“I must admit,” he began, leaning forward, “I was… disappointed to hear that the silent little mouse had discovered her voice. If you had just remained silent, then this conversation wouldn’t be necessary.”
Melanie furrowed her brow, baffled. He wished she hadn’t recovered? Why? What could he possibly expect her to say to that?
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Pretending to be mute won’t protect you now.”
Melanie felt her lip curling despite herself, her irritation briefly overtaking her nerves. What in blazes was he on about? Pretending? And yes, she’d been quiet, but… “I was never mute, Your Grace. I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean.”
Crossings sneered at her, a glint in his eye as if they were sharing in some sort of jest—or as if he was enjoying one at her expense. “Oh, but I think you do.”
Whatever had brought the Duke of Crossings here, it wasn’t good.
…It almost sounded as if… as if he werethreateningher, but that couldn’t be right.
“You might know something that could put you in danger.”Malum’s words had been confusing. “Be careful of who you trust, who you speak to.”
Melanie shook her head. “I don’t.”
The faux smile vanished from Crossings’ face, and his voice turned low and deliberate, abandoning any pretense of friendliness. “You have something of mine—some letters. I would like to have them back.”
Letters?Melanie’s breath hitched. Fragmented images, pieces of her memory, taunted her. “I’m sorry. Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His eyes turned glacial. “This is your chance, my lady, to secure your brother’s future—his freedom—once and for all. Hand over those letters, and I’ll see to it that all suspicions against him vanish. Something, I imagine, your entire family would be... most grateful for—something your betrothed has failed to accomplish.”
Her pulse hammered against her ribs. Malum hadn’t made any real promises, but Crossings was not wrong about her betrothal.
“What can you—” She faltered as more memories began to stir. Her father’s voice echoed faintly, growing louder with every passing second.
"Hide these, my darling, keep them safe for me… And don’t tell anyone you have them.”
Her hands clenched tighter in her lap.“Keep them safe for me…”The words reverberated over and over, dragging her back to the moments right before the fire.
Her father’s desperate voice, his trembling hands thrusting something into hers. Something important.
“Lady Melanie?” Crossings’ voice sliced through the fog of memory, yanking her back to the present. “Relying upon Malum,the owner of a brothel,is not going to save your family. You, an upright young lady, surely must know that. Malum” —Crossings practically spat his name—“is immoral—a reprobate. Whereas I, themostesteemed member of theton, can actually make those rumors disappear.” His eyes narrowed. “That is, if you let me.”
The pounding in her head made it hard to focus, even as his words wormed their way into her thoughts. They were a bitter reminder of a truth she couldn’t completely ignore.
Malum—Harry—was, in fact, the owner of a brothel. For all the good she believed he did, it wasn’t so simple, was it? Those women, from what little she understood, must have lived lives of hardship—of desperation. Was there truly no better way to help them?
But then she remembered—the haunted look in his silver eyes when he’d spoken of his father, of his mother. The tenderness that softened his features when he’d held Ernest, so carefully.
So many moments when that mask of indifference had slipped, and then later, fallen away completely.
Malum wasn’t perfect. He was a man marked by shadows, by choices no one could fully understand, but his heart—his heart—was good. It beat with kindness, strength, and a fierce sense of justice that went deeper than appearances.
He wasn’t perfect. He was simply… Malum.
In fact, no man was perfect, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t good.
The thought struck hard and fast, igniting a spark of indignation. All the whispered insults she’d endured—about Reed, her father, her mother, herself—coiled into a tight knot of defiance.
She would not let the Duke of Crossings fool her.
"Hide these, my darling..."
She didn’t dare look away. She couldn’t. To show weakness would be disastrous.
But the pounding words in her head persisted, her father’s voice blending with the crackling of fire and the scent of smoke that seemed to linger on her skin.
