23. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

M elior made quick work of speaking to her lady's maid, letting the woman know that she could regain her position on the stipulation she bring any concerns to her rather than gossip about it below stairs. Baylor had sat hard upon her bed, a stunned expression on her face. It had taken several moments for her to answer, but when she did, it was followed by a flood of apologies.

Melior thought back on the maid's happy smile as she'd left her. It was too early to tell if things would work between them, but the appreciation on Baylor's face had been a good start.

Thompson helped her into her red pelisse as Nathaniel and Eddie slipped on their gloves. Once dressed for the cold, they made their way to the carriages, Eddie teasing Nathaniel about his choice of tan breeches.

"All I can say is that if you happen to take a spill in the mud you are bound to look as if you did not make it to the outhouse in time."

"I hardly think this an appropriate conversation in front of your sister." Nathaniel helped Melior into the carriage, then climbed up beside her.

Eddie laughed. "She's heard worse from me."

Melior gratefully accepted the lap robe he handed her. "Yes, but that is when you were seven and ten, not five and twenty."

"Those were the days," Eddie said wistfully.

Her uncle sat on the seat beside her brother. "How, might I ask, is Sir Nathaniel to get mud on his breeches, Eddie? Are you planning to trip him?"

"I would not put it past him," Nathaniel said and tapped on the roof.

The rest of the drive consisted of much the same banter, bringing a constant smile to Melior's face. It was the loveliest drive she'd had in a long time.

When they reached the paper mill where they planned to start their shopping, Lord Newhurst and Mr. Roberts were already waiting, a bevy of females surrounding them. How many of Mr. Roberts's sisters had attended him?

Lord Newhurst appeared terrified as he glanced from one pretty woman to another. Mr. Roberts, on the other hand, was in deep conversation with one of them.

When the woman turned, Melior's eyes widened as she recognized Miss Harris.

By the time the coach rolled to a complete stop, all the women had stopped talking, their eyes glued to the door of the conveyance. Nathaniel handed Melior down and Miss Harris greeted her with a quick embrace. It was not until Eddie descended that the gaggle of women burst into commotion again, each trying to gain his attention.

Miss Harris pulled her away from the five other women and began to walk. "Do not mind the others. It seems when my sisters and Algenon's get together there is not one whit of sense between them when men are present."

"Which ones belong to your family and which ones to Mr. Roberts?"

"If they have varying shades of toffee-colored hair they are mine. Any other color and they are Algenon's. And I must advise you that they sport almost every color I have ever seen in hair."

Melior chuckled. "I have heard there are quite a few of them."

"An underestimation, to be sure. My sisters would be considered quite a few, there are four you know. But Al has a plethora."

"Plethora is a fantastic word," Lord Newhurst said, coming up beside them and rubbing his hands nervously on his trousers. "It means a large or excessive amount and was first used as a medical term to describe bodily fluids or blood."

Several of the girls blanched and the two walking nearest him stopped entirely.

Miss Harris gave his arm a pat. "Yes, thank you, John. That was very educational."

Lord Newhurst blushed and muttered something unintelligible before falling back to walk with the men.

Melior peered at Miss Harris curiously. Did she call every man of her acquaintance by their first name? She would have questioned her, but Miss Harris was already speaking again.

"Poor man doesn't know what to do with himself with so many petticoats around."

"I had noticed he gets a bit tongue-tied with women, but I had thought he was making progress these last few weeks as he painted Nathaniel and I."

Miss Harris pulled her to a stop. "John is making a painting for you? My, but you are lucky indeed. He is quite proficient."

"Have you seen his work then?"

They continued walking.

"Yes, many times. We all grew up together—or at least around each other." Miss Harris cast a glance over her shoulder, then lowered her voice. "How are things with Nathaniel? Is he treating you well?"

Melior was taken aback. It was one thing for Miss Harris to use other men's first names, but the woman was speaking about her husband. A tiny seed of protectiveness bloomed until she remembered that they had known each other since childhood. Perhaps Miss Harris had never grown out of the habit.

