British Brides Collection

by Hake, Kelly Eileen

  “No doubt.” Melodia wished they could remain on the topic of chicken soup all evening, but she had to insist they return to her original question. “Indeed, there were many women here tonight. But one in particular caught my eye when she spoke with you.”

  “Oh? I had no idea you would care so much now that we are an old married couple.” His eyes sparkled with indulgence.

  She refused to let him distract her. “The one wearing the red dress.”

  He chuckled. “There were a lot of red dresses.”

  “Not like this one.”

  Obviously sensing that she thought the question to be no laughing matter, he turned more serious. “I beg your indulgence, but you will have to remember that as a man, I have honed little skill in the way of powers of observation regarding women’s dresses. I am more interested in you, the woman wearing a perfectly lovely white dress.”

  She wanted to give in to his flattery, but she couldn’t. If she allowed this opportunity to escape, it would be gone forever. “Let me see if I can better enable your powers of recall. The woman was wearing an elaborate head covering with three bright red feathers protruding from the top. Certainly you remember that.”

  He thought for a moment. “Yes. I do remember that as an unusual hat.”

  “An unusual hat.” She pursed her lips. At least he hadn’t insulted her by pretending not to remember such a ridiculous costume.

  “And what of this woman?”

  “I—I did not care for the way she brushed against you, or the way you seemed amused by her conversation.”

  “My darling!” He jumped out of his chair, rushed over and, before she could protest, took her by the waist. “Certainly you are not jealous. Are we not still in the throes of newly wedded bliss?”

  “I would hope so. But after tonight, I have developed the distinct impression that someone else wishes we were not.” She stepped back within his embrace.

  “I think not. Everyone wishes you—and us—well. I have never heard the least bit of negative utterance said against you. Please believe me.”

  “But surely you know who this woman was.”

  He blanched. “I cannot say with certainty that I do. And that is the absolute truth.”

  “You know everyone on our guest list. Have known most of them for years. Can you not offer me a clue?”

  “I cannot.” He took his arms away. Though her speech had been hostile, Melodia regretted the symbolic loss of his fondness. “Do you want to know what I really think?”

  “Y–yes.” She braced herself for a lecture on how not to be a suspicious shrew.

  “I believe the guest crashed our party.”

  “What? How could something like that happen, especially when the woman was wearing such an outlandish costume?”

  “That is just the point. The woman most likely chose a larger than life gown and headdress with the idea that no party crasher would dare appear in such bold attire, and therefore no one would stop her.”

  Melodia contemplated his idea. “I can see the logic in that.” She wanted to believe it. She wanted to believe that the woman attended the ball uninvited, taking full advantage of the fact that all the guests’ faces would be concealed by masks. The thought gave her comfort. At least then the woman wouldn’t be one of the friends she had recently made. “Yes. I believe you have something there.”

  “So you see, there is nothing to fear.”

  “Well then,” she ventured against her better judgment, “since you have no idea who the mystery woman might be, can you tell me what she whispered in your ear?”

  “I … it was hard for me to hear anything amid all the talk and music.”

  “But you laughed.”

  “My, but you were watching closely.”

  She could no longer look into his eyes. “I beg your indulgence. I suppose I am a bit of a shrew, and I have no right to be. You married me even though you knew me only by name and reputation, and you have shown me nothing but kindness since my arrival here. I surmise that not every husband would have been so considerate. Especially since I am so far from my home and family, and no one would ever know if you were cruel.”

  He took his hands in hers. “I am considerate because I want to be. You are a woman who deserves everything I have to offer as a husband. Now if you will allow me, I would prefer to put aside anything having to do with any mystery woman and concentrate on the lady before me.” He caressed her cheek. “I love you, Melodia. And I always will. Remember that.”

  She gasped. The words she had been waiting to hear! “I love you, too, Rolf.”

  He took her into his embrace, urgently this time. She didn’t resist his kiss.

