18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

T he door to Melior's room rattled, pulling her from a deep sleep. Sitting up, she rubbed her eyes. The door rattled again.

She grabbed her blankets and pulled them up to her chin. Who was trying to enter her room? It was probably nothing, but thoughts of stolen jewels and indignant servants made her fear for her safety.

Something whistled and the door rattled again. This time, however, Melior realized it was not the door to the hall, but the one connecting her room to Sir Nathaniel's. Was he trying to get in?

Pulling back the bed curtains, she peeked out. "Who is there?" Her quiet words carried no farther than a few feet in front of her, but she did not have enough courage to speak any louder.

No one answered.

After a few moments the door shook again. Reaching out, she grasped the brass candlestick on the side table. Her hands shook. If it was not Sir Nathaniel, she would be ready for her attacker.

The door rattled several more times, but not as insistently. After what felt like an hour but was probably only fifteen minutes, Melior found the courage to investigate.

A sliver of light shone through the curtains from the full moon, but it was enough for her to make her way to the solid wood door. Cold air hit her feet when she was close enough to touch it. The door rattled again. Was it really something so simple?

Placing a hand against the door to hold it still, she waited for the next waft of air. Sure enough, when the whistle of the wind picked up outside, the door pressed back on her hand but did not rattle. Melior had a wild urge to laugh at her ridiculous imagination.

Returning to her bed, she grabbed her wrapper. She did not think she'd be able to return to sleep anytime soon, especially with the door still rattling. Fumbling around, she found the poker for the fire. It took a few moments to locate the hot coals, but when she did it was only a matter of moments before she had a tiny fire to light her candle.

Now, how to occupy her time until sunrise? She checked her time piece. It was half past three. The sun would not be up for hours. Perhaps if she reread one of her informational texts the repeat of the information might bore her to sleep. But as she went in search of her books, another cold breeze blew in from under the connecting door.

She shivered. How was the outside air getting into Sir Nathaniel's room? Had he left his window unlatched? Her room was growing increasingly cold by the minute. His room must be positively frigid. He would catch his death in this kind of cold.

Creeping to the door, she tried the handle, but it did not turn. Then she remembered she'd locked every door leading into her room after the incident with the jewelry. She shook her head, feeling even more ridiculous for her earlier fear.

Key in hand, she carefully inserted it into the slot. A soft squeak accompanied the turn. What if she'd woken Sir Nathaniel? Perhaps that was all it would take for him to stop the draft from entering his room, but she heard no movement from inside.

Should she leave the candle so as not to wake him? But if she did, she'd certainly knock into something in the unfamiliar room. She grasped the candlestick tightly.

Hopefully he did not awaken and think her so brazen as to come seeking his attention. Her cheeks and neck grew hot with the thought.

Get to the window, shut it, get out, she repeated over and over in her mind.

When she found the offending opening, she was dismayed to find the latch damaged. Now how would she stop the icy wind from coming in? Her candle flickered and she quickly put a hand around it to keep it from going out.

"There is no use in trying to shut it," someone said in the darkness.

Melior fairly flew back, dropping her candle in her fright. It landed on the bottom of the curtain and a tiny blaze started to creep up the cloth. Sir Nathaniel leaped from his bed, grabbing the washbasin, he doused the small flame.

Tears pricked Melior's eyes and before she knew it, they made their way down her cheeks. "I'm… I'm… sorry," she stuttered. "I was only trying to stop the cold."

To her surprise, he reached out and pulled her into an embrace. "I know. There is nothing to apologize for. It is my fault. If I had not been so careless in latching the window last time, the wind would not have flung it open so violently."

She sniffled. "You are not angry with me for entering your room?"

"Angry? Heavens no."

He rubbed comforting circles on her back. His tenderness surprised her. She'd seen evidence of it with his mother, but never directed toward her. Then again, there was the incident in the carriage with the lap robe, and of course the day she'd been cornered by Mr. Fairchild.

New insight flooded her mind as she realized how many times he'd actually stepped in to help her. There was the time she'd wanted to avoid dancing with Mr. Fairchild, and the day he rescued her from an uncomfortable encounter with her mother. The way his hand had settled over hers when the Primley men had appraised her like a cow at market. And so many other little moments these last few weeks as they ate dinner. How had she been so blind to this side of him?

"Are you well, Melior? The candle did not burn you, did it?"

She shook her head against his chest, the smell of him filling her nose. "No, I am not burned, only startled… and cold."

"I had not thought about how the breeze might filter into your chambers. I should have tried moving something in front of the window, or at the very least, placed a blanket against the crack under your door."

She shivered again and he tightened his hold on her. The warmth of his arms, while pleasant, was not enough to keep out the freezing air.

"Let's get you back to your bed. There is no need for both of us to suffer."

He stepped back and grabbed her hand. The cold air rushed at her where once his warmth had been. Her teeth chattered.

Guiding her back through the door, he led her right to her bed. "Get under your covers, and I will stoke the fire to fight the chill."

She did as he bade, watching him remove a few lumps of coal from the small bucket kept by the hearth. After he fed the fire, he turned, and catching her gaze, actually smiled.

"There. Hopefully after I plug up the draft under your door, you will be able to rest well the remainder of the night."

"And what of you?"

He shrugged. "I will be fine."

