26. Crossing Paths

CROSSING PATHS

S itting high atop Malum’s vehicle, which had seemed so extraordinary to Melanie minutes before, now felt precarious. Whereas earlier that day, she’d felt perfectly at ease holding his arm for stability, now she felt awkward, as though that closeness had been some sort of mirage.

It was as though she was riding beside a stranger.

Which was odd, given what had just passed between them.

He’d told her he’d once thought himself in love, and then lost the woman to his own father!

No wonder , she thought.

No wonder.

And now, it was as though he needed to retreat, to rebuild that wall between them. The shift was subtle, yet unmistakable. In all her life, she wondered if she’d ever met anyone lonelier.

Not that he was alone —alone. He had the people who worked for him—the staff at the Domus , the servants at Preston Hall—but no family. His parents were long gone, and it was common knowledge that his brother had disappeared on a ship somewhere, years ago.

Aside from his peculiar friendship with Lord Helton and a select few other gentlemen, did Malum allow himself to be close to anyone? Was he even capable of it?

And yet, she couldn’t ignore the memory of how he’d held Ernest with such care…

With each turn of the wheels, questions churned in her mind. Why had he held her like that? What had it meant?

Why had he drawn her close, only to push her away?

Had it meant anything at all?

And still, he hadn’t kissed her. She’d initially thought he’d stopped because of the voices from across the lake, but now she realized the truth—he’d already pulled back the moment she’d asked what they were doing.

The second she’d broken the spell.

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, hoping they’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 be seen .

After everything—after that —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.

The Duke of Crossings turned to his companion. “I must say, Northwoods. These two will be the talk of the Season, eh?” Sarcasm dripped from his tongue.

But wait… Northwoods ?

Could this truly be the man who intended to court her sweet, innocent sister? Surely not. Melanie’s stomach twisted.

But how many Earls of Northwoods could there be?

She forced herself to study him more closely. She’d been certain they’d never met, but as she watched him now, his manner struck a faint, disquieting chord.

“Er, quite, Your Grace,” the earl replied, suddenly absorbed in the flowing mane of his horse and looking just as reluctant to be part of this exchange as Malum was.

Perhaps even more so.

And for that reason, every bit of Melanie’s attention sharpened. Northwoods’ horse’s hooves danced in agitation, and although he must know who she was, he didn’t say anything about Josie. Surely, it was only natural that he would mention the connection.

Why wouldn’t he meet her eyes?

“I believe you called on my sister this morning.” Melanie’s words immediately captured the attention of everyone present.

Crossings’ expression faltered, surprise flickering before morphing into something closer to irritation. He cast a sharp glance at Northwoods, whose horse sidestepped uneasily, the man fumbling to maintain control.

“She speaks…” Crossings said, eyes narrowed. “Did you hear that, Northwoods?” Apparently both men had been aware of her… difficulties.

“She asked a question.” Malum’s voice was flat but insistent.

Northwoods sent her a forced smile. “Your sister… Ah, yes. Believe I did. Lovely young woman. Quite charming.”

Again, Melanie felt an inkling of recognition. Perhaps they’d never been introduced, but, she supposed, she could easily have seen him at any of the events she’d attended.

“She is,” Melanie said.

“Three daughters and two sons, weren’t there?” Crossings drawled, his cold stare fixed on Melanie. “Before that mysterious fire, anyway. Tragic business. But that’s all in the past, now, isn’t it.” He paused, obviously savoring her discomfort. “By the way, how is my darling daughter? Naughty girl, never makes time for her father.” He chuckled, a hollow sound that felt more like a private joke than a question.

Goldie, Melanie knew, hadn’t so much ignored her father as she’d been cut off from him. And, for a while, forbidden to make contact with her mother. After marrying Reed, she’d essentially been disowned.

But Crossings wasn’t finished… “We’re practically family now, aren’t we, my lady?”

At that, Malum reached the limits of his patience. Without waiting for the two men to move aside, he clicked his tongue and flicked the reins, urging the horses forward with unflinching purpose. The curricle lurched ahead, forcing Crossings and Northwoods to pull their mounts aside or risk being run down.

As they broke past the two men, Melanie stole a glance over her shoulder. Northwoods seemed rattled, but Crossings was staring after them. The look on his face was cool amusement, but his eyes looked almost black.

