She’d been standing a little apart from the others, her expression distant, but she stepped forward to offer her hand.
Malum bowed as he took it, her touch cool and impersonal. She didn’t look at him. Was her silence a quiet rebuke?
Her posture was as poised as he remembered, but there was something different now. The strength he’d sensed before—strength that had brought her to theDomus—seemed diminished. Her lips were slightly pressed together, drained of color, and her eyes—those bright, crystal-blue eyes—looked…
Shuttered.
Lady Melanie had spoken to him before, but now, in the presence of her family, she remained silent. Malum frowned inwardly.
Her mother, visibly embarrassed—and if he wasn’t mistaken, frustrated by her daughter’s silence—spoke up to fill the void. "Lady Melanie is returning to Society. Isn’t that exciting?" Whether she was oblivious to her daughter’s discomfort or simply didn’t care, it was hard to tell.
Lady Melanie’s lips remained sealed in silence, her gaze drifting toward the ground.
"Exciting?” He answered coolly. “That’s debatable.” Malum watched Lady Melanie’s reaction closely.
Until recently, her family had been content to let her have her solitude. Was this their way of punishing her for visiting his brothel?
Ah, hell. That would make this his fault.
Damn Helton.
No, damnhimself.
The slight shadows beneath her eyes hinted at sleepless nights.
His chest tightened at the sight.
He’d meant to meet with her and offer up a simple explanation, perhaps to appease the sense of guilt nagging him.
"It is always exciting if one manages to make a good match. Lady Josephine is out as well," Lady Roland continued, shifting the attention to her youngest daughter, who stood nearby, wide-eyed and eager.
Upon the final introduction, the girl’s cheeks flushed prettily, and she gave a shy, almost coquettish smile. “It would be more exciting if more dukes were in attendance,” she murmured, her blue eyes bright with youthful optimism.
God help him. It was always the same. This was the place where any proper gentleman would say something complimentary.
Her efforts were wasted on him.
He gave a polite nod but kept glancing over at Lady Melanie. This was not the woman who had sought him out at theDomus, who had censured him for not vetting Ernest’s nursemaid properly.
It was strange to think of her in one of theton’sballrooms, parading about for suitors. He certainly couldn’t picture her thriving in that environment.
This was a woman being forced into a role she didn’t want to play.
And, somehow, he cared. More than he should.
But what the hell was he supposed to do about it?
AN UNEXPECTED GUEST
Dragged into a small knot of chattering women by her mother’s insistence, Melanie stood silently as the conversation swirled around her.
“Yes, Lady Josephine—just turned seven and ten this year—is dancing with the Earl of Northwoods right now, just over—there,” her mother announced brightly, pointing across the ballroom.
Melanie winced as all eyes followed the gesture. Her youngest sister twirled among the other dancers, paired with a plain-looking gentleman whose steps were as uninspired as Melanie felt.
Lady Varley hummed noncommittally, and her gaze sought out the other woman with her, a baroness who Melanie was unfamiliar with, and raised a disapproving eyebrow. “Yes, yes. So you’ve said.”
And shehadsaid. Numerous times.
