The letter, four lost shipments, and the testimony of a turncoat accomplice. The air between them grew taut as the realization at last sank in. Crossings was going down. Today.
And then, as if on cue, the sound of a lone rider approaching caught their attention.
Malum turned, his sharp gaze locking on Lord Northwood’s face.
A REAL VILLAIN
Melanie paused at the entrance to the drawing room, her breath catching as she took in the figure standing near the fireplace. She’d walked in expecting to find Malum. Instead, the Duke of Crossings turned toward her, his smile charming at first glance, but laced with something that pricked up the hair on the back of Melanie’s neck.
It was the same sensation she’d felt when they’d met in the park—an instinctive wariness.
For a moment, she hesitated in the doorway. Her mother and Josie were both absent. Eloisa, she knew, had left to meet with the two of them at the park, and Mr. Chesterfield had already returned to his other duties. Which left Melanie alone to deal with Crossings.
“Good morning,” she said a touch belatedly, dipping into a half-hearted curtsey. Unwilling to let him out of her sight, she didn’t so much as drop her gaze. “Your Grace.”
She fought to keep her expression neutral, doing her best to ignore the sharp disappointment. Not only had Malumnotcome to right things between the two of them, but she now had toentertain a man with, at best, questionable motives she did not know.
Recalling everything she’d learned, this man, by all rights, was Malum’s enemy. But why was he here?
The smile on Crossings’ lips didn’t come close to reaching his eyes, which were cold and flat, and a quiet voice in the back of Melanie’s mind warned her to tread carefully. Everything about this visit felt… wrong.
“My dear lady.” Crossings returned her greeting smoothly, giving a short bow as he did so, as if his sudden intrusion were the most natural thing in the world. “What a pleasure.”
It was anything but.
Melanie stepped farther into the room, her pulse quickening despite herself. She instinctively lifted her chin, a faint tremor in her hand as she smoothed her skirt. “This is… unexpected,” she replied, her tone polite but distant.
“Unexpected perhaps, but not unwelcome, I hope?” His smile remained fixed.
It made her skin crawl.
She glanced toward the door, wishing her mother or Reed would sweep in to take over this meeting. Neither did, of course.
But perhaps there had been a mistake… Crossings had no reason to wish to speak with her. He didn’t belong in her mother’s home.
“I can only assume you were hoping to speak with your daughter, Lady Standish?” she asked hopefully. “Or perhaps my brother, Lord Standish? But they don’t live here. Standish Hall is on Hanover Square.”
“Oh no, my lady,” he said, his tone as smooth as silk. “It is you, Lady Melanie Rutherford, who I’ve come to see.”
There was no cushioning his words, and for a moment, the drawing room felt claustrophobic.
“How…” she began carefully. “How can I help you?”
Crossings gave her that faint, predatory smile again and gestured toward the nearest chair. “Perhaps we should sit.” His eyes narrowed. “You and I need to talk.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. His tone carried the weight of expectation, as though the mere idea of refusal was absurd.
Still, Melanie hesitated. This was her mother’s house. And yet, he was a duke! Aside from ordering him to leave outright, what could she do but be agreeable?
The concern Malum had expressed the night before struck her suddenly… Something about her being in danger.
This had nothing to do with Goldie or her brother. It had something to do with Malum.
Swallowing her apprehension, Melanie lowered herself into her mother’s chair.
Crossings followed, easing his much larger frame into the opposite one with an air of dominance. Melanie clasped her hands in her lap tightly, her palms sweating even though her skin felt ice-cold.
He drummed his fingers idly against the armrest.
