Page 64 of Rescued from Betrayal
“No one’s been takingyourthings, so you might as well get off your high horse. It’s you that’s the petty thief.”
Melior stumbled back as if she’d been struck. Not once in her life had she ever had anyone, servant or otherwise, accuse her of stealing. And yet this woman stood there smug and confident in her accusation.
The door between the two rooms opened and Nathaniel stepped in. “You will pack your things, Helen, and await the constable in the servants’ dining area.”
“But I… It weren’t me who took them. Mrs. Thompson was only returning the property Miss Kendall stole.”
“It is Lady Stanford. How dare you accuse my wife of stealing anything.”
The fire in Nathaniel’s eyes made Melior take a step back. And yet she wanted to cry in relief. He believed her and not the servant.
“My apologies sir, but Mrs. Thompson has had several letters from Lady Kendall outlining all the pieces Lady Stanford took from her personal collection. She said she did not want to make a public spectacle of her daughter, but she needed the jewels back.”
Melior turned pleading eyes toward her husband. “Those are my things, gifted to me by my uncle and aunt and other family members. The duke himself can testify to the validity of it.”
Tears gathered in her eyes. How could her mother be so cruel?
Nathaniel darted a glance at her and then back at the maid. “Tell Mrs. Thompson I wish to meet with her in the upstairsparlor in a quarter hour, then you may pack your things and leave.”
“But I—”
“Have been rude and insolent to my wife for days, perhaps weeks. I will stand it no longer. I expected better of you, Helen. After so many years in my employ I am disappointed to know you would go behind my back and treat the woman I care about so abominably.”
The maid burst into tears and, covering her face, ran from the room. Melior stared after her, a small part of her sympathizing with the woman. Baylor had thought she was doing the right thing.
Then she glanced back at Nathaniel and a tear slipped out before she could stop it. He opened his arms and she rushed into them. Her body shook with sobs that demanded to be released and his arms tightened around her. He said nothing as she cried and she was grateful.
When her tears slowed he released her and led her to the chairs by her fire. She sat and he turned the other chair to face hers.
Sandwiching one of her hands between his, he waited patiently for her to completely calm. “Why did you not tell me that you were missing things?”
She sniffed. “Because…” Part of her did not want to complete the sentence, but his intent expression held no censure. “I did not think you would defend me. You were very clear about how you viewed my behavior and how you expected me to behave around those connected with you. I was frightened I might not…you might not…”
He hung his head. “I should have never said those things,” he muttered. Raising his head, he peered at her. “Can we go back, Melior?”
Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“Can we pretend the last eight years have not happened and go back to that day in the ballroom when everything seemed right between us?”
Melior smiled sadly. “The past cannot simply disappear, Nathaniel. I am a different person than I was at fifteen. You are as well.”
“I know.” He glanced down at their clasped hands. “Then why not a new beginning? We can throw out what we think we know of one another and start again. I must admit that I thought I knew who you were, but over the last few weeks the woman I see and the one in my head are two different people.”
“I am sure we are not completely different.” It was Melior’s turn to hang her head. “I have not been my best self for quite some time.”
A finger touched her chin, lifting her face until she gazed at Nathaniel. “Neither of us have. I have been unfair to you, and I am sorry. Please let me make it up to you. Let’s start anew.”
She nodded, a tremulous smile on her lips. “I would like that.”
As good as it had felt holding Melior in his arms, Nathaniel wished the whole situation that had led up to it had not happened. To think his servants had gone behind his back, Mrs. Thompson especially. Why had she carried out Lady Kendall’s orders without asking?
In the parlor he found her wringing her hands, a strand of mousy brown hair pulled free from her usually neat bun. She froze the moment her eyes landed on him.
“I assume you understand why you have been called here.”
“Helen informed me.”
“And can you explain yourself?”