  Chapter 6

  Oh Melodia, I am so glad you sent for me!” Felice ran into her sister’s arms, forgetting all expected restraint in front of the maids witnessing their exchange in the parlor.

  Melodia broke the embrace but took her sister’s hands in hers. “You must be exhausted after your journey. Come. Let us take tea in the drawing room. The view from the windows is so lovely. You can see the gardens.”

  “That sounds delightful.” Felice inspected her traveling suit sewn from serviceable cotton the color of an afternoon sky just before the first strike of a thunderstorm. “But I am not dressed for tea.”

  “Indeed not, but teatime is upon us. You can dress in your best for tea tomorrow to make amends for your lack of decorum today, can you not?”

  “To keep you from delaying your teatime, I shall. Thank you for overlooking my drab attire.”

  “Of course,” Melodia said. “And while we partake, Peter will carry your trunks to your room just down the east hall. The Gold Room. I will show you later myself. I assure you, your room is the best guest suite in the house. Not too far from mine.”

  “That is kind of you, sister.”

  “I would never let you stay in any but the best room,” she commented as Felice followed her. Moments later, they were sitting together on the sofa. Felice didn’t delay in sharing all the news about their friends.

  After Felice had exhausted all avenues of tittle-tattle, Melodia posed her own query. “So how is Father?”

  “He misses you. But you know how reserved he is. He would never admit to it.”

  Melodia swallowed. “He must be even more lonely now that you are here. Did you have trouble convincing him to let you visit me?”

  She shrugged. “He knows that visiting you would make me happy, so he agreed.”

  “Are you really so happy to see me, or are you just glad to escape that awful Sir Arnold that Father is determined you are to marry?” Melodia teased.

  “Both! Oh, if I can make a good match here, maybe Father will change his mind.” Felice looked around the room. Melodia saw that she seemed to notice wallpaper of bucolic scenes and that the windows were framed in damask. Felice’s gaze rested upon an original oil painting of a pastoral scene, framed in rich wood. Her observation traveled to the tall pendulum clock, then to the fireplace mantel carved from Italian marble, then to the costly rugs, and around the room to take in the details of each piece of imported furniture. “And I do think I might be able to do well here. Very well.”

  Melodia chose to ignore Felice’s bold observation about her hopes for increased wealth. “And we could live just minutes from each other and visit every day. A splendid prospect, indeed.”

  She nodded. “So is that why you wanted me to visit? So I would ultimately live here near you?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Now, dear Melodia, as lovely as such a prospect sounds, I sense that you have some other reason for summoning me here. I hope it is not the result of any unhappiness with your handsome new husband. Is he secretly cruel?”

  “No, indeed.” She paused. “Although I have reason to believe that at least one of his friends might be.”

  Felice gasped. “What do you mean?”

  “Remember how I told you we were hosting a masquerade ball?”

  “Yes. And you also wrote
me it was a great success—in the same letter in which you asked me to visit. Surely you did not exaggerate the truth?”

  “No. It was a success. Except …”

  Felice leaned forward. “Except what?”

  “A mysterious woman flirted with Rolf.”

  Felice let out a laugh. “Oh, is that all? Why, women flirt all the time—especially when masks conceal their faces. No doubt many batted their eyelashes at Rolf during the night. You happened to see only one of them.”

  “I am not sure such a declaration does anything to console me.”

  “You are much too sheltered from the ways of romance.” Felice touched her fingertips to her curls. “Why, even I have been known to flirt now and again and mean nothing by it. If I did, I would have been wed at least thrice by now.”

  “Yes, I have witnessed such, and I am sure you could give this particular coquette quite a contest. But there was more to the flirtation than mere frivolity.”

  “What a ridiculous notion.”

  “Ridiculous? I think not. A wife can sense these things.”

  “And you called me here to—to what? Rescue you? How?” Felice stirred her tea.

  “I was wondering who she is.”

