Instead, Brigham had pushed her away.
“I laid your evening gown out before we departed for the village,” Lilly said at her side. “Shall I help you change and retire for the eve?”
Mellie glanced up at the clear night sky, the sun having set several hours before and the moon casting an almost enchanting shimmer on the landscape surrounding Hockcliffe.
“Do seek your own respite now.” Mellie quickly embraced her maid and slipped her hands into her muff for warmth. “I think I will stroll the gardens before I return for my meal.”
“It is dreadfully cold, my lady.”
No colder than it would be in Brigham’s presence.
“I will only remain outside for a short time. My word,” she said with a smile. “This night… it is too beautiful to not enjoy, and the temperature is not so cold. Last year, if you remember, we had several feet of snow by this late date in December, and we didn’t journey to the village with gifts until after the new year.”
“You are correct, my lady.”
Mellie dipped her head, in no way happy about being correct.
“I will bid you good night and see you when Christmastide morn is upon us.” Lilly nodded and followed Danvers inside as he carried a platter of cheese made by Mrs. Confee.
“Good night,” Mellie called after her.
No, she did not relish being correct about anything because that meant her suspicions regarding Brigham were correct. He’d created a life for himself in London, one that did not include Mellie, and he would return to town shortly. When next Christmastide season arrived, he’d fulfill his yearly obligation and venture to Hockcliffe for a few days’ time before departing once again.
Straightening her shoulders, Mellie started for her garden reprieve, confident she would survive the muddled mess she’d made of her life. However, if she could not give Brigham an heir, her only other option was to free him to wed and love another.
The images of him holding another woman close, that woman running her fingers through his soft, curly hair, their lips locked together as hers and Brigham’s had been only that very morning… Her knees shook as she walked, and she fought to banish the despondency that was already settling upon her.
She would not be reduced to tears—not over something she’d had a hand in creating.
The wind was a welcome balm to her overly warm face and neck, and she sucked in the frigid air, relishing the burn it caused within.
This was what she deserved—both for accepting Brigham’s offer of marriage and condemning him to a loveless marriage, and for her blatant attempt to fool him into caring for her when his heart obviously belonged elsewhere.
How she wished she could return to before she’d wantonly thrown herself at him, and he’d rejected her advances. She’d been utterly wrong to think that after all these years there was any affection remaining between them. Without a doubt, she loved him—had always loved him—but to delude herself into believing he felt the same was ridiculous and childish. Even if a spark had developed between them once again, it was not so easy to forget their past and fall into lustful abandon.
Mellie kept close to the house as she made her way down the unlit path, careful to watch her footing to avoid tripping on any rocks or holes. It would not be wise to lose focus and stumble, injuring her ankle. Most of the servants had been given a night’s leave to spend time with their families. No one would hear her calls for help, and she would likely perish from her death of cold before morning came.
It was not the servants’ fault they had homes and families to attend to during the holidays.
Once, not long ago, Mellie had her own family, but with her mother gone, she was utterly alone these last several months.
She removed her hand from her muff and placed it against the stone wall of the manor as she stepped over a tree limb that lay across her path. The moon overhead did its very best to light her way as she rounded the back of the house and slowly descended the cobblestone steps into the garden.
In its frozen, winterized state, the landscape paralleled her life.
Gone were the spring and summer blossoms of hope, and no promise of leaves to unfurl when the summer warmth once again returned were present as yet. With the Christmastide moon cascading over the garden, Mellie had the sense it would always remain thus: devoid of birds in the trees, shrubs that appeared more like a bunch of bundled sticks than a living plant, and the flower beds, abundant in the warmer months, nothing but frozen dirt.
It was as her life had been these last five years: barren, forlorn, and unmoving.
How had she not noticed the change as it had crept upon every aspect of her existence?
Even now, it was difficult to remember a time when she wasn’t burdened with familial responsibilities, a time when she’d been young, untroubled, and eager to see what her future held.
One was not always blessed with choosing their fate or path in life.
There was no sense in bemoaning her hardships or dwelling on what could have been or how she should have lived her wedded life with Brigham.
What if she’d accepted his offer to accompany him to London?
It was the thought she attempted to keep unexplored.
However, this night, it was only Mellie, the moon overhead, and her musings.
In that moment, standing as husband and wife in this very garden, Mellie could have said yes. Arrangements could have been made to secure her mother’s safe passage to town, Mellie and Brigham would have had more time to grow as one instead of establishing separate lives. Certainly, Brigham did not reside at his London townhouse every night, as he’d spoken at great length in the past about his many trips to grand estates all over England to discuss his reform bills with any and every influential lord who would lend an ear and backing.
Perhaps her mother would have been well enough for Mellie to accompany Brigham about the English countryside instead of remaining secluded at Hockcliffe.
She shook her head. There was little to be gained from dwelling on that which could not be changed.
