The Marriage Rescue

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The Marriage Rescue Page 10

by Joanna Johnson


  Chapter Six

  Gravel crunched under her feet as Selina hurried away from the Hall, casting about her as she dipped her head down and pulled her worn cloak closer about her body. It was a grey day, the air oppressively still, and clouds brooded ominously overhead, threatening rain. A robin called from a tree as she passed through the grounds, its red breast vivid against withered leaves, but she knew she had no time to stop and listen.

  She rounded a manicured hedge and ploughed onward. Shooting a fleeting glance over her shoulder in the direction of the Hall, she saw nobody had followed her. Only the huge old house was watching her go, its gleaming windows glinting like eyes in the stone walls. She wondered for a moment which of the windows was hers, where she’d stood that morning and gazed out at the green beyond before slipping down the creaking stairs and out through the heavy oak garden door.

  The grounds were stunning—even Selina, whose preference was for the untamed beauty of the countryside, could appreciate the artistry that had gone into the well-laid beds and meticulously landscaped lawns. Trees and shrubs of all descriptions stood about in perfectly placed groups, and Selina knew the sight of the grounds in summer, when all the flowers were in full bloom and emerald leaves stirred in warm breezes, would be breathtaking. Not that she would be there to see it.

  A sweet little stone arbour stood beyond an avenue of fruit trees, with classical statuettes set into alcoves on each wall. It was at one of these statues that she glanced out of the corner of her eye as she approached, and slowed her stride to a quiet, careful step. As she drew closer the mound of striped material she’d spied from a distance grew more distinct, nestled behind a Greek goddess she couldn’t have named even if she’d wanted to.

  Placing each foot with pinpoint precision, Selina inched forward. Her breathing was too loud. She forced herself to slow the rapid beat of her heart, fluttering against her ribs as she closed the final distance.

  She pounced. ‘Got you!’

  With a high-pitched shriek of glee Ophelia struggled in Selina’s arms, trying in vain to escape her sister-in-law’s tickling fingers. ‘Stop! Stop! Stop it!’

  ‘Stop what? This?’ Selina redoubled her efforts and the little girl’s laughter gurgled in her ears, her skinny legs flailing.

  ‘Yes! Stop it!’

  ‘Do you admit I’m the Queen of Hide and Seek?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Setting the child back on her feet, Selina paused to get her breath back. A stray curl had escaped during their game, marring the fresh masterpiece of hairstyling Dinah had created for her that morning, and she swept it back behind her ear.

  Ophelia was clutching the side of the arbour, still breathless with laughter. She looked Selina up and down, frowning now, and her eyes grew round with innocent horror.

  ‘You’ve torn your dress, Lina!’

  ‘Have I?’ Looking down at the cream muslin she wore beneath her old cloak, Selina saw the skirt was rent from hem to knee, displaying what she imagined would be considered a scandalous amount of bare leg among Edward’s set.

  ‘You’ll have to change quickly, before anyone sees you!’

  Just in time Selina managed to stop herself from reflexively rolling her eyes. During her first week at Blackwell Hall, Ophelia had taken it upon herself to begin educating her on exactly what it took to be a real upper-class lady. It didn’t seem to matter how many times Selina tried to explain, as gently as possible, that she wouldn’t be there for longer than a few months, and therefore didn’t need such an in-depth knowledge of different types of spoons. It was a concept Ophelia seemed cheerfully determined to ignore.

  Short of sitting down with the seven-year-old and outlining the terms of her marriage of convenience in brutal clarity, she couldn’t think of a way to drive the point home without upsetting the little girl she had already begun to care for, despite her initial misgivings.

  Perhaps it was because she reminded Selina of the Roma children she had left behind at the camp. All of her cousins had little ones, three of them girls, and she loved the way their hands would find their way into her own and the seriousness with which they confided in her their precious secrets.

