Page 48 of Rescued from Betrayal
Melior tucked the blanket up around her mother-in-law’s chin. A gnarled hand reached out from under the intricately quilted cover and patted her hand.
“You are a good girl.”
“That is kind of you to say.”
“Do not patronize me, it is the truth. And it is time you believe it.”
The maid who stirred the fire frowned. No doubt the woman had heard all the complaints from the upstairs staff. It seemed first impressions were long lasting in this household. Even after she’d tried to soften her demands and be more cognizant of her own behavior the maids were determined to cling to their dislike of her. Perhaps that is why one of them had stooped to taking her things. But which one?
“Would you like me to read to you, Mama?”
“Not tonight. You need to get back to your guests.”
“They will be a while yet.”
“Yes, but I am tired and wish to rest.”
Melior nodded. “I will leave you then. Rest well.”
The maid opened the door for Melior, and as she passed she thought she heard the woman mutter, “We see through you.”
Melior spun to confront her, but the door shut quickly in her face. Indignation carried her the rest of the way to the drawing room. She could have knocked and demanded the maid explain herself, but the last thing she wanted was to distress Lady Stanford.
The drawing room was empty when she entered, and even though she had expected as much, the sight brought heaviness. So many times over the last few weeks she’d sat in empty rooms, the servants not even bothering to occupy them of late. Her mind flew to the missing jewelry and she stopped lamenting. Why would she want thieving servants anywhere near her?
A book lay on one of the tables near the settee and she picked it up. Not that it would do her any good; she could not see the words etched upon it without her spectacles. She ran her hand over the cover, feeling the indents of the gold lettering and the design imprinted around the spine. From the feel she could tell it was artfully decorated.
Odd how one little inconvenience like poor eyesight could keep her from the worlds she knew existed inside these covers. She held the book as far away from her face as possible. The tiny letters came into some semblance of focus.
“Zastrozzi… a Romance,”she said out loud.An odd name for a book.
The door to the drawing room opened and she dropped the book quickly on the end table hoping no one had witnessed it in her hands. Her mother’s words rung in her ears.No man wants a woman who reads novels.
She sought out Nathaniel, hoping her faux pas would not make him think less of her.
“An interesting book, that,” Eddie said, apparently not missing a single thing. “I saw it on the shelves in London.”
Sir Nathaniel snatched it off the table, the corners of his mouth turned down. He leaned close and dropped his voice. “My apologies, I had not meant to leave this in here. You did not happen to read any of it, did you?”
The heat of his breath on her ear sent pleasant shivers down her spine and it was several moments before she realized she’d not answered.
“No. I do not read novels.” The lie burned on her tongue, but fear of causing more upset in her already strained situation kept her from admitting any truths.
He shifted away a bit. “Yes… well… if you did I would not suggest this one as it is probably not suitable for ladies.”
She glanced at him, trying to bite back the question on her tongue, but to no avail. “And why not? Do you believe my sex is incapable of reading difficult material?”
His eyes widened. “No, not at all. It is simply that this story is quite frightening. The villain is probably the most demonic that I have ever read.”
Melior relaxed. “I see.”
“Dare I ask what you two are whispering about?” Mr. Roberts said. “Or is it something best kept between the newlyweds?”
With three quick steps Melior separated herself from Sir Nathaniel, embarrassed that they had been caught whispering close together. Eddie chuckled like a schoolboy and she glared at him. This only made him laugh even harder.
She sat in one of the green wingback chairs that faced the settee. “I find nothing humorous about this situation, Eddie. Perhaps you could enlighten us. Is there something comical in Mr. Roberts’s appearance, or did Uncle Percy forget to wipe his mouth after supper?”
“Your deflections are getting rusty, Mel. Is that the best you can come up with?”
