“Though moments ago I thought you were not, I believe you now. I can see the sincerity in your face. And you have been a friend to me since my arrival here. I shall never forget your kindness,” Melodia assured her. “But you must realize I have not been married to Rolf long, and appearances …”
“Yes. We must have looked as though we were in the throes of a love affair. I am sorry that I put Rolf in that position. But I had to speak with him.”
“About what?” Melodia kept her voice gentle.
“I wish I did not have to say this, Melodia, but you apparently have enemies here. Someone is spreading rumors that you are in the midst of a passionate correspondence with a secret love you have hidden away—possibly a suitor from home. And of course, since Rolf, as a normal man, is often absent, that only adds fuel to the fire.”
Melodia concentrated on Eustacia’s declarations, wishing she could laugh and sob simultaneously. “Whoever is saying such nonsense does not know me at all. In fact, do you not remember that I told you myself that I had not even expressed interest in any suitors before my marriage to Rolf?”
“Yes. You had quite a different life planned for yourself. And I believe that. I have seen in your demeanor, the light in your face, the way your love for the Savior shines through you, that you would never deceive Rolf. And that is why I felt I had to tell him what was happening. I wanted to spare you hurt.”
“By suggesting an annulment?”
Eustacia gasped. “I suggested no such thing. That is only a tangent running through the rumor mill. You must have heard the end of our conversation when Rolf was expressing to me how preposterous such an idea is. And I agree with him.” A tear trickled from Eustacia’s right eye. “Melodia, I humbly beg your forgiveness for causing you distress. Please, please find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Melodia squeezed Eustacia’s hands. “No. Please forgive me for doubting you.”
“You have not known me long, and what you thought you overheard was enough to vex any matron. Your readiness to pardon me only proves yet again the depth of your character.”
The women embraced, knowing that no rumor would ever come between them again.
Chapter 9
Melodia made her way back to the party, but Felice approached her from the side and grabbed her sleeve before she could return to her seat.
“What happened?”
“Eustacia is not the woman in red, and she was only trying to protect me by speaking to Rolf.”
“Is that so?” she hissed. “I am not so sure I would trust her if I were you. So who do you think the woman was?”
“I do not know. I will pray about the situation. Now we must return to the party.” She attempted to do so.
“This is an outrage!” Felice whispered. “Rolf is not conducting himself in a proper manner, especially considering your delicate condition. If I were you, I would pack my bags and leave tomorrow. You and I can go back home. You can say you miss Father and want to visit him. Just do not tell Rolf you are never returning.”
Melodia thought for a moment. “If I do, then the woman in red may return.”
“So what if she does? Rolf does not deserve you.”
The night’s events had drained Melodia to the point of surrender. “Oh, all right. I will go home for a time with you. Perhaps getting away for a fortnight is just what I need.”
Minutes after the soiree ended, Rolf met Melodia in the parlor. Even after the night’s events, his touch upon her hand made her feel reluctant to part from him.
“Felice told me you are planning to leave,” he said.
“Not for long. Just to visit Father.”
“And your sister is returning with you.”
“Of course. Why would she stay here?”
“Why, indeed?” He sighed. “Eustacia told me to be sure to see you as soon as the evening ended. Apparently you have something important to share?”
“My, but you have been busy conversing.” Her voice sounded sharper than she intended. She jerked her hand from his almost involuntarily.
“You are upset. Please tell me what has happened to vex you so. I will have nothing distress you if it is within my power to stop it.”
“I believe you now, but I was not so certain earlier this evening when I spied you and Eustacia on the turret stairs.”
He gasped. “What did you hear?”
“Enough. And then I confronted Eustacia, and she explained the full conversation. I know about the rumors. Rolf, I promise you they are not true.”
“Of course they are not true. I regret that she told you. Such vile accusations were not meant for your ears.”
“Who do you think is saying these awful things about me? The woman in red, perhaps?” Melodia’s stomach lurched.
“I can promise you no one is saying anything negative about you now. I started another rumor, only this one is true. I am making it clear that anyone who tries to sully your name will have to face my wrath.”
Love for him surged through her. She took his hands. “But how can you stop them from saying things behind our backs?”
“Perhaps I cannot. But my name and reputation mean something around here. I doubt anyone will want to cross me.” He squeezed her hands. “I will defend your honor now and forevermore. And as you are my wife, you will obey me as you agreed in our vows, yes?”
She looked at her toes, clad in kid leather, peeking from underneath her soft green skirt. “Yes.”
“Then I want you to obey me now. Stay here. With me.”
She looked up. “Do you really want me to?”
“I would not ask if I did not.” His eyes took on a sad cast. “Why do you doubt that I would want you to stay?”
“I … the rumors.”
“No. I never want you to mention such a thing again. Do you understand?”
For the first time, Melodia saw Rolf’s eyes narrow and his features tighten in anger. She could see why Rolf had a reputation as a great hunter—and why he was feared by his enemies.
“I cannot bear the thought of your departure under such circumstances.” He clutched her waist and pulled her toward him. She surrendered with abandon to his urgent lips.
She forced herself to pull away from him. “I will stay but only on one condition.
