Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

The Next Day

M elanie stirred awake, the remnants of yesterday’s visit from the widowed dowager duchess lingering in her mind like a heavy fog. The widowed duchess looked even more beautiful than the last time Melanie had seen her the night of the engagement. Yes, Melanie had been peeking from the window in the front parlor, but when she’d heard that the duchess had stopped by, she had to see for herself. Diana and Jonathan had been conversing most intently along the curved driveway. Melanie thought Jonathan may have caught her at the window. But she’d hurried up to her room, claiming to have a megrim and avoiding him the rest of the day.

Just when she thought Jonathan might have feelings for her, Diana arrived and turned everything upside down. Melanie was once again an awkward seventeen-year-old girl in her first Season.

And yet, she could not stop going over every detail of her late-night culinary adventure with Jonathan, laughing and sharing secrets in the dim light of the toasty kitchen. It was as if they were the only two people in the world. It had brought warmth to her heart. She had sensed a shift between them, a budding trust that felt both thrilling and frightening. The memory of their kiss kept flitting through her thoughts, gentle at first and then more passionate. She could scarcely contain her excitement. Even now, she could feel the imprint of his lips on hers, but the feelings his kiss evoked, and the look in his eyes conveyed a promise of something deeper. Jonathan had always seemed flirtatious, but she felt he was somewhat reserved in his deeper emotional expressions. However, in the kitchen, he had unexpectedly revealed his longing—a confession that had surprised her.

He’d admitted to having wanted to kiss her for some time. She sensed a change from when he had always rescued her as a child to now and admittedly had been a little frosty toward him. But gradually she had thawed out. How could she not? He was charming and friendly, and yet she felt he’d held himself back in some way. But that night…two nights ago, it was as if he couldn’t stop himself from kissing her. And that had made her heart sing. He had always been more of a man of action, and she couldn’t help but smile thinking of the countless narrow escapes he’d managed.

The morning light streamed through the curtains, and a sigh escaped Melanie as she reached for the velvet cord by her bed to summon Rachel.

The door opened a minute later, and the petite, dark-haired young maid bustled into the room. “You’re up early, milady. The sun just came out.”

Melanie gave a weak smile. “Good morning to you, too, Rachel. I had a rather restless sleep last night, unfortunately, and thus, I am up to greet the dawn.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, milady. If I’d have known, I could’ve brought you a tisane. Please do not hesitate to ring for me should it happen again,” Rachel said, laying out Melanie’s dressing gown on her bed.

“Rachel, whatever would I do without you?”

Her maid pulled open the royal blue drapes, instantly brightening the room. “I’m not sure, milady, but I reckon you’d muddle through,” she said, tossing a wink over her shoulder.

Melanie chuckled as she sat up and donned her wrap.

“Your bath is ready, and I’m putting the finishing touches on your ball gown so it will be ready for the night of the ball. Honestly, I knew the house party was for one week, but I still packed for two.”

Melanie smiled. “Yes. And I realize this sounds unusual, but I’m genuinely happy to be at this house party. After spending so much time in Scotland, it’s good to be home and among friends again.” She meant that. Even if things were beyond murky and muddled with Jonathan. Not only was she happy to have joined her brother and Grandmama for the holidays, but she’d felt more hopeful than she had in a long time. Losing her father had broken her heart, losing her mother had shattered her spirit. Her mother had been everything to her. It had taken a long time for her grief to not be so all-consuming. And over time, Melanie had changed and matured.

Melanie thought about how worried Jonathan had been with her…he was protective. It was his nature with women he cared about. But she wondered if, even though Diana was recently widowed, he would forgive her for leaving him to marry the duke four years ago. She shook her head, unwilling to allow that thought to take root. Jonathan was a changed man as well—and Melanie had changed too…she’d matured into full womanhood. Even though seeing Diana with Jonathan had left her feeling like that awkward seventeen-year-old with a history of getting into scrapes, she was wiser now. Things weren’t always as they appeared…especially from a distance. Perhaps she should learn to trust her instincts more and have faith that Jonathan did care for her, more than just a friend.

Although her reaction upon seeing the Dowager Duchess of Aumale yesterday had been too quick and misguided? She’d walked away after seeing the woman attempt an intimate moment with Jonathan, reacting like the seventeen-year-old young woman she had been four years ago. Instead of approaching him, she withdrew and leaned into her feelings of distrust.