Swinging to face forward again, Melanie felt like she’d looked into the eyes of the devil himself.

And then just as quickly dismissed the thought as overly dramatic. It had been an eventful day. She was tired.

She exhaled a shaky breath and then swallowed hard.

Malum had not looked back but kept his gaze fixed straight ahead as he guided the curricle away.

“What was all that about?” Yes, there was bad blood between Crossings and her brother, because of Reed and Goldie’s hasty marriage. But she’d sensed a true enmity between Malum and Crossings.

“Nothing important.”

“He was friends with your father.”

“Yes.”

“You wouldn’t abandon the Domus , would you?” she pressed, because, ever since he’d proposed, she had to admit, if only to herself, that she had wondered…

“What do you think?” His tone effectively put an end to her queries, and she was surprised when he turned and asked her a question of his own.

“Is Northwoods courting your sister?”

“Yes,” she answered slowly.

“For how long?”

Something in his voice had Melanie wishing her conversation with Josie hadn’t been interrupted—that she’d taken the time to learn more about her baby sister’s prospective suitor.

“Not long. A week, maybe longer. But…” Josie had asked Melanie about love. “It might be serious.” She’d thought he’d drive her home in silence. She certainly hadn’t expected to have a conversation about her sister…

“Lady Josephine ought not to trust him, and neither should you.”

“Why not?” Melanie watched Malum, while he watched the road ahead. She wasn’t challenging his advice, just wanting to know the reason for it.

His gaze hardened, and he looked as though he were weighing his words before answering. “Northwoods caused trouble at the Domus .” He fell silent for a moment, jaw tight. “He could be—well, he’s pockets to let, so much so that he is… compromised.”

Melanie hadn’t ever heard that word associated with a male.

“Compromised?”

“Deeply in debt. And there is no telling to what lengths a broken man will go.”

“You think he’s only interested because of her dowry?”

The look Malum shot her said that he did.

It wasn’t unheard of—a title in exchange for a sizeable dowry. But it wasn’t something Melanie wanted for her little sister, not if the only love between them was one-sided. “So he is using her.”

“Without question. And Crossings is using him. Neither are to be trusted, by your sister or anyone.” Malum glanced away from the road, pinning his silver gaze on hers again, but this time, looking all too serious. “She must break it off, Melanie.”

Melanie’s brow furrowed. What could Malum know about Northwoods that her brother wouldn’t have sniffed out? All this uncertainty was beginning to churn in her stomach. The entire encounter with Crossings and Northwoods had left her feeling wary.

Afraid for her sister.

And why would Crossings think Malum would want to follow in his father’s footsteps? Everyone in the ton knew he hated the man who’d sired him—they didn’t know why, of course, but there had been articles that mentioned the extent of his disdain…

Melanie glanced sideways, studying his profile. Had she imagined their embrace by the lake? She shook her head. No. That had been beyond her wildest imaginations.

Wanting more answers, but knowing he wouldn’t provide them, she kept the questions to herself.

By all appearances, their ride through the park had done exactly what it needed to do, a triumph after weeks of setbacks and confusion. Or had it created even more?

How had the day ended like this?

Part of her almost wished she and Malum had not detoured into the woods. Then, perhaps, he wouldn’t be acting so cold, and she could continue to live her life never having met the Duke of Crossings or the Earl of Northwoods.

Although, she would have to meet him, formally, that was, eventually. Hadn’t Reed mentioned something about Melanie’s suitor coming to dinner tomorrow night?

She stole another glance at Malum, the wind teasing a stray lock of his dark hair, softening his sharp edges for just a moment. The unexpected contrast—boyish one second, forbidding the next—sent a flicker of something she didn’t dare name through her chest. Her breath hitched before she could stop it.

When had she started noticing these things—the subtle cracks in the mask he wore—intriguing glimpses of the man beneath his guarded exterior? Despite the warmth of the sun, she shivered.

This… pull. It wasn’t casual curiosity, it was deeper—something that unsettled her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. It had struck a yearning in her heart, but also the core of her being.

It made her blood feel hot. It made her skin yearn. It made her center ache.

And those moments spent together by the lake—those few minutes when he’d drawn her into something… more—it hadn’t been feigned. No, it had been very real. And it had been potent.