3. Meeting the Neighbor

MEETING THE NEIGHBOR

“ I live…” Pressed, Melanie’s throat thickened. “There.” Melanie pointed to the window in her mother’s townhouse.

Her hair, drenched now, had plastered itself to her head and neck, dripping rainwater down her back and sending chills down her spine. Her slippers, comfortable and warm just a few minutes earlier, were now cold and squishy. But her slippers weren’t the issue here…

“There was a woman,” she finally managed. Grasping the handle of the basket, Melanie scrambled to her feet, feeling a surge of protectiveness.

He simply waited.

There was a baby in the basket. Its mother had disappeared, and the rain, if anything, was falling even harder.

Melanie purposefully flicked her stare to somewhere behind him. “Can we…?” Go inside? “Please?” she added.

For a few seconds, she thought he was going to refuse, but then, with a flare of his nostrils, he stepped back, his feet silent on the marble floor, and held the door wide.

Melanie managed to avoid direct contact as she brushed past, but was close enough to catch a hint of his scent—smoky, with an elusive touch of something spicy, reminding her of leather.

What was she doing? All manner of gossip tore through the ton when it came to the Duke of Malum, and even Melanie knew that no decent young woman should ever, under any circumstances, be seen with him—let alone be seen entering his lair.

This man kept not just one mistress, but an entire bordello of them—according to the newspapers. Even before he’d established his brothel, members of the ton had cast him out—for reasons people could only speculate about.

He’d essentially shunned them right back. And he could do that—because he was a duke, and nothing would ever change that.

Having overheard snippets of conversation between Reed and Caroline, she knew that this rogue had threatened her brother last year. At the same time, however, when the gossip turned dangerous, the Duke of Malum had eventually helped Reed. When everyone else had been calling for the new Earl of Standish to be tried for arson, for murder , this man had stepped in to help.

Shuttering other memories from those days, she ignored the cold and lifted her chin.

He closed the door behind her, and the silence, which should have made her feel uncomfortable, instead momentarily enveloped her like a warm, comforting blanket.

Most people didn’t appreciate silence. In fact, before the fire that had changed her family’s lives forever, Melanie would have felt compelled to fill it.

Now, she simply absorbed it.

Even if the duke was just standing there, his arms folded across his chest, obviously expecting some sort of explanation.

Not that she was the person who owed him one.

Still, that choking feeling held her back.

This was precisely why she couldn’t participate in the Season—no matter that her mother expected her to and no matter how much Josie or Caroline begged her. The thoughts in her head had to fight to get out. And honestly, all that effort wasn’t worth the trouble.

Usually.

“Well?” The duke’s economy of words wasn’t lost on her. He was simply… waiting, standing perfectly still, his mouth set in a flat line. Most people would fidget when they were feeling impatient about something, tap their foot or drum their fingers against something.

The Duke of Malum was not so uncontrolled. It was fairly intimidating, but also…

Not.

Melanie nodded. Swallowed once. Speak , she demanded of herself, just tell him. But the words crowded on her tongue, trapped. But then the weight in the basket shifted, reminding her…

“I saw—” She pointed back to the door and inhaled a fluttery breath. “A woman... left the basket.” Her heart pounded in her ears. “She knocked. But no one…”

“You’re one of Rutherford’s sisters.”

She forced her gaze back to Malum’s silvery eyes. “How did you know?”

He simply blinked.

It wasn’t really an answer, but she could only assume he’d seen the comings and goings at her mother’s townhouse. Had he noticed her in the window?

It was more than a little disquieting to realize that, although she’d imagined herself invisible, she hadn’t been. Of course, if she could see outside, others could see in…

She nodded, still looking up. The duke was perhaps a full foot taller than her. “You’re the Duke of Malum.”

As far as introductions went, this wasn’t at all proper. Then again, propriety was only important to Melanie in so much as it might affect Josie’s prospects—and Reed.

And since this introduction wasn’t really an introduction at all, it didn’t matter.

“Usually, yes.” There was a faint glimmer in his eyes, like the ghost of a smile. Was he mocking her?

The weight of the basket shifted again, and when she looked down, she saw that the baby had wiggled out of its blanket and was waving two tiny fists in the air.

Feeling unusually brave, she stated the obvious. “This must be yours, then,” she said. Why else would that woman leave it on his doorstep?

Something dark flickered in his eyes this time, and his mouth twisted into more of a sneer than a smile. “Right.”

He didn’t deny it.

“Well, then.” Feeling her chest squeeze, Melanie set the basket on the floor and released her grip on the handle. She could leave now. She’d done her part. He was willing to accept his responsibility rather easily, actually. Perhaps he’d been expecting something like this?

Or perhaps this wasn’t the first time a basket of this sort had been left on his step.

“Good… erm, luck,” she added.

He remained in his place between her and the doorway, barring her exit. “What did she look like? This woman?”

All those rumors must be true if he needed to ask this. Melanie frowned, not making any effort to hide her disapproval.

Still, this wasn’t any of her business, she reminded herself.

Even if he had helped Reed last year.

Furthermore, the sooner she answered his questions, the sooner she could escape.

“Tall. Red hair.” Melanie decided not to add that she remembered thinking the mysterious woman had been striking. “Green eyes, I think.” Glancing down, she studied the baby more deliberately. Although there wasn’t much of it, its wispy hair was an orange color, and the pale skin looked to be as downy as a lamb’s—nothing like the duke’s comparatively swarthy complexion.

The infant, in fact, seemed to have gotten most of its physical traits from the mother.

Melanie’s heart squeezed again, and she wasn’t sure why.

If she returned home now, she could change into dry clothing. Her mother needn’t know this visit even happened.

But she didn’t move.

“What…” She pointed at the basket. “Will you do?”

She’d heard of unwanted bastard children meeting with horrible fates, and the duke had barely even looked at the baby. Worry sliced through her.

“I’ll deal with it,” he said, looking off to the side and then back to her. “If there’s nothing else…?”

He was dismissing her. She’d done her part, after all.

Before she could even shake her head, he’d stepped to the side and was reaching for the door, allowing a burst of frigid rain to blow into the foyer.

And with one last glance at the baby, she darted back across the street.

Less than a minute later, Melanie was safe inside her mother’s townhouse. She’d done exactly what she’d set out to do, so why didn’t she feel more satisfied? Why was she left feeling as though she’d failed?

Ignoring this bewildering regret, she climbed the stairs to her chamber and rang for Eloisa, the maid who tended to both Josie and herself, to arrange for a hot bath.

The duke was more than capable of providing care for that baby. He’d no doubt hire the best nursemaid in all of England. Or, more likely, he’d pay some family to raise it.

Everyone knew he was richer than Croesus.

He’d made it quite clear that this wasn’t new to him.

And yet, while soaking in the hot water, Melanie couldn’t help but think she could have done more.

She didn’t even know if the baby was a girl or a boy—or if it even had a name…