Chapter 6
Even though it was a sunny day, the early May air was chilly.
Standing beside Lady Heathbrooke, Melody drew her shawl more securely around her shoulders while looking toward Saint George’s church with growing apprehension.
Her life was about to change, undoubtedly for the worse before there was any chance of it improving.
Edward hated her, and she would soon be bound to him forever, unable to escape.
“You can still get back in the carriage,” Lady Heathbrooke said. “I can instruct the driver to take you directly to Dover.”
Run, was the older woman’s message. As if Melody hadn’t considered it.
She turned to the dowager marchioness and attempted a smile. “Thank you for the kindness you’ve shown me these past two years. I’ve enjoyed every moment and am sorry you now have to find a new companion. If there’s any way in which I can help, please let me know.”
“I appreciate that, my dear, but I do believe I’ll manage.
” She seemed to consider adding something more, but refrained, for which Melody was grateful.
Her ladyship would have to be blind not to have noticed Edward’s standoffish manner when he’d come to call, and the fact that Melody probably looked like she was off to the gallows instead of wedded bliss.
Yet she had clearly elected not to comment and Melody had no wish to explain.
“Well,” Melody said, determined to face this with the same courage she’d faced Finn O’Leary’s thugs. “I’d better not keep Marsdale waiting.”
She offered her arm to Lady Heathbrooke and together they made their way up the church’s front steps, past the stone columns that lined the portico, and into Saint George’s hushed interior.
Melody noted the presence of those in attendance.
Harlowe, Tara, Holly, and Hazel, Samantha and Mr. Croft, the Duke and Duchess of Moorland.
Marsdale.
He stood by the altar, his posture stiff, his expression severe.
Melody’s pulse leapt in warning. She forced herself to ignore it in favor of escorting Lady Heathbrooke to a vacant spot beside the duchess.
“Know that you will always be welcome at Number 2 Portman Square,” Lady Heathbrooke told Melody. She squeezed her hand, then released it, and slid into the pew.
The kind words managed to break past Melody’s defenses. She drew a quivering breath and fought to regain her composure. Now was not the time to start weeping.
Intent on staying strong so she could face Marsdale with dignity, she closed her eyes briefly and focused on blocking off all emotion. When she approached the altar a moment later, she was more battle-ready than ever before.
Dressed in the lilac gown she’d chosen for the occasion, she deliberately met Marsdale’s gaze and smiled. You are not forcing me to do anything I have no wish to do. I am here of my own volition.
Something akin to uncertainty flickered within those somber eyes. Melody merely broadened her smile and stepped up beside him, ready to face the vicar.
To Marsdale she whispered, “You should know that I shall strive to make amends by loving you as deeply and as thoroughly as you deserve.”
The sharp intake of air she heard confirmed his shock. She’d considered this. How to manage a heartbroken man who was lashing out in anger. The answer became surprisingly simple once she’d considered her feelings for him and recognized why she had to go through with the wedding.
Love was her weapon of choice. She’d wield it for as long as it took to regain the affection lost between them and to rebuild their bond.
It wouldn’t be easy, and it wouldn’t be quick. Any hope to the contrary was erased when Marsdale slipped the wedding band on her finger and told her darkly, “I might have shown mercy if I believed you. Instead, I intend to wreck every hope of happiness you ever had, as you have wrecked mine.”
Fair enough. She’d simply have to prove her loyalty and her devotion to him every second of every day. Eventually her efforts would surely slip past the wall he’d built around his heart.
“How will you do it?” she asked him as they headed toward Number 2 Berkley Square after the service.
“What?” Irritation sharpened his tone.
“You said you intend to wreck my every hope of happiness. I’m curious to know your strategy.”
“So you can prepare?” A bitter laugh followed the question. “I think not.”
Melody frowned. She’d wanted to draw him into a longer conversation in which they might examine the core of their problem with greater scrutiny.
But now he was staring out the window, his body turned away from her, and well, maybe it was all a bit soon.
Maybe she ought to wait a little and let their new identities as husband and wife settle.
Still, she had to know. “Will you or your housekeeper apprise me of my new household duties as Countess of Marsdale?”
