Melody absently pulled a few strands of her hair, and Adrian caught her small hand in his.
“Please do not do that, little one.” He murmured, holding her hand gently. “Why not shred this instead?”
He fished around in a pocket and pulled out a sheet of paper. He handed it to his daughter. “Or I am sure we could find some embroidery to unstitch?”
“Sorry, Father.” Melody gripped the paper and then tore a small corner of it.
“You do this when something is the matter. What has happened?” Adrian asked.
“Nothing.” Melody replied, tapping her fingers on the table and swinging her legs even faster. “Are you angry?”
“Angry? Of course not. Do I seem angry?” Adrian gestured to himself, making his voice as soft and gentle as possible, as though he were talking to a scared animal.
Melody surveyed him, her green eyes so like her late mother’s. “No.”
Adrian pushed the image of her mother from his mind, an unpleasant sensation stealing over him.
“Dinner, your Grace.” A servant laid several plates upon the table.
“Thank you, Yates.” Adrian served Melody a healthy portion of everything.
He watched as Melody idly moved the food back and forth around her plate. She nibbled a little here and there, but soon stopped eating entirely.
“Would you prefer something else?” Adrian asked, hastily swallowing his own mouthful. “Perhaps a nice stew? Or some bread?”
He began to beckon to a nearby servant, but Melody shook her head. “I think I would like to be excused.”
“Oh.” Adrian looked at Melody’s barely touched food. “I shall have cook bring something to your room.”
“Thank you.” Melody got up, fidgeting from foot to foot.
As she prepared to leave, Adrian called, “I thought perhaps tomorrow we might go for a walk in Hyde Park.”
Melody paused and then shook her head.
“Perhaps a visit to the menagerie?” he offered, smiling. “I hear they have some new birds in from the far East.”
The child shook her head again.
Adrian suppressed a sigh and nodded. “Well, perhaps we shall think of something in the morning.”
Melody nodded and disappeared. As he watched her retreating back, Adrian ran a hand through his hair. He turned in time to see his housekeeper, Mrs. Hawthorn, enter the room wringing her hands.
“How much has she eaten today?” he asked.
“Less and less, your Grace. That is the most I’ve seen her eat in days.” Mrs. Hawthorn said.
“I was afraid you would say that.” Adrian rubbed his temple with the knuckles of his hand.
He muttered to himself, “hatever am I going to do with you?”
Green eyes flashed in his mind, and he felt venom on his tongue.It does not do to speak ill of the dead.But that would not stop him thinking it.
“Your Grace, you have a visitor,” a maid said to him the next day. “Lady Natalie Rokesby is waiting in the drawing room.”
Adrian nodded. “Thank you, tell her I will be with her in just a moment.”
The maid nodded and left. Adrian glanced out of the window, half hoping to see Melody playing beneath the branches of a tree, but the garden was eerily empty. He sighed and shook himself. There would be time for that later, for now he had other issues to deal with. He left his study and began to make his way to the drawing room, but as he reached the hallway he saw something that turned his blood to ice.
