by Amy Field
Chapter Four
This simply wouldn’t do. James paced the guest bedchamber on the third floor of Havenwood Manor, only the single taper candle lighting the pitch black of the middle of the night. When he’d first laid eyes upon Miss Melanie Seabourn, he’d decided right then that he had found his soul’s counterpart. He had never believed such foolishness existed, but when the dark haired beauty had entered the drawing room, her long lashes framing eyes as blue as the sky on a clear summer day, his heart had lurched in his chest, a lump forming in his throat. He’d asked to take a turn about the gardens with her because he simply had to be alone with her, to study her face and spend a moment getting to know more of her.
Melanie Seabourn was meant to be his wife. Not his brother’s, of that he was sure. Wes had never seen Melanie, and he felt rather certain Melanie’s sweet, pliable disposition would be no match to Wes and his straightforward, no-nonsense ways. She wouldn’t be happy married to him, and James, knowing his brother, did not believe Wes would be all that happy with the match either. Something had to be done before it was too late. Before beautiful Melanie and his brother both ended up trapped in a marriage that would please neither one of them, James least of all.
Inspiration struck him as the candle’s flame flickered from the breeze easing through the bedchamber’s open window. Before he thought through the possible complications of his ingenious plan, he threw on his coat and rushed to put the plan into motion. Once outside of his room, he tiptoed through the dark, silent corridor and down the stairs to the family’s bedchambers on the second floor. Earlier that evening, as he’d smoked a cigar with Lord Seabourn outside in the twilight, he’d caught a glimpse of Melanie from her bedchamber’s window. Just a ruffle of the curtains, and her face peeking from behind. Now, if he could remember which room looked down over the front and side of the manor house . . .
Deciding that the door at the end of the hall had to be the one for which he’d been looking, he turned the brass knob ever so slightly, thankful that it wasn’t locked, nor did the door creak when he gently eased it open. Within the room, he could make out the sleeping silhouettes of the two Seabourn sisters each in bed in the faint moonlight coming in through the curtains. Silently, he crossed the room to the bed, briefly wondering if what he was doing was crazy as he caught sight of Melanie’s peaceful face. He would beg forgiveness for the intrusion at a later time.
Nudging her arm gently, Melanie stirred, and her eyes opened. Before she shot up in alarm, he put his finger to his lips. Catching her by surprise and disoriented, she stared at him in shock, but didn’t make a peep.
“Might I speak with you?” He whispered, glancing at Arielle, still fast asleep.
“It’s quite improper for you to be in here,” she whispered back, glancing around in the darkened room.
“I know, but I must speak with you, most urgently.”
Melanie glanced at Arielle and eased from the bed, throwing a shawl about her nightgown. She crossed the room and stood against the wall furthest from the bed, in hopes of not disturbing Arielle with her unexpected, late night visitor.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Miss Seabourn, you must not marry my brother. I do not believe that you two will be altogether happy with one another,” he whispered fiercely.
“But what choice do I have, my lord? The plans have been placed in motion. You, yourself, are playing a vital role in the transaction,” she responded bitterly.
James took her hands in his. “I know this is all so strange and sudden, but Miss Seabourn, I ask you to consider taking me as your husband instead.”
Melanie gasped sharply. “Lord Pendleton!”
“I am aware that I have taken you quite by surprise with my proposal, and I must admit, were you to accept, we must act posthaste.”
“Why would you wish to marry me, might I ask? We’ve known one another less than a day.”
“It only required but one moment for me to realize that the sun rose and set for me in your beautiful blue eyes, my dear.”
Melanie softened, her heart warming at his sentiment. She hesitated but only for a brief moment. “I accept, my lord. Though we have just met, I have grown fond of you. My intended, your brother, I do not know him whatsoever. I believe my odds of a happy union fare better placed in the hands of the man standing before me now.”
James kissed her hands. “Then we must elope immediately, my love, to Scotland, while the household is still abed. It is our only chance.”
