Reed rolled his eyes, although he was laughing a little. Goldie broke out in a relieved smile, and Melanie realized that her sister-in-law hadn’t smiled like that for a while.
“Goldie is hosting the family and a few friends for dinner tomorrow night. You should join us, Malum.” Reed issued the invitation, surprising them all.
Malum paused, and then dipped his chin. “Of course.”
Melanie knew, from all the weeks she’d spent watching out the window, that her temporary betrothed hardly spent any time at home. She assumed he’d been at theDomus, working.
“They won’t miss you?” she asked him. “At theDomus?” Even saying the word felt scandalous.
“They can do without me for one night,” he said. A few of his whiskers seemed to catch in her hair.
The gentle tugging sensation made her shiver.
“Well then.” Reed brushed his hands together. “I, for one, have had quite enough of the park today. What about you, Goldie?”
His wife nodded, smiling.
Reed dropped back into his seat. “My thanks again,” he addressed Malum, and then, turning to Melanie, “Well done, Mel.”
She dipped her chin. Melanie had spent over an hour making conversation, something she’d not done in ages—to people who’d wanted nothing more than to see her fall on her face—and unexpected tiredness swept through her.
And she knew that as soon as she returned home, her mother and Josie would demand every detail of the afternoon—a request that usually left her frustrated due to the struggle with her voice. But this time, her reluctance came from an entirely different place. She didn’t want to share it, not yet. She wanted to savor it privately, to let herself linger in the memory of all those little touches she and the duke had shared—fleeting intimacies that had felt like secrets.
Even if none of it was real. Because, more than once, it hadn’t felt fake. Not at all.
Malum drove on. But when he turned off the row, he didn’t steer them toward the exit.
“Where are we going?” Melanie asked.
“Somewhere quiet. I thought you’d appreciate a walk by the water.” He glanced over. “Unless?—”
“No. That sounds lovely.”
With two gentlemen on horseback approaching, Melanie thought she detected a slight tension in Malum’s posture, though it was so subtle she couldn’t be sure. A moment later, he deftly steered them onto a smaller road, skillfully avoiding yet another confrontation. Because that’s exactly what theseencounters were. It would be hypocritical to call such hostile exchanges polite conversation.
Which, of course, was precisely how most of thetonwould describe them.
“Fancy some shade?” The sun had grown unseasonably warm, and her parasol had done little to keep it from heating the back of her neck.
“Yes, please.”
They both ducked under a low branch as the road led them into a thick copse of towering trees and lush shrubs. It was a path she’d never noticed before, curving away from the main drive and into a quiet pocket of the park. The hush here, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the crunch of the wheels over the dirt path, would have normally lulled her into a state of calm. But under these circumstances, it had quite the opposite effect.
She was acutely aware that she was very much alone with the duke.
All the affection they’d feigned today had kindled something within her—a warmth, a restlessness—that left her craving… something more.
And even though no one was watching, she was all too aware that Malum had yet to relinquish her hand.
AFFECTED BY AFFECTION
Malum let the reins rest loosely in his hands as the horses carried them toward the lake. Melanie would be expected home soon, no doubt, but he found himself reluctant to end the drive. Her presence had a peculiar effect on him—bringing a quiet sort of ease when he wasn’t paying attention.
More than ease, actually. There was a warmth pooling low in his gut, a persistent awareness—familiar, but also somewhat foreign.
Normally, he was deliberate, measured, every decision weighed and purposeful. Yet here he was, letting the horses carry them a little farther, a little longer. Impulsive. It wasn’t like him. But rather than acknowledge the thought, he let it drift away, much like the notion of turning back.
The stillness between them wasn’t entirely still—not with the clatter of the wheels or the faint rustling of the trees overhead.
