Page 8 of Bedded Under The Christmastide Moon

She gave him a slight nod.

With a curt bow, Brigham fled his study.

He didn’t pause to glance over his shoulder. He did not slow down when he reached the main stairs. He did not so much as acknowledge Mellie’s lady’s maid when he passed her in the upstairs hall.

No, Brigham did not stop until he was safely in the confines of his private chambers. The sound of the door closing echoed loudly down the hall as he shut himself inside and threw the latch into place. Leaning against the door, he closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to collect his thoughts—and suppress the urge to return downstairs, pull Mellie into his arms, and kiss her as he’d longed to do since their wedding day.

Sometime later—it could have been a few minutes or several hours—he heard footsteps in the hall outside his door. But, quickly, they retreated, and the only other door in the corridor opened and closed as Mellie no doubt entered her own chambers.

Chapter Four

Mellie stared at her image in the looking glass, truly seeing herself for the first time in ages. The full-length mirror had always been in her chambers, but in recent years, Mellie barely noted her appearance. It was far more common that she turned down her maid’s assistance when dressing or pinning her hair. The state of her appearance hadn’t mattered, for it was her mother’s care and comfort Mellie applied herself to day in and day out…not the cut of her gown or the quality of her slippers, or even the stylish flare of her curls.

Who would have been near to notice anyways?

But things had changed since the previous day, had they not?

A light tap sounded at her door. “Enter.”

As she watched in the mirror, Lilly closed the door behind her and hurried to Mellie’s dressing table. “Can I pin your hair, my lady?”

For the span of a moment, Mellie wondered if it mattered if her curly locks were pinned atop her head, bound at her neck, or sheared off. Brigham had sent his regrets the night before, calling off on their meal due to his exhaustion, and so Mellie had had a plate delivered to his room as she dined alone in the hall. Not the way she’d envisioned spending her evening; however, it had given her much time to think.

“Allow me to tie my sash, and then I think I would like my hair down, mayhap pinned behind one ear?”

The glow of Lilly’s excitement beamed, illuminating the already sunlit room. “Very good, my lady.”

Could it be that Mellie was not the only one brightened by Brigham’s arrival? She’d noted a positively lighthearted air in the house during her evening meal. Cook had even taken her guidance and prepared shepherd’s pie, Brigham’s favorite.

Mellie moved slowly to her dressing cabinet, the doors already thrown wide from when she’d searched for the perfect gown—among her six options. She’d never been one for finery in excess or even vanity for that matter. Her cabinet held only what she needed: several gowns, two pairs of slippers, one pair of half boots, and underpinnings. A few ribbons were nestled in a tiny shell Brigham had brought her from Sheerness in Kent for their first Christmastide as husband and wife. She possessed no jewelry beyond the plain gold band he’d given her on their wedding day.

Quickly riffling through her stockings and such, Mellie had a moment’s hesitation as she pulled out a long, midnight blue silk sash. The material was smooth and cool against her fingertips. So far, Mellie hadn’t strayed from blacks and greys during her time of mourning—but she suspected this day was important. This day, she would take great care in her attire and appearance, if for nothing but to gain Brigham’s attention.

Her husband’s stay at Hockcliffe would not last longer than a day or two, at most.

Lilly stepped forward, taking the silk sash from Mellie and wrapping it about the high waist of her gown before tying it at her back.

“It is lovely,” her maid sighed. “But it will be all the more attractive when I am done with your hair.”

Attractive?

Mellie had never seen herself as striking in any way. Certainly, she had the classic appearance of an English rose, though her hair had always held a bit too much red for her liking, her skin had turned pale and sickly over the last several years, and it was only recently that she noted her gowns no longer hung limply from her thin frame.

She took a seat at her dressing table, and Lilly went to work with her brush and pins.

Turning her face slightly, Mellie scrutinized her reflection. Perhaps there had been a time when she’d thought herself pretty, or at least comely enough by Hertfordshire standards. If she lifted her chin at just the right angle, her neck appeared nearly swanlike, her petite ears tucked under her hair, and her large almond-shaped eyes sparkled.

“Should I change my gown?” she mused. “Perchance I have something with a—“

Mellie’s voice cut off as she met Lilly’s knowing stare in the mirror.

She was going to say low-cut neckline.

“Oh, do not look at me thusly, Lilly,” Mellie chided, in hopes of distracting her maid. “And do hurry, or I will be late for breakfast.”

“Breakfast with Lord Whitmore?” the girl prodded.

“Do you mean my husband?” Mellie corrected, narrowing her stare on the servant. “Because, yes, with Lord Whitmore. That is what wedded couples do when in residence with one another—they dine… together.”