Chapter 3
Melody sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the swirls of color that made up the pattern in the rug beneath her feet.
She’d not slept a wink. How could she when the man she loved had proposed marriage in a voice of icy contempt and for all the wrong reasons?
The reminder made her heart overflow with misery.
Edward.
Marsdale, as he insisted she call him henceforth.
Where she’d once looked forward to their encounters, they now filled her with dread. It was as though both their lives had been broken by what she’d done, the prospect of shared happiness shattered.
He was the kindest man she’d ever known.
She’d fallen for him with ease and she’d dreamed…
impossible dreams of love and marriage. Preposterous.
Anyone with an ounce of sense knew a laundress’s daughter could never become a countess.
Which was why Melody’s employer, Lady Heathbrooke, who also happened to be Marsdale’s godmother, had chosen to remove Melody from England during the winter.
Just to be on the safe side.
Except, Marsdale had clearly not lost hope, or else he wouldn’t have kissed her as soon as their paths crossed again.
It had happened immediately after she and Lady Heathbrooke returned from Italy.
Melody had gone to post a letter on her ladyship’s behalf.
On her way back to Heathbrooke House, she’d encountered Edward, who’d been out walking and…
In retrospect, he’d given her enough time to retreat from his advance, except she’d not been able to.
Instead, she’d savored the kiss until it was over. Until reality cleared the blissful fog the kiss had induced. Instantly fearful of what had occurred, what it meant and the expectations he’d surely have, she’d fled. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined he’d ever ask for her hand.
In the end, he’d forced the engagement. Another kiss, this time with a prominent witness, intended to trap her so she’d have no choice.
He was so furious with her, he wanted revenge. Because she’d lied to him, because she was not just his godmother’s meek companion but a spy strategically placed in her home, because the truth made him question every aspect of their relationship. Because the betrayal had crushed him.
She gulped down a ragged breath and dug her fingers into the coverlet. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of attempts to find her way to a positive outcome. Did such a thing even exist? Was it possible when pain speared her whenever she thought of what Marsdale had said and what would now follow?
I get to punish you for what you did. Until death do us part.
They were engaged to be married now, and he would make her life hell.
A knock at the bedchamber door made her flinch. Raising her gaze, she swallowed past a lump in her throat and managed a hoarse, “Come in.”
Caroline, Lady Heathbrooke’s lady’s maid, entered. “I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Roberts, but her ladyship wishes to know if you will be joining her for breakfast.”
Melody blinked, then shot a look toward the clock that sat on her dresser. It was nearing nine o’clock. Her heart made a loud thump as she pushed off the bed in a panic. She’d never been late before and now she would have to explain herself to Lady Heathbrooke on top of everything else.
“I’d best not keep her waiting any longer.” She crossed to where Caroline stood.
The maid remained in the doorway, blocking Melody’s path. A soft smile pulled at her lips even as a few lines crinkled her brow. “Do you not wish to put on a pair of slippers first?”
Melody dropped her gaze to her stocking-clad feet. “Of course.”
“Are you all right?” Caroline asked while Melody put on her slippers.
“Yes. Fine. Just a little more tired than usual.” Melody patted her hair and smoothed out her skirts. “Nothing a hot cup of tea can’t fix.”
Oh, if only it were so easy.
Unfortunately, she feared her relationship with Marsdale would never recover from what had occurred. But how could she have acted any differently? To confide the truth in him could have proven disastrous.
Adding distance had truly been the best course of action. Until she’d returned to England and Edward had kissed her, a few hours before he’d seen her running through the slums while dressed as a boy.
What were the odds of him being part of a separate effort to rescue Samantha from Finn O’Leary’s clutches? The Irishman had captured her in an effort to bring about Croft’s destruction, and Marsdale had come to Croft’s aid.
Until that moment, when moonlight fell on Melody’s face, and she’d become aware of Marsdale’s presence, she’d imagined simply declining whatever offer he made her.
In order to ensure a permanent break between them, she might have had to return to Italy, where another promising future waited.
Alessandro, the Italian gentleman she’d met during her stay there, would never have her heart the way Marsdale would, but he was a realistic choice.
An option with whom she could have been happy.