She nodded vigorously. “If you would but step from the room for a moment, I shall change into a proper gown, and we can be away.”
“Good, I shall wait with my heart in my hands outside your door,” he whispered to her before making his silent exit.
Melanie plucked a gown from her wardrobe, a robin’s egg blue muslin with white lace trim, and managed to change into it without too much difficulty, seeing as to the lack of her maid’s assistance. She hurried to unplait her braid and pull the waves of dark brown into a pile on the crown of her head, pinning as fast as her fingers would allow. Throwing a dark cloak about her shoulders, she tiptoed past Arielle and into the darkened corridor.
“Lord Pendleton?” She whispered.
“Please, my dearest, call me James,” his low voice greeted her to her left.
“James,” she said softly, trying out the name.
“Melanie,” he whispered back, and she closed her eyes, revelling in the sound of her given name slipping past his lips.
James took her hand and they snuck through the house, not a soul awake at the wee morning hour. They crept out through the back kitchen door and made their way through the shadows of the courtyard to the dark stables.
“Shh, there boy,” James’ low rumble comforted Rialto, who recognized his master’s voice and stood still and quiet as James tacked him up with the saddle, bridle, and reins. Once he had the horse ready, he mounted the horse, and Melanie stepped onto the mounting block, and he helped her slide behind him on the saddle.
“Make sure to hold on tight,” he murmured as he nudged Rialto forward. Melanie clasped her hands about James, resting her cheek against his back as the horse shot forward from the stables and down the drive. She shuddered as a thrill of excitement coursed through her. She’d never been out of doors at this hour, and to be in the company of such a dashing man that would be her husband within hours? It was all quite exhilarating. She burrowed closer to James, tightening her grip around his waist, snuggling against the muscular planes of his back as they threw caution to the wind.
They followed along the Royal Road at a fast clip, reaching the bridge to the Scottish border town of Coldstream as dawn began to break across the horizon. Streaks of pink, lavender, and yellow painted the sky, and Melanie breathed in the scent of honeysuckle and wisteria growing along the road, content to know that she now had a bit of a say in her future. She couldn’t fathom a future with James that would cease to be pleasant. Though she’d only known him but a day, her heart had leapt excitedly in her chest the moment she’d first clapped eyes upon him and believed him to be her betrothed. Walking with him in the gardens and at dinner the night before, he’d only proved to be the complete gentleman, kind and sincere, and she’d wished more than once that he had been the Earl and she was to marry him instead of his brother.
The moment a small village appeared in the distance across the river, James leaned back and pointed out the grouping of stone buildings to Melanie. She nodded happily at the sight. “We shall be married soon,” he told her before urging Rialto onward.
They made their way into the small, ancient village situated just over the Scottish border and sought out the village blacksmith. Though anyone, based off of Scottish law, could perform their marriage ceremony, it was most common for those seeking a hasty wedding to recite their vows over the blacksmith’s anvil.
Just inside the village, James dismounted and assisted Melanie down from the horse’s back, as well, giving Rialto a much-needed b
reak. “We’ll see to our marriage straight away, then we shall break our fast and stable Rialto with a good-size bag of oats before we start our journey home just after noon,” he explained. She nodded her agreement, thankful he could think clearly as her nerves began to jumble her thoughts.
James walked through the streets of Coldstream, leading Rialto by his reins with one hand and Melanie on his other arm. It only took but a moment to find the blacksmith’s shop, a squat, white-washed building with a thatched roof. A painted sign over the door read, “Mr. Calum McGill, Blacksmith.”
James knocked on the door, and a middle-aged man with a thick beard of gray wearing an apron answered the door.
“Come to marry, have ye?” He said, his Scottish brogue barely noticeable.
James nodded. “Yes, sir. Are you the blacksmith, Mr. McGill?”
“That’d be me. Come into the shop,” he said with a kind smile, waving them indoors.
