Still…
“It isn’t fair,” she said.
“It isn’t,” he agreed, his eyes never leaving hers. "For what it’s worth, I am grateful for the actions you took that day, even if the execution was, perhaps, not ideal. Ernest is better off for it."
The duke had a strange way of showing his gratitude then, if these were his true thoughts on the matter.
Melanie searched his eyes, not sure if she ought to feel irritated or touched.
He was sorry, but he was not sorry; he thought she’d done something good but not in the right way, so her behavior needed correcting, but at the same time, her punishment was regrettable.
It would have sounded like a load of nonsense from anyone else but, strangely, she believed that he was being sincere.
“I do not regret going to theDomusthat day. Ernest didn’t deserve to be neglected by that awful woman.”
Melanie had been aware of the risks when she’d made her decision. She knew that if she’d been seen, she’d have been ruined. It would have damaged her entire family’s reputation. But the way Ernest had been crying, ceaselessly and wretchedly for hours on end, and how that horrid nursemaid hadn’t cared one whit, had left her with no choice.
That woman had blocked her ears and fallen asleep, for heaven’s sake! If—if something had happened to him, no one would have known until… She shuddered to think of it.
Melanie had genuinely feared for that baby’s life.
Her gaze drifted to the fire in the hearth, drawn by the flickering light. In an instant, she was transported back to the hunting lodge at Seabridge Manor, flames licking through the windows where heat had shattered the glass…
Then she blinked, and the impression vanished as suddenly as it had come.
It took her a moment to remember where she was,whenshe was.
Melanie hadn’t experienced an episode like that in some time, sometimes provoked by the most mundane sort of thing.
She’d hoped they had stopped.
“What is it?” The duke’s voice cut through the haze.
Melanie pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth and then shook her head. “I… nothing, Your Grace.”
He arched a brow, waiting, as if expecting more. His face was unreadable—no hint of judgment, just patient curiosity.
She drew a shaky breath. “Is he eating? And sleeping?”
Another faint smile. “Yes, to both. And growing. He’ll have doubled his size in no time.” But then the duke seemed to catch himself. “But I’m no expert…”
“I don’t think one need be an expert to notice something like that.” She stared down at her lap, at her fingers plucking at the delicate fabric of her skirt. The next words slipped out before she could stop them. “Can I visit him?”
Her mother would be appalled if she did. But then again, her mother wasn’t here, and after all the missteps she made on a daily basis, Melanie found she didn’t much care.
The duke’s brows furrowed, but he didn’t look angry—just concerned. “I don’t know that that’s a good idea. Not because of you, but rather…” He hesitated. “I’ve sent for his mother. I’m not sure you should get attached.”
Ernest’s mother. The duke’s... lover.
It was for the best. Of course it was. “You found her, then?” she asked, her voice tight.
“I’m… in the process of finding her.”
“And then what will you do?”
He shrugged. “Provide for them.”
“You aren’t going to marry her?”
