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“Be sure that you sleep where our men can hear you. Lord Vale doesn’t like the crowd in the common room.”
“Mr. Pynch didn’t like their looks either,” the maid replied. “He said he’d keep a sharp eye on me tonight.”
Melisande’s heart warmed toward the stoic valet. At least he was protective of Suchlike. “I’m glad to hear it. Good night.”
“ ’Night, my lady. Sleep well.” And Suchlike left the room.
Melisande poured herself a little wine from the decanter on the table and took a sip. It certainly wasn’t of the quality that Vale kept in his cellars, but it was pleasantly tart. She took the pins from her hair and laid them neatly on the table.
She let down her hair and combed it out. Suddenly, there was a crash from below. She went to the door to listen, her brush still in her hand, but after a minute of raised voices, everything seemed to settle back down. Melisande finished brushing her hair, drank the wine in her glass, and climbed into bed.
She lay thinking for a bit on whether Vale would come to her rooms tonight. He’d have to ask the innkeeper for the key to her room. She’d been sure to lock the door tonight after Suchlike took her leave.
She must’ve slept then, because she dreamed of Jasper in battle, cannon fire all around him, while he laughed and refused to take up his gun. In her dream, she called to him, imploring him to defend himself. Tears ran down her face. Then she woke to the sound of shouting and blows against her door. She sat up just as her door burst open and four drunken louts spilled into the room.
Melisande stared in shocked horror. Mouse leapt from her bed and began barking.
“ sontor.She’s a pretty bit o’ rough,” one said, and then a whirlwind caught him from behind.
Vale was on the man, hitting him savagely and silently. He was barefoot and wearing only his breeches. He took the man by the hair and slammed his face into the floorboards. Blood splattered.
Two of the drunkards blinked at the sudden violence, but the third swung forward. Before he could reach Vale, he was grabbed from behind by Mr. Pynch and hauled into the hallway. A thud shook the wall, and one of the small horse paintings fell. Vale rose from the still man on the floor and advanced on the other two men. Melisande bit back a cry. They might be drunk, but it was two against one. Mr. Pynch still fought the other man in the hall.
One tried to smile. “Jess a bit o’ fun.”
Vale hit him in the face. The man spun from the force of the blow and went down like a felled tree. Turning to the last man, who was trying to back away, Vale took him by the coat, turned him about, and ran him headfirst into the wall. The other horse painting fell. Mouse attacked the frame.
Mr. Pynch appeared in the doorway.
Vale looked up from where he stood panting over the last fallen man. “Everything settled out there?”
Mr. Pynch nodded. His left eye was reddened and beginning to swell. “I’ve roused the footmen. They’ll spend the rest of the night in the corridor to prevent further incidents.”
“What about Bob?” Vale demanded. “He was supposed to be outside my wife’s door.”
“I’ll find out what happened,” Mr. Pynch said.
“See that you do,” Vale snapped. “Tell the others to get this rubbish out of here.”
“My lord.” Pynch disappeared back into the hallway.
Vale finally looked at Melisande. His face was savage, a cut on his cheek leaking blood. “Are you all right, my lady wife?”
She nodded.
But he turned and slammed his fist into the wall. “I promised you this wouldn’t happen.”
“Jasper—”
“Goddamnit!” He kicked one of the fallen louts.
“Jasper—”
Mr. Pynch returned at that moment with the other menservants. They dragged the louts from the room, none of the men daring to even glance at her. Melisande still sat up in her bed, the sheets drawn to her chin. Bob appeared, white-faced and stricken and trying to explain that he’d been ill. Vale turned his back on the footman and clenched his fists. She saw Mr. Pynch jerk his chin to the footman, silently telling him to leave the room. Poor Bob slunk away again.
And then her room was clear. The servants left and only Vale remained, pacing the room like a caged lion. Mouse gave a last bark at the door and jumped on the bed to receive his praise. Melisande stroked his soft, smooth ears as she watched her husband shove a chair against the door. The frame sor.e hwas splintered near the lock and wouldn’t close properly.
Melisande watched him for a moment, then sighed and climbed from the bed. She padded barefoot to the table, poured a glass of wine, and held it out to him.
