24. Working Rotten Row

WORKING ROTTEN ROW

M elanie was laughing. How was this possible? Just a few minutes before, she’d been on the brink of asking him to turn back.

A welcome breeze stirred as they joined the parade on Rotten Row, where the steady flow of traffic moved in two neat lines—one traveling in their direction, the other coming toward them. Having a sense that they were being watched, Melanie fixed her expression and sat up a little taller.

“Are you ready for this?” Malum's voice was low but confident, and Melanie looked down to find him extending his arm toward her. The gesture felt surprisingly romantic, almost as though he were about to lead her onto a dance floor, but this wasn’t a dance. He was simply playing his part of an affectionate fiancé.

“Yes.” Melanie took a steadying breath as her fingers curled around his sleeve. His coat was warm, the fabric carrying the faint, spicy scent of his cologne. It wrapped around her, rich and distracting.

When he flicked the reins, his muscles twitched beneath her touch, and she froze. The movement was subtle but impossible to ignore, and on the narrow bench, she had no room to shift away, his solid presence brushing against her side.

It steadied her. It unsettled her. Her pulse quickened anyway.

The curricle moved forward, but she barely noticed. Her mind was too caught up in the way her hand felt on his arm. A small voice whispered in her mind, reminded her who he was—what this was. But she silenced it, choosing instead to match his ease, to pretend that she was, if only for this moment, a newly engaged woman—a woman in love.

But then, almost as if summoned by her mother’s parting words, Lady Varley materialized in a luxurious barouche. Melanie’s mother’s nemesis, adorned in a feathered hat, could not be mistaken for anyone else. Lady Varley’s dress—emerald silk with gold accents—was layered with lace, ribbons, and ruffles. Rings glittered on every gloved finger, catching the afternoon light as she lifted her hand in a languid, deliberate wave.

“Well, well, what have we here?” Her gaze flicked between Melanie and Malum, her eyes shimmering with a predatory sort of pleasure.

The insults from this morning’s article stirred uneasily in Melanie’s mind, but she sat silently beside the duke, not out of shyness or intimidation, but because she was following his lead.

If Malum could meet Lady Varley’s gaze with that detached tranquility, then so could she. And seeing Lady Varley’s momentary discomfort, Melanie realized that silence didn’t have to equal weakness.

It was a startling revelation.

“Hello, Your Grace. My lady.” Lady Varley quickly located her composure and greeted them. “I must say,” she addressed Melanie, “I am surprised your dear mother isn’t riding between the two of you, heralding this, ah, triumph . A match made in heaven , truly.” Her tone implied quite the opposite.

And then the older woman’s stare flickered to Malum, lingering there for a moment, as if she couldn’t quite decide how far she could go.

But of course, Lady Varley was intimidated by Malum. Though she obviously came over to them with the intention of landing a few poisonous arrows, she was ultimately afraid of incurring his wrath.

Melanie had known that being engaged to a duke—even one who was on the outs with the ton like the Duke of Malum—would lend her some amount of power. But it wasn’t until she saw Lady Varley’s faltering that she realized the extent of it. Though the association obviously drew plenty of negative attention to her and her family, it also had the potential to shield them to a certain degree—not only in spite of, but perhaps … because of his nontraditional nature.

His reputation, tarnished but sharp, was a blade that could cut both ways if wielded properly.

And again, that sense of safety enveloped her.

Emboldened, Melanie straightened her spine, and the smile she gave her mother’s rival came easier than she had imagined it could.

“My mother would wish me to say hello for her.” Melanie’s reply drew Lady Varley’s attention once again. “Normally, I’m sure, she would love riding through the park, but she opted for a cozy tea at home this afternoon instead—what with having to plan the ball.” Melanie sent her fiancé a dazzling smile. “To celebrate our engagement.”

Lady Varley was staring pointedly at Melanie’s hand on Malum’s arm. “Is that so? I did see the article in the Enquirer this morning, regarding the happy news. I suppose congratulations are in order. How fortunate it is to see you both… together.”

Malum inclined his head with that imperceptible smile, a look so subtle that only someone watching closely—like Melanie—would notice the sarcasm in his eyes. “My thanks for your felicitations, Lady Varley.” He sounded almost bored. “Might I compliment you on such a flamboyant ensemble. I daresay you will achieve your objective.”

“My objective?”

“Everyone will notice you, to be certain.”

Lady Varley’s fan faltered for an instant before she was able to recover.

“Well,” she replied with a brittle smile, the confidence in her voice conspicuously absent. “One must strive to maintain appearances, mustn’t one?”

“Indeed,” Melanie chimed in, feeling an unfamiliar but welcome sense of…power. “Regardless of the cost.”

