16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

M elior found the next two weeks far more enjoyable. While very little had changed, there seemed to be less tension between her and Nathaniel. Dinner conversations flowed well as they shared childhood memories, and the times that Lord Newhurst had come to draw, she'd actually found herself smiling and even laughing.

Then again, it was hard not to when Lord Newhurst made such a big show of forcefully placing Sir Nathaniel in some of the most ridiculous poses. More often than not, the poses required Nathaniel to touch her, something she found she enjoyed immensely. He had not objected so she hoped that meant he was just as amenable to the contact.

However the last position had been more humorous than intimate. Lord Newhurst had required Sir Nathaniel to place his foot on a stool so his knee bent in a way he could place his elbow on it. Then Lord Newhurst had made him put his chin on his pointer finger while holding his other arm awkwardly out behind him, his hand grasping a bouquet of flowers. She, on the other hand, had been allowed to sit serenely on a chair next to him.

She chuckled at the memory. Picking up a paintbrush, she dabbed the watercolor on the small piece of parchment. The blue latched onto the purple she'd previously laid and mixed at the edges creating a beautiful marbling effect. She smiled and gazed out the window at the setting sun. The light refracted off the cracks in her lenses, drawing colorful lines through her vision and making a delightfully artistic view.

The watercolor would not be an especially good replica of the horizon, but it would add a bit of color to lighten up her darkly paneled room.

Her attention shifted to the ceiling, the only patch of light where someone had painted a mural of primrose, foxglove, and forget-me-nots splashed with several ox-eye daisies. A few of the small paintings that hung on the walls matched the ceiling, but it did not relieve the darkness of the wood.

It was odd that someone had chosen to decorate this room in what she would deem a masculine air. The flowers seemed to be an afterthought.

Baylor's staccato rap on the door brought her out of her reverie. Yanking her spectacles from her face, she slipped them into the box. When the lid was secure, she said, "Come in."

Her lady's maid entered, and Melior thought she heard her grumble something about the wait. She ignored the maid and set away her paints to dress for dinner.

"Sir Nathaniel asked that you take care with your appearance this evening," Baylor said.

"Oh."

Baylor walked to the bureau and started removing items. Melior bit back her frustration at the maid's continued coldness. Not that they need be friends, but the least the woman could do was explain herself.

Finally Baylor turned and seeing her expectant stare, said, "Apparently you have company for dinner."

They were hosting guests? A fountain of anticipation bubbled up and then crashed down when she realized that she had not been made aware. Was not the planning of dinner parties the responsibility of the lady of the house?

"Baylor," Melior said, glancing at the maid through the mirror. "Why was I not informed before now?"

"From what I gather, their arrival was a surprise to Sir Nathaniel and the Dowager Lady Stanford."

"Do you know who it is?"

"Aye, but I've been instructed to keep it a surprise."

A surprise. Did that mean it was someone she might know, or perhaps a person of rank and importance? That last thought sobered her. She needed to temper her expectations. Now that she was a baronet's wife, few people in her family's circle would still associate with her, much less pay a surprise visit.

She ran a hand over her cream-colored gown with yellow overlay that tended toward gold. "Please fetch me my amethyst beads." The pop of color would do wonders for both her outfit and her complexion.

"Where did you last place it, my lady?"

Melior turned a confused gaze to the maid. "Me? You were the last one to remove them and place them in the box with all my other jewelry."

Baylor riffled through several small compartments. "They are not here."

Melior rose from her seat and searched the box herself. Leaning in she saw blurs of gold and silver, but nothing purple or even white. A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. Not only were her amethyst beads missing, but her pearls as well.

She glowered at the maid. "Did you take them?"

"No, my lady." Baylor held up her hands to ward off the words. "I have not seen your beads since I removed them after dinner on Sunday."

Melior did not believe her. The only other people allowed in her chambers were the housekeeper and the upstairs maid, Jenny. She snatched out a gold chain and matching bracelet and stomped back to the mirror. Setting the bracelet on the table, she set to clasping the necklace about her neck.

"Here, my lady, let me help you with that."

Melior jerked back. "I can do it myself."

She sounded like a petulant child, but she refused to let the maid touch another of her jewels until she knew exactly who had taken her things. Then again, it was not as if Baylor would steal the gold chain right off her neck. And the bracelet would be nearly impossible for her to clasp by herself.

