by Amy Field
He hadn’t expected to feel so out of sorts when this day arrived. He was always the confident one; the leader others looked to when they were in need of guidance. He tried his best to be fair and just. Therefore, many placed their trust in him with ease. There was no time for dalliances or horsing around in his mind.
His ear perked up at the sound of footsteps and voices in the hall, growing louder as they made their way toward his door. Wes stood up straight, his hands resting on his desk, assuming a stance of power and position.
The door opened and in walked his brother, his wife, and her sister. The girls were far lovelier than the canvases had portrayed. Melanie stood tall and graceful with dark, glossy curls spilling from the top of her head, a creamy complexion with a pink flush spread across her cheeks. The smart cut of her traveling gown revealed a pleasant figure, and a small smile stayed permanently fixed upon her full, berry lips. Her younger sister, Arielle, though just as beautiful, looked nothing like Melanie. Though her hair was thick and elegantly pinned, the color reminded him of honey with streaks of spun gold wound within it. Her skin was a shade darker than Melanie’s, probably from spending time in the sun, but her eyes were the same piercing blue, and their figures were almost identical. She, however, seemed to have trouble standing still, constantly fidgeting with the hem of her shawl, the lace trim on her gloves.
“Brother!” James called in greeting, and Wes bowed.
“Good to be home, is it not?” Wes asked warmly.
“It is. May I present to you, Lady Melanie Pendleton . . . my wife, and her sister, Miss Arielle Seabourn,” James said pausing on his description of Melanie, but continuing on with ease.
“James, what is it that you mean? Your wife?” Wes asked in confusion glancing between his brother and the elder Seabourn sister.
“I decided upon meeting Melanie that you two would not suit at all and took it upon myself to save you from what would have surely been a horrible marriage,” James replied.
Wes stared at his younger brother, clenching his fists as he struggled not to lunge at him and pound his smug face that very instant. “Ladies,” Wes said with utter control, “I must speak privately with my brother. There is tea and poppy seed cakes in the drawing room. Henson will direct you there.”
Melanie glanced worriedly at her husband of three days before Arielle silently took her by the arm and guided her from the room. The ladies departed, all the while Wes glared, angry but calm, at his younger brother.
“You stole my wife!” Wes shouted once the door had shut behind the Seabourn sisters.
James cleared his throat. “Correction, dear brother. Melanie is my wife, and you should be more appreciative of the goodwill that I have extended you.”
“Pray tell, of what nonsense do you speak?” Wes asked, cynicism dripping from his voice.
James strolled, hands behind his back to the tea service and poured himself a lukewarm cup. “Melanie would not have suited you, dear brother. She’s much too genteel, and you would have unintentionally stomped over her sweet spirit. Within a month, you would have probably forgotten that you even had a wife. I could not let such a thing happen to her, nor you, for that matter.”
“I see no wrong with a kind, gentle wife minding the matters of the house and leaving me be. The situation would have suited me well.”
James shook his head at his brother. “In most affairs, I trust your good judgment and sound reasoning, Wes, but not when it comes to such as this. The moment I saw Melanie, I loved her. She was meant to be mine. Truly, you must understand in some way?”
“You saw a beautiful woman, the wife meant for your brother, and you took her for yourself,” Wes spat the words out stubbornly. This wound to his pride and his relationship with his brother would not be easily healed.
“I apologize for wronging you, brother, but I assure you, in time, you will be most pleased that I have done so,” James said, knowing there was nothing else to say-- he was defeated for now.
“Leave me, James. I must think on what is to be done,” Wes replied coldly, refusing to meet his brother’s eyes.
James' shoulders sagged, but he turned and left Wes’ study, knowing nothing else that could be done to remediate the wrongdoing in his brother’s eyes.
* * * *
“James!” Melanie called out, standing abruptly from her seat on the tufted velvet sofa in the drawing room at the sight of her husband. She’d spent the last hour with her stomach jumbled and knotted as James spoke with his brother.
Arielle tilted her head, but didn’t rise. “That brother of yours is none too pleased, is he?” she asked, setting down her hand-painted china cup and saucer.
“Could we have expected him to be happy that his own brother stole his betrothed?” James replied in question, guilt plaguing his face. Melanie crossed the room to him, placing a timid hand of comfort on his sleeve.
“I am sorry for the issue arising between you and your brother,” Melanie spoke gently, her voice ringing with sincerity.
James looked down at his lovely wife, a smile of endearment brightening his face despite the circumstances. She was well worth any amount of trouble his marriage to her might have caused.
“When you chose one brother over another, you must have truly hurt him, Melanie, despite the fact that you two had yet to even meet,” Arielle remarked.
“My brother needs a wife so that he can have an heir. He is not in the least bit interested in seeking out and courting prospective ladies, therefore, my swooping in and ruining his marriage arrangement very much vexes him,” James explained.
“Do you think he will be alright? Will he come around?” Melanie asked, imploring James with her bright eyes, hand still upon his sleeve.
James nodded. “I believe so, but it will take some time. Wes broods for quite a while when matters are not settled according to his wishes.”
