‘But why ask me?’ Selina burst out, uncertainty and frustration boiling over into vexation. His effect on her was unnerving, and his request even more so: it just didn’t make sense. ‘There must be hundreds of women of your acquaintance. Why do you think I’m your best option?’
‘Because you are. I have no desire to be bound to a wife. You don’t want to be married to me. You place upon me no expectations and you will ask nothing of me other than that I honour our bargain. In turn, I will ask nothing of you other than that you marry me. You will have your own private bedchamber and I will not attempt to impose on you as a husband might expect to do. All I require is your help to allow me to keep my inheritance away from my uncle.’
If her fall from Djali had been painful, the mention of Charles Fulbrooke was like a drop from ten times the height. Selina felt her face freeze into a tight mask of horror and all words were stolen from her dry mouth as she stared up into Edward’s face. An iron fist seemed to be squeezing her chest, and it felt like a lifetime before she was able to draw enough breath to answer him.
‘Your uncle? Your uncle will inherit if you fail to marry?’
‘That is correct.’ Edward’s speech was clipped, as though he was holding himself under control. ‘He has been abroad these past twelve years, but I don’t doubt he would be delighted to return here to take my place as Squire.’
Return here? Selina’s blood was like ice and it froze her to every last bone. The man responsible for Mama’s death to return to a handsome inheritance? To a position of power?
Surely it couldn’t be allowed. Surely such good fortune could never come to such a monster as he?
And yet of course it could. Selina knew little of upper-class affairs, but even she couldn’t fail to grasp the importance placed on the continuation of family names. They weren’t so different from the Roma in that regard, in truth. The Agres family was ancient and respected, and Selina knew her mother had been proud to marry into it. Whatever past crimes Charles might be suspected of, the Fulbrooke inheritance would pass to him with ease should Edward somehow fall short of his father’s expectations.
But I could prevent it.
The thought stole through Selina’s mind like a cold wind, chilling her as she turned it over inside her head.
I could stop that man from returning here and from claiming the Fulbrooke fortune. Wouldn’t that be the most perfect revenge? His inheritance blocked by the daughter of the woman his prejudice helped to kill?
The temptation glowed within Selina like a burning flame, chasing from her the chill of moments before. Perhaps some of its light showed on her face, for Edward peered down at her with something like confusion and she felt another powerful wave of that mysterious something engulf her from head to toe.
It would mean marrying a gentleman—a member of the same class she had been taught to fear for so long—but Edward had yet to show any sign of the cruel streak she had expected, and his physical effect on her was something she could not ignore. They had been almost friends once...could some shadow of the gentle lad he had once been still remain?
‘What do you think, Miss Agres? Can you see—?’
A flurry of movement at her side caught Selina’s attention a split-second before she felt the grip of a bony hand clench around her bicep.
‘That’s quite enough of that.’ Zillah’s words were directed squarely at Edward, who looked down at her in surprise. The old woman glared at him as she jerked Selina by the arm. ‘Come away now, Lina.’
‘Grandmother—’ Selina began to speak, but her words were abruptly silenced.
‘No, girl. We’re grateful for his help, but that doesn’t mean he can take liberties.’ Zillah thrust her chin towards Edward. ‘You know what he is.’
‘What I am?’ Edward’s brow creased in visible confusion, although his tone was courteous as ever. ‘Perhaps you could explain what it is about me that troubles you, ma’am?’
Firelight glinted off Selina’s dark hair as she tossed it back from her face, her cheeks slightly flushed. ‘You’re gentry, Mr Fulbrooke.’ She spoke slowly, deliberately, as though explaining something to a child. One of her hands was attempting to prise the fingers from her arm, but the old woman held fast. ‘Roma do not mix with gentry—for good reason. You must know this.’
‘Exactly so,’ Zillah rejoined firmly. ‘I don’t know what your designs on my granddaughter are, but I can tell you now they won’t be successful.’
