Kingston set the paper down slowly, meeting Finley’s eyes for the first time since the conversation began. “We will see,” he said flatly. “We will see.”
With that, he turned his attention back to the London Times, hoping that the quiet of the morning would drown out the unease that continued to pulse between them. He had no desire to eat. His appetite had disappeared when he found Finley in the morning room. But he forced himself to eat and drink his tea as if being in the room with the man did not bother him.
Kingston’s fingers drummed lightly on the armrest of his chair. “We will see,” he muttered again, to himself, his gaze returning to the paper, his irritation building with every word that passed between them. His mind, filled with the painful memory of the duel, refused to be silenced by politeness or perfunctory words. He could still feel the sting of the injury, the humiliating defeat. There was too much at stake, too much he could not let go. He needed to address the matter with Oakley—he could not let it fester, could not let it be forgotten simply because Finley thought he should—because the man did not wish to upset his sister. But for now, there was nothing more he could do.
Pushing the paper aside, he stood up, his movements deliberate, though he could still feel Finley’s gaze lingering on him. “I believe I’ll take a turn in the gardens,” he said, his voice clipped. “I find myself in need of a breath of fresh air. If you will excuse me.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Finley replied, still sitting with that same disarming smile. “I hope you find it restful.”
Kingston didn’t answer him, instead turning toward the door and making his way out of the room. As the cool morning air hit his face, he allowed himself a moment to breathe deeply, trying to clear his head. The weight of the morning, of the conversation with Finley, had left him with little peace.
As he stepped outside into the sunlight, he was confronted with the sight of the sprawling estate, the gardens that stretched before him, but his mind was too far consumed with everything he had left unsaid. With each step, he found his thoughts turning back to the duel and the consequences that still loomed over him like a dark cloud.
He would face Lord Oakley. But he wasn’t sure if that would bring resolution. What would he say? How could he move forward when so much had been left unresolved? And as for Finley, his words left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was something else at play here—something more than just family and civility. Whatever game Finley was playing, Kingston would have to figure it out soon enough.
With a heavy sigh, he walked deeper into the gardens, his thoughts turning inward as he prepared himself for the difficult conversations ahead. There was one other person involved in all of this. One perhaps as innocent as he had been—Lady Jaclyn. But even with her his feelings were mixed. Perhaps he couldn’t settle anything yet with Finley or Oakley, but he could start with her. With that decided he headed back to the abbey. He would go for a ride, and if fortune was in his favor he might cross paths with the lady in question.
The flickering candlelight in the room that Jaclyn shared with Melisande and Ella cast long shadows across the walls. There was a storm brewing outside and the rain pelted the window like a thousand drum beats all at once. That did not help the underlying tension that had started to build between Jaclyn and Melisande—that girl was horrid. Far more so than she could have imagined. Jaclyn stood by the window, her hands folded neatly in front of her, staring out at the distant trees. The wind was picking up, rattling the panes of glass in a steady rhythm to go along with the rain. Her thoughts were miles away from the storm outside though.
"Jaclyn!" Melisande's voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and demanding. "I will not sleep in that bed. It is entirely unacceptable."
Jaclyn turned slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in the sight of Melisande standing by the bed that had been assigned to her for the duration of their stay at Havenwood. Melisande's small frame was rigid with indignation, her hands placed firmly on her hips, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders. She had just finished brushing it after she had pulled out all the pins that secured it in place. She wore her night rail and dressing gown and only now thought she should protest the bed...
"I beg your pardon?" Jaclyn replied, her voice calm but with a trace of annoyance. "What is wrong with the bed?"
"It's not the one I want," Melisande snapped, her tone haughty as she looked disdainfully at the bed. "And I’ve decided I shall not sleep in it."
Jaclyn’s brow arched. "You can’t simply decide that. I have had this bed for my entire time at Havenwood and I have been perfectly content with it." Even if she hated it, she would not give Melisande the satisfaction of having her way. She did not like that girl and she doubted much would change that.
Melisande stomped her foot in frustration, her eyes flashing. "You’re being selfish, Jaclyn! Why should you get the better bed when I am clearly more deserving of it?"