These barbed near-compliments were familiar enough—she’d heard them at countless gatherings. But until now, she’d always been on her heels, managing her mother’s antics, never thinking she could use them herself.

Beside her, Malum loosened his hold on the reins and raised his fist to his mouth. Melanie felt a flicker of pride as she imagined him hiding a smile.

But Lady Varley was not amused. “I imagine no expense has been spared for your engagement ball,” she replied, her tone just shy of cutting. “With so little time to prepare, even the finest hostess would struggle to pull off a proper event—let alone someone as inexperienced as your dear mother.” Her gaze settled on Melanie with pointed deliberation. “As ever, the ton will be watching closely. I only hope you’re… prepared for the scrutiny.”

“As always, my lady,” Malum drawled as he drew Melanie a little closer. The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine. “I’ve no doubt it will be an event the ton won’t soon forget. Seeing as the guest list promises to be… more diverse than usual. My circle of acquaintances doesn’t typically attend Society gatherings, but it is my engagement ball, after all.” He bared his teeth. “I highly doubt Lord Varley will mind, but will you?”

His words were perfectly civil, yet the underlying implication—that Lady Varley’s husband might be familiar with some of the Domus courtesans—was unmistakable.

He knew precisely where to aim, and his remark struck with perfect accuracy.

Lady Varley nearly dropped her fan this time, concern darkening her face as she absorbed his meaning.

She dipped her chin. “Good day.”

With that, the woman who’d insulted Melanie’s mother at every opportunity sharply ordered her driver to move on. Before disappearing, however, the matron sent one last glance in their direction—a glance filled with more than a trace of anxiety.

Curious eyes had seen everything. Curious ears had heard every word.

Melanie, who was holding Malum’s arm with both hands now, waited until they were driving again before turning to him.

“Have you really invited your… colleagues?”

“God no,” he answered.

“Because it would embarrass my family?”

“Because my colleagues would be bored silly,” he corrected, his tone velvet smooth. “I’d never ask them to suffer a night in Society unless they were getting paid for it.”

If she didn’t know him better, Melanie might have been insulted—as any lady would be—but she was getting to know this man rather well. So instead, she shook her head. “Well, either way, I must admit that was rather masterful,” she said.

“Likewise, my lady.” He sent her a conspiratorial glance. “Likewise.”

As they continued along Rotten Row, Melanie’s confidence grew. Those who dared to greet them were far more cautious, no doubt having already learned how Lady Varley’s attempt at a proper set-down had gone.

And if anyone was foolish enough to comment on the article or the hasty nature of their engagement, Malum effortlessly put them in their place. All the while proving he could be more than affectionate, occasionally covering her hand with his, whispering words to make her laugh, and once, in between greetings, he’d rested his hand on her leg.

Melanie found herself growing bolder as well, lacing their fingers together and even laying her head on his shoulder at one point, all while engaging in casual conversation with their various acquaintances. It was surprisingly… easy.

At the few events she’d attended, Melanie had always clung to her mother’s side, expending all her energy reining her in, feeling anxious, and struggling to summon the words for one apology after another. That is, when she wasn’t hiding behind trees or escaping to convenient libraries.

But navigating this gauntlet with Malum at her side was… different. A revelation. For the first time, she felt as though she was beginning to understand how this game was played.

It was empowering—almost intoxicating.

Still, as they rounded yet another corner, Melanie all but slumped in relief to see that the approaching barouche was a familiar one, with four familiar faces riding inside it.

Apparently, she and the duke weren’t the only ones to face the ton today. Reed and Goldie, along with Lord Helton and Caroline, had decided they too ought to make an appearance.

As the vehicles drew alongside each other and the horses came to a halt, Caroline and Goldie, though remaining seated in their barouche, leaned forward. Caroline’s gloved hand reached across the space between them, her fingers clutching the edge of the curricle as if she might somehow pull Melanie to safety. Goldie wore an anxious smile, and her eyes scanned Melanie’s face, searching for any sign of distress.

Helton and Reed, meanwhile, rose to greet them with steady nods. Helton gave Malum a look that was both watchful and approving.

“Malum,” Reed said, his eyes flicking to Melanie. “It seems the two of you have more than weathered your first appearance together,” he murmured, his tone carrying a hint of surprise.

“I tried,” Melanie said, but before she could add anything else of substance, Malum’s hand moved to clasp hers.

“They’ll be eating out of her hand in no time,” Malum said, and when he turned to her, his eyes caressed her face in a way that she could only describe as…

Loving.

“I told you, didn’t I?” Helton smirked in Reed’s direction. “Never underestimate Malum.”

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 the Domus , working.

“They won’t miss you?” she asked him. “At the Domus ?” 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 these encounters were. It would be hypocritical to call such hostile exchanges polite conversation.

Which, of course, was precisely how most of the ton would 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.