* * *
For a moment both generations of Roma women fixed Edward with black eyes: one pair filled with challenge, the other with uncertainty. It was the gaze of the latter that he returned.
Edward inclined his head politely. He would have to tread carefully, he thought, if he was to have a hope of achieving his aim. ‘I understand your reluctance to engage with me, ma’am, under the circumstances. But I would very much appreciate it if you were to allow me to continue my address to Miss Agres.’
Zillah snorted. ‘Continue your address? If there’s something you wish to discuss with Selina, you can do it in my hearing. You may have done us a good turn tonight, and for that you have my thanks, but that doesn’t give you leave to fill the girl’s head with nonsense.’
Edward bit his tongue. Remember your manners. If he were to stand any chance of securing Selina’s agreement to his plan he would need to find a way round her grandmother. She could hold the key to his inheriting. A wife was all the will required, and in Selina there was a chance for him to marry without the risk of forming any dangerous attachments that might end in disaster. He could see how she chafed under the grip of the old woman’s hand, and how her brow was furrowed in thought. If he could just navigate her captor, all might not be lost.
He bowed. ‘You’re quite right. I’ve been exceptionally rude. I should, of course, have consulted you before I made an offer to your granddaughter. Perhaps I could have a moment of your time now, to discuss terms?’
Edward could see where Selina had inherited her spark from—he had no doubt her grandmother would have liked to give him a swift kick in the shins if she’d thought she’d get away with it. He wondered if Selina felt the same sentiment, and steeled himself against the smile that tried to curve his lips upwards.
‘Now isn’t convenient. You can see we have much to do before morning comes, and I have important things I need to discuss with Selina myself.’
‘Grandmother.’
Selina’s voice was firm, quite as resolute as Zillah’s, and Edward marvelled at the world of determination he heard beneath the surface of that one word.
‘I haven’t finished my conversation with Mr Fulbrooke.’
‘I don’t see that he can have anything else to say. Our troubles are no longer any of his concern.’
Edward seized his chance. ‘I would like to make them my concern.’ He stepped a little closer and saw how the old woman bridled but stubbornly stood her ground. ‘I offer your granddaughter sanctuary, Mrs Agres, and a promise that by marrying me she will have the full protection of the Fulbrooke name, extending to everyone living in this camp.’
‘We are more than capable of solving our own problems, Mr Fulbrooke.’ Zillah drew herself up to her full height, still not reaching Edward’s shoulder. ‘We will find a way to deal with this ourselves.’
‘Grandmother!’ With a final sharp tug Selina broke free from the old woman’s grasp and backed a few short paces away from her. ‘You’re not listening. Think what this could mean for you all.’
Edward saw how her chest rose and fell rapidly and heard the edge of desperation in her voice. He nodded at her, feeling a creeping glimmer of optimism. The fact that Selina hadn’t dismissed his proposal out of hand was encouraging.
‘I have no intention of trying to force Selina into doing anything she doesn’t want to do. Her wellbeing is a large part of why I make this offer.’
The o
ld woman looked from her granddaughter to Edward and back again, taking in the girl’s agonised expression, and Edward saw her hesitation.
‘I want to keep her safe. I will make sure she’s treated with every respect during her time with me, should she choose to come.’ He turned to Selina and saw a shadow of doubt flicker across her beautiful face. ‘I know you don’t care for me, or for anything I stand for, but believe me—that is an advantage for both of us.’
Selina shook her head impatiently. ‘That is what I do not understand. Why not choose a woman you want to marry? Why not find one you think you could love? And who could love you in return?’
It was the worst possible thing she could have asked, and it hit him squarely in the target of his heart. It was a fair question, he allowed ruefully, and he understood why she’d asked it. Perhaps he might have said the same in her position. But he couldn’t...wouldn’t bring himself to answer her boldness with the truth: that he no longer knew what it was to love anybody but his poor half-orphaned sister, and that even if he could open his heart to another it was not worth risking the pain of another rejection.
