Selina scrambled to get out from underneath Philip, pulling up her neckline and smoothing down her skirts. He perched on the desk and smiled at her, amusement glinting in his eyes.
“I can’t wait for our wedding night, my bride,” he said. “No more judgment, no more gossip, and no more guests to rudely interrupt us.”
Cheeks ablaze, Selina went straight to the doors that led onto the terrace. “You behave until then.”
“I make no promises.”
With a playful roll of her eyes, she slipped back out into the gardens… and ran directly into the Dowager Duchess.
“Oh!” they yelped in unison, Selina’s heart racing.
Surely, the Dowager Duchess would not comment on any flushed appearance or on what Selina might have been up to in Philip’s study.
The older woman ran an assessing eye over her. “I was looking for you.”
“You were?” Selina struggled to steady her breathing.
“Indeed. The modiste has sent some dresses for you to try for the wedding.” The Dowager Duchess took her by the arm. “I daresay we ought to choose one as soon as possible.”
Selina blushed harder, unable to squeak out a single word as the old woman led her away.
