Page 44 of The Duke’s Hidden Duchess

She had plainly come in search of Georgiana. Her gaze moved from the girl’s head upon his shoulder to his face. For one unguarded moment, something softened in her expression. Then she stepped back and left them alone.

When Georgiana had grown calmer, Nathaniel summoned her maid and saw her settled with a warm drink. He remained in the passage after the door closed, then went in search of his wife.

***

He found Selina in the conservatory. The room was unlit, save for the moonlight passing through the glass, and cold enough that the orange trees had been covered against the night. She stood among their shrouded forms with her back to him.

“You withdrew,” he said.

“You had no need of me.”

“I have come to thank you.”

She turned. “For leaving?”

“For making it possible for me to stay. Georgiana would not have leant upon me a month ago. I should not have known how to let her.”

“I did not teach you to love your sister.”

“No. You taught me that she could not always recognise love in the form in which I offered it.”

“You gave her rules when she needed to be heard. I merely translated.”

“You undervalue translation.”

A faint smile touched her mouth. “It is an occupational failing.”

Nathaniel came nearer, stopping at a distance that left the choice of closing it to either of them.

“And me?” he asked. “Do I require translation?”

Her smile faded, though not from displeasure. She regarded him with a care that made the cold room seem suddenly close.

“You require a rather thicker dictionary.”

He laughed softly. The sound altered the silence between them.

For a moment neither moved. Nathaniel became conscious of the small distance separating them, of her face in the uncertain light and of the fact that she had not stepped away. He wanted to kiss her. The desire was neither strategic nor convenient, and could no longer be mistaken for either.

His gaze fell briefly to her mouth before returning to her eyes.

Selina’s breath changed.

Nathaniel kept his hands at his sides.

“You almost never use my name,” she said.

“Do I not? I had not noticed.”

It was a poor lie, and her expression told him so.

“I have. Why?”

Once, he might have evaded the question. Their agreement no longer permitted it.

“Because I think it too often already.”

Her composure faltered.