“Will he walk the moors with his hounds? Nurse whiskey by the fireside?” Arielle asked in jest, rising from her seat as Melanie shot her a look of warning.
James chuckled. “He is not as bad as he sounds. Truthfully, we shall more than likely see very little of him in the next coming weeks. I expect that he will abruptly leave for London ‘business matters in dire need of his attention’ where he will nurse his wounded pride. I do not blame him, though. I was the one in the wrong.” Guilt shone in his eyes.
Melanie’s hand slipped from his sleeve, and her chin dropped, feeling as though she was the cause of all of their current problems. He lifted a hand, tucking it beneath her chin and tilting it upward to face him once more. “My love, never doubt that I am most glad that fate paid us a fortunate visit. Please know that I would take the same actions were I to be presented with the chance to marry you again. I may feel guilt in hoodwinking my brother, but it was well worth the honor of being your husband,” he told her, a fierceness in his eyes that made her knees wobbly and her eyes dance.
Chapter Seven
Pelham House
August 1803
“The Earl has just ridden into the stables,” Henson informed James as he, Melanie and Arielle lingered over the delicious plum pudding, the cook, Mrs. Miller had prepared for dessert. They all three shared nervous glances at the dinner table.
The past month at Pelham House had been a splendid and happy time. The married couple’s young love filled the vast home with a cheerful swell of joy that had been missing for quite some time. Even Arielle’s peal of laughter as she walked in tandem through the great hall with her sister, sharing her adventures from her times in the woods just east of the estate, were a welcome change from the usual austere silence.
“I must challenge you to a duel, James,” Wes said with no preamble as he entered the dining room.
Melanie and Arielle gasped, their spoons dropping and clanging against their dessert plates. James, however, folded his napkin, calmly stood and walked with a confident stride to where his brother stood.
“Let us speak of this duel in your study, Wes, as
it is upsetting the fair ladies,” he explained, gesturing to Melanie and Arielle even as he took Wes by the arm. Wes promptly yanked free of his grasp but walked with James to his study just the same.
Once inside the book-lined room, where the smell of ink and parchment was always in the air, James turned to his brother. “Why, pray tell, would you challenge me, your own brother, to a duel?”
“It is the only honorable choice I have after what you have done to me,” Wes replied defensively, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
“That is a falsehood, and we both know it. The honorable choice includes wishing both my wife and I a lifetime of happiness after you swallow your ridiculous pride!” James answered him, heat creeping up his neck as his patience with Wes had finally grown thin.
“Wish my brother, my own brother, a happy life with the woman that had been intended to be my very own bride?” Wes countered, still smarting.
“Please, Wes, I beg you, it is time to put an end to this matter. You had never even met Melanie in person. It isn’t as if you had courted her, proposed to her, and I’d swooped in the morning of your true wedding. We fell in love, and I have apologized for all the pain and trouble that it has caused you.”
Wes paced the room, contemplating his brother’s words.
“Besides, I have reason to suspect Melanie is with child, and I do not wish my son or daughter to be born without a father. A duel is simply unwise.” James wasn’t at all sure that Melanie might have been with child, but it added a good point to his case for Wes.
“Truly, brother? I may be an uncle?” Wes asked, perking up for the first time since James had returned to Pelham with the two sisters over a month ago.
James nodded. “It is possible, though I am not at all certain.”
“I did not really wish to duel.”
“I know.”
“I still had to challenge you, as is custom.”
“I know. Now, we must return to the dining room before my wife and her sister die of fright.”
Wes look at his brother. "One condition. The child should bear my name."
James thought for a moment. That definitely wasn't custom. But there were unusual circumstances.
“Most certainly.”
They returned to the dining room where Melanie sat frozen in fear while Arielle paced in front of the large window.
“My ladies, I assure you, all is well between my brother and myself,” James said with a flourish.
“I apologize for frightening you with my challenge earlier,” Wes said, pausing before continuing on, “I wish you both only happiness in your marriage and no ill will. I have forgiven James for what happened in regards to the original marriage arrangement.”
Melanie smiled at her brother in law. “Thank you, my lord,” she said sweetly, adding to the conversation.
A little while later, the happy couple took a stroll through the Pelham House gardens.
“The lilacs and freesia are nothing compared to the peonies of Havenwood, but it is still a beautiful setting,” James remarked as they took a seat on a stone bench, surrounded by the lush summer garden and the stone statues of woodland animals and Greek gods.
“It is most admirable,” Melanie replied, tilting her face toward the sunshine. She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of the warmth kissing her skin. James watched her, enrapt in her soft, sweet beauty.
“I adore you, Melanie,” he said, the words stirring her heart to the point of bursting.
She opened her eyes and turned to him. “And I, you.”
THE END
Book III
The Passion Of A Gentleman
Chapter One
Pelham House
October 1803
Arielle Seabourn wandered through the cavernous, silent halls of Pelham House. Since moving with her sister and her sister’s new husband to the great house over the summer, it had yet to feel like home to her. Her sister, the new Lady Pendleton, had married James Pendleton, Baron of Pelham, the brother to the Earl of Winchester, who owned the vast estate. They were in the process of looking for their own estate now that they were married, but in the meantime, Pelham House had more than enough room for the earl, Lord and Lady Pendleton, and Arielle, as well.
