“Not that we can be specific,” Damian pointed out.
Julian grunted. After a moment, he admitted, “One of my main concerns is that, as we don’t know the attacker’s motive, we can’t rule out the possibility that, on finding himself blocked from striking at me, he’ll turn his sights on Melissa.”
That made his brothers grow as grave as he felt.
Frowning, Felix suggested, “You could alert the staff to be particularly vigilant where their new mistress is concerned. You can make it vague, and they’ll put it down to husbandly protectiveness, which they’ll probably think very appropriate, and because they all love you, they’ll make sure they keep a close eye on Melissa.”
Damian nodded. “I second that. You know the castle staff are yours to command. They always have been.”
“And of course,” Felix added, “we’ll help. At least during the wedding itself, you’ll be by her side, and when, during the breakfast, you get drawn into other duties, we’ll step in and at least stay close enough to make sure nothing happens to her.”
Julian took in his brothers’ committed expressions and, after a moment, inclined his head. “Thank you. I suspect that’s the best we can do. That, and hope that whoever it is, they continue to lie low.”
A week later, Melissa steered Julian through the crowd assembled on Lady Jersey’s rear lawn at Osterly Park. The occasion was one of her ladyship’s famous alfresco luncheons, and the cream of the ton had gathered to enjoy the bright May day.
While she and Julian smiled and chatted and steadily circulated among the crowd—constantly moving being the best defense against being surrounded and metaphorically taken hostage—in a moment between groups, he tipped his head down to hers and murmured, “Why do I get the impression that we’re one of the principal attractions?”
Her polite smile in place, she met his eyes. “Because we are.”
She faced forward as a lady swept up. “Lady Trelawny. How delightful to see you again. And your daughter as well. Imogen, isn’t it?”
After the necessary introductions and obligatory chatting, as they moved on again, Julian murmured, “And we’re here because…?”
Still smiling, she patted his arm. “Lady Jersey has always been kind to me. Strange to say, she was one of the few major hostesses who didn’t try to pressure me into marrying—meaning marrying someone else.”
“Ah.” After a moment, he added, “In that case, I’m happy to be able to lend our presence to her event.”
Melissa chuckled and led him on.
As was now the norm when they appeared at such venues, the insatiably curious descended, chatting eagerly in the hopes of learning more about their wedding. In this rather exclusive setting, the numbers of the curious were further bolstered by their own connections.
Mrs. Helen Delamere was one such who popped up in their path. “So delightful to see you both!”
Melissa wasn’t surprised when, after exchanging the barest minimum by way of greetings, Mrs. Delamere, her eyes bright with curiosity, leaned close, set a hand on Melissa’s wrist, and whispered, “I can’t wait to witness your wedding! It’s been years since there was a wedding at the castle. Both Constance and Eleanor married in St. George’s, which I always thought such a shame.” Her expression turned sorrowful, then brightened again. “Butfinally, I’ll get to see a wedding in the chapel at Carsington Castle.” Eyes alight, she laid her hands across her bosom. “It will be ravishingly romantic, I’m sure.” She turned her pale-blue gaze on Julian. “Don’t you think so, Carsely?”
His face an impassive mask, he replied, “No doubt.”
Melissa smothered an urge to kick him.
Mrs. Delamere returned her attention to Melissa. “But tell me, my dear, you must be looking forward to your wedding trip. I daresay you’re going to some fabulously wonderful place. I hear Italy and the south of France are lovely at this time of year.” She looked at Melissa hopefully.
Melissa smiled and replied, “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I plan to spend the summer at the castle, learning the ropes of how to run the place from Veronica.”
“Oh.” Mrs. Delamere blinked. “I see.” She released Melissa. “Somehow, I’d got it in my head that you were off on a jaunt about the Continent.” She sounded and looked confused.
Julian relented. “We are considering such a trip later in the year, but of course, being free to leave the country depends on the estate, business concerns, and to some extent, the political situation as well.”
Mrs. Delamere looked relieved. “Ah.” She nodded. “That’s what I must have heard.” Her bright smile returned, and she beamed at them both. “I’m so glad I wasn’t entirely wrong.” She glanced about. “And now I must allow all these other lovely people to have their time with you. Farewell, and I’ll see you at the castle!”
On that note, she swanned away, apparently quite happy.
As the next group approached, Melissa glanced at Julian. “Did you understand that? Why she’s so glad she wasn’t entirely wrong?”
Lips thinning, his gaze on Mrs. Delamere’s departing back, Julian shook his head. “Helen doesn’t always make sense, at least not in the way others think of it.”
Already smiling, Melissa held out her hand to the next matron wishing to speak with them. “Lady Huntwell. I hadn’t realized you were up from Devon.”
Julian plastered on his practiced smile and nodded and exchanged the usual glib phrases. In that, his years with the Home Office stood him in good stead; he’d long ago lost count of the balls, parties, and other social events he’d had to attend while in Dublin.
