Chapter Eight
To see the electric lamps switched on would be novel, indeed.
He held no nostalgic sympathies for the past, though he felt a nagging suspicion that his way of living was quickly becoming outdated.
Farms were giving way to factories, and the great landowners were yielding to the demands of the common man.
Now it seemed that gas must relinquish its golden glimmer to the brilliant buzz of electricity, yet progress was not to be feared so long as one kept an open mind.
Miss Goldsworthy stood at his side, her gloved hand resting upon the sleeve of his greatcoat, though she conversed animatedly with Perry.
The youngest Charlton brother was smitten by their guest. They were both admirers of the opéras comiques by Gilbert and Sullivan, and it was news to Selwyn that Perry and a troupe of his school friends had sneaked to London to see H.M.S.
Pinafore. Miss Goldsworthy had not been so fortunate as to see the show in person, though she hoped to do so when the production resumed next spring.
Selwyn hoped that she would indulge herself in all things and find some amusement now that she was no longer constrained by the chance of being his duchess. She might not see the ending of their false betrothal as a freedom, but it was—he knew that better than anyone.
Why would this beautiful, vibrant young lady wish to align herself with a society obsessed by birthright and background?
Without him, Miss Goldsworthy could take her generous allowance given to her by an anonymous benefactor and forge a life of her own, far removed from any shame or mockery that her mysterious past might cause her.
Yet for now, she was a guest in his home and a friend of his siblings. Selwyn longed to bask in the brightness of her company.
She wore a claret-colored carriage dress and a bird-wing bonnet with long, trailing ribbons.
His sisters were bundled to their noses in fur and brocade, while Perry had become a natty dresser since he’d gone to Eton.
They formed a pretty party on the pavement, and folk crossed the street from Hyde Park merely to admire them.
Thankfully, a duo of carriages pulled to the kerb. Two teams of perfectly matched greys fussed and nickered in their traces and stamped their glossy, blackened hooves against the cobblestones. The horses had been roused from their warm, dry stalls and were impatient to get moving.
So was he.
“We shall have to take two carriages,” said Selwyn, “unless Perry wants to ride up front with the coachman.”
“Absolutely not!” The lad laughed. “It’s bally freezing on the box!”
“Alright, it is settled then—you three may ride together whilst Miss Goldsworthy and I travel in the landau.”
Fannie balked. “Oh, that’s not fair! The landau is twice as large, and there are only two of you.”
Clever, sensible Margie jabbed their sister in the ribs. “Hush, Fannie. Of course it’s fair,” she explained, coming to his rescue. “Selly is the duke and Aurelia is our guest. They deserve the nicer carriage.”
Good manners dictated that he offer Miss Goldsworthy a seat in the ducal landau, but it wasn’t exactly proper to ride alone with her.
Still, a slightly jealous part of him refused to share her with his siblings or even a chaperone.
For a little while—for once in his life—Selwyn wanted something all to himself.
He wished to escort an attractive woman to see the lights at Christmas.
If he must break a few rules to do so, then so be it.
He handed Miss Goldsworthy into the large, well-sprung landau and waited while she settled her bustled skirts on the squabs. He climbed in after her, taking the seat across from her with his back to the horses.
Inside the carriage was cold and dark, and covered by a heavy leather hood, completely shielding them both from the outside world. A small heater burned on the floor to warm their toes. Selwyn extended a heavy tartan rug to her, but she waved him away.
“Thank you, but I’ll be comfortable enough when we’re moving, Your Grace.
” She smiled at him from her bench seat.
How pretty she was! Fading sunlight shone through the carriage windows, highlighting her pinkened, freckled cheeks.
The Bordeaux shades of her bonnet and dress complemented the rare, coppery coloring of her hair and the unique flush of her skin in the chilly air.
If they waited much longer, her nose would grow red.
Selwyn thumped his fist on the carriage roof and called “Drive on!” to his coachman perched high upon the box. Returning his focus to his companion, he offered, “We can huddle together for warmth, if you like.”
She laughed at that absurd suggestion. “I’m certain I wouldn’t know what to do with myself,” she admitted, “You see, I’ve never been alone in a carriage with a man before.”
“I’ve never been quite alone with a lady, so we’re both in uncharted territory.”
He’d always been careful not to take any risks, get himself into any trouble, or behave inappropriately. Yet it was the festive season, and folk tended to overstep the usual bounds in the spirit of merrymaking. Was it really such an unpardonable sin to be alone with one’s friend?
The landau eased forward. His team of matched greys stepped from the kerbstone and joined the line of vehicles proceeding along Park Lane. Theirs would be a journey of about half an hour through Piccadilly, Pall Mall, and Charing Cross, depending on the traffic.
