14. Facing Scandal

FACING SCANDAL

T he creak of the door closing behind the duke seemed deafening in the sudden stillness, followed by the faint murmurs of shock, reminders that although he’d abandoned her, Melanie wasn’t alone in the library.

More than a little stunned, she stared at the exit through which he’d disappeared.

He had done nothing wrong, really. He’d simply saved her.

And then practically mauled her in his hurry to right the bodice of her gown.

But still, what kind of scoundrel simply walked out like that?

After stumbling through one apology—a very unsatisfying one, she might add—he’d gone on to provide an even greater reason for owing her another.

Although, she conceded, she was, in fact, the one who’d nearly fallen.

Her knees turned to jelly at the recollection, but Reed and Goldie moved swiftly and caught her before she could collapse entirely. Reed’s grip was firm as he grasped her just beneath the shoulder, while Goldie slid an arm around her waist in quiet support.

“We need to leave,” Reed muttered, his voice tight. Goldie gave a quick nod, her expression urgent but calm.

Around them, guests had begun to whisper, their eyes flickering over the trio with growing curiosity.

"What can I do to help?" Lady Fallbridge asked, her tone polite, even if her eyes were a little too bright. Was she intentionally blocking the exit?

Melanie’s stomach lurched.

Goldie, always quick with a gracious reply, said, "Lady Melanie isn’t feeling well. We’re going to take her home."

Their hostess’s eyebrows arched slightly, but Reed did not allow the conversation to linger. With a curt nod, he steered Melanie past them, not pausing for further inquiries as he maneuvered her toward the door.

And passing between the guests, Melanie felt numb to everything but the rising tide of tension.

For those few moments, she thought she might get sick.

When they finally reached the front entrance, Melanie’s brother wasted no time ushering her outside and into the waiting carriage. Goldie followed quickly, and Reed slid in after her, slamming the door behind them with a finality that seemed to reverberate through the small space.

Normally, Melanie would have been overjoyed to see them return to London earlier than expected. Goldie would have been bubbling over with cheerful highlights of their time in the country, and Reed’s quiet strength would have felt like a balm. But none of that warmth or familiarity existed now, smothered beneath the weight of what had happened in the library.

The sounds of the horses and the wheels rolling over the cobblestones filled the silence, but no one spoke. That sense of unease clung to them, tightening the air. Reed stared out of the window, his jaw taut, while Goldie sat beside Melanie, her hand resting gently on her arm, her usual chatter replaced with quiet tension.

They were driving her home—where she had wished herself all night long. And yet, the thought offered no peace, only a sense of impending doom.

“Helton and Caroline—and Mother—will follow shortly.” Reed spoke in a deceptively quiet tone just as the carriage came to a halt. Melanie nodded, hating that she was the cause of so much trouble.

And as they stepped into the dimly lit foyer of Rutherford Place, it was Goldie who addressed Mr. Chesterfield. "Will you bring tea to the drawing room? The rest of the family will join us shortly." Her voice was steady, though it carried a note of desperation—a small attempt to grasp at normalcy in a situation that was anything but.

When Goldie met Melanie’s eyes, an awkward silence settled between them—an unspoken understanding that, while tea would help in other circumstances, no brew on Earth, no matter how hot or strong, could gloss over the utter catastrophe of this evening.

Reed, moving restlessly, crossed to the hearth and struck a flint to the dry wood. The fire’s glow quickly spread through the room, but Melanie felt no warmth from it. Her hands trembled, and she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to still the shivering that seemed to come from within.

She knew—as all young ladies did—not to leave a ballroom by oneself. And yet, what choice had she truly had? She’d felt cornered, desperate, as though every other option had been stripped away. If only Caroline hadn’t been so insistent, or her mother so outrageous… If only.

But none of that mattered now. She swallowed hard.

As they waited, the silence in the room thickened, not just with what had transpired at the ball, but with the uncertainty of what lay ahead. Reed stared into the growing flames, his shoulders stiff with tension, his face set in grim determination. He hadn’t spoken since they entered the house, and the sight of his strained posture squeezed Melanie’s heart.

She hadn’t seen him or Goldie in months, and this definitely wasn’t the reunion any of them could have imagined.

“Tea,” Chesterfield announced as he appeared in the doorway with a tray. Nobody spoke as he placed it on a table, and after he left, the silence grew even louder.

If there was ever a time for Melanie to put together an effective explanation, it would have been tonight.

Which meant, of course, that Melanie’s voice closed up even tighter.

Goldie, ever the understanding sister-in-law, drew Melanie onto the settee, taking the place beside her, offering silent comfort with her presence.

Yet Melanie’s thoughts continued to unravel, frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

As much as she longed to explain, to defend herself, her words felt trapped in her mind, her voice locked in her chest when she needed it most.

She was almost relieved when she heard an arriving coach, followed by the front door closing and then hurried footsteps.

At the sight, however, of her mother, Josephine, Caroline, and the Earl of Helton all entering the drawing room together, Melanie’s heart raced even faster.

Lady Roland, clearly shaken, sank into the chair across from her looking like a wilted violet. Josephine lingered near the doorway, wringing her hands, while Caroline exchanged a brief glance with her husband before claiming a second chair beside their mother.