He scoffed and threw her a glare. “You may have acquired a title today, but you are still a laundress’s daughter, unqualified to oversee any responsibilities your new position requires. My housekeeper will continue to manage such matters.”
“Maybe you ought to have married her instead,” Melody muttered.
“What?”
She offered him the sweetest smile she could manage. “Nothing, my lord. I have no qualms with your decision as it will provide me the freedom to focus on other matters.”
The answering smile he sent her was almost insidious.
“If you imagine you will have time to read or paint or play the piano or take tea with friends, or engage in any other type of activity you might find even remotely enjoyable, then I suggest you think again, my lady. Lest you forget, you belong to me now in much the same way this carriage does. Therefore, you will do nothing without my permission. Is that clear?”
Melody raised her chin just enough to meet his gaze squarely. “Perfectly so, my lord.”
He stared at her for a drawn-out second, then returned his attention to the view beyond the carriage window.
Dismissed, Melody held herself perfectly rigid for the remainder of their journey.
Marsdale had opened a door to hell and clearly intended to shove her through it.
It was worse than she had expected. She’d not been prepared for him to be so cold or to promise such cruelty.
What he envisioned for her, for them, defied his true nature.
It wouldn’t be easy to eradicate the anger and nurture his soul back to health. Melody could only pray it would not be impossible.
* * *
Having personally ensured that Samantha returned home safely after the wedding, Adrian headed back out with Murry.
They knew Lady Edwina had been in Hyde Park and that a man matching Edward’s description had tried to endear himself to her.
While they’d not yet found a witness who’d seen her leave the park with this individual, the fact that she was missing suggested she must have.
Adrian had spent the better part of last night contemplating a possible motive for her abduction. Were they dealing with yet another murderer who preyed on upper-class women? Or could there be another reason at play?
Since Wrengate hadn’t been contacted by the man in question, blackmail appeared increasingly unlikely. So what then? Lady Edwina was a duke’s sister. Could the culprit want to force her into marriage? Such a union would swiftly elevate a man’s position while also affording him with great wealth.
Perhaps, then, he was searching for someone who’d spotted Lady Edwina and recognized her as an easy step up the social ladder. The individual would, however, have had to wait for the right moment to strike. Which would have required keeping a close eye on her every time she left the house.
A notion that brought Adrian and Murry to Number 2 Cavendish Square. Wrengate’s home. If someone had stopped here regularly to watch for Lady Edwina, perhaps that person had been spotted lingering in the area.
“Let’s start knocking on doors,” Adrian told Murry. “I’ll go left and you go right. If we’re lucky, we’ll find a witness to the suspicious activity.”
They proceeded as he’d suggested but with each door he knocked on, Adrian became increasingly certain that they would find no additional clues here. After thanking the butler at Number 7, he started toward the next house when he saw that Murry was striding toward him at a clipped pace.
Hope ignited in Adrian’s gut. “What have you discovered?”
“The nursemaid at Number 12 recalls seeing a man of Marsdale’s description on three separate occasions.
Since her duty is to care for Mr. and Mrs. Dorsey’s two young daughters, she paid close attention to the individual who didn’t appear to have any specified errand in the area.
The man would simply show up, stroll about, then sit on one of the benches.
Often for the entire time she entertained the children with games, which could last up to two hours. ”
Such goings on would have raised Adrian’s suspicions as well. At the very least, he’d have worried the man might be a thief on the lookout for ways in which to rob the upper-class homes. “If she was wary of him, then why not bring his presence to her master and mistress’s attention?”
“She did. Mr. Dorsey sent two footmen to question the man.”
“They spoke to him?”
Murry nodded, the edge of his lips lifting ever so slightly. “He introduced himself to them as Mr. Smith, a journalist in the process of writing a piece about everyday life in Mayfair. Even showed them a bunch of notes he’d made.”
“Supposing it’s the man we’re looking for, he gave them another name along with a fake story. How does that help us?”
“Because they didn’t buy what he was trying to sell them,” Murry said with a sparkle in his ice-blue eyes. “After pretending to let the man be, they kept a steady watch on him and tracked his movements. All the way to The Fox’s Burrow.”
The tavern on Great Russell Street. “That’s right on the edge of Saint Giles.”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll find the man we’re seeking there. Lady Edwina, too.”