She recalled all the precious moments she’d had with her mother, trying to fit a lifetime of mother-daughter conversations into months. She’d confided in her mother about what had taken place at the ball four years ago. And even though her mother had been sick and bedridden, she’d risen from her pillow, took Melanie’s hand, and squeezed it. “Always fight for what and who you want, daughter. I won’t always be here, but I will always be with you. Trust those you love. And if they hurt you, tell them. Give them a chance to change.” That had been one of the last things her mother had told her before she passed away. Although Melanie had never forgotten those words, it wasn’t until yesterday that she truly understood their meaning. Today, she planned to follow her mother’s advice and seek Jonathan out. She’d give him a chance to explain. Gavin had mentioned they would be looking for the Yule log today. Hopefully, she’d have an opportunity to speak to Jonathan then.

After hurriedly breaking his fast, Jonathan met Rochester and Worsley at the stables. “It’s early, and I’m hopeful we will find the dowager duchess at the hotel before she leaves to stir up more trouble. She targeted Melanie. After seeing her carriage for myself, I’m certain of it.” Newgate Prison will be her new home if I have anything to say. Mounting their horses, the three took off in the direction of town.

He hadn’t slept much, as his mind spiraled into a chaotic turmoil of the danger surrounding Melanie. Images of her face had haunted him in his dreams, only adding to his need to see her and speak to her. She’d avoided him after seeing him speaking to Diana. She’d kept to her room. But today, he intended to speak with her. Even if she stayed locked in her room. He would climb the damn tree outside her window. The urgency to reach her and make her understand what she truly meant to him gnawed at his insides. A relentless ache in his gut accompanied his mounting fear that something wasn’t right. Something didn’t fit. Something was going to happen. And Melanie’s life could hang in the balance. Even the thought of losing her felt like a pile of bricks crushing his chest.

“I’ve thought about everything Conners and the stable lad told you. That, together with what you’ve told me, I agree that she is guilty,” Rochester said after being silent for a few minutes. “We need to make sure she never targets my sister again.”

“The woman is pure evil,” Worsley said. “She demonstrates no loyalty to anyone but herself. If rumors are true, she tried to seduce her stepson for his title—after dispensing with her husband. You truly escaped a life of misery with that one, Jonathan.”

“It would have been a short life, by all accounts, based on what we know about Diana,” Rochester added grimly.

Jonathan muttered in agreement. “The hotel is at the edge of town—just ahead.” He was anxious to get this over with.

A few minutes later, they strode into the lobby, and Jonathan inquired about Diana’s room. Passing the gentleman at the counter several pounds, the man turned and gave him the spare key off the wall.

“She’s been popular today,” the man murmured.

“She’s had visitors. Are they gone?” Rochester said.

“One visitor. He’d been here a few times. I cannot recall exactly when he departed, but it must have been a couple of hours ago. A gentleman,” the clerk said, extending his hand expectantly.

Rochester arched a brow and slipped another note into his palm. “Thank you for your help,” he said.

As they made their way down the dimly lit corridor, the men were caught off guard by the sight of the door slightly ajar. It seemed someone had left in haste.

Jonathan cautiously pushed the door open and stepped inside, his heart racing. Across the room, just beyond the far end of the bed, a delicate foot adorned with a red satin slipper peeked from the shadows. “It’s Diana,” he gasped as he rushed over.

Worsley, quick to assess the situation, felt for a pulse. “Gone,” he confirmed. “But what could have happened? Was she poisoned?”

Jonathan’s gaze swept over the scene, taking note of the wine glasses carelessly left on the bedside tables. His eyes landed on the half-empty bottle of wine sitting next to one of the glasses. Why was the bottle so familiar? “Could she have been poisoned?” His mind raced as he attempted to piece together what had taken place.

“Perhaps, given that I don’t see any other tell-tale signs of murder—” Worsley said. “No blood, no visible wounds, no strangulation marks around her neck, no bumps or swelling on the back of her head. The way she died would have been quiet. If she’d screamed it would have alerted someone in a neighboring room or a maid,” Worsley added. He picked up each glass and sniffed. “Hmm… Can’t detect any poison.” He leaned down and sniffed the dowager duchess’s face.

“What are you doing?” Jonathan asked.

“Not what it looks like, I assure you,” Worsley said. He gave another sniff. “I think arsenic. I smell garlic on her—a telltale sign of arsenic, I’ve learned. And as far as I can see, there’s no garlic around. Just a trick or two that I picked up from Shep, Sr.

A sudden chill ran down his spine as he recalled where he’d seen an identical bottle of the same wine. “Rochester, Worsley—that’s the same wine Talbot had been drinking when I confronted him at the French tavern in Paris. He mentioned how he’d favored it.”

“Talbot?” Rochester said, his eyes widening. “Damn and blast!”

“We need to get back to the manor house. Now!” Jonathan seethed.

Fool! How could I have been so stupid not to have seen it?

Diana was X. And Talbot had escaped and was in Bath. Melanie’s life was in danger.