Chapter Thirteen
She was devastated and crying in his arms. Through her tears, she poured forth the details of her confrontation with the man who was certainly her father.
Mathieson had also been her puppet master, directing her to Brantingham House in a bizarre scheme that smacked of equal parts guilt over Miss Goldsworthy’s abandonment and revenge against the Charltons, whose matriarch had been such a staunch defender of Lady Mathieson’s innocence.
For two decades, Mama had spoken out against the man who had wronged her friend, and had gone to her grave knowing the truth, even if it hadn’t yet been revealed.
Selwyn did not believe in Christmas miracles, but the story had come full circle. With Lord Mathieson’s help, the Duchess of Brantingham and Aurelia’s mother had been reunited. Their love lived on through their children, together.
He hugged Miss Goldsworthy tighter. He buried his face in her coppery hair, which smelled sweet, clean, and softly perfumed. How he admired her ability to hold her head up! To keep her dignity! To persevere!
She had taken quite a pummeling inside Mathieson House, but she would soon draw from that inner well of strength and self-worth and rise above this blow. What did it matter if she was the illegitimate daughter of a peeress? Worse sins had been committed in society.
By her side, Selwyn had the power to survive the scandal. Miss Goldsworthy was a duchess down to her boots, and he’d be a fool to let her slip through his fingers. Yet it would not be an easy road, and after today, she might not wish to walk it with him.
“I don’t belong anywhere,” she cried. “No one wants me! I’m such a fool!”
He rocked her in his arms as the landau navigated the congested confines of Mayfair. He kept the window shades down for her privacy, but the steady clip-clop of the horses’ hooves announced their progress through the streets.
“Shh…” he soothed her. “You are wanted, you are needed, and you are always welcome at Brantingham House.” She was a much-loved member of his family, and his siblings would never forgive him if he gave her up.
She was the one woman whose presence he sought out in a drawing room or whose hand he groped for on a crowded pavement.
She was a delight at mealtimes and a ready accomplice for an adventure.
He had missed feeling alive since his parents’ deaths, and Miss Goldsworthy brought radiance and energy into his narrow world of nobility.
To him, at least, she was joy, laughter, and vitality. Selwyn hated to see her brought low.
She pulled back from his embrace to meet his gaze. Hot tears dampened her cheeks, and her nose had grown red and irritated. She sniffled, and he offered her his handkerchief.
“Dry your eyes, Aurelia. I’d say you’ve given Mathieson enough tears, don’t you?”
A sad smile wavered at her lips. “I confess that some stupid part of me hoped that you’d got the story wrong, and that he wanted me and would take me in. That I would have a family, that I would finally find the place where I belonged.”
Her earnest words shattered his heart. He had warned her not to peer too closely into the darkened corners of society.
She had seen the blackest of scandals—been at the center of it, really—and he couldn’t blame her for wanting no part of his world, where pedigree mattered more than dignity and decency.
One misstep could unfairly ruin reputations for generations.
Selwyn had never put a foot wrong. He’d been brought up to respect his elders, his peers, his tenants, and servants. He had endeavored to keep out of trouble, to avoid flirtations and entanglements, and to set a good example for his siblings.
Lately, he struggled to reconcile the desires of Selwyn Charlton, the man, with the duties of the Duke of Brantingham. Why hadn’t he been born a farmer, free to follow his heart?
“I am serious, Your Grace, about giving away everything that Mathieson has given me. It’s no legacy that I wish to profit from.”
As always, he urged prudence, for she oughtn’t to be so hasty in dispensing with her modest living.
“Poverty won’t make your life any easier, but I respect your convictions.
If you like, I shall be glad to make a donation to whichever lying-in hospital you choose. ” He smiled at her, “Or all of them.”
Hazel eyes sparkled. “Really? Do you mean it?”
“I shouldn’t wish for any woman to suffer as your mother did. If she had been supported—not only financially, but socially and emotionally as well—she might be with us now.”
