Northwoods’ smile faltered entirely, and he drained his glass in one swift motion. "If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe I’ve had my fill of… conversation this evening."
Malum’s eyes narrowed as he watched the earl practically stumble in his haste to make an exit.
“And when you do hear… whispered details,” Malum’s voice, smooth as silk, stopped the earl in his tracks. “Remember that business we’ve yet to address. My door’s open now, but that won’t always be the case.”
Northwoods gave a curt nod, his shoulders stiff as he departed.
No one said a word until Sir Percival revealed he wasn’t as obtuse as Malum imagined he would be. “If that fellow is involved with Crossings, he’s more than his finances to worry about.” He then reached for the decanter and filled his glass to the rim.
FINDING HER
After Northwoods' abrupt departure, the remaining gentlemen exchanged a few clipped remarks, but with Sir Percival hovering like an overcurious crow, any meaningful discussion was out of the question. They drained their glasses with brisk efficiency before making their way to join the ladies.
Malum trailed behind, his gaze sharp as he entered the drawing room, sweeping it with practiced precision.
No Melanie.
“Your Grace.” Lady Standish’s voice caught his attention, her smile pleasant, almost idle. “The courtyard offers a lovely reprieve on evenings like this. Quite cool compared to the rest of the house.”
Malum inclined his head in acknowledgment, already moving toward the door.
But not for the reason Lady Standish seemed to think.
No. Definitely not.
But for the faint trickle of a fountain, the courtyard was mostly silent.
Malum stepped outside, scanning the shadowed space. It seemed empty at first, deceptively so. But then, movement—a shift of fabric—drew his eye to a secluded corner.
There, lying on the cool grass, she was flat on her back, staring up at the sky. Her dark hair fanned out like spilled ink, catching the glow of the lanterns and the faint light of the stars. The delicate curve of her face, framed by the night, held him utterly transfixed. She looked… otherworldly. There was something about her in this moment—unbound, unguarded. Deep inside, he had wondered… No. He had known this side of her existed.
He should have walked away.
Each step closer to her felt like a betrayal of his own rules. Rules that had served him well, keeping him in control, focused. But control seemed to slip through his fingers whenever she was near. The worst part? He didn’t even care. Not really.
And that realization should have concerned him more.
“Melanie,” he murmured, reluctant to break the spell but wanting to touch her with his voice.
Her head turned and her lips parted slightly in surprise.
“I couldn’t stay inside,” she said. Her voice carried an almost dreamlike quality, and he couldn’t imagine never hearing it. “Not after that dinner. And once I came out, the lawn seemed inviting.”
He didn’t answer right away, his eyes still drinking her in. Control. He needed to hold on to it. There were too many threats circling like wolves in the night. Northwoods knew something. She might know something. And Crossings was likely behind it all.
And yet, here he was, standing in the dark, utterly captivated by a woman he had no business bringing into his life.
“You shouldn’t be alone,” he finally said, though his tone lacked any admonition. Stepping closer, he noticed that she’d removed her shoes.
“Why not? This is my brother’s house.” She shifted slightly, propping herself up on her elbows. “And the grass is cool. I was feeling… warm.”
A hushed quality in her voice implied that she wasn’t referring to the temperature, but she didn’t elaborate.
“You’ll ruin your gown,” he said gruffly, lowering himself to crouch beside her, ignoring the temptation to reach out and run his fingertips over her hair.
“It’s only a gown,” she said. “And I needed this. I forget how freeing it is to be outside, alone—not as a performance, but simply to… be.”
Freeing. He almost scoffed at the word. Nothing about his world, or hers for that matter, allowed for freedom. He’d shed one set of duties for another, and in seeking justice, he’d set himself on a seemingly endless quest.
