WORKING ROTTEN ROW
Melanie was laughing. How was this possible? Just a few minutes before, she’d been on the brink of asking him to turn back.
A welcome breeze stirred as they joined the parade on Rotten Row, where the steady flow of traffic moved in two neat lines—one traveling in their direction, the other coming toward them. Having a sense that they were being watched, Melanie fixed her expression and sat up a little taller.
“Are you ready for this?” Malum's voice was low but confident, and Melanie looked down to find him extending his arm toward her. The gesture felt surprisingly romantic, almost as though he were about to lead her onto a dance floor, but this wasn’t a dance. He was simply playing his part of an affectionate fiancé.
“Yes.” Melanie took a steadying breath as her fingers curled around his sleeve. His coat was warm, the fabric carrying the faint, spicy scent of his cologne. It wrapped around her, rich and distracting.
When he flicked the reins, his muscles twitched beneath her touch, and she froze. The movement was subtle but impossibleto ignore, and on the narrow bench, she had no room to shift away, his solid presence brushing against her side.
It steadied her. It unsettled her. Her pulse quickened anyway.
The curricle moved forward, but she barely noticed. Her mind was too caught up in the way her hand felt on his arm. A small voice whispered in her mind, reminded her who he was—what this was. But she silenced it, choosing instead to match his ease, to pretend that she was, if only for this moment, a newly engaged woman—a woman in love.
But then, almost as if summoned by her mother’s parting words, Lady Varley materialized in a luxurious barouche. Melanie’s mother’s nemesis, adorned in a feathered hat, could not be mistaken for anyone else. Lady Varley’s dress—emerald silk with gold accents—was layered with lace, ribbons, and ruffles. Rings glittered on every gloved finger, catching the afternoon light as she lifted her hand in a languid, deliberate wave.
“Well, well, what have we here?” Her gaze flicked between Melanie and Malum, her eyes shimmering with a predatory sort of pleasure.
The insults from this morning’s article stirred uneasily in Melanie’s mind, but she sat silently beside the duke, not out of shyness or intimidation, but because she was following his lead.
If Malum could meet Lady Varley’s gaze with that detached tranquility, then so could she. And seeing Lady Varley’s momentary discomfort, Melanie realized that silence didn’t have to equal weakness.
It was a startling revelation.
“Hello, Your Grace. My lady.” Lady Varley quickly located her composure and greeted them. “I must say,” she addressed Melanie, “I am surprised your dear mother isn’t riding betweenthe two of you, heralding this, ah,triumph. A match made in heaven,truly.” Her tone implied quite the opposite.
And then the older woman’s stare flickered to Malum, lingering there for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite decide how far she could go.
But of course, Lady Varley wasintimidatedby Malum. Though she obviously came over to them with the intention of landing a few poisonous arrows, she was ultimately afraid of incurring his wrath.
Melanie had known that being engaged to a duke—even one who was on the outs with thetonlike the Duke of Malum—would lend her some amount of power. But it wasn’t until she saw Lady Varley’s faltering that she realized the extent of it. Though the association obviously drew plenty of negative attention to her and her family, it also had the potential to shield them to a certain degree—not only in spite of, but perhaps …becauseof his nontraditional nature.
His reputation, tarnished but sharp, was a blade that could cut both ways if wielded properly.
And again, that sense of safety enveloped her.
Emboldened, Melanie straightened her spine, and the smile she gave her mother’s rival came easier than she had imagined it could.
“My mother would wish me to say hello for her.” Melanie’s reply drew Lady Varley’s attention once again. “Normally, I’m sure, she would love riding through the park, but she opted for a cozy tea at home this afternoon instead—what with having to plan the ball.” Melanie sent her fiancé a dazzling smile. “To celebrate our engagement.”
Lady Varley was staring pointedly at Melanie’s hand on Malum’s arm. “Is that so? I did see the article in theEnquirerthis morning, regarding the happy news. I supposecongratulations are in order. How fortunate it is to see you both… together.”
Malum inclined his head with that imperceptible smile, a look so subtle that only someone watching closely—like Melanie—would notice the sarcasm in his eyes. “My thanks for your felicitations, Lady Varley.” He sounded almost bored. “Might I compliment you on such a flamboyant ensemble. I daresay you will achieve your objective.”
“My objective?”
“Everyone will notice you, to be certain.”
Lady Varley’s fan faltered for an instant before she was able to recover.
“Well,” she replied with a brittle smile, the confidence in her voice conspicuously absent. “One must strive to maintain appearances, mustn’t one?”
“Indeed,” Melanie chimed in, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome sense of…power. “Regardless of the cost.”
These barbed near-compliments were familiar enough—she’d heard them at countless gatherings. But until now, she’d always been on her heels, managing her mother’s antics, never thinking she could use them herself.
Beside her, Malum loosened his hold on the reins and raised his fist to his mouth. Melanie felt a flicker of pride as she imagined him hiding a smile.