“I am James Pendleton, Baron of Pelham, hailing from Pelham House, Hampshire, and this is my intended bride, Miss Melanie Seabourn of Havenwood Manor, Northumberland.”
Mr. McGill waved his hand in dismissal as he removed his work gloves. “Matters not to me where ye be from. I perform four or five wedding ceremonies a week over this anvil. Ye pay my fee, make ye intentions known and I pronounce ye wed. ‘Tis known as a handfasting ceremony.”
James pulled the necessary coin from his purse, and the man happily took the fee. Mr. McGill then gestured for them to proceed. James turned to Melanie and took her hands in his.
“Miss Melanie Seabourn, I desire for you to be my wife, in name and honor, as long as we both shall live,” he proclaimed boldly.
“Lord Pendleton, James, I desire to be your wife, to have you as my husband, as long as we both shall live,” she replied, her cheeks flushing.
The blacksmith brought down his hammer against the anvil, a loud clang resounding throughout the shop and surely into the streets, alerting the villagers that another couple had wed.
“I pronounce ye husband and wife,” Mr. McGill said bluntly and donned his work gloves once more. James leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Melanie’s lips. She kissed him back, her eyes closing. All too soon, James pulled back and smiled at her.
“Thank you, kind sir,” James said politely before offering his arm to his bride and escorting her from the shop.
“Tis, strange. Is it not? But a few words and we are now husband and wife,” Melanie murmured as they walked along the village’s cobblestoned streets to the inn. James procured a place in the stable for Rialto to eat and rest while Melanie waited patiently.
“Come along, wife,” James smiled at her as he held the door for her to enter the traveling inn. James paid for them to have a private room and the best meal the inn’s cook had to offer. They headed up the narrow staircase to the room on the second floor, and when James opened the door, Melanie swallowed the lump forming in her throat.
He’d managed to procure a suite of rooms, which encompassed a small room with a fireplace and a table with two chairs, connected to a larger bedchamber featuring a single window. The best accommodations of Coldstream were not worthy of much boasting.
Melanie took a seat at the table, fidgeting nervously with the end of her shawl as a servant bustled in with several trays featuring various breakfast dishes, ranging from porridge with honey to rashers of bacon and poached eggs.
“Melanie,” James said, dabbing his napkin at his mouth as they finished their meal, “I wish that I did not have to speak with you of such delicate matters yet, but you have to know that we must consummate this marriage before we leave for Havenwood. Otherwise, your father may insist that it be annulled, as well as my brother, and our early morning wedding will be for naught.”
Melanie nodded, too nervous to speak. James reached across the table and took her hand. “I assure you, my love, all will be well. I will be nothing but kind and gentle. I swear it.”
She knew he meant to ease her fears, but her cheeks flamed red, and she shot up from the table. “Excuse me, James. I need a moment to collect myself,” she said swiftly, running into the bedchamber and shutting the door as her husband of but an hour watched dumbfounded.
Chapter Five
When Lord Pendleton and the new Lady Pendleton rode astride Rialto up the winding drive of Havenwood Manor, Lord Seabourn stood waiting in the courtyard. His face red and fists clenched in anger, he could barely contain his rage as the couple dismounted.
“Pray tell, Lord Pendleton, where did you take my daughter, the intended bride of your brother in the middle of the night?” He spoke with no preamble, his words biting.
“I took Lady Pendleton to Coldstream where we were wed this morning,” James stated matter-of-factly with Melanie on his arm, her eyes downcast. She could not look at her father after what she had done.
“Lady Pendleton? You married Melanie?” He asked incredulously. “How could you!? She was betrothed to your own brother!”
“Allow me to handle my brother, my lord. I do apologize for missing our wedding party, but some matters needed attending right away.”
The vein on Lord Seabourn’s forehead looked nigh to bursting. “There’s no chance for annulling this sham of a marriage then?” he asked, surmising the hidden meaning in James’ words.