  Felice set her silver spoon on her saucer. “And you think I will be able to help you? My dear, I certainly know none of these local people. Why, you would have a much better chance at solving the mystery yourself.”

  “So the facts would demonstrate, but your mind is sharp, and so are your powers of observation.”

  “And my common sense as well, apparently. Why did you not make a point of observing this woman at the unmasking?”

  “I tried,” Melodia said, “but she was gone.”

  “Oh.” Felice stiffened and set her half-empty cup on the table. “Certainly you confronted Rolf?”

  “Yes.” Melodia set down her own cup. “May I warm your tea?”

  “Please do.” Felice nodded. “I hope you waited until after the party to ask him about this woman.”

  “Of course.” Melodia’s voice betrayed her irritation. “But he offered no clues.”

  “I am sorry you are so vexed, but I still think I can offer only limited assistance. Someone who knows Rolf’s group is much more likely to be of help. I know you have had little time to cultivate friendships here except for perhaps that woman you mentioned.” She paused. “Eustacia?”

  “Yes.”

  “Surely she has lived here forever, and I am merely a passerby. Why not ask her?”

  “And confide my feelings to her? She has visited me often, and I do consider her a friend, but I still prefer to share my innermost thoughts with my sister.”

  “Well then. What did this woman look like?”

  “She wore a stunning ensemble of red. Her headdress covered her hair, so I have no idea what color it was, or even if it was styled with the curls that are all the rage in Paris. She was tall, about your height.” Melodia sent her sister a disgusted shake of her head. “You would have much better sense than to wear large plumage on top of your head to add even more height. Obviously the woman followed poor advice from her seamstress—or someone.” She shuddered.

  “Indeed.” Felice’s voice sounded taut. “I suppose then, you should be on the lookout for a woman with a dreadful sense of fashion.”

  “Or maybe you can advise me to the ways of the world.”

  “Yes, we are an unusual pair. You, the elder sister, seeking advice from me.”

  “But you have always wanted to marry. Unlike me. So you have schooled yourself in the ways of romance whereas I paid them little attention all these years.”

  “True.”

  “And your visit here will help me be less lonely.”

  “Lonely?” Felice’s brow crinkled. “How can you be lonely?”

  “In addition to the woman I told you about, I’m afraid I have other competition for Rolf’s attention. Namely, business. And hunting, fishing, and gatherings with his gentleman friends. In fact, he is away on such a trip as we speak. He will not be returning until the night of our next soiree.”

  Felice’s eyebrows rose. “So he enjoys frivolities. He seems not to be home unless a party is planned or in progress.”

  “I beg your pardon. I did not mean to sound harsh. He is in London visiting his father, who is quite ill.”

  Felice’s lips tightened into the type of tight little smile that showed she wished she hadn’t spoken so soon. “I am so sorry. Yes, I did hear he is ill and is not expected to recover. I am so glad you decided not to go and put yourself at risk of contracting his illness.”

  “Do you not remember what I wrote to you only a fortnight ago?”

  “Ah, yes.” She nodded. “You did go to see him and found him looking wan and coughing terribly. I suppose I merely skimmed such a depressing portion of your letter. Do forgive me. I much preferred to concentrate on the fine bonnet you wrote of procuring at the milliner’s. You must tell me which shop so I can take a peek at her wares the next time Father and I journey there.”

  “Madame Jullienne’s. Yes, her work is exquisite. And I am not surprised that you concentrated on the happy part of my letter, being such a cheerful soul yourself.” Melodia took a sip of tea. “I am glad I took advantage of the opportunity to visit with my father-in-law. I had not seen him in years and would not have recognized him had we not been reacquainted.”

  “I am sorry to hear he seems so ill. I do hope you have not developed a cough since your return.” Felice flinched.

  “Do not worry yourself. I would never invite you to my home at a time when I thought I could put your own health at risk. I do believe his maladies are caused by old age. I suppose such a condition is contagious for those who live long enough to catch it.”

