Page 40 of Rescued from Betrayal
“I shall do my best, Mama.” Placing two cucumber sandwiches and a small vanilla cake on her plate, she leaned back and began to nibble.
Lady Stanford rubbed the handles of her chair with gnarled fingers. “I am sorry, my dear, but would you mind pouring the tea?”
Melior immediately sat forward, placing her plate on the small table. How could she have been so thoughtless? Somewhere inher mind she understood that as the new mistress of the house it was her responsibility, but her current relationship with Sir Nathaniel felt more like a long-standing guest than the lady of the house.
“My apologies.” She picked up a cup realizing that every other time they’d taken tea, Lady Stanford had asked the footman or a maid to pour. Had she been waiting all this time to see if Melior would take the initiative? Perhaps that was why the servants seemed to turn their noses up at her.
“Do not fret, Melior. It can be difficult adjusting to a new home and new expectations.”
Yes it was, especially when those expectations were so undefined. Again, her mind wandered to the many nights she’d stared at a closed door.
She blinked, trying to stay in the present. “Sugar and cream as usual?”
Her mother-in-law nodded. Melior poured the hot water carefully into the porcelain cup, hoping she would not embarrass herself by spilling. The pink and yellow that speckled the cup made her smile. On the third day that she’d taken tea with her mother-in-law, she’d admired the cups, a part of her wishing she had her spectacles so she could see the fine details. Lady Stanford had taken note and asked if she liked the roses that dotted the exterior, to which she'd answered in the affirmative all the while grateful for the information she could not see. Ever since, the set had been the one to come on their tea tray.
Lady Stanford was a dear.
The library door opened with a bang and Melior startled, sloshing hot liquid over the side of her cup and onto her delicate hand. She hissed in pain.
Setting her cup down, she grabbed a linen to cover the burn.
“My apologies,” Lord Newhurst said, a sheepish expression on his face. “I forget your library door does not weigh as much as mine.”
Lady Stanford chuckled. “Never you mind about that, Johnathan. I am simply glad you have finally come. And where is Nathaniel?”
“Here, Mother.” Sir Nathaniel stepped around his friend. “I would not miss tea with my favorite lady.” He gave her a charming smile until his eyes connected with Melior. The cheer slipped from his face and he adjusted his jacket.
Melior supposed she should not have expected to be higher in his esteem than his mother, not with the way things had transpired. But after such a greeting, his lack of enthusiasm at seeing her stung. Yes, she’d not wanted this marriage, but it was the only one she would have. Did he not even want to make it work?
“Come, sit,” Lady Stanford ordered. “Melior will pour you a cup of tea.”
Lord Newhurst crossed to the seat next to Lady Stanford, an easy smile on his face, but Sir Nathaniel appeared perplexed.
“Is something wrong with your hand?”
The heat of the burn had grown making it increasingly hard to keep her face expressionless, but she’d thought she’d accomplished it. Apparently, she was not a skilled actress when pain was involved.
“I seem to have spilled a little tea on it.”
To her surprise he sat next to her, gently taking her hands. “May I?”
She allowed him to remove the linen napkin she’d placed over the spot. Lady Stanford gasped and Sir Nathaniel’s lips twisted into a frown at the blistered skin.
“When did that happen?” Lady Stanford asked.
Lord Newhurst leaned forward to get a better look. “I would wager it was my fault. Again, I apologize for the abuse of your door.”
“Please, do not trouble yourself. I should have been in better possession of myself.” Melior tried to pull her hand away from Sir Nathaniel, but he held it firmly.
“Carter, have the cook send up a poultice for Lady Stanford’s burn,” he said to the footman.
The young man nodded and left the room.
Sir Nathaniel ran a finger lightly around the edges of red on her hand. The contact made a strange warmth spread in her chest.
“Does that hurt?”
“Hmm…? Oh, no. It is only the center that pains me.”
