22. Josie’s Questions

JOSIE’S QUESTIONS

L ater that afternoon, Melanie sat before her mirror, her gaze following the maid’s skilled fingers as they wove through her hair. The rhythmic motion should have been soothing, but it wasn’t. If anything, it only made the knot in her stomach tighten. Soon—far too soon—Malum would arrive to collect her. And then they would drive into Hyde Park, where the charade would begin in earnest.

The entire house seemed to hum with a quiet anticipation, so when Josie barreled into the room without knocking, Eloisa inadvertently jammed one of the pins into Melanie’s head.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” Eloisa gasped before returning to her work. Not wanting another jab, Melanie could only shift her gaze to scowl at her sister.

“Why didn’t you tell us before?” Josie’s voice broke through her thoughts, bright and insistent.

“Tell you what?” Melanie asked.

“Reed says that you love him!” Josie’s eyes were wide with excitement and full of curiosity.

Melanie shrugged.

“Don’t you dare go silent on me. We all know you can talk if you want to.” Josie’s words were more than a little hurtful. Because it wasn’t like that.

Although she thought she might be improving, Melanie didn’t know why she could speak so easily at certain times—when she was with the Duke of Malum and little Ernest, mostly—and yet it was nearly impossible at others. It was like a lever was being switched on and off inside, one she had almost no control over.

“That’s not?—”

“Perhaps his love has healed you?” Josie looked like she was only half teasing as she interrupted her, but then she turned unusually serious. “When did you know that you loved him? How did you know?”

Melanie folded her hands to keep them from shaking. It was beginning. Already.

“At first sight.” The lie came out a little too easily as her mind raced back to that day. “I suppose…” The day she’d seen a woman leave what she’d assumed was a basket of food on the duke’s doorstep. The day she’d run across the street to ensure it wasn’t stolen or ruined in the rain.

She figured she ought to follow the truth as closely as possible.

“Someone left a basket,” she said, “On his stoop… I went across…”

“Your gazes locked, right? I think that’s terribly romantic. But what did you do? How did you know?” Josie’s voice was a mix of wonder and impatience.

Melanie remembered that she’d noticed he hadn’t been wearing boots or shoes, or even slippers. But Josie wouldn’t care about that. Although, seeing him in stockinged feet had, in fact, somehow shifted her judgement of him.

But it was more than that that had endeared him to her.

“There was… something about him,” Melanie said. “Even after finding a baby on his step, he was… remarkably collected.” Anyone else would have panicked. Not him. It was this seriousness, in fact, that first conveyed his quiet strength. “And he has the most beautiful eyes…”

Melanie was making this up, wasn’t she?

The maid paused for a moment in her arranging of Melanie’s hair, eyes darting between the sisters in the mirror before resuming her work, pretending not to listen.

“Mother says they’re disconcerting.” Josie crossed to Melanie’s bed and sat down, making herself comfortable.

“Perhaps…”

“But not to you?”

“No, not to me.” Melanie’s fingers fidgeted beneath the table. Earlier that day, she’d told Reed she loved Malum because he was kind, and that he was a true gentleman. Even now, she was amazed that he’d accepted her explanation so easily.

Perhaps it was what he wanted to hear.

“What else, Mel?”

What else?

Melanie pictured Malum in the nursery. “The ton thinks they know him, Josie, but they don’t know anything…” They don’t know how he takes responsibility for burdens that aren’t even his, how he handles them quietly, as if he’s resigned to bearing what no one else will. And yes, he owns a brothel, but he protects the people who work there…

“I never mix business with pleasure,” he’d said.

Her throat tightened.

Malum was far more complex than anyone would guess, and even as she spoke, her heart skipped a beat.

“But how did you know that you love him?” Josie leaned forward, her hands clasped in her lap, and there was an eagerness in the way she asked that struck Melanie as more than simple curiosity.

“Why this sudden interest, Josie?” she asked.

A faint blush crept over Josie’s cheeks and she averted her gaze, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. “The Earl of Northwoods called this morning.” She peeked up to see Melanie’s expression. “He brought me flowers—two dozen colorful carnations.”

“But…” For an earl to pursue Josie while their family was steeped in scandal seemed impossible.

“I was as surprised as you are,” Josie admitted, her voice small. “He mentioned wanting to call again soon. He… said he’d like to court me.”

All Melanie knew about Northwoods came from her mother’s enthusiastic praise—hardly the most reliable source. He wasn’t that old, though considerably older than Josie, but as a frequent guest at ton events, he must be at least somewhat respectable. Beyond that, she knew little else.

Still, rather than feel any excitement for her sister, Melanie found herself at a loss for words. Josie was seven and ten, true, but she was extraordinarily na?ve.

“I didn’t think you liked him,” she said carefully.

Before Josie could reply, the door opened again, without so much as a knock to warn them.

“Melanie, darling, the duke has arrived to collect you.” Her mother’s voice dripped with satisfaction, as if this unlikely turn of events was something to be proud of.

Of course she’d be pleased.

Melanie exchanged a glance with Josie, any questions about this Earl of Northwoods fellow pushed aside for now. They would have to wait.

“I offered him tea,” their mother added as she flitted about the room, fussing with the knob on Melanie’s wardrobe and then moving to pluck at the lace curtain. “But he declined. Quite insistent on punctuality, that one.”

Eloisa finally finished and Melanie stood, smoothing the fabric of her skirts, and took a steadying breath. The ton was waiting, eager for new gossip to keep them entertained.

It was time for her and the duke to put on a show.

“Thank you, Mother,” she said, managing a smile. “I shouldn’t keep him waiting.”