You must tell me the truth. You say you spoke to the source of the rumors. Who is it?”
At that moment, Felice rushed into the parlor. “No. Do not tell her.”
“You were listening to us?” Melodia asked.
“Yes. But it is for your own good.” She placed an urgent hand on Rolf’s arm. “Do not tell her. She is in no condition to be upset.”
“No condition?” Rolf looked at Melodia. A smile of cognizance flooded his face.
She averted her eyes. “Yes, it is as you guessed. If all goes well, I will be presenting you with a gift from God—an heir—this winter.”
“Melodia!” He lifted her in his arms and whirled her around.
“Careful!” she jested.
Laughing, he squeezed her in an embrace. “Oh Melodia, this is one of many moments in our marriage I have been dreaming of! An heir! I hope his eyes are as bright as yours.”
“And his form as fine as yours,” Melodia said.
“No doubt he will be beautiful,” Felice said. “But, Melodia, we must prepare for our departure on the morrow.”
“No,” Rolf said as he sat Melodia back on her feet. “I do not want her to leave. Especially not now. She is in no condition to travel. Undoubtedly you suggested such folly, Felice?”
“I—I thought visiting Father would do her good.”
“You thought nothing of the sort.” Rolf’s eyes took on an anger Melodia didn’t expect. “Felice, it is time your sister knew the truth.”
“No.” A light of fear visited her eyes, and she clutched her throat.
“I have been protecting you all this time but no longer.”
“Protecting her?” Melodia asked. “Rolf, what do you mean?” She
looked at Felice. “What is happening here?”
He looked at Felice with a cold sternness. “You should be ashamed of yourself, Felice. If I were you, I would rather die than let my sister know how little I thought of her.”
Melodia felt more confused than ever. “The truth, Felice. I want to know.”
Felice concentrated her attention on Melodia and looked at her with flashing eyes. “Rolf has never belonged to you, Melodia. He is mine, and you do not deserve him.”
She pressed her hands to her heart. “What?”
“You were supposed to live the life dedicated to God, remember?”
“Yes. But Father forbade it.”
She regarded the floor. “Yes, I am aware of that. Even though I am his favorite daughter, he would not listen to reason.”
“Are you saying that Father knew you wanted Rolf for yourself but insisted that I marry him?” The thought was too much to bear. Only a few months before, Melodia would have been more than happy to throw Rolf straight at Felice and never look back. Now the thought left her throat dry and her heart heavy. She looked at him, a fresh wave of love rushing to her being.
“I am indeed.” Felice crossed her arms. “You were more than happy never to marry, yet he was not willing to, as he said, ‘waste’ an opportunity to marry you to Rolf to bind our family’s fortunes. Then that would leave me free to marry Arnold.” She grimaced.
Melodia felt shamed. While Rolf was no fool, to have him spoken about as a commodity left her with embarrassment. “Stop it, Felice.”
“Do not worry about sparing my feelings,” Rolf assured her. “I know the ways of the world.”
“Remember Normandy? How we dined and danced?” Felice reminded Rolf. Her voice held a tantalizing tone that left Melodia cold.
“I dined and danced with many lovely ladies. I am sorry that what I thought was polite behavior on my part was interpreted as much more by you, Felice.” Rolf’s voice held an edge Melodia had never heard.
“But … but …” Felice stopped herself and sighed.
“That is correct. You cannot think of any promise I made or anything else I said that would have led you to believe I harbored any feelings for you beyond the pleasures of polite conversation. I am sorry, Felice. I have come to love your sister. No matter how many masquerade balls you attend uninvited or how many rumors you spread, you cannot change my mind—or my feelings. And I do not want you to try.”
Realization struck Melodia. “Felice, you are the woman in red!”
Felice countered with more rage than Melodia knew her sister possessed. “You!” She shook her finger in Melodia’s face. “You ruined everything.”
“I? I ruined everything?” Melodia paused to bring down the tension in the room. “Just what do you think you were trying to do to my marriage? I suppose you told Father you were visiting a friend.”
“Of course.” Her voice held no remorse. “Although Father did insist that I bring three servants.”
“And you chose three who fear you too much to reveal your secret,” Melodia guessed. “Father always lets you have your way, regrettably.”
“I must say, the Goat’s Head Inn proved quite a disappointment. I never saw so much riffraff in one place at the same time.”
Rolf shuddered. “I never would have allowed my sister-in-law to stay at such an establishment.”
She shrugged. “It was only for one night.”
“But why, Felice? Why did you go to so much trouble just to come here in secret and whisper to my husband?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“If you are capable of telling it.”
Felice flinched. “I suppose I deserve that. I flirted with Rolf because I assumed you were not in love.”
“Oh, but we are in love!”
“Yes, I can see that now. And I never should have interfered. Only …”
Melodia could see the hurt of lost love in her sister’s face. “I am sorry, Felice. I never wanted to be the cause of any unhappiness for you. I love you too much.”
“You do?”
“I know she does,” Rolf said. “And you should be grateful for such a wonderful sister. I know I am thankful that God gave me a gift in Melodia far greater than I deserve.”