  “And the meeting went well?”

  “Yes. He was kind to me.”

  “But Rolf did not see fit to have you accompany him a second time?”

  “No. I have seen enough of London to last me for a time. And in any event, Rolf is going to take care of some errands for his father and return home after that. I would only encumber him. Though I do wish I could be with him.”

  “Ah yes. Loneliness. The plight of many an aristocratic woman. But would you rather be a poor peasant too busy plowing the fields to worry about such trifles as loneliness and jealousy?”

  Melodia shuddered. “Indeed not.”

  “I only hope the woman in red is not from London and that Rolf is not stopping by to see her when he is town to visit his father.”

  “I am sure the woman in red is not from London.” Nevertheless, Melodia wished Felice hadn’t brought up the possibility.

  “If so, she would have traveled a distance just to brush against your husband and feign it was an accident.” Felice chuckled. “But I would not worry about any other woman if I were you.”

  “Why not?” Melodia hoped Felice would impart some comforting words—perhaps commenting on the couple’s devotion to God’s commandments or on Melodia’s fine character being enough to keep Rolf from straying.

  “He would never discard you. As his wife, you are afforded a status that no mistress ever can. You will remain secure, my dear. I am sure of that. But in what state you wish to live the remainder of your days is up to you. You can choose to remain chaste and miserable, or you can choose to carry on great love affairs in a discreet manner and enjoy much frivolity. Once I am safely married, I know I can trust you not to confide in anyone that finding romance on my own is what I plan to do.”

  “Felice! How can you say that?”

  “Easily. You know how much I despise the man Father has chosen for me.”

  “And you are his favorite daughter,” Melodia reminded her.

  “That does not seem so, does it? I think Rolf is a much better husband than Arnold can ever hope to be. I know he is much more handsome.”

  “I would hope that, if you do plan to make a better match while you are here, it will be with the intent of being a good wife and not a
faithless one.”

  “Perhaps with the right man, I can be swayed.”

  “You are incorrigible!” Melodia tapped her spoon against the rim of her cup. Though her sister enjoyed talking in a daring manner, Melodia knew her well enough to see beyond her boasting. Felice was much like her. She only wanted a happy home and family. Though she flirted now, she was unlikely to live a wanton life as a single woman and certainly not after marriage. Not as she claimed some of the other women did.

  As they moved their conversation on to other subjects, Melodia tried to block Felice’s warning out of her mind. But the words kept spinning in her head.

  I will not give up without a fight. I will be the best wife I can. I shall start by taking Rolf at his word that he will not succumb to another woman’s charms.

  Still, in the future, she would eye every tall woman who could have been at the ball with the utmost care.

  Chapter 7

  A week later, Melodia found herself searching the manor house for Rolf. He had been late in making his return from London. Before the soiree in progress that night, she had only been able to discover the most broad details about his father’s health—that he was neither better nor worse—and to utter mention of Felice’s arrival. At the latter intelligence, she had expected him to react with indifferent pleasantness. She wondered why the news of her sister’s stay seemed to annoy him.

  Melodia worried. Rolf wasn’t in the habit of abandoning his guests in the middle of a night’s entertainment. Lord Suffolk had been in the midst of playing a lively tune he had composed himself only the past week. Their audience was the first to hear him perform his work. She couldn’t imagine why Rolf wouldn’t be present to hear the tune played with immense skill on the piano.

  Even worse, her concern about him caused her to forget her manners. She slipped into the dim hallway to search the rooms and gardens for where he might have gone. He was not to be found. The longer she searched, the more alarmed she became. Disgust at having to slip out from their guests, proving herself to be a poor hostess, grew into anger at him for putting her in such a position, then dissolved into fear. Perhaps he had been overtaken by illness. Perhaps even at that moment he was in pain, hoping she would find him so she could administer aid. Or what if something even worse had transpired? She clasped her hand to her throat in horror but nevertheless forced her feet to keep moving. She had to find him!