Inhaling, she allowed her discontent to fade. "Better," she admitted, thinking of the kiss they had shared that morning. "It was rough in the beginning, but in the last few days there has been great improvement."

"I am glad to hear it after what you had to endure. And to think Mr. Fairchild would stoop so low as to accept money to ruin your reputation. The man is a cad in the worst sense."

This time Melior stopped. "What did you say?" Her heart pounded in her chest and her palms began to sweat in her gloves.

Miss Harris's hazel eyes swept her face. "They did not tell you?" Her gaze darted to Mr. Roberts. "I see Algenon and I will be having words. I told him you should be the first to know, but of course he had to play rescuer and expected you to be a damsel in distress. When will these boys grow up and realize we are strong enough to handle the truth?"

Melior's head became fuzzy. How many people knew about her time in the cloakroom with Mr. Fairchild? Did they also know she'd meant to trap Lord Caraway?

"Who told you about what Mr. Fairchild did?" Fear and anger battled in her chest. Nathaniel had sworn he had not and would not tell anyone else. Had he lied?

"Mr. Fairchild gloated to a few friends at a gentlemen's club and Algenon overheard them."

"And how did you come to know about it?"

Miss Harris's brow furrowed. "Why, from Algenon, of course. We may bicker a bit but we have always shared our deepest concerns with one another since we were children."

"And who else does he prattle on to?" Melior could not help her harsh words. The thought that he'd spread such vicious tales made her want to slap the man.

"Only the four men here." She gestured to the others. "Well except your uncle, that is. Though perhaps he might have shared the details with him in hopes of finding a way to stop the gossip."

So they had all known. The men in her life had known she had been set up and no one thought to share this with her. The rest of the women passed them on their way into the paper shop, but Melior was frozen in place. When the men began to enter, she glared at their backs. Only Nathaniel and Mr. Roberts seemed to notice her foul mood.

"Is everything all right?" Nathaniel asked.

"No," Miss Harris answered for her, casting her own glare at Mr. Roberts.

"I am in the suds again, it seems." He glanced between the ladies. "Well, come on then, Javenia, you can take a pound of my flesh while we peruse paper goods."

Mr. Roberts slipped her hand around his arm as if it were a pleasant day for a stroll and Miss Harris followed. When they reached the door, Melior heard him yelp.

"What was that for?" He stared down at Miss Harris.

"Just starting on that pound of flesh one pinch at a time."

When it was only the two of them, she whirled on Nathaniel. "Why did you not tell me that Mr. Fairchild had been paid to ruin me?"

The stunned expression on his face lasted only a moment. "I did not want you to suffer. You have been through so much. I had hoped to spare you at least this bit of pain."

Melior's heart thumped in her chest. She wanted to stay angry with him, but the sincerity in his voice cooled her temper.

"Nathaniel, all my life choices have been made for me. First by my mother and father, and then by you and my uncle. I am not helpless. If it concerns me, tell me. I am tired of being excluded from my own life."

"When did I or your uncle make your choices for you? Is this because I did not voice it abroad that we were married?"

"That is only a small part of the choices you made for me. Do you realize that not once did you ask me for my hand? You asked my uncle, you even made arrangements with my father, but you never solicited me."

His mouth opened, then shut. His eyes flicked to the sky and then back to her. "Melior, I am sorry. I was so caught up in the necessity of the marriage that I did not give you the deference you deserved. And then I made it worse by isolating you from the neighborhood. You must think me a brute."

His apology put out the last dregs of her anger. "Not a brute. If you were cruel, you would have left me to my fate when I stumbled upon Mr. Fairchild."

Nathaniel stepped forward, lifted her hand and held it between them. "I could never have left you to such a fate. You are too precious for that."

It was the second time he had hinted at deeper feelings for her. When he'd mentioned he cared for her to Baylor, she'd thought it for show, but now…

The door to the shop opened and Eddie peeked out, his eyes wide. "Save me," he mouthed before his head disappeared back into the shop.

"Should we lend your brother a hand before he finds himself engaged to one of the Harris or Roberts sisters?"

