She forced a smile at the waiting maid, aware of a curious sensation of something suspiciously close to disappointment circling inside her. ‘I don’t believe he minds one way or the other. You do as you see fit.’
* * *
Edward toyed with the silver salt shaker in front of him, wondering as he spun it exactly what feminine mysteries could possibly take so long as to delay breakfast by a full half-hour. Perhaps Selina hadn’t slept well and was finding it difficult to rise from her bed in the great blue chamber he had picked out for her.
Arriving home in the darkness of the night with a mysterious new bride had caused a few whispers among the staff, as he had expected, but at least nobody had seemed surprised at Selina being given her own separate rooms. His father and Maria had never shared a marriage bed other than for the begetting of little Ophelia, and he supposed their chaste example had set the tone.
He was interested to see his new wife this morning—a little too interested, as he had silently chided his reflection as he’d stood before his glass an hour earlier, waiting for his valet to make the vital decision as to which waistcoat would be most suitable for the day ahead. Some slight apprehension was to be expected, he’d thought; which was just as well, as he had felt a strange flicker in his stomach at the thought of Selina seated opposite him at the dining table.
He’d frowned to himself as the garment was buttoned around him—the cream today, Wellburn had resolved. It was only because he was anxious to be an attentive host, he had told himself, and in no way was he eager to see Selina for her own sake per se. It was merely good manners that had demanded he rise at a proper hour and invite his wife to take breakfast with him on the morning of what he recognised must be a very difficult day for her.
Difficult for me, too, in truth. His first day as a married man was an interesting thought, and one that gave him pause. Should he pretend to be pleased to see her? Should he remain a little cool and aloof? The knot of tension in his stomach tightened a fraction more as his uneasiness grew.
Bored now, with both his irritating trepidation and his wait, and getting more so by the minute, he glanced around the room, debating whether it would be a terrible display of bad manners to skim through his morning correspondence as he waited. There was another letter from his father’s solicitor, and Edward almost smiled as he began to mentally compose his reply, stating his acquisition of one legal wife.
But any thoughts of his triumph were driven from his mind by a jolt of something in his chest as the door to the dining room finally opened and Selina stepped over the threshold.
His first thought as he rose to greet her was how different she looked, with her hair bound up away from her face. This was swiftly followed by a painful twist of his insides as he saw how much the style suited her.
Parted sharply down the middle, with a thick nest of curls pinned up at her crown and a bunch of ringlets hanging at each ear, the distinction between the elegant style and the wild mass of waves Edward had previously associated with Selina was stark. As was the contrast between her hair and her clothes: the dress she wore had seen better days, and was still half covered by a number of woollen shawls each more colourful than the last.
Edward wondered if a more unusual—or beautiful—woman had ever graced the dining table. The thought was a dangerous one, and yet again, to his alarm, Edward felt the same dart of attraction that managed to disturb him more and more each time he set eyes on her. It was getting stronger, if anything, and Edward felt his apprehension increase.
He would have to master these twinges of weakness. Nothing good could come of them, and there was no way he was willing to allow them to develop into anything worse.
‘Good morning. I hope you slept well?’
‘Like the dead, Mr Fulbrooke, would you believe?’
Her colour was better today. The shadows beneath her eyes had faded slightly and the bloom of her cheeks had chased away the pallor of the previous day. She certainly looked more well-rested than he had expected, and he felt his spirits lift imperceptibly as he pulled a chair out for her near his own place at the long white-swathed table.
‘Please. Won’t you call me Edward? I would very much like you to feel as comfortable as possible during your time here.’
He really did want her to feel at ease, he realised with a start. Seeing her there, so out of place in his world, gave him a sudden pang of sympathy that surprised him. She was like an exotic bird of paradise in an aviary of dowdy sparrows, and it was an uncomfortable feeling to think he had somehow forced her into a cage.
He pushed the thought away briskly. She chose to agree to this, don’t forget. She didn’t have to marry you.
Part of him had wondered what state she would be in upon waking in such unfamiliar surroundings, but she looked calm enough, despite the air of wariness that seemed to accompany her whenever he was near, and he couldn’t help but feel pleased when she dropped into the proffered chair with only the smallest of hesitations.
He took his own seat again and nodded at the servant who hovered in the doorway. The man withdrew immediately, his footsteps swift and quiet, and Edward was left alone in the novel company of his distracted new wife.
She was squinting down at the array of cutlery laid out in front of her in obvious bemusement, touching each piece in turn, and Edward noticed her lips move as she counted to herself in a soundless murmur.
He watched her for a moment in silent amusement.
‘Is everything to your satisfaction?’
Her head jerked up at the sound of his voice, a crease appearing between her dark eyebrows as she appraised him. ‘I’ve got too many spoons.’
It was almost an accusation. Edward hid his smile behind the fingers of one hand. ‘Ah. No. Each spoon is for a different part of your breakfast.’
‘Why? Why not just use the same throughout?’