Jaclyn straightened, her expression becoming firm. "Selfish? You are the one who is being unreasonable, Melisande. I was assigned this bed first, and I have already settled into it. I will not change just because you think you deserve better." The truth was that all the beds were the same. Jaclyn’s bed was no better than Melisande’s. There was only one reason she wanted Jaclyn to trade with her. She was trying to gain some control over Jaclyn. She wanted to have power that none of them truly had. So, by throwing this fit, she would try to take as much as she could.
"I do deserve it!" Melisande retorted, her voice rising. "I cannot possibly sleep in this inferior bed while you get the finer one!"
Jaclyn crossed her arms over her chest, trying to remain composed. "This ‘inferior’ bed has been perfectly fine for me. I am not making any changes." While she understood Melisande, it did not mean that she would allow her to lay demands at her feet as if she were a queen and everyone must obey her. She rolled her eyes and turned away from Melisande and her outrageous demand.
Melisande huffed in exasperation, stamping her foot again. "You're being impossible!"
Before Jaclyn could respond, the door opened with a soft creak, and Miss Spencer entered the room. Her presence as poised and commanding as ever. She observed the scene in front of her, taking in the tension in the air.
"Lady Jaclyn, Lady Melisande," she began in a calm but authoritative voice, "there will be no changes to your arrangements.” she turned her attention to Melisande. “Your shouts are loud enough to disturb everyone in this wing. You must desist from this behavior and accept your bed as it is. Jaclyn has been here far longer and has had this same bed the entire time. You will simply have to adjust." Melisande’s mouth opened in protest, but Miss Spencer held up a hand, silencing her. "That will be all, Lady Melisande," Miss Spencer continued. "Please do not make this more difficult than it already is. I shall summon Mrs. Havenwood if necessary."
With a flare of indignation, Melisande turned on her heel and marched out of the room, slamming the door behind her in a dramatic huff. Jaclyn sighed deeply, the tension in her chest slowly easing. The quiet returned to the room, save for the faint sound of Ella's breathing. She had no idea where Melisande was off to, but she was grateful for the reprieve. Miss Spencer followed behind Melisande. Probably to ensure the girl was not up to any other mischief.
Ella, ever the peacemaker, had remained silent throughout the argument, her eyes flickering between Jaclyn and Melisande. As the door clicked shut, she finally spoke, her voice soft with hesitation. "I... I do not know how to handle someone like Melisande," she confessed, glancing at Jaclyn with a slight frown. "She seems so unreasonable, and I can never tell if I should intervene or leave it be."
Jaclyn gave her a reassuring smile, though the thought of Melisande’s temperament made her stomach turn. "Don’t worry, Ella. It’s not your fault. Melisande’s... difficulties are something I’m used to by now." They had an entire year at Havenwood together. She had not been as much a part of Jaclyn’s stay before, but she did have some experience with her. This was also not the first time that Melisande had been reassigned to a different room. She was horrid to everyone.
Ella looked uncertain, her brow furrowed. "But surely there must be something we can do. She cannot go on acting this way, especially not with the others around us."
Jaclyn’s gaze turned toward the window again, her thoughts wandering. She tried to ignore the gnawing sense of unease that began to rise in her chest. "Perhaps," she said quietly, her voice laced with a mix of frustration and resignation. "But I’m not sure anything can be done. She’s not likely to change… It would take someone with far more patience to break her of that selfish attitude.” Jaclyn did not care to try either. The weight of the situation hung in the air between them, and Jaclyn felt her heart sink slightly. As the days went by it would only get worse. Melisande seemed far too accustomed to having her own way in everything. A year at Havenwood was more than she could bear if this was how things were going to continue.
Ella, sensing the shift in Jaclyn’s mood, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You’re not alone in this," she said softly. "We will find a way to manage it. Together."
Jaclyn smiled, grateful for Ella’s steady presence. But in her heart, she wondered if she could truly endure a year of Melisande’s selfishness and tantrums. The thought of running away crossed her mind, but she quickly dismissed it as a foolish notion. Yet, as she lay awake that night, listening to the distant sounds of the storm, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this year would be the one that broke her.
It seemed as if she did not truly have anyone to rely on anymore. Charlotte had gone and fallen in love and left her alone. After the scandal that led to her exile at Havenwood, she did not feel as if she belonged anywhere. She had begun to think of Havenwood as someplace she could be herself. That had not changed. Not truly… However, she still felt a little lost.