“I’m sure my mother would’ve been glad to know you, Your Grace. You’re a good friend to me.”
There were secrets still to be revealed, and Selwyn didn’t know how to broach the painful topic. He trusted that the right moment would come, and she would welcome the knowledge that had perhaps bound them together since birth. He hoped she would understand that this was where she belonged.
Soon, the landau arrived at Brantingham House.
Selwyn lifted the shade to reveal pavements seething with members of polite society paying calls and taking the air on a brisk afternoon.
The trees of Hyde Park were bare, its grass frost-bitten and brown, and the footpaths crossing its green spaces were doubtless claggy and thus unwelcoming.
Fashionable folk who would have otherwise been engaged in the park now ambled in front of his residence.
He looked above the heads of these promenaders to study the white Portland stone facade of Brantingham House, its columned portico, and gilded railings. A dozen windows winked in the light, and the smoke from countless comfortable fires spiraled up from its chimneys.
Selwyn longed for its warm, familiar rooms and the merry presence of his siblings who would uplift Aurelia’s spirits—and his own. He wanted a cup of tea to sweeten his thoughts, and he prepared to step from the carriage as his driver swung open the door.
Miss Goldsworthy’s hand touched his sleeve. “Oh, don’t go, Your Grace! I’m too humiliated to face the world. Can we tarry here for a moment whilst I steady my nerves?”
He sat back, waving the coachman away. The door closed, and they were alone once more.
“We can sit for as long as you require,” said Selwyn. He would forego the pleasures of hot tea and warm fires for her sake. “We can talk, if you’d like, or…”
Her small, gloved hand rose from his arm to cup his jaw. She cradled his face in her palm, silencing all words or thoughts. Then, her mouth lifted to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He did not believe that seduction was on her mind. She was merely seeking solace and perhaps clinging to his solidity, for he was a quiet port in a storm, and she felt tossed about by the tides of her life.
Miss Goldsworthy clung to him. Her mouth opened against his, her breathing desperate and ragged. She pleaded through parted lips, “Please, Your Grace…don’t let this wretchedness come between us…”
He dragged his mouth from hers. His hands untwined hers from around his neck as he gazed steadily into her eyes. “If you’re going to kiss me, Aurelia, you cannot call me ‘Your Grace’, for when your lips are on mine, I must be ‘Selwyn’ to you.”
She smiled shakily. “Selwyn.”
“Aurelia,” he said, resuming their kiss.
His mouth met her upturned lips, and he stole a taste of her smile for himself. She was pillowy soft and supple in his arms. Not rigid or tense, or frightened, or alone, as he usually felt. She was his dear friend, and he was hers. She was his beloved, and he was the fool.
He’d fallen in love with Aurelia’s fearless heart. She had ventured to London to claim the man she wanted. She had been unwavering in her determination to have what she deserved. Such dauntlessness, devotion, and desire were the qualities he sought in a partner, a mate.
A duchess.
A wife.
How could he prove to her that this life—here with him—was the destiny she was born to and meant for?
All the boundaries that separated them began to crumble as he held her in his arms.
“Nothing could come between us,” he promised with his whole heart.
“You’ve found a champion in me, Aurelia.
My home is your home, my family is yours.
Try to put this unpleasantness with Mathieson behind you, as you’ve told me yourself that a woman’s parentage ought not to define her.
” He touched her chin, lifting it high. He knew she could hold it even higher.
“I know you, and you shan’t let this define you. ”
If anything, it would make her stronger.
“I want nothing more than to stay here kissing you all day,” said Selwyn. “I beg you to take your time, but when you’re finished with me,” he grinned at her in the darkened landau, “may I remind you that my extended family are joining us for Christmas Eve? They’ll be delighted to know you.”
She placed her lips upon his, her eyes searching his face. “Will they?”
“How could they not?” Aurelia Goldsworthy was a lady in more than name. A woman on a bolder path, and he only hoped that she would allow him to walk it with her.