‘I—I don’t really know.’ It didn’t make a lot of sense now he thought about it, and he had to cast about for an answer. ‘That’s just how it is.’
He opened his linen napkin and laid it across his lap, more for something to do with his hands than for any other reason. He felt a vague unease now she was before him, a slight awkwardness in his own skin such as he had last experienced as an adolescent. It reminded him uncomfortably of how he had used to feel at that age when confronted with a pretty girl: a little ungainly, and more than usually aware of his movements. He’d grown out of that, of course. So there was no real reason he could think of for Selina to affect him so—or not one he was willing to admit.
When he looked up from his lap he saw she’d picked up one of the confusing array of spoons and was turning it this way and that, moving her head to catch the upside-down image of herself caught in its silver curve. He suppressed a smile. The magic the maid had worked on Selina’s hair had evidently made quite an impact on her.
‘That hairstyle suits you.’
The words left his lips before he could stop them, earning him a startled look and a clink of metal against wood as Selina dropped the spoon abruptly. Edward frowned to himself. He’d had no intention of speaking aloud, and now he had unnerved her.
Control yourself, man. What ails you?
She spoke more to the tablecloth than to him, her dark brows drawn together. ‘I’ve never worn it like this before. It feels a little strange.’
They lapsed into an awkward silence that lasted several moments. More for a way to break the tension than anything else, Edward cleared his throat. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you something.’
Selina looked up from her study of the table, one suspicious eyebrow cocked. ‘Oh, yes?’
There was more than a touch of wariness in her tone, and Edward could have kicked himself for his mistake in allowing his inner thoughts to spill out of his mouth. Still, at least her silence allowed him the chance to ask a question that had been bothering him since they met
.
‘That first day, when you found Ophelia. You said that I owed you twice over—once for then, and once for before.’ Edward leaned his chin on his hand, watching for her reaction. ‘What did you mean?’
She held his gaze for a moment in a look so dark and penetrating that Edward felt the sensation she was attempting to read his mind. He couldn’t quite tell whether or not he enjoyed being the object of her undivided attention. It felt a little like chess—both of them unsure as to the intentions of the other, each waiting to see what the other would do next.
He wondered idly if she knew how to play. If not, he felt sure he would enjoy trying to teach her. Her instinctive caution would make her a natural.
Selina’s eyes were slightly narrowed when she finally answered. ‘You truly don’t recall me at all, do you?’
There was a ghost of amusement in the ebony darkness and Edward’s heart rate picked up at the sight. Selina amused—that was certainly a new development, and one that served to soften the usual guardedness of her face. He couldn’t deny it was a pleasant effect.
‘I suppose I should be glad I look so different now. I’m less bruised and muddy than I was at eight, at least.’
It took a moment for Edward to understand Selina’s answer, and when it hit him he could only stare, piecing together the fragments of memories only recently rediscovered.
‘The little girl in the woods, all those years ago—that was you?’ His hand flew to the scar on his cheek, a small raised island in the otherwise smooth skin of his face. ‘You were the one who treated my wound? Who stopped the bleeding with moss?’
Selina nodded almost shyly. ‘An old country trick. I learned it when I was very young.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ Edward shook his head slowly, amazement plainly written across his handsome features. That little wraith had been Selina?
She was certainly more altered than he ever would have thought possible, with all traces of the tomboyish creature he remembered gone, to be replaced by distinctly feminine grace. It was uncanny.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before?’
She shrugged, her eyes slipping past his to fix again on her gleaming silverware. ‘I didn’t think it was important.’
‘Not important?’ Edward sat back in his chair, disbelief still running through him. ‘How could you think so?’
He felt the temptation to revisit that day pulling at him, the desire to talk over fond memories strong.
Surely she should know how much her care then meant to me? How much I appreciated what she did?
It had been such a difficult time for him, those few weeks after his mother’s abandonment, and Edward was gripped with the sudden urge to tell Selina how much her kindness had soothed his troubled younger self—but then a renewed sense of caution crept over him and he closed his mouth with a snap.
A conversation like that would be too intimate, too friendly—it would invite Selina closer, and the odd sensations he felt whenever she was near warned him that they were quite close enough already. He couldn’t take the risk, he thought as he glanced at her, taking in once again the gloss of her hair and the tawny perfection of her skin. To be polite was one thing, but to relive their shared past might foster a relationship that could all too easily stray into dangerous territory, and that he could not have.
The dining room door opened and a small procession of servants entered, each bearing a silver platter with the exception of one, who wielded a great teapot.
Under cover of the ensuing clattering and arranging, Edward lowered his voice and continued. ‘Did you know me all along? When did you realise that I—that we—?’
‘As soon as I saw you.’
Selina’s voice was quiet too, and Edward could have sworn he caught a hint of colour flush across her cheeks.
‘Your hair and eyes, both so light... I remembered you at once, and when I saw your scar I knew I hadn’t been mistaken.’
