Page 18 of Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon

Brigham pushed past the servant only pausing to discard her cloak and gloves, ignoring the man’s confusion and offer of assistance as he took the stairs three at a time until he strode down the hall that housed his room.

Though he did not continue to the large double doors at the end of the corridor; instead, he stopped before the entrance to Mellie’s private chamber. He reached for the latch, prepared to throw the door open and rush inside, but he stilled his hand and took a deep breath. She’d arrived home safely, and there was no need to barge into her private quarters like a brute devoid of all manners.

Quashing his aggression, Brigham lifted his clenched fist and knocked.

Footsteps sounded inside as someone moved swiftly to answer the door.

As the door swung open on well-oiled hinges, he realized he’d never taken a step into her chambers before, nor so much as even looked past the threshold.

This day would be no different as he stared into the widened eyes of Lilly, Mellie’s lady’s maid.

Brigham stood mute, listening for any sign that Mellie was within.

“Yes, my lord?” Lilly dipped into a curtsey. “How can I be of service?”

Everyone in his household was offering him assistance, but he feared the situation had progressed too far for anyone to be of any help to him in his plight to secure his wife’s forgiveness.

“My lord?”

“Mellie—Lady Whitmore—is she within?” His voice was gravelly as if he’d been crying… and perhaps he had. His anguish paled in comparison to the heartbreak he’d noted on Mellie’s face before she fled the cottage. “Is she here? Where is your mistress?”

The servant shrank back into the room.

“She—she—she left this morn in pursuit of you, my lord.”

“Are you certain you have not seen her since?”

“No, Lord Whitmore,” the maid squeaked, placing her hand to her throat. “Did she not find you at the steward’s cottage?” Concern flooded the servant’s face, furrowing her brow.

How was he to admit to the women who’d watched over his wife when he was too much of a scoundrel to care for her properly that he’d wounded Mellie and caused her to flee in desperation?

Chapter Nine

Mellie grasped the groom’s proffered hand and stepped down from the carriage with Lilly close behind her as Danvers and Peter rushed from the manor to collect the pies, cheese, and fresh bread that the villagers had sent for their lord on this Christmastide eve.

She glanced about, determined to enter the house as she had after fleeing the cottage… unnoticed. Though, the distance and time—and urgency of the morning—was gone. No longer did tears streak her face, no longer were her eyes swollen from the wind and her sobs escaping her without notice as she’d ran across the meadow separating the steward’s office and the manor, and not even the heat of his kiss lingered at her lips.

Poised and composed, with her emotions firmly in hand, Mellie would enter Hockcliffe as the mistress of the manor did. No one would be the wiser to her anguish from the morning.

It had been rather simple to avoid the house—and Brigham—for the entirety of the day. Now would be no different. There had been matters in the kitchen to attend to, gifts to deliver to the children in the village, and now, with the full moon high above in the clear night sky, Mellie was nervous of seeing Brigham within the house. Certainly, he paced the corridors.

She’d heard him in the study when she snuck from the house earlier. His heavy footfalls pausing every ten paces before starting anew. If she closed her eyes, she could visualize him stalking from his desk to the door and back again. Thankfully, Lilly had let slip her mistress would be in the village most of the day and Brigham hadn’t pursued her when her carriage left the manor.

If something weighed on his shoulders, he hadn’t trusted her enough to speak of it… which was his right as a lord. Though their moments together in the cottage spoke much of a deeper connection between them, even if he fought against it. Even if he kept something from her, perhaps news from town, they could converse on other topics—namely, the passion they’d both nearly fallen prey to.

Instead, Brigham had pushed her away.

“I laid your evening gown out before we departed for the village,” Lilly said at her side. “Shall I help you change and retire for the eve?”

Mellie glanced up at the clear night sky, the sun having set several hours before and the moon casting an almost enchanting shimmer on the landscape surrounding Hockcliffe.

“Do seek your own respite now.” Mellie quickly embraced her maid and slipped her hands into her muff for warmth. “I think I will stroll the gardens before I return for my meal.”

“It is dreadfully cold, my lady.”

No colder than it would be in Brigham’s presence.

“I will only remain outside for a short time. My word,” she said with a smile. “This night… it is too beautiful to not enjoy, and the temperature is not so cold. Last year, if you remember, we had several feet of snow by this late date in December, and we didn’t journey to the village with gifts until after the new year.”