But now?
The only future she could glimpse was one of gloom.
Perhaps that was what she deserved for hurting Marsdale?
She’d not yet found a way to cope with the endless guilt carving its way through her breast.
Stop it. You’re no simpering miss but a highly skilled government agent.
The reminder put things in perspective. She was strong and could face this, a realization that smashed through the fear and the doubt and the insecurities both these emotions fostered.
So she left her bedchamber and descended the stairs. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped off the last step. It was time for her to face the consequences of her actions with the same kind of determination she’d faced the men guarding Samantha.
Yes, but you didn’t care about them in the way you care about Marsdale.
They didn’t threaten to turn your comfortable life upside down.
No, they’d merely attempted to kill her, until she’d killed them instead.
Inhaling deeply, she approached the dining room.
Sensing her presence, Lady Heathbrooke was looking directly at the door the moment she entered. One eyebrow shot toward her hairline, and then she said, “You look awful. What’s happened?”
Melody stared at her entirely too long while trying to decide how to respond. While she dearly wished to avoid revealing the truth, her ladyship would discover it sooner or later. Best then not to have lied.
“I encountered Marsdale yesterday,” she began, approaching her spot at the table. “If you recall, I went for a walk in the park together with my friends, Miss Greene and Miss Burley.”
“Oh?” Lady Heathbrooke’s gaze sharpened. Astute as she was, she realized the encounter had not gone as well as one might have hoped.
A knot formed in Melody’s stomach. She felt slightly ill at the prospect of having to tell the dowager marchioness that all her attempts at preventing her companion from wedding her godson had been a spectacular failure.
“He, um…”
“Yes?”
“An incident occurred and…well…the fact of the matter is…”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, child.” Lady Heathbrooke produced an impatient sigh. “You’ve never struggled to make your point known before. Just tell me what happened so we can get on with the day. As it is, I’ve already had to wait nearly half an hour to share the latest gossip with you.”
“I know. I’m terribly sorry for—”
A knock at the door cut Melody off.
Lady Heathbrooke gave her a disgruntled look before turning toward her butler. “Yes?”
“The Earl of Marsdale has come to call,” said Jarvis.
Melody dropped onto her chair with a soft gasp. Not now. Not yet. She wasn’t ready.
Whether or not Lady Heathbrooke realized Melody’s distress, she said, “What a lovely surprise. Please show him in.”
* * *
During the last month and a half, when he’d climbed into bed, Edward had wondered if he would be back to his usual self when he woke the next morning.
He’d prayed for the weight that filled his chest to ease, for the positive outlook he’d always had to return, for his mind to escape the constant onslaught of negative thoughts.
Yet the sun in his life remained absent, blocked by dark, thunderous clouds. Everything he saw was painted in shades of grey. His heart, which had once beat with joy, had grown cold.
Anger. Disillusionment. Unforgiving.
These were the feelings that clung to him every second of every day.
Not because he hadn’t tried to change his outlook, but because getting past the feelings of betrayal, the crushing pain that came with realizing he’d been lied to by those he’d trusted the most, was like climbing out of a bottomless pit with no light in sight.
The life he’d once embraced with optimism and hope was now an unbearable chore to be endured.
How foolish he’d been to think he could get past Evie’s death — that happiness might be his once more.
Jaw clenched, he followed Jarvis to the dining room, where Lady Heathbrooke and Melody were breakfasting.
The cunning minx might have thought she could deceive him, use him to whatever advantage she chose, then cast him aside without repercussion.
She’d probably thought he’d be too good-natured to lash out in the event he discovered the truth.
Well, she would be wrong.
After what had occurred, after the fantasy she’d fed him had shattered, he wanted revenge. If he were to suffer, then she would too, until death did them part.
Hands tightly fisted to reign in the dark emotions that kept him on constant edge, he looked directly at Melody when he entered the room. Apprehension filled her gaze, and concern creased her brow.
Weeks ago, before his world had been torn to pieces once more, he might have experienced feelings of pity — a need to offer some reassurance — to forgive. He paused on this thought and considered, tried to analyze what he was feeling right now in this moment.
His heart gave a solid thud that echoed through his hollow chest.