Outwardly calm, Edward nodded. Inside, however, he felt a spark of satisfaction kindle. He dismissed it in alarm. That was exactly the kind of thing he should be trying to guard against—apparently with good reason. If he had made a lasting impression on Selina it was nothing to be proud of: no small number of upper-class women would have said the same thing, and the realisation was enough to pour cold water over any misplaced vanity.
The interest of women of his own class was something he never wanted to experience again, or to return. Selina should be no different.
It was an uncomfortable train of thought. Indeed, this entire meal was rapidly becoming even more uncomfortable than Edward had expected. With her new hairstyle and that gleam of humour, Selina was only growing more attractive by the moment, and Edward cast about for something, anything, to replace the disquieting direction of his thoughts.
Glancing at her as he poured out a cup of tea, Edward watched as Selina carefully buttered a freshly baked roll and spooned a little honey onto her plate. She was using entirely the wrong cutlery out of the range available to her, Edward noticed. If she was to successfully play the part of a squire’s wife there was much for her to learn. He would definitely need to call in reinforcements—and he knew the perfect person to help him.
‘I was hoping to reintroduce you to my sister today, if you’ve no objection.’
* * *
A large window directly behind Edward showcased the stunning grounds at the back of the Hall, and Selina toyed momentarily with the idea of leaping straight through it to escape into the green beyond.
Slightly dramatic, possibly? she debated as she crumbled the remnants of her bread roll into fragments, avoiding Edward’s enquiring look. But more appealing than the alternative?
If only he’d stop staring at her with those blasted attractive hazel eyes she’d be much more able to think up some excuse. She didn’t want to see Ophelia. It wasn’t that she blamed the child for her current situation...it was more that she would serve as a reminder of things Selina would prefer to forget—including how she had got herself into this mess in the first place.
The way the little girl had called for her mama that day in the woods had struck uncomfortably close to the bone, conjuring memories that Selina had kept hidden for so long, and she was in no rush to repeat the experience.
Edward was still watching her, arms folded across his expansive chest, apparently in no hurry for her answer. She saw her uncertainty must be showing on her face, for one of his eyebrows was raised in the barest suggestion of a challenge.
‘I realise she’s a terrifying prospect, but she’ll be very excited to see you again. You made quite an impression the last time.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘An impression’ was probably something of an understatement. If Ophelia was anything like the young girls back at the camp, she had probably talked of little else since their dramatic first meeting mere days previously.
Had it really been less than a week since actions had swung into motion that would change her life forever? Selina spun the ring that gleamed on her left hand, feeling the unfamiliar sensation of metal against skin.
Silhouetted against the window, Edward’s sharp profile was more striking than ever, and Selina quickly turned her attention back to her breakfast plate. Lounging in his natural habitat, Edward was a picture of masculine confidence, his every movement exasperatingly eye-catching and his every glance a physical touch to Selina’s skin.
She groaned inwardly. This was not the plan. How was she to maintain a dignified distance from her new husband when everything he did was so damnably fascinating? Even the way he managed to juggle the bizarre number of spoons was more impressive than she would like.
Selina felt herself glowering down at her lap as heat snaked up from her neck to cross her face with burning fingers. There was an imposing fireplace directly at her back, and Selina found herself fervently hoping Edward would blame th
e crackling flames for her rosy cheeks and not his apparently swoon-inducing presence.
‘Perhaps I could call for her now and she could help me give you a tour of the house? When you’ve finished eating, of course.’
She eyed him as he moved to the fireplace and tugged at a bell-pull hanging to the side of it, crossing the room in a handful of easy, long-legged strides. He really was very tall, and when standing next to the stocky servant who answered the summons he looked taller still.
The other man soon withdrew, and Edward turned back to her so quickly Selina had to scramble to avert her eyes in time. It wouldn’t do for him to think she was looking. The fact that she had been, and had been undeniably pleased by what she had seen, made her shift uncomfortably in her chair.
She hadn’t been prepared for his earlier compliment, and his praise had caused the aggravating embers that seemed to flicker in her stomach whenever he was near to glow brighter, their heat warming her insides. She’d quickly sought to dampen them, determined that some throwaway comment would not succeed in affecting her so worryingly, but the ashes remained, and Selina felt a nagging sense of unease that it would be all too easy for Edward to stoke them up again.
The idea rankled even as some distant part of her wondered how far his kind words were the truth, and how far they had been motivated by simple good manners. Her discomfort intensified as she realised she hoped it was the former.
‘She’ll be down directly. I hope you’re prepared for lots of questions? I’m told she’s been asking her governess when she can see you approximately every ten minutes ever since she woke this morning.’
A reluctant smile threatened to unfurl on Selina’s lips. Perhaps seeing the little girl again would be better than she expected. It certainly sounded as though she was already Selina’s most fervent admirer, and it could only be a good thing to have such a powerful ally. Besides, with Ophelia in the room she wouldn’t be Edward’s sole focus, and that would definitely be an improvement on the current way his gaze seemed to fix on her with unnerving regularity, with correspondingly unnerving results.
The Marriage Rescue Page 9