“Is something wrong?” “No.”
Selina had read the note twice.
Then she had folded it carefully and placed it beside Nathaniel’s violet card in the small locked box in her dressing room.
She dressed during the final hour before they were due to leave.
Only then did the cords come off the gown box.
The silk inside was silver.
Selina had ordered it without consulting Georgiana, an omission for which she expected to be made to suffer later. It was not ostentatious in its cut. It did not need to be. The pale silk caught the candlelight whenever she moved and returned it softly.
Her maid fastened the last of the buttons and stepped back.
Selina looked at herself in the glass.
For eight years, grey had been useful because nobody remembered it. Grey passed through rooms. Grey did not invite questions.
Silver did.
She stood beneath the maid’s inspection and found that she no longer minded being seen.
Nathaniel was waiting at the foot of the stairs. He looked up when she appeared. Then he forgot whatever he had intended to say.
Selina came down several steps before stopping.
“Is something wrong?”
“No.”
“You are staring.”
“Yes.”
“That is generally considered rude.”
“I am attempting to recover sufficiently to care.”
She descended another step. “Is the gown unsuitable?”
“No.” His gaze moved over the silver once more before returning, deliberately, to her face. “I was merely unprepared.”
“That is almost gratifying.”
“It was intended to be entirely gratifying.”
She came down the remaining stairs. Nathaniel offered his hand, and she placed hers in it.
“Shall we?”
“Together.”
***
Lady Marwood’s house blazed at every window.
The receiving rooms were already crowded when they arrived, feathers and jewels moving beneath the chandeliers, conversation rising above the musicians in the ballroom.
Selina entered upon Nathaniel’s arm in silver.
Georgiana followed with her reticule held firmly in both hands.
Lady Helena had already taken a place near the great fireplace, austere in dark silk and apparently indifferent to everything around her.
Petherick was less conspicuous near the far wall.
Selina saw him once, received the smallest inclination of his head and looked away again.
Two ladies upon the landing stopped speaking as she passed. Selina heard the silence and continued at the same pace.
Lady Marwood received them at the head of the stairs. Her gaze passed once over Selina’s gown.
“Silver,” she said.
“Apparently.”
“It will do.”
From Lady Marwood, this constituted extravagance.
Selina looked past her towards the adjoining rooms.
“Rowland is here.”
“Yes.”
Selina turned her eyes back to her hostess. “After you expelled him from your garden?”
“I instructed my servants to admit him tonight.”
“Why?”
“Because Giles intends to accuse you in my ballroom. If Rowland is part of the business, I prefer him present when it is answered.”
Selina considered this.
“Does he know you deliberately admitted him?”
“He knows only that no servant stopped him at the door. Vanity generally supplies a man with the explanation he prefers.”
“And Mrs Loxley?”
“Upstairs. Comfortable. She has asked for you once and been told you had not yet arrived.”
“I should like to speak with her when this is over. Not before. I will not have anyone suggest that I influenced what she means to say.”
“You shall. She has also been told that if she changes her mind, my carriage will take her home without a question.”
“Thank you.”
Lady Marwood waved the gratitude aside.
“Go into the room. Your cousin has been watching the door for twenty minutes, and I should hate to deprive him of the reward for his diligence.”
Selina almost smiled.
Then she and Nathaniel entered the ballroom.
At the threshold she paused for no more than a breath.
The room was enormous when one knew that it might shortly turn against one.
Fear was there after all. Selina felt it in the tightness beneath her ribs and in the sudden awareness of every face that might turn towards her.
She had been wrong to think eight years could be put aside merely because she had chosen a silver gown.
But fear was no longer the same thing as helplessness.
Nathaniel’s arm remained beneath her hand. Georgiana was behind her. Lady Helena waited by the fire. Petherick had the papers. Upstairs, Mrs Loxley retained the right to say no.
Selina stepped forward.
Giles was near the centre of the room. He saw her almost immediately.
His expression changed; not to surprise, precisely, but to the satisfaction of a man whose warning had been ignored in exactly the way necessary to justify what came next.
Selina had expected him to wait.
He did not.
“Your Grace,” he said.
His voice carried farther than ordinary conversation required.
The people nearest him turned first.
Giles smiled.
“Pardon me, Your Grace. I am still somewhat unused to the new title. Though for the matter at hand, perhaps the old name is more appropriate. The Duchess of Wexford is newly made; Lady Selina Calvert was present when the Merrow estate was administered.” His smile sharpened.
“She may therefore be able to explain what became of certain property that never reached those lawfully entitled to it.”
The room turned. The music faltered; one violin held its note a moment too long before falling silent. Every face swung towards the woman in silver.
The accusation had begun.