22. Chapter 22

Chapter 22

M elior checked Nathaniel's room every few minutes to see if he'd returned upstairs after everyone retired for the evening. She'd promised they could talk about his confession, and she could think of no other time that they would be alone.

A mixture of relief and disappointment filled her when she found that the latch on his window had been fixed. Eventually exhaustion won out and she'd crawled into bed, determined to speak with him in the morning.

When morning came she dressed quickly, grateful that Baylor did not drag her feet or grumble as she often did. However when she searched through the box for her cameo brooch she liked to wear with her habit, it was not there.

She whirled around. "Where is it?"

"Where is what, my lady?"

"The broach, Baylor. You are the only one I have allowed in here. What have you done with it?"

"I donno what you are talking about, but just so you know you are not the only one with a key to this room. Mrs. Thompson carries keys for the whole house and lets us all in when we need to clean and such."

The triumphant smirk on the maid's face infuriated Melior.

"So that is how you all have been stealing my things?" she screeched.

"No one's been taking your things, so you might as well get off your high horse. It's you that's the petty thief."

Melior stumbled back as if she'd been struck. Not once in her life had she ever had anyone, servant or otherwise, accuse her of stealing. And yet this woman stood there smug and confident in her accusation.

The door between the two rooms opened and Nathaniel stepped in. "You will pack your things, Helen, and await the constable in the servants' dining area."

"But I… It weren't me who took them. Mrs. Thompson was only returning the property Miss Kendall stole."

"It is Lady Stanford. How dare you accuse my wife of stealing anything."

The fire in Nathaniel's eyes made Melior take a step back. And yet she wanted to cry in relief. He believed her and not the servant.

"My apologies sir, but Mrs. Thompson has had several letters from Lady Kendall outlining all the pieces Lady Stanford took from her personal collection. She said she did not want to make a public spectacle of her daughter, but she needed the jewels back."

Melior turned pleading eyes toward her husband. "Those are my things, gifted to me by my uncle and aunt and other family members. The duke himself can testify to the validity of it."

Tears gathered in her eyes. How could her mother be so cruel?

Nathaniel darted a glance at her and then back at the maid. "Tell Mrs. Thompson I wish to meet with her in the upstairs parlor in a quarter hour, then you may pack your things and leave."

"But I—"

"Have been rude and insolent to my wife for days, perhaps weeks. I will stand it no longer. I expected better of you, Helen. After so many years in my employ I am disappointed to know you would go behind my back and treat the woman I care about so abominably."

The maid burst into tears and, covering her face, ran from the room. Melior stared after her, a small part of her sympathizing with the woman. Baylor had thought she was doing the right thing.

Then she glanced back at Nathaniel and a tear slipped out before she could stop it. He opened his arms and she rushed into them. Her body shook with sobs that demanded to be released and his arms tightened around her. He said nothing as she cried and she was grateful.

When her tears slowed he released her and led her to the chairs by her fire. She sat and he turned the other chair to face hers.

Sandwiching one of her hands between his, he waited patiently for her to completely calm. "Why did you not tell me that you were missing things?"

She sniffed. "Because…" Part of her did not want to complete the sentence, but his intent expression held no censure. "I did not think you would defend me. You were very clear about how you viewed my behavior and how you expected me to behave around those connected with you. I was frightened I might not…you might not…"

He hung his head. "I should have never said those things," he muttered. Raising his head, he peered at her. "Can we go back, Melior?"

Her brows drew together. "What do you mean?"

"Can we pretend the last eight years have not happened and go back to that day in the ballroom when everything seemed right between us?"

Melior smiled sadly. "The past cannot simply disappear, Nathaniel. I am a different person than I was at fifteen. You are as well."

"I know." He glanced down at their clasped hands. "Then why not a new beginning? We can throw out what we think we know of one another and start again. I must admit that I thought I knew who you were, but over the last few weeks the woman I see and the one in my head are two different people."

"I am sure we are not completely different." It was Melior's turn to hang her head. "I have not been my best self for quite some time."

A finger touched her chin, lifting her face until she gazed at Nathaniel. "Neither of us have. I have been unfair to you, and I am sorry. Please let me make it up to you. Let's start anew."

She nodded, a tremulous smile on her lips. "I would like that."

As good as it had felt holding Melior in his arms, Nathaniel wished the whole situation that had led up to it had not happened. To think his servants had gone behind his back, Mrs. Thompson especially. Why had she carried out Lady Kendall's orders without asking?

In the parlor he found her wringing her hands, a strand of mousy brown hair pulled free from her usually neat bun. She froze the moment her eyes landed on him.

"I assume you understand why you have been called here."

"Helen informed me."

"And can you explain yourself?"

"I am sorry, sir. I had hoped to save you from any more stress after the circumstances of your marriage. When Lady Kendall asked me to return the first few stolen pieces, I did not think much of it, but I should have suspected when the letters kept coming."

"I should release you for such underhandedness."

The older woman's shoulders sagged. "I know, sir. You have every right. I take full responsibility for my part. No other servants were involved."

He appreciated the housekeeper's straightforward and honest confession. "It does not lie entirely on your shoulders, Mrs. Thompson. Lady Kendall is the one who carries most of the blame. From now on I expect all correspondence from that household to be brought directly to me, no matter who it is addressed to."

Mrs. Thompson appeared doubtful but nodded her understanding.

"And I shall be docking your pay until the jewelry is recovered."

"You mean I am not to be let go?"

"I thought that was clear when I ordered you to bring me the Kendall letters."

The matronly woman straightened, her expression lightening. "Yes, sir. I mean, it is now. Thank you."