“Melanie,” Caroline began, her voice gentle but tight, “I don’t understand…”

There was a pregnant pause, one that stretched too long as Melanie’s breath caught in her throat. “I—” But she couldn’t make anything else come out, not now—not with their eyes all upon her, not with the weight of their disappointment practically suffocating her.

The Earl of Helton stood behind his wife, arms folded, and turned to address Reed. “Are you sure it wasn’t a mistake? Welcome home, by the way.”

Reed dipped his head, but then swallowed hard. “I saw them with my own two eyes. God help me.” He closed those eyes for a second, as though searching for calm. “As did Goldie, and the Fallbridges, not to mention the Humperdincks, the Bennetts, and no doubt every other gossip in attendance.”

Wincing, Helton removed his spectacles and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I’ve a meeting with Malum tomorrow at noon,” Reed added.

Melanie’s eyes dropped to her hands, her fingers trembling in her lap. She wasn’t sure what hurt more—the disappointment in their voices or her own failure to speak for herself.

“Malum’s coming here?” Helton asked.

Reed’s scowl turned even deeper, if that was possible, as he shook his head. “I’ll go to Preston Hall.”

“It’s true, then?” Josephine asked from the doorway, her voice barely audible. “Melanie is going to have to marry the duke?”

With those words, their mother sat up straight, blinking. “But of course, he’s a duke, isn’t he? And in light of this evening’s scandal, our Melanie will be… Why, she’ll be a duchess, won’t she?”

Caroline whirled around on their mother. “Yes Mother, he is a duke, but he is Malum ! He owns a brothel!” And then back to Melanie. “What were you thinking going off alone with him?”

“I didn’t…” Melanie managed, because she had not sought him out tonight—though, it wasn’t the first time they’d been alone together.

Regardless, none of that really mattered. He wouldn’t offer. He’d shunned Society’s rules for years, why would he do any differently now?

And yet, he was not a man without principles.

Not that it’s your business , he had said. But Ernest isn’t mine.

Oddly enough, Melanie believed him.

In which case, he had taken in a newborn baby—a child who wasn’t his—set him up in his own nursery, hired a nursemaid, fed and clothed him. And he’d done all that without any actual obligation to do so. What else was I supposed to do? he’d asked.

Which meant that the Duke of Malum had some integrity after all—even if he would send Ernest away once he’d located the mother.

Still… He wasn’t the sort who’d propose in order to salvage her reputation.

And if he did, could she accept?

It would be hypocritical not to admit she’d been drawn to the man who had calmly helped her change Ernest’s nappy, the same man who had raced home, clearly concerned for the baby’s safety. But he was also Malum—a duke who owned a brothel, a man surrounded by women who were likely at his beck and call day and night.

Such a marriage could never be a proper one.

And Melanie, well, if she was ever to marry, she’d want it to be a proper one, wouldn’t she? She certainly couldn’t be happy sharing her husband with other women.

Something a brothel owner would expect, no doubt.

No, she thought, even if he did propose marriage in order to preserve her reputation, she could not accept.

Definitely not.

Unfortunately, this kind of scandal wouldn’t only affect her, it would affect her entire family.

She closed her eyes for a moment, willing away the sting of imminent tears.

She had gone into the library alone . He had merely followed in order to offer that absurd apology.

She had done nothing wrong!

“I went…” alone . Melanie inhaled. Just say it! she berated herself. They needed to know she’d never knowingly put them at risk.

But Reed somehow understood. “He followed you, didn’t he? That bloody bastard.”

Melanie nodded. It was the truth, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she was betraying the duke.

Despite the fact that he had, in fact, followed her—to apologize—for betraying her.

"If he doesn’t make an offer, couldn’t this ruin all of us?” Josephine’s question wasn’t meant to be unkind, Melanie knew. She was only being honest, but it cut to the heart of the matter.

Caroline leaned forward, her voice deadly serious. “It’s not just that. People will start looking at Reed again. They might even reopen the investigation. And this time, they won’t stop until they find something—or make something up.” She frowned. “Max and I can control what’s written in the Gazette and the Times , but not the other papers.”

“Or what people are saying…” Goldie added with a wince.

Melanie’s heart dropped at the mention of Reed’s safety, her pulse quickening. No, they couldn’t. Reed was innocent—she knew it. But why? Why did her memory of that night elude her? The harder she tried to grasp it, the more her mind locked it away.

“Imagine that, something Malum can’t control,” Reed said. It wasn’t like her brother to smirk like that. He was kind, and loving, and gentle.

All eyes shifted to him.

Over the past year, the truce between the two men had held up. If it broke down now, it would be because of Melanie.

Another wave of guilt washed over her. This wasn’t fair!

“The duke will simply have to offer for you, Melanie. And you will accept.” God help all of them, but her mother sounded almost pleased.

Even so, no one argued with her, and the finality of her mother’s words hovered in the air.

True, marrying the duke would resolve… everything, but there had to be some other way out of this mess.

Melanie’s fingers dug into the fabric of her gown. She had until tomorrow at noon to come up with some acceptable alternative solution. Or perhaps longer, depending on how the meeting between Reed and Malum went.

Unless the duke came up with something first.

Regardless, her family’s reputation, Reed’s freedom—perhaps his life—hung in the balance.

And it was all because of her.