The only person he would ever admit that to was himself, he thought bitterly as he watched Selina’s face turn from agitated to bemused at his silence. How could he ever put into words the damage his mother’s abandonment and Letitia’s later betrayal had done to him? And even if he managed to find a way, who could be trusted enough with the knowledge that between them they had irrevocably shattered his trust in the women of his own class—and perhaps women entirely?
The memory of the sickening swoop of his insides when he had learnt of Letitia’s duplicity raked through his mind—and how the pain had gradually been replaced by a numb despair that was scarcely more bearable. There was no chance he would ever make himself vulnerable in that way ever again.
He forced a smile, but he knew his eyes must be cold as he replied. ‘As I said before, I don’t wish to take a wife at all. If I must, I’d rather know the lady won’t form an attachment to me that I can’t return.’
‘Well. You needn’t fear for me there.’
Selina turned away from him, worrying at her lower lip with small white teeth. She seemed to be weighing his words. Edward waited with all the patience he could muster as she slowly paced back and forth, the firelight playing across her as she moved.
‘If I were to take your offer—’
Zillah started, her face haggard with disbelief. ‘You can’t be thinking of accepting him, girl?’
Selina took the old woman by the arm, leading her the few paces towards what Edward assumed must be their caravan. She persuaded Zillah to sit on the wooden steps and squatted next to her on the ground, their heads close together in an age-old picture of intimacy.
Edward, taking a moment to pass a hand across his tired eyes, missed the fleeting glance Selina threw his way before she bent to whisper into her grandmother’s ear. The old woman grew very still, listening intently. Edward could have sworn he caught the words ‘inheritance’ and ‘uncle’, and he saw Zillah flinch as though in pain. But in the next moment her face took on an expression of reluctant contemplation, and she clutched Selina’s hand in her bony fingers.
‘But what of you? What will become of you, Lina, up there in that big house?’
‘I will manage.’ Selina’s face shone pale in the moonlight, her brow creased into a determined frown. ‘My only other choice is to allow the mob to find me and to draw them away from the camp myself.’
‘I won’t allow it!’
‘Then don’t you see? Accepting Mr Fulbrooke is the lesser of two evils.’
Selina glanced at him entirely unapologetically and Edward attempted manfully to hide a small smile. Did she not know he was the most eligible bachelor in the county, or did she simply not care? The latter, most likely, he thought in wry amusement. The lesser of two evils, indeed. If it was a loveless marriage he desired—and desire it he did—Selina would certainly oblige him.
‘So, do you have an answer for me, Miss Agres? Do we have a deal?’
Selina’s eyes were huge in the firelight as she rose to her feet and came slowly towards him. Gazing down into them, Edward saw a world of reflected flames, leaping and tumbling in the ebony depths of her pupils, and he wondered for the first time if his offer was the solution to their problems or the start of another, far bigger than any before.
He frowned as a sudden twist of unease settled in his stomach as he looked down at the captivating woman who stood before him, her slender form still radiating a wariness that stirred him in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
‘You guarantee the safety of this camp?’
‘I do.’
‘You give me your solemn word that I can leave as soon as spring comes and the weather allows us to move on?’
‘I give you my word.’
Selina sighed slowly, deeply, as though it pained her to breathe. Zillah watched from her perch a few steps away, and it was to her Selina turned with a face full of tender anguish.
How must it feel to be loved like that? Edward wondered as the old woman slowly nodded her head just once, unsmiling as a judge.
The gesture seemed to mean something to Selina—or perhaps everything; for he saw her blink rapidly, as though her eyes were suddenly sore, and when she fixed them on him he saw grim determination in their depths.
Chapter Five
Edward raked his hand through his hair and yet again turned his eyes to the door of the empty chapel. He half expected her not to come—wouldn’t that serve him right for bribing her into marriage in the first place? He slipped his best silver pocket watch from his waistcoat and peered down at the ivory face for the tenth time in the space of a few minutes.