Focusing on the garden around her, Mellie was surprised to see her feet had taken her to the exact spot where she and Brigham had become husband and wife. Viscount and Viscountess Whitmore.
Most days, she was still the pauper daughter of a lowly baron.
She’d never set about truly being Viscountess Whitmore.
Had she suspected all along that their marriage would meet this fate?
A gust of wind pulled at her hair, whipping it about her face before settling once more. Mellie tilted her head back and stared up at the full moon. How she wished she’d embraced change, like the passing phases of the moon, and not remained in her own personal frozen wasteland.
Perhaps after Brigham departed, she would move back to Tapton House, her family home. It had been left abandoned since her cousin drained the earth on her family lands and fled back to whence he came—where that was, Mellie had never cared. She had little resources beyond the dowry her father had established before his death. Would Brigham give her the funds? They wouldn’t last long, but it might be enough to make it through a few years.
…and then what?
She’d lived for so long not thinking about what was to come on the morrow that, as of late, she couldn’t find the willpower to live in the present.
The hour grew late, and the night chill settled about her. She should return to the house, seek out her meal, and find her bed.
A full night’s rest might be enough to dim the sting awaiting her when Brigham announced his impending departure from Hockcliffe once more.
The snap of a twig had Mellie pivoting around toward the terrace, but the darkened space made it impossible to see what had caused the noise. Glancing upward, she noted a dim glow coming from the third-floor servants’ quarters, but none from any of the lower two floors.
Had Brigham sought his own bed?
There was a certain lack of Christmastide cheer at Hockcliffe.
“Mel
loria?” His voice came from the darkness as if she’d conjured what her heart longed for, but that which her mind knew was not destined to be.
She scanned the midnight-kissed darkness for him, the light from the moon suddenly dimming as if it sought to play games with her.
Brigham.
He was there, stepping from the shadows with a tiny, red-wrapped box in his outstretched hands.
Mellie remained where she was, making him journey the several paces to stand before her. She would not embarrass herself further by making this any more than it was. Brigham presented her with a simple Christmastide gift each year.
This year was to be no different, though Mellie’s stomach hardened at the thought that this might very well be her last gift from him. She needed to set him free, give him her blessing to find happiness—wherever that may lie.
Maybe, in turn, she would find her own peace.
Not happiness, never that, but perchance contentment?
“My lord.” Her voice was barely loud enough to hear over the subtle evening breeze.
Before her, Brigham was the man she’d known all her life, the man she’d given herself to in marriage, and the man who’d cared for her when her cousin cast her out.
He was kind, compassionate, and possessed an abundance of understanding.
Gone was the lord who’d pulled away from her embrace in anger that morning.
Mellie could not bring herself to believe that man and the one in front of her were one and the same.
“I have been searching for you all day.”
Mellie glanced at her feet and willed her stomach to stop fluttering. He could have been seeking her out only to speak of his intentions to depart. “I was in the village delivering Christmastide gifts.”
“I would have accompanied you,” he mumbled.
She brought her stare back to his, searching his face for any sign that the meaning of his words was not the same as what she heard. “I did not wish to disturb you.”
His hands fumbled with the wrapped box he held between them as hers remained safely in her muff. “You have never, nor will you ever be a disturbance.”
How she longed to believe him.
“What did you wish to speak with me about?” They might as well discuss things here and now. It was best to dispel the negative and start anew.
Yet, he remained silent, his gaze traveling over the garden around them. Did he take in the differences from when they’d stood in this spot before? Surely, he recognized the effect the harsh winter cold had had on the area.
When he finally spoke, it was not to say what he’d sought her out to discuss, Mellie was certain of that.
“You were exquisite that day we both stood here. You, in your long gown with blue blossoms held tightly, and me, far too afraid to speak for fear you’d change your mind and call off our marriage.” He paused, glancing up at the moon. “Mellie, I agonized all afternoon about how we found ourselves in this position; you seeking to give me an heir because it was something you owed me, and me, so occupied all these years with trivial matters I neglected the woman I should hold above all else. When in fact, I was hiding myself away from you for fear you’d see how deeply my love for you ran.”
“Love for me?” she stuttered. “Why would you need to hide such a thing from your wife?”
His imploring, honey brown eyes stared intensely at her. “Because I knew I would perish if I discovered you did not return my love.”
“I would not have wed you if I did not love you, Brigham,” Mellie confessed, while again pleading with her heart to slow its erratic pace.
He shook his head from side to side. “No, no, you did not wed me of your own free will. You know as well as I that my offer of marriage came at a time when you had no other options. Your mother was ill, your cousin had cast you out of Tapton House, and I swooped in and turned your misfortune into my gain.”
