I came to speak with Lady Melody, and your mother kindly invited me to stay.”
Elodie didn’t look convinced. “And you just happened to have your trunks and valet with you?”
He hesitated, realizing he had indeed underestimated her.
Fortunately, before he could respond, Melody appeared by his side, her presence easing the tension. “Have you two properly discussed your strategy?” she asked, glancing between him and Elodie.
“You could say that,” Elodie murmured with a wry smile.
A bright smile spread across Melody’s face. “Then let us play,” she declared. “Elodie, why don’t you go first?”
Elodie raised the mallet in her hand. “I will show you how it is done.”
Melody's smile faded as Elodie strode over to the first arch. She turned to Wesley, her brow furrowing with concern. “What is wrong?”
Wesley gave her a bemused look. “Why do you suppose something is wrong?”
“Just tell me,” Melody said. “We don’t have time to waste with foolish questions.”
With a glance at Elodie, who was busy lining up her shot, he lowered his voice. “Your sister is quite perceptive.”
“I do believe people dismiss Elodie as thoughtless, but she can be very observant when she wants to be,” Melody said.
Wesley nodded, leaning closer. “She knows I was in your bedchamber,” he revealed. “But she says our secret is safe with her.”
“We need to be more discreet. If Elodie suspects something, who else might?”
Wesley gave her a knowing look. “There is an obvious solution.”
Melody’s lips tightened into a flat, white line. “If you even mention marriage, I will hit you with this mallet.”
“It is the perfect solution,” Wesley defended.
“For you, perhaps, but not for me.”
Elodie’s voice rang out from across the lawn. “Melody, it is your turn. Hurry up, or we will be here all day!”
Wesley raised his hand, gesturing towards the game. “You heard the lady.”
Melody gave him a quick, playful glare before moving to take her shot. As she lined up her ball, Lord Belview appeared beside Wesley, leaning casually on his mallet.
“I must admit,” Lord Belview began, a slight smile playing on his lips, “a part of me is rather intimidated by how seriously Elodie takes this game.”
Wesley chuckled. “It is still just a game.”
“To us, perhaps. But to Elodie…” Lord Belview’s words trailed off. “It is a shame that I will undoubtedly beat you both, but I will take no pleasure in it.”
“I wouldn’t discount us so easily.”
Lord Belview adjusted the mallet in his hands, his expression turning thoughtful. “Do you intend to visit Town for the Season?”
“I haven’t quite decided yet, but I do need to take up my seat in Parliament,” Wesley responded.
“And what of Lady Melody?” Lord Belview asked, eyeing him closely.
Wesley schooled his features. “What about her?”
“Anyone with eyes can see that you hold her in high regard.”
“I do,” Wesley said evenly. “But we are just friends.”
“Ah, denial, then.”
Wesley turned his attention back towards the lawn, not wanting to engage in this line of questioning. “As I said before, I have no intention of getting married now.”
“It changes when you find the right woman,” Lord Belview said. “You must accept your fate.”
His jaw tightened slightly. “I prefer to chart my own course.”
Placing a hand on Wesley’s shoulder, Lord Belview gave him a sympathetic look. “If only it were that easy, my friend. But I wish you luck in your endeavors, whatever they may be.”
As Wesley watched Melody take her shot, her ball gliding smoothly past Elodie’s and through the arc, a surge of pride welled up within him. Melody let out an excited laugh, jumping slightly in triumph, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. Her joy and beauty were captivating, and it was impossible to look away.
His friend leaned closer and said, “You are staring.”
“Am I?” Wesley asked, tearing his gaze from Melody.
“You were, and it was very telling.”
Wesley tried to brush it off, but the truth was his heart was betraying him in ways he hadn’t expected.
Melody met his gaze, her lips curving into a smile as she gestured towards his ball. “Your turn, my lord.”
With a slight nod, Wesley approached his ball and carefully lined up his shot. As he drew his mallet back to strike, Elodie’s voice pierced the air.
“STOP!”
Wesley froze mid-swing. “What is it now?”
Elodie strode over to him. “That is a terrible shot,” she declared. “You must try again. This time, imagine you are the ball.”
“I beg your pardon?” Wesley asked.
Elodie crouched down next to his ball, her tone serious. “You need to see the ball as an extension of yourself. Feel its weight, its purpose. Embrace the ball, my lord.”
Wesley couldn’t tell if Elodie was joking, but he suspected she wasn’t. “It is just a game, my lady.”
Elodie’s eyes grew wide. “ Just a game,” she sputtered. “And Napoleon is just a general!”
Melody laughed. “Let him play, Elodie.”
Rising, Elodie said, “But I want to win.”
With practiced ease, Wesley swung the mallet and hit the ball, rolling past Elodie’s. He straightened, watching its path with a faint smirk. “I would say that was a fairly decent shot.”
“It wasn’t as good as Melody’s, but I suppose it will do,” Elodie remarked indifferently. “You are full of surprises, aren’t you, Lord Emberly?”
His smile grew. “I like to think I can hold my own.”
Elodie tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Perhaps,” she mused. “But we will see if you can maintain that confidence when we reach the final arch.”
Lord Belview stepped up with a grin of his own. “I do believe it is my turn,” he announced. With one solid strike, his ball shot forward, knocking Elodie’s ball out of the way. He turned towards her. “Better luck next time, my lady.”
Elodie narrowed her eyes, though her lips twitched. “I wouldn’t get too comfortable, my lord.”
Lord Belview held up his mallet. “I daresay that this is indeed a lucky mallet. I do hope that you can keep up, Elodie.”