Exactly eight o’ clock. Time to be married.
He had obtained the marriage licence as quickly as humanly possible after Selina’s reluctant acceptance of his suit two days previously; there had been no time to be wasted in waiting three weeks to have the banns read. The common licence had been costly, but Edward was willing to pay almost anything to ensure his plans went ahead.
‘Begging your pardon, sir.’ Evans stood at Edward’s elbow, dressed in his Sunday best and looking as though all his Christmases had come at once.
Perhaps it was an odd decision to ask his butler to stand as witness, Edward mused vaguely, his attention on other things, but Evans had served the Fulbrooke family faithfully for almost forty years and he could think of nobody more reliable to perform the task. Besides, Evans would do what was required, no questions asked—which was more than Edward could say of any of his gentry friends, who might pry a little too deeply into his choice of bride.
‘I believe I hear footsteps outside.’
The sound of feet on wet stone grew louder. Edward fixed his eyes on the cross mounted to the wall above the reverend’s head and determined there and then that, no matter what, he would not turn around. He didn’t dare risk it. What if Selina took one look at him and decided she couldn’t go through with their arrangement? If he could just wait until she reached the altar their fates would be fixed.
The church door creaked as it swung inwards on aged hinges and Edward felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Here she comes. My wife-to-be.
At his side, Evans moved to gaze up the aisle towards where Selina had paused, presumably to gather her courage before making her approach.
The wait seemed to go on for half a lifetime. Edward shifted his weight from foot to foot, affecting restless excitement, although his heart raced with apprehension and, aggravatingly, with the tamped-down desire to once again lay eyes on the woman who had so piqued his interest, despite his efforts to the contrary.
What was taking her so long? If she could only keep her nerve for a few more moments... Wouldn’t it be worth it? Wouldn’t this gamble pay off and make her people safe from harm for the entirety of a crue
l winter? And he from the threat of losing his inheritance?
Finally, finally, he heard Selina begin the long walk down the length of the church and he exhaled involuntarily—he hadn’t been aware he’d held his breath. He glanced sideways. Evans was staring in Selina’s direction, his expression a mixture of curiosity and frank admiration. Edward shook his head to clear it. There was a buzzing in his ears, a whisper that tempted him to turn.
No. Look straight ahead. I mean it.
He turned around—and his breath seemed to catch in his throat.
Selina’s face was ashen under a circlet of heather, her eyes ringed with shadows clearly the work of a broken night’s sleep. She appeared to be gripping her grandmother’s arm with the strength of a drowning man clutching a raft, and even from a distance Edward could see the rapid fluttering of her pulse beneath the thin skin of her throat.
But her steps were measured and steady, her hand perfectly still as she held her small posy against her chest, and her head was held up with a determination that was almost defiant. In the dim light of the votive-lit church the oval of her face was luminously pale, and her strained expression only served to highlight the fine lines of her jaw and cheekbones.
Edward swallowed. How could he have thought she wouldn’t come? She was a warrior—she might be afraid, but she was damned if she would let him see it, and Edward felt a new respect for her flicker into being. His own nerves still thrummed within him, but Selina’s resolve inspired a fresh sense of purpose that forced his lingering doubts into submission. If she could find the strength to honour their bargain there was no way he would fail her at the final hurdle.
What man wouldn’t be proud to marry a woman such as that?
Even as he attempted to force his lips into some semblance of a smile the sudden shock of that thought reverberated through his mind. Of course he wasn’t proud—that was entirely the wrong word, and he had been foolish to think it. The strength of Selina’s will was no more to be admired by him than any other facet of her personality and he would do well to remember it. The fleeting thought that she looked positively angelic in her bridal gown would be likewise dismissed as entirely irrelevant—and dangerous.
The Marriage Rescue Page 7