"I do not believe you. That room is not fit to sleep in."

"Then I shall find one of the guest rooms."

"You would wake the servants in the middle of the night to make up a bed for you and light the fire?" Her mother may have been so thoughtless about the comfort of those she employed, but she'd not considered Sir Nathaniel to be quite so oblivious.

He tipped his head to the side. "I had not thought through the logistics of the plan."

Before she could lose her nerve she reached out and pulled back the blankets on the other side of the large four poster bed. "There is enough room here for both of us."

He stepped back. "I could not encroach on your privacy like that."

"You are not. I am offering to save your life."

"My life?" His smirk was contagious.

It brought a lightness to the whole uncomfortable night.

"Yes, your life. I fear you will freeze to death before morning and I am not quite ready to be a widow."

His smile faltered a bit. "It would give you the chance at freedom."

"Get in the bed, Sir Nathaniel," she ordered.

He took a step, then glanced back at the door. "I need to shut it and stop the draft. Let me fetch a blanket from my room."

Melior nodded, hoping this was not a ploy at chivalry. Now that she had offered a warm place for him to sleep, his refusal would feel like a slap in the face. At the same time her mother's words assaulted her mind.

Over the last four weeks she'd begun to question everything her mother had ever taught her. Even so, she was not ready to test the truthfulness of this particular topic. Had Sir Nathaniel thought she'd offered more than simply a warm place to sleep? Her heart began to pound in her chest as she realized what she had done.

Nathaniel grabbed another pillow off his bed. If he stayed in his room long enough, would Melior eventually fall asleep and not realize he hadn't returned? Unlikely. The door was still letting in the cold air.

Not that he disliked the idea. He liked the idea of sleeping by Melior immensely. But that was the problem. He doubted he could sleep knowing she was next to him.

She had felt so good in his arms, but there could be nothing more. He did not want to damage their fledgling relationship.

The wind picked up and whipped into his room. He grabbed the blanket and rushed to close the connecting door—with him on the other side.

Melior was still very much awake, her blue eyes peeking above the coverlet she held over her nose. He jabbed the blanket into the crack below the door—the relief from the cold almost instantaneous.

He made his way to the other side of the bed, Melior having taken the side closest to the door. She did not move as he lay his pillow down and crawled in beside her, careful not to touch her in any way. It was bad enough that simply being next to her warmed his blood. He did not need to start an inferno.

"Thank you," he said softly.

"You are welcome. Just remember who saved you from certain death next time you find yourself cross with me."

He chuckled. When had she become so cheeky? "I shall endeavor to do so."

Silence settled between them as Nathaniel willed himself to relax. Melior did not move and for a moment he thought she might have fallen asleep, but after listening to her uneven breathing he was certain she was as uncomfortable as he.

"Melior."

"Yes?"

"You have nothing to fear. I will not touch you without your permission."

She sighed. "Thank you, Sir Nathaniel."

"Why do you still insist on addressing me so formally when I have given you permission to use my given name?"

She turned on her side to face him. After a long moment, she said, "At first it was a way to put distance between us. I suppose I was hurt."

He peered at her. She looked so cute with her hands tucked up under her cheek. "Hurt by what?"

"You."

His eyes widened. "But I have done nothing—" He stopped, guilt enveloping him. "My words in the carriage."

"No."

He waited for her to continue, but she seemed to be deep in thought.

"You can tell me, Melior."

"Can I?" There was no malice behind her question, only hesitation. What kind of husband was he if his wife did not even know if she could trust him?

"I know we started off on the wrong foot, and I am by no means perfect, but I'd like to think of myself as a reasonable man. If you have a concern, I will do my best to listen and understand. Especially when it is concerning something I am at fault for."

She stared at him, blinking those large blue eyes as if she were trying to decide how true his words might be.

Finally, she sighed. "You promised you would not tell anyone about Mr. Fairchild's advances, but you did."

"When did I—"

"In the cloakroom, after he left. I asked you not to tell anyone."

He vaguely remembered saying something of the sort to comfort her in her distress.

"Then you went and told my brother of all people." The accusation in her voice cut him to the quick. "Was anyone else privy to my disgrace?" her voice quivered.

He rolled to his side to face her. "Only the men trying to keep your brother from killing me."

Her eyes widened. "He tried to kill you?"

"Not exactly, it was more like challenging me to a duel, but thanks to Al and John he did not carry his point."

She ducked further under her covers. "Lord Newhurst and Mr. Roberts know?"

He sighed. "Yes. Eddie was so angry that I had to explain. I'd not thought it would hurt you, or I would never have divulged the situation. You did nothing wrong, you know. It was all Fairchild's fault."

She gave a little shake of her head but said nothing.

"I am sorry I broke your trust. Truly. I had not recalled my exact words to you in the cloakroom, but now I understand why you were so upset with me when I came to visit. Can you forgive me?"

She nodded. "I suppose under the circumstances it could not be helped."

Her words were accepting, but she still seemed sad.

"Would you consider dropping my title now?"

"I will, but I may have to slap my brother across the head in the morning. Why did he not ask me first before going off and acting like a dolt?"

"He loves you and wanted to save you from pain."

"I suppose so."

More quiet settled between them. Nathaniel's eyes drooped as his body warmed under the covers. "Good night, Melior."

"Good night, Nathaniel."