Their hostess’s eyebrows arched slightly, but Reed did not allow the conversation to linger. With a curt nod, he steered Melanie past them, not pausing for further inquiries as he maneuvered her toward the door.
And passing between the guests, Melanie felt numb to everything but the rising tide of tension.
For those few moments, she thought she might get sick.
When they finally reached the front entrance, Melanie’s brother wasted no time ushering her outside and into the waiting carriage. Goldie followed quickly, and Reed slid in after her, slamming the door behind them with a finality that seemed to reverberate through the small space.
Normally, Melanie would have been overjoyed to see them return to London earlier than expected. Goldie would have been bubbling over with cheerful highlights of their time in the country, and Reed’s quiet strength would have felt like a balm. But none of that warmth or familiarity existed now, smothered beneath the weight of what had happened in the library.
The sounds of the horses and the wheels rolling over the cobblestones filled the silence, but no one spoke. That sense of unease clung to them, tightening the air. Reed stared out of the window, his jaw taut, while Goldie sat beside Melanie, her handresting gently on her arm, her usual chatter replaced with quiet tension.
They were driving her home—where she had wished herself all night long. And yet, the thought offered no peace, only a sense of impending doom.
“Helton and Caroline—and Mother—will follow shortly.” Reed spoke in a deceptively quiet tone just as the carriage came to a halt. Melanie nodded, hating that she was the cause of so much trouble.
And as they stepped into the dimly lit foyer of Rutherford Place, it was Goldie who addressed Mr. Chesterfield. "Will you bring tea to the drawing room? The rest of the family will join us shortly." Her voice was steady, though it carried a note of desperation—a small attempt to grasp at normalcy in a situation that was anything but.
When Goldie met Melanie’s eyes, an awkward silence settled between them—an unspoken understanding that, while tea would help in other circumstances, no brew on Earth, no matter how hot or strong, could gloss over the utter catastrophe of this evening.
Reed, moving restlessly, crossed to the hearth and struck a flint to the dry wood. The fire’s glow quickly spread through the room, but Melanie felt no warmth from it. Her hands trembled, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to still the shivering that seemed to come from within.
She knew—as all young ladies did—not to leave a ballroom by oneself. And yet, what choice had she truly had? She’d felt cornered, desperate, as though every other option had been stripped away. If only Caroline hadn’t been so insistent, or her mother so outrageous… If only.
But none of that mattered now. She swallowed hard.
As they waited, the silence in the room thickened, not just with what had transpired at the ball, but with the uncertaintyof what lay ahead. Reed stared into the growing flames, his shoulders stiff with tension, his face set in grim determination. He hadn’t spoken since they entered the house, and the sight of his strained posture squeezed Melanie’s heart.
She hadn’t seen him or Goldie in months, and this definitely wasn’t the reunion any of them could have imagined.
“Tea,” Chesterfield announced as he appeared in the doorway with a tray. Nobody spoke as he placed it on a table, and after he left, the silence grew even louder.
If there was ever a time for Melanie to put together an effective explanation, it would have been tonight.
Which meant, of course, that Melanie’s voice closed up even tighter.
Goldie, ever the understanding sister-in-law, drew Melanie onto the settee, taking the place beside her, offering silent comfort with her presence.
Yet Melanie’s thoughts continued to unravel, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
As much as she longed to explain, to defend herself, her words felt trapped in her mind, her voice locked in her chest when she needed it most.
She was almost relieved when she heard an arriving coach, followed by the front door closing and then hurried footsteps.
At the sight, however, of her mother, Josephine, Caroline, and the Earl of Helton all entering the drawing room together, Melanie’s heart raced even faster.
Lady Roland, clearly shaken, sank into the chair across from her looking like a wilted violet. Josephine lingered near the doorway, wringing her hands, while Caroline exchanged a brief glance with her husband before claiming a second chair beside their mother.
“Melanie,” Caroline began, her voice gentle but tight, “I don’t understand…”
There was a pregnant pause, one that stretched too long as Melanie’s breath caught in her throat. “I—” But she couldn’t make anything else come out, not now—not with their eyes all upon her, not with the weight of their disappointment practically suffocating her.
The Earl of Helton stood behind his wife, arms folded, and turned to address Reed. “Are you sure it wasn’t a mistake? Welcome home, by the way.”
Reed dipped his head, but then swallowed hard. “I saw them with my own two eyes. God help me.” He closed those eyes for a second, as though searching for calm. “As did Goldie, and the Fallbridges, not to mention the Humperdincks, the Bennetts, and no doubt every other gossip in attendance.”
Wincing, Helton removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“I’ve a meeting with Malum tomorrow at noon,” Reed added.
