Page 36 of Rescued from Betrayal
Nate,
I hope married life is treating you well. I will be returning to Gibly Manor and have hopes of calling on you Monday next at ten. Please send word if you are amenable.
J.N.
That was John, short and to the point. If only other people, his wife in particular, could be as clear with their intentions.
It would be nice to have a friend nearby again. He’d exhausted every other resource in his effort to stay occupied, even resorting to reorganizing the already perfectly alphabetized papers in his desk and the books on his shelves. Monday could not come soon enough.
A light knock on the door drew his attention. “Enter.”
Mrs. Thompson stepped in. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but the Primleys have come to pay a bridal visit.”
“And what is that to me? I am sure Melior will receive them.”
The housekeeper placed a hand on her hip. “Yes, but there's no one to make introductions.”
Of course. With his mother confined to bed he was the only other person to perform the social nicety.
He sighed. “I will be there shortly.”
After carefully folding the letter and stowing it in his top drawer, Nathaniel made his way to the sitting room where the guests had been shown. Melior paced in front of the door, obviously nervous. That was unexpected. In London she had never shown a hint of weakness.
At the click of his boots on the floor her head came up and she immediately stopped. Her shoulders went back, her chin rose, and she stood completely stilled. The change impressed and saddened him.
One moment she’d been a woman, normal and approachable. The next she was an impervious goddess, and completely not herself.
“May I?” He held out his arm to her.
“Thank you,” she said softly, placing her hand tentatively upon his arm.
It was not the first time she’d taken his arm in the last week, but one glimpse at the Melior he remembered from his youth and a hole had been blown right through his carefully constructed armor. Warmth spread from her hand up his arm and he had to remind himself to breathe normally as they entered the room to meet their guests.
Inside, he found Mr. and Mrs. Primley as expected. What he had not expected to see were their two dashing sons. Last he had heard they were still visiting an uncle in Bath.
The moment their eyes landed on Melior, both men’s faces lit up with interest.
He could not blame them. Melior was the picture of perfection, but he also did not like how much attention they were giving her. Instinctually he rested his other hand over Melior’s. She cast him a confused glance, but he ignored it.
Introductions were made and he tried not to scowl as each man took his turn bowing over Melior’s hand, but he failed.
When the younger Mr. Primley rose, he said, “I can see why Sir Nathaniel hovers so closely. You are as beautiful as they say, Lady Stanford.”
Melior dipped her head in acknowledgement, the soft expression she always wore in company fully in place. “I thank you, sir. Please excuse me while I ring for tea.”
And just like that she had brushed off his compliment.
Nathaniel smiled at the confused young man, secretly rejoicing in his discomfort.
Several more visitors came through the doors of Havencrest that day and all were met with the same civility as the first, which surprised Nathaniel. Not once did Melior dismiss anyone no matter their rank or importance. And with each visitor the hot coals of his own harsh words began to heap upon his head.
When the last visitors had come and gone, he said, “You did very well.”
“Pardon?”
“I only meant that you received everyone with equanimity, and I thank you for that.”
Her face fell. “I see. And now that I have received my pat on the head you wish me to run along.”