  Looking down at the girl in front of her, Selina felt a sudden pang of loss at the thought of those she’d left behind and forced a smile to unwilling lips. She should be grateful they’d been able to form such a bond. Ophelia’s sunny company brightened days that otherwise she didn’t know how she would have managed, as well as providing a welcome distraction from the incessant thoughts of another certain somebody Selina seemed unable to master.

  ‘Don’t worry. I can mend it when we return to the house.’

  The little girl’s face expressed exactly what she thought of that statement. ‘Why don’t you just ask Ned to buy you some new ones? He buys me dresses all the time!’

  Selina shook her head, feeling, as always, the same jolt in her stomach at the mention of Edward’s name.

  Damn it, Lina. Get a hold of yourself.

  ‘Because N—Edward is your brother. He’s allowed to buy you pretty things.’

  ‘But you’re his wife. Isn’t he allowed to buy you things, too? I’d wager he would if you asked him. I don’t think there’s a kinder brother in the whole world!’

  Selina raised an eyebrow but held her tongue.

  His money is the last thing I want. Of course he had offered to purchase some gowns for her—beautiful things befitting her new station—but she’d refused. Her shawls and modest dresses had always been good enough for her, and would continue to be so within the privacy of Blackwell and its grounds, where the only eyes on her were those of Edward and his sister.

  Perhaps the servants might gossip at her plain attire, but people would always find something to talk about, whatever one did, and it hardly seemed worth the effort to avoid it. Besides, spending her husband’s money was what a real wife did, and there could be no gain in muddying the waters.

  The time they spent together was tolerable enough, after a fashion, although heaven knew how much she didn’t want to notice the strong shape of his thighs in his riding breeches, or how the green of his coat highlighted the rich colour of his eyes. She found things much less vexing when Edward left the Hall on business of his own, as he had that morning, and she was excused from spending time with him that always seemed to result in blushing confusion.

  ‘It’s—it isn’t quite the same, Ophie. I don’t want him to do that for me.’

  The clouds were drawing in overhead. Selina could smell rain in the air—a scent she loved more than almost any other—and with her eyes closed and her nose turned towards the sky she prayed fervently for the weight she had carried these past two weeks to fall from her shoulders.

  To be out in the open, free from the atmosphere of the brooding house, should be like a soothing balm to her troubled spirit. But thoughts of Edward still niggled at her, despite the cool breeze in her hair, and she felt no more able to force them back as the temptation to appreciate Edward’s clear profile and impressive height became almost too uncomfortable to bear.

  ‘What are you thinking about, Selina?’

  Ophelia’s little voice piped up beside her and Selina jumped a touch more guiltily than she was comfortable with. ‘Oh. I—’

  A deep rumble of thunder echoed suddenly through the grounds, just as the first drop of rain landed squarely on the toe of Selina’s boot. Ophelia’s fearful gasp at the sound rescued Selina from having to speak further, for which she was truly thankful. She would hardly have been able to tell the truth—I’m thinking about your brother, Ophie. Again. Indeed, I can’t seem to put him out of my mind.

  Selina’s lips twisted into a wry smile that might have been mistaken for a grimace. No. That would never have done.

  Even as she took the little girl’s hand in her own and led their charge back in the direction of the Hall, Selina’s mind whir
led with unstoppable pictures of Edward as he’d looked that first morning in the woods, with no light of recognition sparking in his eye but still as courteous as though she’d been born a lady. There could never have been any mistake on that score, but that hadn’t seemed to matter to him.

  Once again Selina wondered why he had chosen her—a woman he truly hoped would never love him and whom he would never love in return—to take as his bride. She knew she shouldn’t be flattered—he had made it plain it was nothing more than a business arrangement—but she still wasn’t sure she trusted his bland explanation. There must be more to Edward than met the eye...

  Rain pattered down upon their heads as they skirted a rapidly growing puddle and fled up the gravel path. Another boom of thunder sounded in their ears and Selina’s attention was momentarily distracted from the jumble of Edward-shaped thoughts as Ophelia squeaked again at the loud noise.

  ‘Almost there, Ophie. Don’t be afraid!’