“That is not the way of it, at all.” Mellie slid her hands from her muff, and it fell to the ground at her feet, unnoticed, as she reached for his fingers still wrapped around the box. “Yes, I was blessed and fortunate to have you offer for my hand, but our match was already destined to be. At least in my mind.” She swallowed, determined not to sob at what needed to be said next. “However, I am... overtaken with much remorse… for allowing our love to wither and die. I should have—“
His brow furrowed, and the pain in his eyes made it impossible for her to go on.
Perhaps enough had been said. This might be the best things could get between them.
“Nothing within me has withered and died, Melloria,” he uttered. “My love for you has only grown over the years. It is I who has failed you.”
He thought he failed her? She would not blame him if he’d taken a lover, nor would she cast a stone at him for deciding to depart Hockcliffe for good.
“Do not disparage yourself.” Mellie dropped her hands from his, her gaze following them and focusing on the toe of his Hessians. “It shall not reflect negatively on you if your heart now belongs to another. For many years, I was uncertain whether I had anything left within me to give.”
“My heart has never and will never belong to another.” His hand moved to tilt her chin up, but she pulled away as tears welled.
“It is only right and fair that you took a mistress.”
He released her chin and stepped away. Was he shocked that she did not blame him for finding comfort in the arms of another?
“I would never dishonor my commitment to you, Melloria, especially by taking a mistress.” The fury his voice held earlier returned.
“If not that, then how have you failed me?” Mellie’s own temper rose, a spark of anger coiling within her.
“How have I not failed you?” He rubbed at his face with his free hand, notching his glasses askew. “I abandoned you on our wedding day. I stayed away during your mother’s illness. I was not strong enough to return when she perished. And I have neglected you for years. I am an unfit man, not worthy of being noted as a gentleman.” He pivoted away from her as he stared at the tiny package he still held. “And I was foolish enough to think that returning now, with a simple gift and a promise never to leave you again, would fix the damage that’s already been done. Bloody hell. I had truly deluded myself into thinking all could be righted. I think it best if I depart Hockcliffe at first light in the morning.”
And there it was, exactly as Mellie had feared it would be.
But unlike her pain at his yearly departures, something was different this time.
His words shattered something within her, causing a fracture that would never mend even after a thousand years.
This was both all she’d hoped for and everything she feared.
He’d declared his love for her.
And now he would leave her once more, but she had no reason to deceive herself into holding out hope he’d ever return again.
Chapter Ten
Her words were enough to bring him to his knees. She had loved him once, but he’d been too overcome by his own emotions to see it.
And he’d deserted her.
In a way, this was far more painful than hearing she’d never had affection for him at all.
A love left fallow was a waste for all.
Brigham turned toward the manor—his home…Mellie’s home—and wondered how long it had taken for her love to subside. Perhaps she would share her secret to suppressing her love for him, and how long it would be until it faded enough to bare returning to his family home and seeing her.
“You have a gift for me?” Her soft voice by his ear had him turning back toward her, seeing her with fresh eyes, through the unclouded stare of a man who’d lived his entire adult life holding on to a thread of hope. “I should like to see it before you depart…if you must leave, that is.”
That she still wanted anything he had to give her startled him nearly as much as her breath at his neck and the weight of her hand as it settled on his arm to halt him from fleeing the garden.
<
br /> Brigham glanced down at the tiny box nestled in his hands. He’d selected the box with precise care and consideration, for it housed the Christmastide present that was to change their entire relationship. It had been meant to make amends for the past, speak of a new commitment for their present, and give them hope for the future to come.
Instead, it would be a parting gift.
“I had this commissioned especially for you, Mellie.” He held the box out to her, begging himself to have the strength to watch her open it.
She took the gift and smiled up at him, her eyes clouded with tears.
The bright moon overhead made them glisten as they threatened to fall.
But then she was focused solely on the box, and her fingers shook as she removed the top to bring the pendant into view.
It was a simple adornment, as Mellie had never been one for garish jewels or gems.
Yet, it was made of the purest silver with a heart-shaped outer shell with wild blossoms encapsulating it. The pendant spoke of Mellie in a way no other necklace could. Quickly, she found the tiny, hidden clasp and released it, opening it to see inside. Two tiny images, barely decipherable in the night were nestled inside.
As if knowing the moment was a great turning point, the moon’s rays brightened, casting a light like that of a close candle over the pair and illuminating two hand-drawn portraits; one of Mellie’s parents, Baron and Baroness Montfort, and on the opposite side, Mellie and Brigham on their wedding day.
“Oh, I had no idea these portraits existed,” she sighed, her finger tracing first the likeness of her parents and then the one of she and Brigham. “Where did you…how did you…”
“I have always kept a painting of us with me. For the one of your parents, I went to Tapton House during the last Christmastide season and retrieved it.”
When he’d journeyed to the neighboring estate the year before, it had been to assess the damage and repairs needed, but he’d found the portrait hidden in a corner of a dusty, abandoned chamber and he’d known he needed to take it. For what purpose, he hadn’t been sure at the time.
Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon_Regency Novella Page 6