Melodia took Felice’s hands in hers. “You are my sister, and you shall always have my love. But for now, I think it is best if you return home to Father. I will write him a letter imploring him not to betroth you to Arnold. I cannot promise he will comply, but I can try.”
“You would do that for me?”
“Yes.”
Obviously overwhelmed by Melodia’s forgiveness, Felice kissed her sister on the cheek. “I shall be taking my leave of the estate on the morrow.”
Seeing Felice’s sincerity, Melodia nodded. Felice exited the room, her demeanor humble.
Melodia turned to Rolf. “I beg your forgiveness for doubting you.”
“No, I am the one who should be asking forgiveness. I allowed myself to appear faithless when nothing could be further from my mind—or my heart.”
She smiled, knowing they could forgive each other anything for the rest of their lives. “I must ask one favor. Can we dispose of the costumes we wore to the masquerade ball? The memories they evoke—ones of doubt and torment—are too great to bear.”
“I agree. I never want to see the dress you wore or that mask or my costume ever again. I promise I will donate both costumes to charity—somewhere in London, where we are unlikely to attend an event where we would find anyone else wearing them.”
“And I certainly never want to see a crimson dress again. Never.”
“Crimson would not be becoming on an expectant mother in any event.” As Melodia giggled, he caressed her curls and took in a happy breath. The kiss they exchanged let Melodia know they truly would enjoy a happy ever after.
LOVE’S UNMASKING
by Bonnie Blythe
Dedication
To my husband, who is everything a hero should be.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Tamela for recommending me for this anthology and to Pamela and Jill for making me feel so welcome. As always, I am indebted to my critique partners in the Crits and ACFW#11 and to my main writing buddy, Vickie McDonough, for her unwavering encouragement.
Man looketh on the outward appearance, but the LORD looketh on the heart.
1 SAMUEL 16:7
Chapter 1
London, 1814
Oh dear! Is everyone in London so intimidating?
Amaryllis Sinclair peered up at the face of the butler while standing on the front steps of her aunt’s West End London townhouse. Fatigue made her limbs leaden after the long journey from Dorset to London. Lady Agatha’s traveling carriage had not been particularly well sprung, and Amaryllis looked forward to a quiet nap after her trip.
“You are expected,” the butler said in sepulchral tones. “Step inside.”
Amaryllis took trembling steps into the dim hall, noting the black-and-white tiles and a hall table flanked by two heavy Jacobean chairs. A large painting on one wall depicted a stag being savaged by hounds.
“This way, Miss Sinclair,” the butler intoned. “My lady is in the Blue Room.”
Following the butler’s stately tread, she heard the sound of barking somewhere deep inside the house. She nibbled her lip in anticipation of meeting her great-aunt for the first time. In point of fact, she’d never known of Lady Dreggins’s existence until a week ago when a crested letter arrived at her home, offering the sponsorship of a season.
At twenty summers and busy with the needs of a small church parish, Amaryllis had begun to lose hope of marrying. The letter had seemed like an answer to prayer. Perhaps in London, she would find a godly man for her husband—a man not swayed by the dictates of fashion or pleasure but with his attention turned toward what was most sober and worthy.
The butler pushed open a door and preceded her into the room. “Miss Sinclair, my lady.”
Amaryllis ste
pped across the threshold. Her gaze fastened on a woman reclining on the arm of a backless sofa, and she put a gloved hand to her mouth.
Here was no diminutive lady with the sparkling eyes and white locks she’d envisioned during the long trip. Instead, a squat woman, powerfully built with freckled arms and a bulldog jaw, stared back at her with small, bearlike eyes. Two tiny pug dogs shuffled forward, barking and wheezing. Amaryllis took a step back, not wishing to be bitten.
“You Sinclair’s daughter?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Is he still too busy with botany to spare time for his flock?”
“Er, well—”
“Are you mealymouthed? Speak up!”
She took a deep breath. “My father is very fond of flowers, my lady.”
The woman smiled smugly and petted one of the dogs on the head. The dog seemed to have an asthmatic fit. Amaryllis struggled to compose her expression, not daring to give away the shock that assailed her.
“Not planning to give you a season, was he?”
“No, my lady.”
She patted the cushion next to her. “Well, Lady Agatha will take care of that.”
Clutching her reticule in her hands, Amaryllis crossed the room and perched on the edge of the sofa. Her smile felt more like a grimace.
“I think you’ll do,” Lady Agatha said. “Maria Ashbury has a young charge, whey-faced and with red hair. Most unfortunate hair color, red. The Duke of Wellington even went so far as to shave his son’s red eyebrows off. What do you think of that, hey?”
“I—”
“Your opinion’s not important. The key is to stay quiet and smile prettily. Men hate intelligent women, so if you’re unfortunate enough to have much book learning, keep it to yourself. A lady only needs to be able to write her name so she can sign her dressmaker’s bills. Beyond that, her sole occupation is to be a pretty ornament to a man and bear him heirs.”
Amaryllis glanced at her aunt’s puce-colored gown, constructed with many gores, flounces, and bows, and wondered if she had ever married and had children. “It’s very kind of you to offer me this opportunity, my lady,” she ventured.
British Brides Collection Page 13
