Ah, no. Malum lifted one corner of his mouth. “Preston Hall,” he corrected the earl coolly. “At noon.”
If it came to it—and it increasingly seemed like it would—Malum would make the bloody offer. But he would negotiate the terms in the comfort of his own home, at a time of his choosing.
Standish looked ready to argue, but Malum’s unwavering gaze seemed to give him pause. They would do this on Malum’s terms or not at all.
Standish gave a curt nod, his face tight with barely contained anger. “Very well,” he bit out, though the words seemed to cost him.
“Right,” Malum said, and then, having decided that he’d had quite enough ofSociety,he smoothed down his jacket and began making his way to the exit. As he passed him by, Malum clapped a hand on the earl’s shoulder for good measure. “It’s been a pleasure, Standish, as always.”
And then he was shouldering his way through the throngs of onlookers, purposefully ignoring their whispers.
Coming here tonight had been a mistake. He’d been an idiot to imagine he could slip into a ball, clear the air with Lady Melanie, and then slip out unnoticed.
He had considered simply crossing the street and knocking on her door, but any visit with him would have to have been chaperoned, so he’d dismissed the idea. But he couldn’t just leave things as they were, and so, impulsively, he’d decided to seek the lady out at a bloody ball instead.
Which, unsurprisingly, had been an utter failure on all counts. Even his apology—pitiful as it was—had fallen flat. The image of Lady Melanie’s wide, tear-brimmed eyes and flushedface stubbornly lingered in his mind, no matter how much distance he managed to put between them.
Because he was, in fact, at fault.
He had chosen to come here. He had chosen to follow her into the library. And when she’d teetered dangerously close to the fire, he’d chosen to intervene. Noble instincts, it turned out, had consequences.
Regretfully, he was staring down yet another impossible choice.
Allow an innocent woman and her family to be dragged to ruin—or enter the very institution he had spent his adult life skillfully avoiding.
Marriage.
The words sank in his gut like a stone. It wasn’t a part of his plans. Not now, not ever. But this wasn’t about love or romance or even duty.
Apparently, Malum did have a conscience, after all. A troublesome discovery, but one he couldn’t ignore—at least, not where Lady Melanie was concerned.
FACING SCANDAL
The creak of the door closing behind the duke seemed deafening in the sudden stillness, followed by the faint murmurs of shock, reminders that although he’d abandoned her, Melanie wasn’t alone in the library.
More than a little stunned, she stared at the exit through which he’d disappeared.
He had done nothing wrong, really. He’d simply saved her.
And then practically mauled her in his hurry to right the bodice of her gown.
But still, what kind of scoundrel simply walked out like that?
After stumbling through one apology—a very unsatisfying one, she might add—he’d gone on to provide an even greater reason for owing her another.
Although, she conceded, she was, in fact, the one who’d nearly fallen.
Her knees turned to jelly at the recollection, but Reed and Goldie moved swiftly and caught her before she could collapse entirely. Reed’s grip was firm as he grasped her just beneath the shoulder, while Goldie slid an arm around her waist in quiet support.
“We need to leave,” Reed muttered, his voice tight. Goldie gave a quick nod, her expression urgent but calm.
Around them, guests had begun to whisper, their eyes flickering over the trio with growing curiosity.
"What can I do to help?" Lady Fallbridge asked, her tone polite, even if her eyes were a little too bright. Was she intentionally blocking the exit?
Melanie’s stomach lurched.
Goldie, always quick with a gracious reply, said, "Lady Melanie isn’t feeling well. We’re going to take her home."