  The two of them surged forward, the little girl clinging tightly to Selina’s hand as they rounded one hedge and then another, as quickly as their legs could carry them.

  Selina collided with the broad male chest in front of her so hard she would have rebounded had its owner not reached out to catch her. She flung out a hand to steady herself, instinctively grabbing hold of the closest thing she could grasp—which unfortunately turned out to be Edward’s firm and unyielding bicep, barely disguised by the damp fabric of his riding coat.

  All the blood in her body felt as though it had rushed to her face as she gaped up at him, momentarily mute with surprise. His hand cradled the small of her back, holding her upright, and her own hand lay across the powerful muscle of his arm, feeling the strength beneath her cold fingertips.

  Looking into his face, Selina saw how the rain had darkened the gold of Edward’s hair. A stray lock curled across his forehead, and she was gripped with the sudden urge to reach up to brush it away. Her heart rate, already raised from running, sped up another notch as a slow glimmer of warmth unfurled itself from where Edward’s hand held her close to him—a terrifyingly delicious feeling that would have robbed her of speech had she not already been rendered silent by his unexpected touch.

  She blinked rapidly, forcing her body to respond to her orders. She should move her hand and step away, and she should do it now.

  ‘Ned! I thought you’d gone into Warwick today?’

  For the second time that morning Ophelia’s voice interrupted the tension of Selina’s thoughts. The moment broke and Selina stepped away from Edward smartly, shrugging out of his grasp with a low murmur of thanks.

  ‘That was certainly my intention.’

  Edward smiled down at his sister, although Selina was sure his lips looked a little fixed and she felt herself cringe. Why did he have to see me being so clumsy?

  ‘Mr Lucas was called away on urgent business so I came back early. Miss Jenkins told me you ladies were out walking, so when the rain started I thought I’d better come to escort you back.’

  He glanced across at Selina and she wondered with a jolt of dismay if he could somehow hear how rapidly her heart was beating in her chest. Her skin still tingled where Edward had touched her, and it was a monumental effort to pretend to be unfazed by the realisation that his arms had felt every bit as strong as they looked.

  ‘We should hurry back—we’ll catch our death, staying out in this weather.’

  It was on the tip of Selina’s tongue to reply that no Roma had ever died from a bit of rain, but at the last moment she thought better of it. She still wasn’t sure she trusted herself to speak with any degree of normality, and her heart was still hammering with disloyal fury, so it was in silence that she joined the others in a dash back to the looming shadow of Blackwell Hall and in through the garden door.

  * * *

  Edward stood with his back to the roaring kitchen fire, all too aware of the slim figure of his wife crouching to one side of him, warming her hands by the hearth. He still hadn’t got used to using that word—wife—despite Selina’s now week-long residence at the Hall. Although she kept to only a few of the vast number of rooms the house boasted, and moved around them with a cat-like, almost silent step, the house felt more full, more lively, and it puzzled him how one extra person could make such a difference.

  Her uncertainty at being caged within four walls was still plain to see, and he had noticed how much time she chose to spend out in the open air, going to visit her horse in the stable yard or walking in Blackwell’s beautiful gardens. When he’d spied her from the window of the upstairs gallery that morning, however, something in her manner had piqued his interest.

  At first the sight of Selina slipping down one of the paths away from the house had caused his brow to crease—what was she doing that made her movements so furtive? It was almost as though she didn’t want to be seen... That alone had given him cause for concern. A quick glance up and down the long wood-panelled gallery had showed Edward he was on his own, apart from the painted portraits of his forebears that hung on every wall, and he had leaned closer to the lead-patterned window to get a better view of what Selina would do next.

  She’d looked to be heading for the little stone arbour only just visible from the house. Edward had squinted slightly, following with his eyes as Selina slowed her pace to a stealthy creep, pausing for a moment before lunging downwards at something he hadn’t quite been able to see. When she’d straightened up again everything had become clear—she held Ophelia in her arms, and even from a distance Edward had been able to make out his sister’s familiar delight at being involved in a tickling contest.

