Or perhaps it had everything to do with the way he was looking at her—silver eyes unblinking, something unreadable lurking beneath his expression.
But he’d asked her about their drive this afternoon…
“No,” she finally answered, trying to remember why she’d come. “But Reed said we could all—the entire family—remove from London if it was what I wanted. Josie is having vapors, Caroline’s fit to be tied, and Mother, of course, asked if I’d prefer chicken or fish to be served at our engagement party.”
But he was still staring at her, so she bit her lip, trying to ignore the fluttering in her chest.
“We might as well serve both.”
“Both?” Melanie asked.
“The chicken and the fish,” he replied, smirking. “And throw in a roasted suckling pig for good measure. Wouldn’t want anyone to feel neglected.”
Melanie blinked. “You are willing to go ahead with our…engagement, then?”
“Of course.”
“And the drive?”
“We can hardly disappoint them now, can we?” he murmured, that not-quite-smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Melanie quickly glanced away, turning her attention back to the polished furnishings, the heavy drapery. Anything but him.
“Hiding would be worse,” she said, unable to keep her gaze from landing on that bed—a bed where courtesans slept. Well, not slept. But where… things happened.
Wickedthings. Things that normal people only did in the cover of darkness.Normal, married people.
In this room, however, light filtered through the lone window, and gilded lanterns decorated every corner. If that wasn’t enough, there was also that mirror—on the ceiling!
She was aware that he’d been speaking, but she couldn’t for the life of her recall what he’d said.
“Pardon?” she asked, sounding unusually breathless.
“I was agreeing with you.” He leaned back, settling against the arm of an upholstered chaise, and his gaze drifted lazily around the room before returning to her. “Running away never looks good.”
Melanie swallowed hard, feeling foolish for being so unsettled—this was nothing but a parlor, and he was just a man.
She tried to picture him in Ernest’s nursery, fussing with nappies and linens. Yet even that image couldn’t distract her from these… feelings… prickling at her skin, the knowledge of that bed nearby, and the wondering thought… Had he spent many evenings in this very room?
She dared a glance up, and there it was again, that slight quirk at the corner of his mouth, as though he was readingher every thought. As though he knew exactly what she was picturing.
Her throat tightened, but she forced herself to speak.
“The trouble,” she began, voice quavering but determined, “is that… well, we must assume that everyone has read that ridiculous article by now. Instead of forgetting about the incident at the Fallbridge ball, everyone sees me as nothing more than a pawn—used by my family to elevate their position, and by you… to provide a mother for Ernest.”
She looked away, heat rising to her cheeks. She’d read the article at least ten times, and with each reading, her mortification had only grown.
“Seeds of truth, though,” he said quietly. “Although I wish they’d left Ernest out of it.”
“I know. You’re right, of course. But knowing the whole truth doesn’t really matter, does it?” Surprising herself with how easily she could speak with him, she simply blurted out the reason she’d come. “It might help, I think, if people believed—if we couldshow themthat this match…” She hesitated. She was thinking too much, and the words caught in her throat.
“Is genuine?” he guessed.
Melanie nodded, heart thudding. Two days had passed since their engagement, and he had all but disappeared until his invitation to take her for a drive arrived. She’d begun to wonder if he’d changed his mind.
Reed, dear sweet Reed, had sat down with her and offered her the choice to leave London. For a moment, she’d been tempted, but only for a moment. To run away would mean exile—forever. And in the end, it would resolve nothing. Her family would still face ruin, and Reed’s safety would remain in jeopardy.
She couldn’t allow that to happen.
So, she’d convinced her brother that she wanted to stay, that she wanted to go ahead with her engagement, embellishing ever so slightly the extent of her feelings for the duke—and the duke’s feelings for her.Perhaps more than slightly…
