“Tipton," Malum said, his tone sharp, "Let Wellington’s know their candidate was a complete disaster, and that there is no excuse for this kind of incompetence.”
“Of course, Your Grace.” Tipton cleared his throat, and the woman scurried out the door, practically knocking the butler over in her rush to flee.
The door closed behind them both, and except for Ernest’s little hiccupping sounds, the room fell blessedly silent.
Malum, not at all accustomed tonotknowing exactly what to do, found himself turning to Lady Melanie. “What she did, leaving him to cry like that, it isn’t really standard practice, is it?”
She stared back at him, her blue eyes wide. “If it is, I don’t like it.”
His sentiments exactly.
Malum rubbed his chin. He appreciated that she didn’t pretend to know, but would express her opinion.
Who was this woman,really?
Was it possible her motives were exactly as they appeared? That she’d been genuinely concerned about a baby that belonged to a perfect stranger?
She’d done the unthinkable for an innocent Mayfair Miss—she’d set foot in abrothel. She either didn’t realize that she’d risked her reputation by doing so, or she didn’t care.
The second possibility—that she didn’t care—was far more intriguing than the first. It was also concerning. Because the fact that she was related to two of his most valuable associates meant he couldn’t ignore it.
“You should go?—”
But Lady Melanie had already shifted her attention back to Ernest. “You poor thing,” she cooed as she crossed to the talldresser Malum had used to change soiled nappies the night before.
He clenched his jaw. If he sent her away right now, he’d be alone with Ernest.
Again.
Blast and damn, he hadn’t signed up for this.
“There are clean ones in the top drawer,” he pointed out, more grateful than anything. “Nappies, that is.”
A washstand stood beside the dresser, with linen cloths and soap stacked on the shelf below. It was oddly convenient that the room—a nursery, for Christ’s sake—had not only been maintained, but well stocked. His household, of which he’d filled with the most sought-after servants in theton, had obviously believed he’d inevitably come to his senses one day, take a wife, and immediately require a nursery.
Or…
More likely, they’d believed he sired bastard children on a nightly basis, and that eventually one of them would be dropped on his doorstep.
“You are a precious little darling, aren’t you?” The baby stared up at Lady Melanie as though entranced by her comforting words.
Malum was staring as well, noticing the elegant curve of her neck. Feeling an unfamiliar pull, he quickly shifted his gaze elsewhere.
Beside the changing dresser, a wooden rocking horse gleamed in the waning sunlight. Child-sized furniture filled the room, including a cradle near the dresser and a toy chest pushed against the far wall.
“Let’s get this wet thing off you, sweetheart. No wonder you were crying.” She cooed in comforting tones. This was the most he’d heard Lady Melanie speak so far, tender, calming.She turned and caught Malum watching her, but only grimaced, holding the soiled nappy between two fingers.
“There’s a bin…” Malum joined her just as a stream of urine shot into the air at approximately a forty-five-degree angle, barely missing Lady Melanie’s face.
She yelped, ducking.
Having experienced the phenomenon the night before, Malum right away covered the stream with a new nappy.
“What…?” Lady Melanie blinked. “You cheeky little devil!”
This was the moment any proper lady would summon what dignity she could, make her excuses, and race back across the street, back to her mother’s home where there weren’t tiny cocks to be wary of.
Or large ones, for that matter.