Arielle bit her lip as she gazed at the heavy, ornate tapestries hanging on the walls. This house was much too dark in her opinion. It was nothing like Havenwood Manor, her home in Northumberland. Havenwood Manor was significantly smaller than Pelham House, but with numerous windows, extensive natural light, and bouquets of fresh flowers from the hothouse year round, her previous home was much more inviting than the castle-like stone and heavy drapes of the Earl of Winchester’s ancestral palace.
The estate was especially quiet since her sister, Melanie, and her husband were away visiting Lord Pendleton’s good friends in Surrey. Arielle had stayed behind, assuring the newlyweds that she would stay most occupied with Pelham’s extensive library and her daily rides on her mare, Tessie. She also liked to tromp about the woods bordering Pelham’s property, but Melanie disdained her hikes and explorations, deeming them “most unladylike,” so she kept that part of her itinerary to herself.
“Miss Seabourn?”
Arielle nearly collided with the earl himself, so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t noticed his appearance in the hall. He reached out an arm to steady her, and she quickly stepped back, righting herself before she fell. Once she had her footing, she dipped a curtsey.
“My lord, excuse me. I did not see you approach.”
He eyed her warily. “What purpose do you have outside my study door?”
Her brow furrowed. “I was on my way to the library to select a book. The weather is rather nice today, so I believe I shall go for a walk and settle beneath a tree for a spell.”
“The wind is crisp. We do not want you taking cold. Who is here to care for you?”
“I do apologize for any inconvenience my presence may cause you,” she replied, barely keeping her temper in check. Why did he have to be so insufferable?
He waved a hand, dismissing the matter. “Your presence bothers me not. I only mention my concern at the lack of a fitting chaperone. With James and your sister away in Surrey, only the servants are present to keep your reputation intact as you are sharing a home with a renowned bachelor.”
“I suppose they shall do well enough, seeing as Pelham House could easily hold an entire village within its vast walls,” Arielle said with an impertinent shrug. “If you’ll excuse me now, I am away to attend to my affairs.” She offered the slightest of curtseys and rushed passed him, not waiting for him to dismiss her. Feeling the earl’s glare on her back, she continued onward. Though he possessed the power to boot her from the house and into the street, she’d quickly realized that he was much more bark than bite, and was mostly harmless.
She burst from the house and into the stables, finding solace in the familiar scent of hay and horse. Her mare, Tessie whinnied happily at the sight of her mistress. Arielle had slipped an apple from the kitchen and now held out her offering for Tessie to approve.
“There you go, girl,” Arielle soothed as Tessie took the apple into her mouth, chewing it heartily.
“So this is where you disappear to nearly every morning?”
Wes’ distinctly male and disapproving voice interrupted her peaceful morning routine. She looked from Tessie to see him standing in the middle of the stables, his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face.
She sighed. Is he going to follow her around everywhere?
“Surely, sir, you have pressing matters far more important than mapping out the day’s routine of a humble girl most gracious to find lodging beneath your roof,” she snidely remarked.
He stood there, aghast. “Why, I’ve never met such an impertinent—“
“Yes, yes, I know, milord. We established quite some time ago that I am the most impertinent, outrageous, unladylike lady that you have ever had the privilege of meeting,” she quipped, not interested
in the continuing on with the tired conversation.
“Townes!” Wes called.
“Yes, milord?” The head of the stables appeared from nowhere.
“Saddle my horse. I’m accompanying Miss Seabourn on her ride today,” he instructed the man, his eyes never leaving Arielle’s. She narrowed her gaze at him.
“Why, sir,” she sank into an exaggerated curtsey, “there is nothing I wish for more than the pleasure of your company on my morning ride,” she lied sweetly. He knew that she was lying.
“And I wish for nothing more than to be in the presence of your delightful company,” he replied, lying in turn.
Arielle swiftly turned from him then, before he noticed the heat climbing up her neck and spreading to her face. The man was insufferable, and she did not want to give him the pleasure of seeing how angry he could make her. The last thing he wanted to do was ride out with her, yet he was doing so only to get beneath her skin. For what reasons, she could not determine. Perhaps, he was still upset about her sister marrying his brother instead of him. But matters of the heart such as that, how could they be helped?
She waited patiently for Tessie to be saddled and readied for her ride, swinging gracefully from the mounting block in her peacock blue riding habit as Tessie stood mostly still, anticipating the fast, vigorous ride the two of them liked to share. Arielle cared not if the surly earl kept pace or not with her once they left the stables.
As soon as she was seated, she kicked in her heels and shot from the stable yard, darting through the paddocks and out into the expansive pasture lands to the east of the estate. Tessie ran fast and free as they shot through the tall grass. The pastures were framed with forests alive with the colors of autumn. Blazing crimson, fiery oranges, and golden yellow leaves fringed the trees, and Arielle sucked in her breath at the beauty of it.