"One more thing."

"Anything, sir."

"You will put a stop to any mistreatment of Lady Stanford."

"Someone has been unkind to your mother?" Mrs. Thompson scowled, her hands balling into fists.

"Not the dowager Lady Stanford. My Lady Stanford." The possessiveness he put into the words shook something loose in his head. His lady. Melior was his. For the first time the reality of it struck him.

Mrs. Thompson's expression flattened. The housekeeper had been around since he was a boy, but he would not stand for any resistance where his wife was concerned. Nathaniel crossed his arms and widened his stance. The woman's face broke into a smile.

"If I might say, it is nice to see you finally taking charge, sir."

His mouth went slack.

"I will make sure Jenny and Helen keep a civil tongue in their heads."

"I have let Helen go."

Mrs. Thompson dipped her chin. "I wondered if that had been the case when she fetched me, but her tears were so thick I only understood something about the missing jewelry. She did not have anything to do with their disappearance, though."

"I know, but my decision still stands."

Someone stepped in through the open door behind him and Mrs. Thompson dropped her gaze.

"Nathaniel, may I speak to you?"

Melior's voice was steady, no trace of tears or hesitancy.

He dismissed Mrs. Thompson, waiting until her steps had completely receded down the hall before he spoke.

"What is it, Melior?"

"I know what Baylor did was wrong—"

"You mean Helen?"

"It is customary that when a maid becomes a lady's maid she is given the respect of using her surname."

He sighed. "I suppose I was as offensive to her as she was to you when she addressed you as Kendall."

"Hardly." She smiled. "She meant offense, you simply forgot. But as for Baylor, I wish to keep her as my lady's maid a bit longer."

He slipped his hand into hers and led her to the settee. Settling her next to him, he faced her, their knees touching. "You wish to keep a woman who not only slighted you, but knew your things were being taken? I must advise against it."

"Has she ever been untrustworthy before?"

"Nothing has ever been brought to my attention, but my mother deals with the discipline of most of the household servants."

"Then if she has nothing negative to report, I would like to give Baylor a second chance."

He blinked at her. "Why?"

"The first day I arrived she showed actual concern for me, but I was cold in return. I think we simply started off wrong and perhaps some time could change that, especially if I can redeem myself by being the one to give her back her position."

"You wish to be the one to tell her?" He rubbed his thumb over the soft skin of her hand, amazed at her generosity.

"Yes. But I will not give her free rein to do as she has previously. I will set down stipulations that she must abide."

"I would expect nothing less." He searched her gaze, noting how the curls about her face framed her eyes to perfection.

The air thickened and a pleasant tension snapped between them. Nathaniel wondered if Melior felt it too. She leaned forward a fraction and a jolt of pleasure made his heart rate increase.

She was so beautiful, and for the first time he realized her beauty traveled far deeper than he'd ever known. How had he been so blind? Then again, according to his father, prejudice was a darkness in the soul that could lead one to only see a lack of light rather than the brightness in others.

Slowly he slipped his hand around the back of Melior's neck. She trembled under his touch and he wondered if it was from fear or pleasure. When she leaned in further, he had his answer.

Without another thought he pressed his lips to hers, relishing the warmth and acceptance there. A thousand fireworks exploded in his heart as he lived a fantasy he'd long since given up.

Someone cleared their throat and Melior jerked back, her cheeks flushed and her lips pink.

Nathaniel glared over his shoulder at the intruder, then shot to his feet.

"Your Grace."

The twinkle in the duke's eye belied his placid expression. "Is this an inopportune time?"

To his surprise, Melior giggled. Nathaniel tried to wipe his own smile off his face until the duke grinned. It was a lost cause and he laughed along with the others.

The duke took a seat across from the settee. "I remember the first time my mother came upon me and my bride in an embrace. Lucinda was mortified, but Mother simply congratulated her for making sure I was well kissed."

"She did?" Melior's eyes were wide.

"Yes, your grandmother never did hold to tradition that married couples should act as indifferent acquaintances in their own home."

Nathaniel retook his seat, slipping his hand into Melior's. Her ready acceptance brought a comfort he did not even know he needed.

"I think I would have liked your mother, Your Grace."

"I know you would have. She and Melior share far more than their name."

He turned. "You were named after your grandmother?"

She nodded. "Mother insisted I needed a name that let others know I was destined for greatness."

The duke shook his head. "Yes, your mother always did see herself as far superior than those around her, hence any child of hers would have to be the same. But if she had studied the name more fully, she would have found that Melior is often translated as better rather than superior. My mother always said it was a reminder from her parents to be better today than she had been the day before."

Melior gave Nathaniel's hand a slight squeeze, but her eyes remained on her uncle. "I believe that is the best way to translate the name, and one that I have been trying to put into practice of late."

She had? Nathaniel squeezed her hand back, relishing the joy in the connection.

Her uncle smiled. "I knew you would. Now"—he slapped his hands down on his knees—"to address the topic I wished to speak to you both about. I know I suggested this removal to the country, but I have found that gossip has died down far faster than I anticipated, at least concerning your nuptials."

Nathaniel frowned. Melior had been through a lot today and he hoped the duke would not brooch the topic of Mr. Fairchild.

"I would like to invite you both to attend my wedding Wednesday next."

Melior sucked in her breath. "Do you mean it?"

"Absolutely," His Grace said.

The hope in her eyes brought conviction to Nathaniel's heart. He would make sure they were at the duke's wedding, rumors or not, but what if whoever forced Melior into this marriage decided it was not enough? What if the slander continued?