  He had drawn back from the window. A smile bloomed across his face, apparently without his permission, and he had carefully smoothed it away.

  Selina’s patience with the girl continued to impress him. Much as he loved his sister, he couldn’t deny there were times when her mother Maria’s influence was evident, and he feared she would eventually turn out to be a copy of her haughty mama. It was only little things—a forgotten thank-you to a servant here, a flash of temper at a trifle there—but Selina’s firm but kind manner with the girl had already brought obvious improvements.

  He found himself wondering again why Selina was so determined to keep that softness hidden from him. Given her revelation that she had been his mystery nurse all those years ago, he knew her heart was kind, but evidently something still held her back from allowing her to be her true self with him now.

  Raindrops sparkled against the darkness of her hair as Selina brushed the moisture from the hem of her cloak and handed it to a waiting maid, who smiled shyly at Selina’s use of her first name. Edward’s brows twitched together briefly—at Blackwell a week, and already on Christian name terms with the servants? Apparently she had set out to make a friend of everybody except himself.

  The thought was uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

  ‘What shall we do now? We can’t play outside anymore today.’

  Ophelia peeped up at him earnestly, her hands held towards the fire glowing in the kitchen grate. Her hair had started to steam a little, he saw with interest, and her face was ruddy from exertion.

  A swift glance towards his wife showed the same high colour in her complexion, and one ringlet slipping down to curl in front of her ear. She seemed to be holding the skirt of her dress together with one hand. It looked as though it had torn, and Edward caught a glimpse of an impressive expanse of bare leg before—with more than a shadow of reluctance—averting his eyes.

  ‘You need to go back to Miss Jenkins, Ophie.’ Leaning down, he gently pinched his sister’s baby-soft cheek. ‘You need to get into some dry clothes, and then you have to do your lessons.’

  ‘Lessons?’ Selina was leaning against a hulking dresser now, arms folded across her narrow chest. Her eyes were bright with interest. ‘What is she learning?’

  Edward shrugged
. ‘Drawing. How to read music, singing, how to dance—lots of things.’

  Selina seemed about to speak when Ophelia dashed forward and took hold of her hands, her face alight with excitement. ‘I can show you! I’ve learned a new step this week—come and dance with me and help me practise! Miss Jenkins will be so pleased with me if I’ve got better!’

  ‘Oh...’ Selina shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t think I can help much—I don’t know any of the dances you learn.’

  ‘Really?’ The little girl’s face creased in disappointment. ‘Can’t you dance? At all?’

  ‘I can. Just not like you.’

  Edward could have sworn he saw a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. Pert thing. He knew perfectly well what her style of dancing involved, and its passionate nature couldn’t be further from the sedate steps beloved by the gentry. To watch her dance would be a rare treat, he imagined.

  A sudden picture of Selina twisting in wild rhythm flitted through his mind, her hips swaying and her black hair falling about her like a curtain as she moved. He blinked it away distractedly. That was not an image he should dwell on—too enticing by half, and it strayed dangerously close to stirring thoughts within him that he was still trying his hardest to repress.

  Selina continued, thankfully oblivious to the direction of his thoughts. ‘Roma have a different way of going about dancing, and I don’t think your brother would like me to teach you that.’

  ‘Oh...’

  The little girl still held Selina’s hands, although her shoulders had slumped despondently. Edward was just about to console her when the blonde head snapped up again and the beam resurfaced like the sun appearing from behind a cloud.

  ‘Ned could teach you!’

  Selina started, the sudden movement causing the dresser she was leaning against to creak ominously. ‘Ah, no... I really don’t think—’

  ‘Come along, now, Ophie.’ Edward cut into Selina’s stumbling excuse. He was only too aware of how distasteful she’d find the idea of dancing with him, and didn’t feel it necessary, or flattering, to dwell on it. ‘Don’t embarrass Selina. She will never be able to dance like we can, and that’s that.’

 

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