“Society loved my father.” The words came out harder than he intended, bitter and sharp against the quiet.
Her head tilted at his abrupt change of subject, but she didn’t interrupt. She was waiting. And, against his better judgment, he kept going.
“And he loved Society—more than anything else.” Malum kept his tone carefully casual. “More than he loved my mother. More than the women he kept... more than his sons.” He shrugged, as if the admission meant nothing. “There. Now you know something about me.”
Ah, hell.
Enduring Society for a few weeks might, in fact, be easier than marrying Lady Melanie Rutherford. It would definitely be safer.
If a temporary betrothal was what she wanted, who was he to insist on more?
“We can try it your way—a fake betrothal,” he conceded. It might just work, after all. The arrangement offered a convenient remedy, one with no lasting consequences—at least, that was the hope.
“Thank you,” she replied, her voice hesitant. “You’re surprisingly willing to listen to reason.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sounding dry.
Malum stared down at his hands. This conversation, like most of his interactions with this unusual woman, had veered wildly off course. Nothing had gone according to plan.
He must be losing his edge.
“So what should we tell my family?” she asked.
“Just that we’re engaged,” he replied. The fewer who knew the truth, the better. “I’m not sure your mother is equipped to keep this kind of secret.”
Her expression turned sad. “So you’ve heard about her… behavior?”
“Helton mentioned it.” Lady Roland was a liability, no doubt. But despite what he’d read in the papers, Malum found himself wanting to spare Lady Melanie’s feelings—something he wasn’t accustomed to.
“She wasn’t always like this…” she said, shrugging, drawing his attention to her shoulders. “What about my sisters?”
Malum met her eyes again, resolute. “No, no one else should know. If word got out that this isn’t real, your circumstances would be even worse.” Her brother’s life shouldn’t depend on the fickleness of theton, and yet, it did. “Best not to risk it.”
She took a moment, weighing his words. “I think you’re right.” She bit her bottom lip. “So it’s settled then, we’re engaged.”
“We’re engaged,” Malum agreed.
“But only until the summer,” she pointed out. “At which point, I’ll cry off and return to the country.”
He nodded. She could call the engagement temporary all she liked, but Malum couldn’t allow himself to get used to the idea.
Because he had, in fact, made a promise to her brother. He might be a lot of things—a monster, a degenerate, and for the next few weeks, the prodigal son. But he didn’t betray the people who trusted him.
Usually.
“Then, I suppose, we should invite them back in.” Flicking a glance toward the door, she bit her lip. A hint of pink stained her cheeks now.
Everything about her scheme was reckless, absurd even. Yet as Malum watched her wrestle with a tangle of emotions, he felt an unexpected pull, drawing him closer.
Somehow, this recklessness didn’t feel as dangerous as it should.
It was a stark contrast to the moment he’d confided in Helton that she’d visited theDomusalone, convinced that her risk-taking nature needed to be restrained. Because now, the tables had turned entirely—instead of taking the sensible approach—of marriage, by God, he was an active participant in her daring scheme.
He stood, feeling a bit stiff, and then reached out. “Lady Melanie.”
She hesitated for a moment, her gaze lingering on his gloved hand. Reconsidering, perhaps? But then, with quiet resolve, she placed her smaller hand in his.
Helping her to her feet should have been a simple, unremarkable act. Instead, her hand fit perfectly in his, and for some ridiculous reason, it sent a flicker of warmth to his chest—immediately chased by the heavy realization that he was, apparently, sentimental now.
