Chapter 6
Who is it this time?
The door swung open to reveal the beaming face of the Dowager Duchess.
“I’m glad to see that my granddaughter has helped you settle, my dear. I hope the accommodations are to your liking? You must tell me immediately if there is something you need, and I shall have it arranged posthaste.”
“Erm, yes, Your Grace. The rooms are exceedingly lovely.” Selina smiled uneasily.
The Dowager Duchess had already grasped her hand and was patting it with the greatest affection. For a seemingly frail old woman, she had a rather firm grip.
Out of the corner of her eye, Selina could see Lizzy stifling her laughter.
“You could not possibly have known how much joy you have brought me today, darling girl,” the Dowager Duchess continued. “Such joy that I never thought I would experience in this lifetime, what with my wayward grandchildren.”
“Grandmama!” Lizzy protested. “You will scare Selina with such talk!”
The older woman affixed her aggrieved gaze on Selina. “Oh, dear. I have not discouraged you, have I, my dear?”
“Ah… No, Your Grace.”
The radiant smile returned to her lined face. “See? Any young lady who can withstand Barlow’s ire would not be so easily frightened.”
Selina smiled slightly at that. If anyone was well aware of her father’s temper and contempt, it was the St. Maur family. Of course, second only to his own family, who had to cope with his crossness day in and day out.
“I had known from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were an exceptional young woman.” Selina feared that the Dowager Duchess would inevitably wear a hole in her glove with her most ardent patting.
“After all, not any woman can convince that muleheaded grandson of mine to forsake his ridiculous notion of never marrying.”
Selina looked at her in surprise. Ashbrook had no intentions of marrying? Then why did he agree to her father’s demands?
Fortunately, the Dowager Duchess was oblivious to her predicament as she smiled and finally, finally released her poor hand.
“Come, Lizzy. Let dear Selina rest. This has been a rather eventful day for her.”
Oh, that was an understatement. The most massive understatement Selina had ever heard in her entire existence. The Dowager Duchess must have a strange sense of humor.
“We shall see you at supper tonight, Selina,” Lizzy told her with a large smile. “Don’t worry, I shall send someone to escort you to the dining room.”
“Thank you.”
And then, Selina found herself all alone in a strange new manor. She let out a huge sigh and allowed herself to fall onto the silk coverlet of the bed. She stared up at the canopy as thoughts danced in her head.
She was getting married.
To the Duke of Ashbrook.
Who did not want to get married until she and her father barged into his home.
It was a disaster. He would be well within his rights to resent her for upending his life in the span of a few hours. She honestly could not blame him if he did.
But he did not hate her. At least, he did not seem to hate her. Or maybe he was just extremely good at masking his true feelings.
She frowned as she stared up at the floral motif embroidered on the silk hangings of the canopy. No one could be that good at hiding their true intentions.
But his grandmother had just told her that up until that morning, at least, he had expressly told them that he had no wish to get married. Why would he say that?
Selina knew a great many supposed gentlemen who had no desire to marry. They were called rakes, and every gently bred, well-informed young lady knew better than to dally with them.
Perhaps the Duke of Ashbrook was a rake. Perhaps he had no intentions of marrying, for he had every intention of lying with a great many women instead. Not just one.
Would she mind?
Society showed her she should not. Men took mistresses all the time, even those who treated their wives with utmost courtesy. Marriage was for making legitimate heirs, not pursuing passions.
And it would not be a real marriage, anyway. They were simply two people caught in a rather unfortunate entanglement that required marriage.
But if Ashbrook needs an heir, that would mean—
Her eyes widened.
That meant that she would have to lie with him. Be his wife in the most biblical sense of the word.
Images of what had transpired not an hour ago flitted across her mind. His chest, warm and hard, as it pressed against her. His arms, like steely bands, wrapped around her frame most possessively.
Selina was already smaller than most other young ladies of her acquaintance, but in his presence, she felt absolutely tiny.
Safe. Cherished.
Heated.
Oh dear.
The man must be the consummate seducer to be able to stir such… thoughts, even in his absence. What else might he be able to stir when they were together, alone, in bed?
She bolted upright as if someone had lit the coverlet on fire.
This would not do. This most definitely, most certainly, most absolutely would not do.
She needed to get away. From beds and tantalizing, dangerous thoughts of Ashbrook and what he might be capable of doing on upholstered furniture.
