43. When You Need Your Sister

WHEN YOU NEED YOUR SISTER

I t was Caroline, naturally, who had taken control, unapologetically ordering everyone out of the room. Melanie’s big sister didn’t so much as blink when one of the maids pointed out that she was ordering the Duke of Malum out of his own chamber.

Even so, Malum had lingered, rubbing Melanie’s back, leaning close as though he could lend her some of his strength through touch alone. But, although part of her wanted to beg him to stay, she knew he was needed elsewhere. Crossings had been, er, dealt with —but Northwoods was still out there—and he too had reason to harm her and her family.

So when Malum bent close, his breath caressing her cheek as he told her he’d stay if she wanted, Melanie insisted she would be fine. As long as he…

“Come back soon,” she’d said.

He’d responded to her request with a kiss, one that managed to be scorching but tender at the same time, right in front of her entire family.

It was as embarrassing as it had been reassuring.

After Malum, her family, and most of the servants had gone, Caroline allowed only one maid and the doctor to stay.

The doctor was brisk but thorough, his movements efficient as he dabbed at the cut on Melanie’s head. She winced but didn’t complain, because suddenly, she was just… so very tired.

“You’ll need to keep this clean,” the doctor murmured, and Melanie nodded. He applied a salve that cooled the sting, then bandaged the wound with practiced ease.

"Her lungs took in quite a bit of smoke,” he said, talking to Caroline now even though his fingers were pressed against Melanie’s wrist—checking her pulse? The pressure felt both soothing and strange, and now, along with feeling tired, she felt remarkably fragile. “This tincture will help with the cough, ensuring she can rest. Later, she can drink honey and water, mixed with chamomile. Licorice root soothes the throat as well. I’ll return tomorrow to evaluate her condition again.”

Melanie nodded numbly, her throat more painful with each passing minute, and as he rose to leave, she couldn’t muster more than a whispered “Thank you”. With a nod, he and the maid exited then, closing the door behind them.

Alone with her sister, Melanie felt relieved, but also… exposed. Now that everyone had gone and her injury had been tended to, she was acutely aware of just how awful she must have looked—every inch of her covered in soot and grime, her curls a bedraggled mess around her shoulders, and what remained of her composure ready to shatter at any moment.

Without a hint of judgement, though, Caroline took charge, helping Melanie out of her gown, and then holding up a fresh nightrail that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere.

“I’m filthy,” Melanie murmured, her throat aching as she fumbled to slide her arms into the sleeves.

“You’re exhausted, as anyone would be,” Caroline countered firmly, adjusting the fabric over Melanie’s shoulders and smoothing it down. When she finally stepped back, she stared at Melanie with tender, knowing eyes.

“You can cry if you want to, you know,” she said.

And that was all it took.

Tears Melanie hadn’t even realized were there welled up and began rolling down her face, slow at first, then faster, surely carving messy white lines through the ashy residue on her cheeks.

“I’m fine,” Melanie said. “I’m safe now. I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Ah, Mellie,” Caroline murmured, pulling a clean handkerchief from somewhere—Caroline always had a handkerchief—and dabbing at Melanie’s face. “You’ve been through enough for ten lifetimes today. Let it out.”

Melanie collapsed into Caroline’s arms and sobbed quietly into her shoulder, the weight of everything that had happened seeming to crash down upon her all at once. The fear, the heat, her desperate climb from that window—it all swirled in her mind alongside the deeper grief she’d carried for so long. Their father. The fire that had taken him. And now, something else that had been a part of him was gone, too. His townhouse—the place that had held so many memories—likely reduced to rubble.

Her tears slowed as Caroline pulled back, reaching for a vial on the nightstand. Uncorking it, she poured a measure of the liquid into a teacup and handed it to Melanie.

“Is that…?”

“Laudanum.” Caroline grimaced. “Just this once, though. No more than that. But it’ll help with your cough, and you need to sleep.”

Melanie wrinkled her nose at the sickly-sweet scent wafting from the amber liquid. Unpleasant as it was, she drank it all in a few careful sips while Caroline steadied the glass in her hands.

After, she simply welcomed her sister’s comforting presence as Caroline guided her to lie back against the pillows, pulling the covers up to her chest.

“Once you’re feeling a little better, you’ll stay with Maxwell and me.” Her sister’s voice did not invite any argument. Not that Melanie had the strength for that even if she wanted to put up a fuss.

The effects of the drink were already spreading through her, dulling the raw images in her mind, every anxious thought and painful memory. But even as her body began to relax, she couldn’t stop replaying everything that she’d been through—Crossings forcing his way into her chamber, clinging to the trellis and hoping it wouldn’t break, but most of all—Malum.

She could still hear his voice, calm and sure, urging her down. “ You’re safe… I’ve got you …

“I love you.”

Her thoughts swirled, drifting between his words and his actions.

He loves me. The realization soothed her like a comforting balm.

With heavy eyelids, Melanie blinked up at Caroline, who was watching her with an almost motherly fondness. She hesitated, then said it aloud, her voice weak, roughened by the smoke as she whispered. “He loves me. He said he loves me.”

Caroline’s smile widened, her expression warm and knowing. “Oh, we know,” she replied and in a deeper voice, added, “‘ Dearly. Passionately. Desperately .’”

“‘And I always will…’” Melanie remembered.

“And in case there is any doubt, just ask anyone who lives on Regent Street. It’s the worst kept secret in the neighborhood now, you know.”

Her sister’s words wrapped around her, settling into the deepest corners of Melanie’s heart. Harry loves me—dearly. Passionately. Desperately , she thought, the realization both wondrous and certain. And with that, as the drink took hold and exhaustion finally claimed her, Melanie drifted into sleep.