After several unsuccessful tries she finally relented and allowed Baylor to help. The maid's pinched expression showed a similar irritation. Whether she was the cause of the apparent thefts, Melior could not tell. But when it came time for her to go downstairs, she ushered the maid out of the room and locked the door with a key. She would take no more chances of things going missing.

Her mind was so consumed with the missing jewelry she did not hear the steps behind her until someone swooped in, grabbed her about the waist, and twirled her around. She squealed in surprise.

Eddie's laughter filled the corridor as he set her down. She spun around and slapped his shoulder. He laughed even harder.

"We are not children anymore, Eddie. One would think you were still five and ten with those antics."

"Being five and ten sounds preferable to being five and twenty. It is a shame there is no way to stop time, or better yet, reverse it."

She agreed with him there. How many disagreeable things could she have changed if she'd had a way to turn back the clock?

"That was a merry time, was it not?" Mr. Roberts's voice said from behind her. She startled, having assumed only she and Eddie were in the hall.

Eddie chuckled. "Goodness, Mel, you have become as skittish as a new colt since last I saw you."

"You would be too if you'd grown used to a near empty house that is silent as a tomb." And if your things had begun to disappear. She wanted to share her concerns with her brother, but she did not wish to include Mr. Roberts. Not that she did not trust the man, but she did not know him well enough to share her personal problems.

Would he take her suspicions to her husband? Would Eddie for that matter? There was still too much uncertainty between her and Nathaniel to risk any more friction. Over the last few weeks an inkling of hope had entered her heart that they might be able to one day have at least a friendship if not a marriage in truth.

"Havencrest is not all that bad." Eddie said. "I have stayed here often enough and there is always a servant or two about."

"Yes, but they do not accost me when I leave my room." She placed a hand on her hip.

Mr. Roberts's robust laugh echoed off the walls. "She has you there. When was the last time Thompson lifted you off your feet and swung you around?"

"When I was ten, stealing biscuits from the kitchens."

Melior's face slackened and Mr. Roberts laughed again. "How old is Thompson if he has been the butler that long?"

Mr. Roberts slapped Eddie on the back. "Oh, he was a footman when we were children. He's only been butler of Havencrest for the last three years." He offered his arm to Melior. "May I escort you to the drawing room? Best not to trust your thieving brother to get you there safely."

"It was you who put me up to it," Eddie protested.

Again, Mr. Roberts laughed and Melior realized how much she'd missed the banter with her brother and his friends.

In the drawing room they met Lady Stanford, her face a bit pinched. She tried to cover it with a large smile and conversation, but Melior was not fooled. Why had she left her bed if she hurt so much?

After a few minutes of conversation, two more people entered the drawing room and Melior had her answer.

"Uncle Percy!" She rushed to greet him. All thoughts of stolen jewelry, ailing family, and her uncomfortable marriage fled in the wake of his embrace. He wrapped his large arms around her and for the first time in weeks she felt safe and secure again.

Nathaniel smiled when the girl he'd known in his youth reappeared. He'd caught glimpses of her these last few weeks, but in the Duke of Bedford's arms, nestled her under his chin, he saw the love he'd known Melior possessed.

Nathaniel thought he even spied a bit of moisture in the older man's eyes. After a moment the duke held her at arm's length, then frowned. "You are pale and far too thin. Is Sir Nathaniel not feeding you well? Have you been ill?"

Algenon shot him a look, but Nathaniel stared back stupidly. How had he not noticed the lack in Melior's appearance? But as he took her in, he finally noted what her uncle had picked out in only a few moments. Instead of filling out her dress nicely, it hung on her frame. A heaviness settled in his chest.

Melior was his responsibility now. Her health and happiness rested in his care and he'd not noticed how she was diminishing.

"I am fine, Uncle. My health has been good, and the meals here have been plenty."

"But—"

She placed a hand on her uncle's cheek. "You worry too much. Please believe me when I say I am well."

His Grace nodded, but Nathaniel did not miss the all-business look the man cast his way when Melior turned away.

A very serious meeting with the duke was in his future and there would be no avoiding it. Not that Nathaniel wanted to. He deserved whatever rebuke His Grace had planned.