Judging from that devilish smirk, she had a feeling he knew a lot more than she cared to know.
“You cannot tell me that you are marrying the girl just to spite an old man, Ashbrook.”
Philip was well on his fourth glass, and before dinnertime at that. His grandmother was going to ring a peal over his head—if she managed to notice his indulgence, considering how ecstatic she had been at the prospect of his recently acquired betrothed.
His sister also seemed to be rather well acquainted with Lady Selina, who was supposed to be the enemy of their family. There was only one person who would have staunchly opposed the match—if he had been alive.
“I harbor no animosity toward the Duke of Barlow,” he pointed out. “Even if he did barge into my home to accuse me of ruining his daughter.”
Zachary looked at him pointedly. “I was not talking about her old man. I was talking about yours.”
Philip took a long, leisurely sip of his drink. His father would be rolling over in his grave if he knew that his only son and heir was marrying the daughter of his greatest enemy.
That thought brought a smile to his lips. His sire did not deserve a peaceful rest in eternity—or wherever he ended up in the afterlife.
Zachary heaved a sigh. “You can do whatever you want with your past, old friend. Heaven knows your father deserves to have someone regularly stamp on his grave for generations.”
Philip smiled sardonically at that. It was not a bad idea.
“But you cannot let your resentment for someone dead and gone interfere with a young lady’s future,” Zachary added.
“Since when did you become so wise?”
Zachary glared at him. “Need I remind you that I have a daughter?”
“And I pity the men who would take a particular interest in her when she is older.”
“They would not dare.”
“Perhaps.” Philip grinned at him. “But who knows what the future might hold, old friend?”
He certainly had not expected what had befallen him earlier that day.
He had been well prepared to end his father’s entire bloodline by refusing to provide the wretch with an heir.
And then Lady Selina Sinclair barged in through his gate and wrecked his carefully laid out plans.
Or rather, her father did, but she certainly gave him more than enough incentive to agree with the temperamental old man’s demands.
“I suppose that is enough spirits for this afternoon.” Zachary smiled as he rose from his chair. “But give it some thought, old friend, before you end up doing something you will never be able to undo.”
“Having a daughter has truly changed you.” Philip shook his head.
Zachary smiled again but said nothing more.
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
“You were expecting someone else?”
Philip shook his head. “It’s probably just Perkins. Or my grandmother.”
It was neither, however.
The door slowly swung open to reveal the very object of their conversation, standing before them with wide eyes.
“Oh, I apologize for the intrusion,” she said, her voice warm and pleasant. “I did not think you had company, Your Grace.”
“No need for that, My Lady. I was just leaving your betrothed.” Zachary bowed politely to Selina, the very picture of a perfect gentleman. “I shall leave you two now.”
Philip noted the slight blush that stained her cheeks as she moved aside for his friend.
“I am sorry for interrupting your conversation,” she apologized once more.
“As Zachary said, there is no need for that,” Philip told her. He tilted his head and regarded her with a curious gaze. “How did you find my study?”
He noted a hint of smugness in her smile.
“I asked a footman on the way. I am not a complete idiot, Your Grace.”
Oh, she certainly was not. One might even hazard to say that she knew far more than she should.
“My grandmother told me you were resting in your rooms,” he said.
She shot him a mutinous look. Resting was definitely the farthest thing from her mind. Philip deduced that mischief—and driving him mad—were foremost on that list, however.
“I intended to as well,” she replied with a slight shrug. “But I needed to occupy myself with something, or my thoughts would have driven me mad.”
So, she had seen fit to test the limits of his restraint by seeking him out. Alone.
Misery loves company, he mused.
In this case, so did madness, apparently.
“And so you thought to seek my company?” He raised an eyebrow. “What made you think I was the solution to such a dilemma?”
She tilted her head up. “So you do not wish to aid me in relieving my anxiety?”
Oh, he could think of a great number of ways to relieve her anxiety, but many of them were hardly appropriate.
He stepped closer to her. And then closer still until he could see her pupils dilate slowly. So close that he could feel her warmth seeping into his clothes.
“Tell me, My Lady,” he murmured as her delicious scent wrapped around him. “How do you intend for me to assist you in this matter?”
He had not meant for his voice to drop as it did. Had not meant to step so close as he did. Had never meant for her to affect him as she did.
And that was becoming a problem.