“Melanie is my wife and shall be ‘til death does us part.”
“It’s consummated then?” her father asked glumly, already knowing the answer. Melanie stared at the pea gravel beneath her feet, her neck and face as pink as the wild roses James had tucked among her hair. She could not look up if her life had depended on upon it.
“It is,” James replied confidently.
“You stole my daughter!”
“She was already bargained away in marriage, but this was her choice! I shall provide her a happy and comfortable life, my lord, I swear to you.”
“I suppose I can at least take a bit of solace in that,” he resigned.
“As my brother will be expecting our swift return, Melanie and I must still leave after dinner today so that we may explain the circumstances of our marriage,” James told him.
“James?” Melanie spoke up for the first time since they had arrived back at her home.
“Yes, my dear?” James asked tenderly.
“Might we still allow Arielle to accompany us to Pelham House? I very much wish for her to be with us still,” Melanie explained.
“As long as your father is in agreement, I see no hindrance to Miss Seabourn accompanying us home for an extended visit.”
Lord Seabourn waved a hand of defeat in the air. “It was the plan for her to accompany you anyway,” he grumbled.
Melanie excused herself from her husband and father, who still had much to discuss and went inside the manor to seek out her sister. Much had happened in such a short amount of time!
“Melanie!” Her sister shouted when she poked her head in the drawing room. Arielle rose from her seat and crossed the room. Melanie gave her sister a warm embrace.
“I am a married woman now,” Melanie said, arching a brow at her sister.
Arielle’s mouth popped open. “What? The Earl arrived and swept you away?” she asked in surprise.
Melanie shook her head. “No, silly girl. I married Lord Pendleton in Coldstream this morning,” she said, still unable to believe it.
Arielle gasped. “You married the Earl’s brother? Are you still going to Pelham House then?”
“Yes, we are still going, as it is James’ home as well, and you are still to accompany me,” Melanie informed her.
“This is all so sudden! So much to take in—though you were to be married today anyway, it is still hard to believe you are a married woman!”
“James told me that I can have my pick from several rings in his family’s vault, though I told him it truly did not matter all that much, as long as I had a ring, even a plain band of silver would suffice.”
“Did he believe such a falsehood?” Arielle te
ased, swatting her sister’s arm.
Melanie scrunched her nose. “No, he did not,” she laughed.
“Then he is a good man,” Arielle declared.
* * * *
Melanie and Arielle rode in a comfortable silence for much of the first day’s journey to Pelham House in Hampshire. In the cozy, enclosed carriage bearing the Pendleton family crest, they alternated taking cat naps and watching the scenery of Northern England pass gently by while James rode Rialto alongside them.
When they stopped at a coaching inn in Durham to spend the night, it felt strange to Melanie to be sharing a room with her husband, rather than her sister, who up until this very night she’d slept beside every night of her remembrance.
“Goodnight, dear sister,” Melanie called, holding tightly to James’ arm as Arielle opened the door to her own room for the night.
“Sleep well,” Arielle replied with a light wave and a smile before disappearing within the confines of her chamber.
“Tired, my love?” James asked, tilting his head toward her.
“Not terribly so. The ride was rather uneventful today,” she replied as they stepped inside their room. Alone at last, James wrapped his arms around Melanie’s waist and she lifted her chin to welcome his kiss. She closed her eyes as their lips met, happy to be in her husband’s strong embrace for the first time since they’d left Coldstream what seemed like decades ago, though it had only been that very morn.
“I’ve missed you, my dear,” he whispered against her ear, producing a soft laugh to burst from her lips.
“We have been traveling en route to your home together all the day long.”
“Yes, but I have not been able to kiss you or wrap my arms around you, or tell you how very fetching you look in this peach traveling gown,” he said, nuzzling her neck.
“James, you are too much,” she said quietly, but welcomed his kisses readily once more.