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“Come,” the Dowager Duchess said. “We’ll walk you out to the carriage.”
“Thank you for having us over, Your Grace,” Selina said.
“It was my pleasure,” the Dowager Duchess replied. “It was a lovely afternoon.”
* * *
Jasper and his mother stood out in the drive, waving as the barouche-landau began to grow smaller and smaller in the distance.
“Jasper,” his mother said, exasperation evident in her tone. “What are you doing? Please, just—end this! For Heaven’s sake!”
“I know, Mother. I should.”
She took his hands in hers. “Lady Selina is considering going to her brother, up in the North.”
“What?” he demanded.
“Yes. Until things blow over, you’ve got her in a very difficult position, you know.”
“Leaving?” he asked in disbelief.
“You are the Duke, my son. You expect everyone to bow down to all of your wishes. But you have to think of how this will put things in their family. Let her go, then go to her when you are free.”
“But—but she can’t leave,” he said, storming off. He thought of the day when she’d run to him. She had been wholly his on that day. His whole body ached with desire for her—her soft, pink lips. The way that she’d kissed him.
He went straight up, to his study, where he quickly wrote her a letter, begging her to meet him. He would send Sotheby with it in the morning. Lady Leah, Lord and Lady Kirby—they were due at Lord and Lady Morton’s for a luncheon. He would make his excuses, then slip away, to go and meet with Lady Selina.
He tore up his letter, tossing the remains into the fire. She already knew all of this. He’d already said it, in person, and in much better form. Plus, he knew how she would react to him, demanding that she stay. She’d go, even sooner.
He wanted her to stay. With him. He couldn’t bear having her so far from him. Not when he knew that she existed. It caused a sharp pain in his chest.
It began to rain, the drops hitting against the window. He smiled to himself—Lady Selina loved this weather. He pictured her sitting beside the window in her Aunt’s parlor, watching the drops fall, the light from the fire making her face and hair glow golden.
* * *
Selina was sitting in her room, writing a letter to her mother, when there was a knock on the door. The rest of the family was out. They’d had a prior engagement with the Mortons.
She was ready to spend the time alone, reflecting. She had so rarely gotten a chance to be by herself, despite being in the country.
Faith answered, murmuring something to whomever it was.
“My Lady,” Faith said. “It’s a letter for you.”
Selina turned, recognizing immediately, the Duke’s handwriting. She tore it open.
Meet me, by the tree. Love, J.
She flipped it over. There was nothing more. She raised an eyebrow, waiting for a moment to consider how she felt about this. She was going, of course, even though she was positive that he was skipping out on his engagement with the Mortons.
“Come, Faith,” she said, grabbing her bonnet. Faith paled.
“My Lady,” she said. “It’s dangerous.”
“The Duke will be there,” she said. “He’ll keep us safe.”
Faith went to go and collect her bonnet and book. They left the house and headed for the tree.
He was pacing back and forth, when they arrived. Selina frowned—he seemed agitated, and she wondered why. He looked up, freezing for a moment when he spotted them, and then he ran toward them.