"I am not sure he deserves help." She smirked.

"Perhaps not, but we still do need him to help us ferret out our perpetrator. He cannot do that if he's in the throes of planning a wedding."

She tipped her head to the side as if to mull over the pros and cons. "I suppose we could step in this time, but next time he's on his own."

Nathaniel laughed and she grinned.

"Agreed."

Disappointment was a bitter thing. Nathaniel walked through multiple shops with it dogging his heels. Disappointment in himself for not seeing how blind he had become where Melior was concerned. Disappointment that he had not bridged the gap between them before now. But mostly disappointment that the other women of the party seemed to be monopolizing his wife's attention.

Perhaps also a bit of pettiness since he would have her to himself at home, but he had questions he needed answers to and he was too impatient to wait.

When they entered the milliners' he opted to stay outside with John. He assessed his friend's flushed complexion and darting eyes.

"Are you going to survive this encounter?"

John rolled his eyes. "Yes, but you might not. Why did you insist on my company today?"

"Come now, you must agree it has been pleasant to spend time with the fairer sex."

"Only if you call physiological and auditory torment pleasant."

"Are you saying one of them accosted you?"

"All of them have with their constant chatter and insistence that I offer my arm at every turn. It would not be so disconcerting if I had something clever to say in return, but the only subjects that come to my frazzled mind are either inappropriate conversation for ladies or excessively boring to their fashion-focused minds."

"Inappropriate? That is not like you. What could you possibly say that was inappropriate?"

John peered at him, misgiving in his expression. "I shared the medical origin of plethora and explained the use of urine in papermaking."

Nathaniel raised a hand to his mouth, trying to cover his amusement. "I see."

"There is laughter in your eyes."

A chuckle slipped through Nathaniel's fingers. "How is it that with men you can speak with eloquence and intelligence, but when ladies appear you turn into an encyclopedia, spouting words and details best left unsaid?"

John rubbed the back of his neck. "I do not know. I think something is broken in my head."

A grey striped cat darted across the road stealing John's attention. The door opened behind them and Nathaniel turned, expecting to welcome one of his friends to the millinery outcast club, but instead he found Melior.

"Did you not find anything you liked?" he asked.

She smiled. "It is fine work, but I am not in need of any headwear."

Curious. Melior had not purchased a single thing even though they had been to multiple shops. Had she not received her pin money? He did not think he'd been remiss there.

John cleared his throat and shuffled a step closer.

Nathaniel glanced at him and noticed the subject of his upset. There, gliding toward them, was Miss Wayland and her mother. John's gaze remained locked on the approaching lady and his throat bobbed.

"Who is the young woman that has John so mesmerized?" Melior whispered as she took his arm.

"That is Miss Wayland. She lives on the small estate to the south of Havencrest."

Melior looked up at him. "You mean that is our nearest neighbor?"

"Not quite. The widow Peabody and her derelict son are closer, but the Waylands are probably the closest ones worth knowing."

Her lips quirked. "Is that disdain for those beneath your station I am detecting?"

"No, it is pure dislike of gossips and drunkards." He would have liked to continue staring into Melior's smiling face, but there were introductions to be made.

"Mrs. Wayland, Miss Wayland, what a pleasure to see you."

"And you as well, Sir Nathaniel," Mrs. Wayland murmured softly.

Introductions were made and the ladies curtsied to one another. Nathaniel noted how thin Mrs. Wayland had become. The poor woman. Her health had been excessively poor of late.

"I had heard you had taken a wife, but I did not believe it," Miss Wayland said to him, then turned to Melior. "Is it true that your uncle is the Duke of Bedford?" Her wide-eyed innocent interest was consistent with the sweet nature Nathaniel had come to expect from her.

"It is. Would you like to meet him?"

Miss Wayland beamed. "Is he to visit you soon?"

"He is visiting now. In fact, he is inside the millinery shop."

The young woman's pretty pink lips made an oh shape as she slipped a hand nonchalantly around John's arm. She peeked up at him. "You did not tell me you were acquainted with a duke. Are they as regal as everyone says?"

John opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stared down at her, and she smiled back.

"Of course they must be," she replied for him. Turning back to Melior she said, "I would love to meet him."

So that was how the young lady got past John's lack of conversation.

The door to the shop opened and several of their group exited.

"Eddie, will you tell Uncle that he is needed outside?"

"Certainly."

The introduction between the Waylands and His Grace went exactly as Nathaniel had expected, with Miss Wayland doing the majority of the speaking and John nodding in all the right places. The duke, she declared, was far less intimidating than she'd expected, but just as handsome.

When they parted ways, Melior pulled him to the back of the group.

"Am I to gather that Lord Newhurst has a tendre for that sweet girl?"

"Yes, but an obsession would be a more suitable definition. However, he will never admit it."

"And why not?"

"He viewed her more as a little sister for years, bringing her bits of candy at Sunday services and listening to all her childish woes. Then we took a tour of the continent and when we returned she was a full-grown woman. He has never recovered since."

Melior's hungry expression reminded him of the matchmakers in London. "It would be hard not to notice her with those bright cheeks and that ready smile. And while freckles are not fashionable in London, I find them charming on her nose."

"Should I be jealous that you find her freckles so charming?"

She bumped her shoulder against him. "I find your freckles equally as charming."

He pulled her to a stop, a look of faux shock on his face. "I have freckles?" It was a ridiculous statement since he knew the bridge of his nose had a few quite prominent marks, but he loved the lighthearted moment between them.

Melior chuckled as she pushed him back into motion. "Do not play the fool with me. I have heard you lament them for years."

"You have? And all this time I assumed you were not listening."

She smiled sadly. Then in a voice remarkably like Lady Kendall she said, "A lady should never show undue attention to any man she does not wish to encourage."

"Does that include simple pleasant conversation?"

"According to my mother it does."

"And do you hold to her ideals?"

Melior tucked her chin in. "I used to think she was the authority on such matters, but not anymore."

"And what changed that?"

"Being thrown out of my own home without a single thought. I have been at Havencrest for over a month and still I have not received a letter from either of my parents or my so-called friends for that matter. If I am as special as they led me to believe, why does my worth hinge on my marriage?" She clasped her bonnet to her head as the breeze picked up. "I am only a commodity to them, one that needed to be molded into the most marketable woman in the ballroom."

Frustration at Melior's self-serving parents led his next words to be sharper than comforting. "You are not a piece of sellable goods, Melior."

"That is kind of you to say."

He pulled her to a stop and turned her to face him. "It is the truth. Had you been penniless, I would have found you just as valuable."

"And if I had no beauty?"

He swallowed. Her fine features had been the first thing to capture his attention, but he had to believe his feelings were deeper than the superficial. As he searched his soul, he realized how much he'd focused on her outward appearance.

She began walking again. He caught up to her and grabbed her elbow. The mask of pain on her face filled him with guilt.

"I am a weak man," he said softly. "Like most of my sex I cannot unsee your beauty, but I would like to think I would value your heart and generosity had you been born with a plain face and an unremarkable figure."

Her shoulders lifted. "Thank you. I am grateful I married you and not Mr. Fairchild. He saw me only as a prize to be won."

"And Lord Caraway?" He did not know why he asked the question. It was an idiotic venture in the least, and masochistic at its worst.

She sighed. "To be honest, I think I was in love with the idea of being married to Lord Caraway more than the man himself. He is a kind gentleman, but he is that way with all ladies. And with his youth and fortune he could have his pick. If we had made a match, it would probably have been for the status and dowry that I could bring to the union, not because I made any memorable impression on him."

Her face pinched and clear regret appeared in her eyes, but his heart rejoiced. All this time he thought he'd been battling to secure her already promised heart, and now…

"Do you think there was another woman he preferred?" He blurted out.

"I am unsure. Why do you ask?"

Should he share his suspicions with her? She had said he wanted her to be forthcoming with things pertaining to her life. "Do you know that Mr. Fairchild and Lord Caraway are connected by shared family?"

"I had heard as much."

