“Fine,” Melanie whispered, the word brittle and barely audible. It scraped her throat, leaving behind a rawness she couldn’t explain.
Her mother stopped, the rustle of her gown punctuating the moment. “Fine,” she repeated, her tone caught somewherebetween frustration and resignation. It wasn’t enough. It never was.
The silence stretched, taut and unyielding, until the click of the door behind her finally broke it.
Melanie let out a shaky exhale as she pulled her knees tighter to her chest, her focus drifting back to the scene outside the window. Clouds had gathered overhead, heavy with rain, casting a dull gray over the street. Right on time, two elderly ladies appeared, as they did every morning, taking their daily constitutional. Today, they shared an umbrella, their steps slow and cautious as they shuffled to the far side of the street, likely in an effort to avoid the impatient horses tethered to her mother’s carriage.
It was a wise decision, really. The horses had been waiting for the better part of half an hour, restless from standing in place. There would be droppings—fresh and steaming—that the rain wouldn’t quite wash away.
Melanie scrunched up her nose, pressing her forehead against the smooth glass as she watched the ladies waddle out of view.
This particular window seat was her favorite, far superior to the one in her private chamber. From here, she could watch the street below, the steady rhythm of carriages and the bustling variety of passersby along Regent Street offering her a glimpse into a world full of movement and life.
The window in her bedchamber, by contrast, offered little of interest. A flower box sat just below the sill, its blooms spilling over the edge, while two weathered trellises flanked the frame, thick with honeysuckle vines that obscured much of the view. Beyond them, the only thing visible was the closed shutters of an upstairs room in the townhouse across the street.
The door to the drawing room opened again, and this time she glanced over her shoulder.
Lady Josephine, Melanie’s younger sister, stood with her arms folded across her chest.
Dressed in a rose-colored gown with delicate lace trimming, Josie was undeniably pretty, her youthful charm shining despite the rebellious tendrils escaping her chignon.
At barely seven and ten, she radiated pure innocence, far too unguarded for the polished circles of Mayfair. Melanie knew she should say something, offer guidance—but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she stayed silent, watching her sister’s excitement with unease.
“Melanie, please,” she implored, her voice a little tight. “It’s just a garden party, please, won’t you come with us?”
Melanie stared into her sister’s blue eyes, which were filled with faint hope and gentle persistence.
I’m sorry.She didn’t speak the words but winced, hoping it was enough to convey her apology.
Melanie was all too aware that her decision not to take part in the Season had only made things harder for Josie. With Melanie no longer a prospect for Society’s marriage mart, their mother had turned all her ambitions toward her youngest daughter—even though Josie hadn’t truly been prepared for such a debut.
Caroline, their older sister, had married the Earl of Helton—a match that should have satisfied their mother’s aspirations. Instead, it had only fueled them, raising her expectations to impossible heights.
“Please?” Josie begged, but Melanie shook her head.
Josie made a little pouting sound and then—not so quietly—closed the door, leaving Melanie alone again.
When Melanie watched her mother’s very modern, very expensive carriage drive off a few minutes later, her chest loosened.
And she went back to watching.
Watching people walking their dogs.
Watching nannies pushing prams.
Watching romantic couples strolling, oblivious to their surroundings.
Just… watching.
A full year had passed since her brother uprooted them all to move to London—more specifically, Mayfair. Following a deadly fire, a tragedy no one could ever have predicted, Reed had inherited their uncle’s title. He hadn’t wanted it. In fact, for all its advantages, it had brought him even more troubles—in the form of whispered accusations and dangerous rumors.
From the outside, the circumstances did seem fairly suspicious, Melanie could admit that. Everyone who had stood between Reed and the title—their uncle, cousin, older brother, and their father—had all died that night. But the people who spoke ill of him, they didn’t know Reed. They didn’t see how he mourned their family along with the relatively carefree life he could no longer have.
Besides, questions of her brother’s character aside, Melanie knew for a fact that he was not responsible for what had happened.
Reed had never expected, nor wanted, to be Standish, but he’d stepped into the role anyway. He hadn’t much choice, really.
Luckily for them all, he’d met and married Goldie. She’d brought sunshine into his life again, and their match had distracted most of thetonfrom all those rumors.
