Part of her wished to take the question back, but she had truly needed to know.
Because it wasn’t part of their plan.
Up until those few minutes after he’d helped her off the carriage, every touch, every word, had been calculated and agreed upon—by both of them.
But that non-kiss that had happened back by the lake… well, it had been spontaneous. It had happened accidentally.
The feigned romantic gestures had acted like kindling, and the moment she’d nearly fallen, when he’d had his arms around her—the strike of a flint. Either of them could have doused it, and yet neither had. And feeling his mouth on her skin, the flame had grown stronger, consuming her with undeniable heat…
She touched her fingertips to her mouth.
He hadn’t actually kissed her.
Still burning from their earlier embrace, Melanie noticed two horsemen approaching on the path ahead. The same two gentlemen they’d avoided earlier. She straightened, hopingthey’d veer off, take another turn, anything to avoid an encounter.
But no, their course was set, and unless Malum intended to drive them straight onto the lawn, they were going to have to stop. They were going to have to beseen.
After everything—afterthat—the last thing she wanted was to sit here pretending her world hadn’t been turned upside down. She was, in fact, still trying to piece together what any of it had meant, and now they’d have to act as though nothing had happened at all.
She braced herself for yet another performance.
When Malum brought the curricle to a halt, his voice was perfectly calm, composed, almost bored as he greeted the gentlemen.
“Crossings,” Malum addressed the older of the two men. He didn’t introduce her, nor did he seem inclined to linger.
Tension seemed to sweep in, heavy but undeniable, like the shadow of a storm.
The slight shift in his posture, the faint tension in his jaw—subtle, yes, but there.
But…Crossings?
Goldie’s father. Melanie took the opportunity to study the man who was a sworn enemy of her brother. She’d heard so many stories by now that it felt unreal to finally meet the villain in person.
“I hear congratulations are in order,” the duke said. “Malum.” There was nothing congratulatory in his voice. He flicked his gaze to Melanie, and she fought the urge to squirm.
He seemed relatively fit for an older man, except for the flaccid jowls that hinted at a life of entitlement. Nothing exceptional, really. Until she stared into his eyes.
They disturbed her. They were cold and empty—masked by an arrogance he wore like a second skin.
“Indeed,” Malum said. This would normally be the moment for him to introduce Melanie as his fiancée.
He very deliberately did not.
“Marriage.” Crossings leaned forward. “I must admit, I didn’t see such an… intriguing match in your future.”
“Right,” Malum answered, his tone short as he glanced away.
But the Duke of Crossings still stared at Melanie’s temporary fiancé.
“Still determined to run your little club? The offer stands, you know, to take your brother’s place, or is it your father’s that you’re after?
In the silence that followed, there was a chill in the air that sent a slow tremor of ice down Melanie’s back.
Crossings laughed, and Malum? He leaned back and, still holding the reins, crossed his arms.
Unnerved, Melanie shifted her gaze to the younger rider.
There was something vaguely familiar about him, but he was so plain-looking, it was difficult for her to place him.