"Are you not suspicious of him, now knowing that Mr. Fairchild accepted payment from someone?"

She shook her head. The others had scattered among the shops, so they were almost alone on the main thoroughfare. "Lord Caraway detests Mr. Fairchild almost as much as I do. "

"It could be a show, something to lead women not to suspect when he hires the man to get rid of those too close to him."

"And what motive would he have to ruin me? Would it not be easier to simply stop his attentions?"

That did make sense.

"No," she said, "I think it more likely that Lady Jane would be our culprit. She has made no secret of her pursuit of Lord Caraway and her dislike of me."

He nodded. "That is who your uncle and the others suspect, but I cannot see her stooping to such levels."

"You better see it. She can be exceedingly underhanded."

"Why do you dislike each other so much?"

She appeared perplexed. "Honestly, I am unsure. Our rivalry developed years ago and I have never thought to question it. Perhaps because she is the exact opposite in her coloring, but with the same advantages in face and figure. We have always competed for the central position in all the finest balls and parties."

"But nothing more? You have not committed any unforgivable offense?"

"Not unless you count treading on her gown during a reel. But that is something that happens to every lady. Nevertheless, I would not be at all surprised to find that she paid Mr. Fairchild to remove me from competing for Lord Caraway's hand."

She shivered and he placed a hand on her back to usher her into the next shop. The mercantile smelled of soap and sweets. Near the rear he spied Al and Miss Harris. They were discussing something quite intently and he understood their need for privacy. He did not wish to have his conversation with Melior to be overheard either. But when she headed straight toward his friend, he had no choice but to follow.

"Then you will travel back to London to find the backbiter who did this?" Javenia said.

"No, Javenia. As I said, I am needed here." Al's exasperation was clear.

"I do not need your protection, Algenon."

"Why can you not call me all Al as the others do?"

"Because Algenon is so enjoyable to say."

"And because you wish to irritate me."

"Much like you like to harass me with your overprotective attentions."

Al took a step back and his face fell.

Javenia placed a hand on his sleeve. "I am sorry, I did not mean it."

"Yes, you did. Can I help it if I am worried about Lord Penwick being in the neighborhood? He is a rake of the worst sort."

"But I am not susceptible to him anymore."

"That does not mean he will not try—" Al noticed their approach and quickly masked his frustration with a ready smile. "Lady Stanford, have you found anything to suit your fancy?"

"No." Melior's words were flat. "What did you mean, Miss Harris, when you said Mr. Roberts was going back to Town?"

"I am not going to Town," he insisted.

"Yes, you are," Javenia countered.

They glared at one another and Nathaniel grinned. Their relationship had always been thus. It was a comfort to see that some things never changed.

"It would be nice to have your help in London," Melior said.

Nathaniel whipped his head around to look at her.

"The more people we have listening to the gossip, the sooner we can locate the person behind it," she continued. "Nathaniel and I will be headed to Town for my uncle's wedding and I would like to know who framed me before I return home."

Al appeared as intrigued as Nathaniel. "For what purpose? Eddie and your uncle will stop Mr. Fairchild from continuing his idle chatter. I am sure the person responsible will expose themselves at some point without us needing to play the spy."

Melior threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin, the strong elegant woman of London returning. "Yes, but we must do so before he or she decides to ruin another woman's life."

Javenia cast Al a look of triumph. Nathaniel smiled. There were positives to having a wife trained to navigate and unravel Society's secrets by playing to their personal weaknesses, and Melior had struck on Al's. He could not abide the mistreatment of women. The thought that another might suffer was sure to secure his help.

Al folded his arms over his chest. "Then you are coming too." He narrowed his eyes at Javenia.

"I am fine here—"

"Either you go or I stay, which is it, Javenia?"

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I suppose I am to impose on the newlyweds to get there?"

Al gestured toward Nathaniel and Melior, and Nathaniel finally realized what he was saying. He'd hoped to travel alone with his wife. Hand outstretched, he tried to stop the words he knew would come out of Melior's mouth, but he was too late.

"Of course you may stay with us, Miss Harris. We would be delighted to have you."