Selwyn was in no rush to reach the Embankment now that he had Miss Goldsworthy all to himself. They clipped along at a leisurely pace, the landau swaying gently. The rhythm of the horses’ hooves was pleasantly muffled behind lacquered wood, polished leather, and glass.
His large form took up too much space on the bench seat, and no matter how he positioned his legs on the squabs, some part of him bumped against some part of her.
Knees knocked and toes touched. She laughingly tucked her skirt hems against her heeled boots to give him a few spare inches of room across from her.
“Have you always been so…hale and hearty, Your Grace?”
He laughed through his mortification. “Oh, always! I prefer to blame it on my rambunctious country youth—years of good, clean, Yorkshire air and all that—but truthfully, my father was a big man. He grew portly in his later days, but I think if he had kept his health, a bit of weight would not have slowed him down. As for me, I am fit and my heart is strong.”
“Was it heart failure that took your father?”
He nodded. “Yes, and cancer killed my mother whilst she was the very picture of health.”
“I am sorry,” she said earnestly. “I’ve often wondered what my family history is like, or whether I am prone to any illnesses or hereditary conditions, but I suppose it doesn’t matter in the end.
We must seize happiness where we can find it, and endeavor to live out our days fully and purposefully, so that when death does eventually come for us, we might look back with no regrets. ”
“I quite agree.”
Miss Goldsworthy spoke softly, yet with conviction.
She had put him in his place on that first day with his family when the two of them had wandered behind the Christmas tree.
She refused to allow her dubious parentage to dominate her life, and she would not feel ashamed for the one small part of her selfhood which she couldn’t change.
She was Aurelia Goldsworthy—a name she had given herself, he’d learned—irrespective of whoever sired her, or whatever man she married.
He sensed something of a kindred spirit in her, for he longed to be Selwyn Charlton and the Duke of Brantingham, though he wasn’t yet certain how to rectify the two halves of his identity.
For now, he gratified the man within and flouted propriety.
He rode in a covered landau with a lady unchaperoned.
He relaxed in his seat, utterly pleased with himself.
Keeping her with him over the festive season had been a grand idea.
She was fast becoming the light and life of his little house party.
She stared out of the window as they passed Trafalgar Square.
Twilight and shadow played across her form, angled ever so slightly forward to get a better view.
“It was so clever of Lady Fanetta to suggest this. I feel as if I’ve traveled to another world!
I suspect there are more people in the street here than there are in the whole of Cheltenham, though I must be exaggerating.
” She laughingly turned her gaze to his. “Do you ever get used to it all?”
Selwyn shrugged. “I suppose I take it for granted. One gets ‘stuck in’ and busy, and forgets to lift one’s head every now and then. Margie, Fannie, and Perry are a breath of fresh air, and so are you, Miss Goldsworthy. I have been longing to be sociable again.”
The duo of carriages turned onto the Victoria Embankment. His coachman steered the landau toward the kerb, and then pulled the horses to a smart stop alongside the River Thames.
Dozens of pedestrians milled along the waterfront in various states of dress—some men wore tall hats and knitted mufflers, others wore shabby coats and peaked caps.
The ladies donned cloaks, bonnets, mantles, and muffs to fight the winter’s chill.
Children shrieked and skipped across the paving stones of the broad, tree-lined thoroughfare.
A young man had brought a spaniel dog to the spectacle, which barked and bounded, and added to the general chaos.
Selwyn climbed from the carriage and helped Miss Goldsworthy alight. Her smiling face grew radiant at the sight of so much jollity. Soon, Margie, Fannie, and Perry swarmed around him and all but dragged them both toward the long, neat line of Dolphin lamps along the river.
Their group settled into the crowd of cheerful-faced Londoners come to view the switching on of electric lights.
Someone began to hum a Christmas carol, heightening the festivity of the moment, as though they’d all arrived from their various pilgrimages to witness something altogether more wondrous.
He reached for Miss Goldsworthy’s hand among the masses, and—finding her—laced his fingers with hers.
As the last rays of a late December sun began to fade behind the slate rooftops and soot-choked chimney pots, the Charlton family turned their eyes to the glass orbs of the street lamps lining the Embankment. A hush fell over the visitors while they awaited the flickering buzz of the future.
“Is there any danger, Your Grace?” she asked him.
Truth be told, he did not know, for the power of electricity had only recently been harnessed, yet Selwyn promised her the one thing of which he was absolutely certain: “Don’t worry, Miss Goldsworthy, you’re safe with me.”