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Chapter Seventeen
He rode hard for Kirby Hall, unsure as to what he would find. The rain had slowed to a soft drizzle. When he arrived, he was shown to the parlor. When he walked in, his eyes went to Selina.
She sat on the settee, dry and safe—a book was open in her lap. She smiled at him sadly. He felt like he’d been slapped.
Has she changed her mind? What is the meaning of this?
“Your Grace,” Lord Kirby said. “Welcome!”
“Lord Kirby, Lady Kirby,” he replied, bowing to them. “Lady Leah. Lady Selina.” His eyes gravitated toward Selina, who returned her gaze toward her book, which sat open in her lap. Jasper joined the family on the settee. They were all looking at him curiously.
“Your Grace,” Lady Leah said. “Are you well?”
He tugged at his cravat. “Yes,” he lied.
“What brings you out to Kirby Hall this evening?” Lord Kirby asked affably.
“I—” He hadn’t thought of an explanation. “I wanted to make sure that everyone is well.”
“Very well, thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Kirby said.
There was silence. Jasper was filled with wretched thoughts. He looked over toward Selina.
“And you, Lady Selina? Are you well?” he asked.
She looked up from her book. “Very well, Your Grace. Thank you for asking.”
His mind seemed to falter—here she was, safe—although, biting her full, lush lip anxiously, a gesture which made Jasper dark, improper thoughts, his whole body reacting in want of her.
Why the distance? Why hasn’t she shown up?
* * *
“Lady Leah?” the Duke asked, turning his gaze toward her. “Are you well?”
She beamed at him. “Very well, Your Grace.” She looked down at the monogram that she was embroidering.
Leah was glad that the Duke had come to see how they were. How very thoughtful of him. She felt pride at his solicitousness toward her and her family’s wellbeing.
“Selina?” her mother said. “Would you care to play that new piece I was talking of?”
Selina grinned, closing her book. “Of course, Aunt Georgiana.”
The two of them stood and walked over to the pianoforte. Leah shot her father a pointed look. He smiled at her, not taking the hint.
She’d spoken with her mother of this—that she and the Duke would need space—little moments together, which would help them to progress. Mother had agreed wholeheartedly.
Leah tilted her head, pointedly widening her eyes at her father, who finally got the message. Smiling, he stood up, walked over to the window where he looked out at the sky and hands clasped at his back.
Leah beamed at the Duke, who was seated on the settee beside her, his hands folded upon his knee.
“Is your cousin well?” he asked.
“She just said that she is,” she replied, then lowered her voice. “I mean, my father was very disappointed in her yesterday. She snuck out with only her maid to go traipsing about the countryside.”
His eyes widened. “Oh?”
“He’s ordered her to remain indoors,” she replied, raising her eyebrow. “Otherwise, he’ll send her away.” It wasn’t true. But the Duke didn’t need to know that.
