Chapter 4 #2
“That is settled, then.” Her father turned toward Reuben with a terse nod. “We had better be on our way. Lots of things to prepare for the wedding, and the Duchess needs to be informed of what needs to be done.”
The Duchess.
Selina smiled bitterly. It was how he had always referred to her mother. Never “my wife” or a sweeter term of endearment. As if her title and her position encompassed everything she was.
As if that were all she would ever be.
“No need to trouble yourself with wedding plans, Duke. We will await the arrival of the Duchess of Barlow so that we ladies can arrange everything,” the Dowager Duchess replied graciously.
Her father frowned. “The wedding must take place with due haste. Not more than a fortnight from now. I trust that securing a special license should not be too arduous a task?”
Ashbrook smiled. “Of course not.”
“Then there is nothing more to say. We shall leave Selina in your hands.” Her father nodded at the others, his gaze skimming over her entirely, and turned to his carriage.
Selina put a hand to her chest and sought to press down the heaviness that swelled there. If she allowed it to rise, it would reach her eyes, and she would not be able to stop the tears from falling.
Her father did not even bid her goodbye, merely handed her over to people he had considered his enemies a few short moments ago.
She felt someone reach for her hand and give it a slight squeeze.
“Do not fret, Sister. I shall visit you soon,” Reuben whispered. “And Mother shall be with you shortly.”
And then, he was gone, too.
Her heart ached as she watched the carriage turn around and rattle down the driveway toward the gates. She would have waved, at least, but there was no point. No one was looking back to wave in return. They were just leaving her.
Soon enough, they had vanished from sight.
“Oh, goodness! I thought we were going to get caught!” Lizzy threw her arms around Selina, nearly bowling her over in her excitement. “Oh, I am so happy! Absolutely elated!”
“And insane!” Selina looked at her friend incredulously. “Do you have any idea what all this means?”
“It means that you are about to become my sister!” Lizzy crowed gleefully. “We are going to be family!”
“Yes, but that means I have to marry your brother first!” Selina hissed in a voice low enough that the man in question would not hear.
Lizzy waved the remark away. “That is nothing. That is a mere practicality. This is a happy day, and I shall not let you convince me otherwise.”
She grabbed Selina and hugged her again, before she broke away to dance a little jig of excitement right there on the drive.
Selina rolled her eyes at her friend’s antics. Perhaps having a pistol pointed in her general direction had somehow addled Lizzy’s wits.
“That is what you get when you do not think your actions through,” a low, deep voice whispered into Selina’s ear, so soft it could have been the breeze.
Except that the breeze was not as warm. Nor did it send tingles down her spine to her toes, or make her want to melt like chocolate left out in the summer sun.
No, it was simply Philip St. Maur, the Duke of Ashbrook.
The man who was to become her husband.
Turn away, you idiot. Turn away before you do something absolutely stupid in front of your sister.
Philip took out his pocket watch and pretended to look at the time, making a show of being displeased by what he saw before he whirled around and headed for the front door.
He had just gotten himself a betrothed—and one who seemed to get along with his sister much too well for his liking. Lizzy was a handful enough on her own, but with a companion? They could unleash hell on earth.
And it was not just that, oh no. Philip might have trusted himself to handle one meek and miserable bride if, say, he had found himself in an arranged match, a thing of convenience.
But this wayward bride was a different story.
He found her much too attractive at first glance.
Amusing at the second. And he had not yet explored what a third glance might evoke.
He shuddered to think what might become of him the more he made her acquaintance.
“Oof!”
He frowned as something soft and warm collided with his back. He turned around—instinctively, of course—to catch a flurry of skirts and a face that was turning a most becoming shade of pink. Selina’s body, flush against his, was enough to inspire the very devil in him.
It was almost impossible to rein in his wayward thoughts as he sought to hold her that little bit tighter, that little bit closer, until there was nothing but irksome fabric between them.
“Your Grace!” she cried.
Philip bit back a groan at the sound of that startled, feminine gasp. It did not help that he could feel the corresponding rise of her chest against him.
“Lady Selina,” he replied with a smirk.
Her cheeks shifted through the entire palette of pinks, light to dark, and he found each one lovelier than the last.
Control yourself!
What the hell was wrong with him? Was he trying to cause himself more trouble?
She wiggled a bit more in his arms. “I think you may unhand me now, Your Grace.”
Did he really have to? He could keep her there for an indeterminate number of hours, really. She was his betrothed now, for all intents and purposes. Why, even her father had said that they should “get to know one another better,” and Philip had an idea or two.
But his sister was also eyeing them suspiciously, and Lizzy being suspicious never boded well for anyone. Him, particularly.
He released Selina with a sigh. “I suppose I must.”
“Yes, you must,” she responded, stumbling back a good couple of steps. “Why did you do that, Your Grace?”
“Release you? Because you asked me to, My Lady.”
“No.” She let out a huff that he really should not have found adorable. “I am asking why you… told my father all those things, why you accepted this. I mean, we have never been introduced. We have never even met. You do not know me.”
“That may be so, but it was the simpler and more bloodless solution. Unless, of course, you would like me to summon him back so that I can tell him the truth about your little book club?”
She balked. “Well, no. But—”
“And then, of course, I would have to duel him—properly, this time—for grossly disrespecting me in my own home,” he continued, quirking an eyebrow at her. “I would be justified in that, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Yes, I suppose you would be,” she muttered. “Goodness, I hate that you are right.”
She gave a little pout that had him wondering what it would taste like. Bloody damn.
“You will find that I am right about a great many things, love.”
“Not necessarily,” she quipped with a jaunty grin. “And while I concede that you might have taken the right course of action earlier, what do we do next?”
“Why, we get married, of course.” He winked at her. “Now, I must see to procuring that special license, or your father might draw his weapon at me once more. Not that it would concern me. I could have shot your father at least five times before he managed to cock the hammer.”
She paled, and he knew she understood he was not bluffing.
“Do not look so pale,” he teased lightly. “I know the archbishop well. There will be no difficulty. Excuse me.”
He was well aware that that was not why the color had drained from her face. A special license was easy enough to obtain. But for him, staying in her presence would be the thing to cause his sanity to fray at the edges.
Philip had scarcely taken three steps away from her when she called out. Again.
“Wait!”
“Yes, love?” He really should stop calling her that, but he liked the way it made her turn that delicate shade of pink.
He liked it way too much.
“Don’t you mind my reading and being in a book club?” she asked, looking genuinely curious.
Philip heard himself laugh. “Not if reading is the most mischief you could ever get up to.”
There it was again. That blush.
Damn it.
Walk away now. Walk away while you still can.
He was going to need a drink. Maybe two.
Who was he fooling? Nothing but a full bottle would do for his situation.