At dinner, talk flowed about the table like a bubbling brook. Melior asked dozens of questions about the happenings in Town while Eddie and Al did their best to answer them all.

Halfway through the meal, Nathaniel glanced at his unusually quiet mother and noticed her head lulling toward her plate. He understood her desire to dine with the duke, but she had pushed herself too hard to be here. How could he gracefully excuse her without making her feel unwelcome?

Then Melior stood and the men scrambled to their feet. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I forgot Lady Stanford and I have a prior engagement, but I shall meet you all in the drawing room when you are finished with your port."

His mother did not protest or contradict her, which was a testament to how poorly she fared.

Melior motioned to a footman and the man brought the bath chair.

Nathaniel was awed by her thoughtfulness and ingenuity. He knew she had no prior responsibilities, but her care for his mother had led her to act.

After both ladies removed, the gentlemen sat to finish their meal. It was odd continuing when he knew his wife would not. His eyes roved to her plate as a different footman cleared it.

How many times had Melior foregone the rest of a meal these last four weeks for his mother's comfort? How many times had he noticed how much food she'd left on her plate and not questioned it? Was she even having breakfast?

"Now that the ladies have removed themselves," Algenon said, wiping his fingers on his serviette, "I believe it imperative that I mention a bit of gossip that I overheard at Boodles."

Al's serious demeanor was such a contrast to his normal lighthearted nature that Nathaniel put down his utensils to give him his complete attention.

"There is a rumor I believe we need to address. Mr. Fairchild, it seems, has returned to London and is bragging about his part in Melior's ruin."

Nathaniel's hand curled into a fist. "The jackanapes."

"And that is not the whole of it. He insists he has received compensation for his time ."

"Compensation? What sort of compensation?" His Grace asked calmly.

"I assume a monetary one."

Fire burned in Nathaniel's chest. "Are you suggesting it was a plot to ruin Melior?"

Al leaned back and crossed his arms. "That is exactly what I am saying."

Eddie stood and slammed his fist on the table. "What brute would do such a thing?"

Al held up his hands in a show of innocence. "I do not know, hence why I brought it up with the men of most import to Melior."

"It must be Lord Caraway," Nathaniel said flatly. "He did not seem at all broken up about Melior's sudden betrothal."

The Duke leaned forward. "I would be hesitant to cast blame so soon. I was well acquainted with the previous Lord Caraway and have seen the current young man grow. There is nothing in his character that would lead me to believe him capable of committing such an ungentlemanly act."

"And yet he never came to see Melior or wish her well." Nathaniel drummed his fingers on the table trying to control the bubbling frustration.

"That is not terribly unusual in a case where the lady's reputation has already been brought into question. He would not want to stir up more gossip."

Eddie jumped to Nathaniel's defense. "But what other man would have cause to dislike Melior so much that they would want to ruin her life? Besides, everyone knows the man is related to Tom Fairchild."

"Not technically related." Al said, swirling his drink. "They share an aunt and uncle."

"And how is that not related?" Eddie looked flustered.

"Because Caraway is related to the aunt and Fairchild to the uncle. They share cousins, but little else."

Nathaniel tapped his pointer finger. "Yes, but it is still a connection. Enough perhaps for Fairchild to be empathetic to Caraway's plight."

"What plight?" Al's brow creased. "To keep from marrying a well-connected, beautiful, wealthy woman? Can you not see how flawed your reasoning is? I think you are letting jealousy get in the way of logic, Nate."

Nathaniel stiffened. "I am not jealous. It is a reasonable assertion, especially if there was another equally good option available to the marquess to pursue."

Eddie nodded emphatically. "I am with Nate on this, unless either of you have a better idea of a culprit."

The Duke of Bedford leaned back allowing the footman to remove his plate and eyed him with a raised brow. Nathaniel got the message. How had he been so remiss as to allow discussion to continue with all the servants listening?

The men all waited as the servants cleared the meal and the port was poured. Then Nathaniel dismissed the footmen.

"Whoever the bounder is we must ferret him out," Eddie said after taking a swig of his port. "We cannot let him or Mr. Fairchild get away with such maliciousness."

"I agree." The duke made eye contact with each man individually. "But gentlemen, have any of you considered that the malefactor might not be a man at all?"