Chapter Two
Cranleigh Manor
Cheltenham, England, a month later…
Lady Melissa Tandy paused outside the room that had once been her father’s library and tried her best to ignore the racing of her heart. Above all, she willed herself to stop shaking. A feat not easily accomplished having just escaped certain death, an attempt on her life, she was sure.
Attack by airborne statuary, a flying urn used as a missile meant to strike her head.
Equally alarming…
It was the second such incident in recent days.
Of course, the footbridge she crossed on her morning walks through Cranleigh’s gardens and woodland, was centuries old, its age-warped and creaky planks not in the best repair. Still, for the little bridge to collapse beneath her seemed unlikely.
Yet if she hadn’t been near enough to its far side, she’d have plunged into a deep and rocky gorge.
She’d still had a frightful tumble.
She swallowed, annoyed that her mouth was so dry. That she couldn’t stop the rushing of her pulse. The queasiness made her almost dizzy with lightheadedness. She wasn’t a simpering miss, prone to theatrics.
She just didn’t want to die.
She wasn’t ready to leave this good, green earth.
How terrifying that someone seemed determined to assist her in doing just that.
She glanced at the jagged pottery shard in her hand, her fingers tight around the evidence that someone on the roof above the Cranleigh terrace had sent the decorative urn hurtling down at her.
A bold move, but she could be as brazen.
In truth, she had no choice.
So she swept into the room, not caring if her face soured when she passed beneath the brilliance of the newly-hung crystal chandeliers. She also wouldn’t hide her resentment of the mother-of-pearl-surfaced tables that now stood where comfortably-worn wing chairs and heirloom mahogany desks once offered hours of reading pleasure.
A pastime she and her parents had so enjoyed, but that her stepmother Lady Clarice ridiculed upon marrying Melissa’s widowed father and moving into the manor, along with her three daughters…
April, May, and June, so named because their birthdays fell on the first of those months. The only difference was that the girls came into the world on subsequent years. They’d inherited their mother’s stunning looks, all three being tall, voluptuous, and blond. They were also graced with large cornflower blue eyes. And they shared Lady Clarice’s distaste for anything that didn’t sparkle. In particular, they didn’t care for centuries-old shelves of books that, they all claimed, smelled stale and fusty, and only attracted dust.
Not that it mattered now…
Cranleigh’s library was no more.
With the passing of Melissa’s father, the much-loved haven also met its end. The hallowed space was gutted, and now endured renovations to make it a grand, mirror-and-gilt-lined ballroom.
Only the once-library’s tall and magnificent windows remained. They ran the length of the room and looked out on Cranleigh’s sweeping lawns and the walled rose garden, the low, rolling hills and woodlands beyond the Tandy estate.
At the moment, Lady Clarice and her eldest daughter, April, stood gazing out those windows, but they turned on hearing Melissa’s approach, both of them raising perfectly groomed brows at her.
Melissa knew why.
She looked a fright.
“My dear…” Lady Clarice came toward her, shaking her head. “Even here, so far from London, you must comport yourself like a proper English lady.”
“Mellie, Mellie, what did you do?” April remained at the windows. “Roll in the pig pen?”
Tempted to say she was in the company oftrottersnow, Melissa bit her tongue and glanced instead at her dirt-smeared day dress. A serviceable garment, especially for her walks, the dark green gown, a favorite, was likely ruined.
