The hum of voices from outside suddenly halted abruptly, but Selina heard it cease with blank indifference. Her world had shrunk to fit within the four walls of her vardo, closed in on itself in a mixture of hopelessness and pain, and she felt as if nothing beyond would ever move her again. She couldn’t stay shuttered away forever, of course—but for this one day at least she would hide and give herself up to the anguish of having found love only to allow it to wither and die.
Zillah’s voice sliced through the silence, her words muffled by the crochet blankets Selina lay burrowed beneath. Whatever words her grandmother had spoken were answered by a deeper tone—one that vibrated through the wooden walls of the vardo—and with only a half-second of disbelief it sent Selina flying from her bunk to tear open the caravan’s door.
A very tall man stood a few yards from the vardo’s steps, surrounded by a ring of stunned Roma and looking warily at Zillah. Hearing the door open behind her she turned to address her granddaughter, but Selina was deaf and blind to anything other than the sound of Edward’s sigh of relief and the sight of his achingly handsome, painfully familiar face.
His eyes found hers and it was as though the sun had come out from behind the clouds to shine through Edward’s face from within. His smile reached all the way up to illuminate the hazel of his gaze, and Selina felt the breath leave her body as she was pinned to the spot by the upward curve of his mouth.
‘Edward...?’
His name dropped from her lips as though murmured in a dream. She could hardly believe he stood before her, brightening the dull winter day by the power of his smile. Even a few of the Roma women looked a little dazed by his good looks, although from the way Edward’s eyes never left Selina’s face it was clear that to him there were no other women in the world.
‘Selina. I’m so glad you’re still here.’ He gestured at the camp around them—a small, somewhat uncertain movement.
Selina gazed at him in mute wonder, the frenzied jumping of her heart robbing her of speech. Why had he come? There could be no reason for him to seek her. The combination of confusion and overwhelming pleasure at the sight of his face rendered her speechless.
When she did not reply, Edward cleared his throat. ‘I know that I have no right to ask anything of you, but please—let me speak just once.’ His voice was a fraction less steady than before. ‘Then, if you wish it, I will leave and you need never see me again.’
Selina hesitated, overcome with bewilderment, all too aware of the small figure of Zillah at her elbow. Her grandmother was studying her face as intently as a scholar with a new book, scouring her features from top to bottom as though searching for some hidden clue. Selina saw how the old eyes narrowed, just for a moment, and then she caught the minute shake of her head in wordless resignation.
‘Speak, boy.’ Zillah tossed the words at Edward, her eyes never leaving her granddaughter’s face. ‘My Lina might be lost for words, but I know what is in her heart and what I suspect lives in yours. Speak, I say.’
Selina saw the surprise in Edward’s expression, but he offered the old woman a courteous bow. Selina’s brows rose almost into her hair when she saw it returned with a short nod from Zillah that was almost bordering on civil.
The crowd of silently watching Roma moved a half-pace closer as Edward laced together his fingers and looked down at his palms, apparently arranging his thoughts. Selina felt a lump rise up in her throat at the sight of him so quiet, so unsure, and every one of her sinews burned to slip down the steps and run into his arms. But then he started to speak, and with only the rush of blood in her ears accompanying his words Selina gripped the vardo’s door to anchor her where she stood.
‘I have spent so many years caring for scarcely anyone but myself. Ever since my mother and Letitia left my heart had been closed, so determined was I never to let myself be broken again. I had thought I would never love, would never allow myself to feel the things other people felt, leaving themselves vulnerable—and then out of nowhere you came into my life.’
The words tumbled from Edward’s dry lips and hung in the frozen air between him and Selina, who watched in silence, the rapid flicker of a pulse at her throat the only sign she was not carved from stone. Her face gave nothing away, but her black eyes, fixed on him so unblinkingly, seemingly gave Edward the courage to continue.
‘I remember as though it were yesterday. You stood in front of me that day with mud on your face and your hair so wild, and I remember thinking you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. It frightened me to discover I could think such thoughts, and when you disappeared through the trees I was determined to put you from my mind.’
Selina felt her breath come more quickly, escaping her in a shallow rhythm she couldn’t control. A curious warmth began to unfurl in her stomach, reaching up with golden fingers in the direction of her chest, and she almost gasped at the sensation. The warmth seemed to curl around her heart, and suddenly she felt as though she was aflame with a fierce hope she didn’t dare express.
The feeling lingered there, hot against the cage of her ribs, inviting her to accept the truth: Edward had sought her out, and he had told her she was beautiful, and still he stood in front of her with apparently more to say. She tightened her grip on the vardo door as her head swam with the assault on her senses, almost robbing her of the ability to stand.
‘I tried to deny what I felt for you. I tried to convince myself that when you returned to ask me for help I behaved towards you the way I would have behaved to anyone in need. Later, I tried to convince myself that our marriage meant nothing to me, and that it was no more than a convenient arrangement. I failed both times.’
He took a step towards the caravan, mere paces from the wooden steps on which Selina stood. She was just out of his reach.
‘It was never just that. In fact, it was precisely the opposite: it was very inconvenient when I finally allowed myself to admit my feelings for you, knowing you would never return them.’
He must have seen how Selina’s taut frame had flinched a little as she started, she thought. Her nerves were responding to him of their own accord, and now her lips had parted as though she wished to speak. She could force no words to emerge, however, and she merely tightened her fingers on the shawls she clutched to her chest.
With another step forward he spoke to her again. ‘I do not come to you as gentry. I come as a simple man who has lost his heart to you and who has to tell you how he feels—how he truly feels.’
The ground beneath his feet was cold and wet, but Edward paid it no mind as he dropped to his knees in front of Selina’s disbelieving gaze. All around her she heard the Romani women break out into low whispers of shock, looking from Edward, kneeling in the mud, to Selina, who stood on the back porch of her caravan with her eyes as round as saucers at his sudden move.
The damp and chill must have seized him immediately, but Edward ignored the unpleasant sensation as he smiled up at the woman he adored. ‘Whatever my uncle said to make you run was a lie. He will never speak for me, or know the first thing about my feelings. I swear to you, if you consent to take me as your true husband I will spend the rest of my life trying to win your heart. I can’t—’
He ran a hand through the thatch of his hair and gave a short, resigned laugh.
‘The simple truth is I cannot live without you. Whatever the circumstances, whatever cruel falsehoods you have been told, you are all that I want and all I will ever want.’ Edward shrugged, the final vestiges of the weight he had borne for so long falling from his shoulders as he laid his soul bare. ‘I love you.’
The entire camp was silent. Every eye swivelled to fix on Selina, who stood like a statue and then felt her limbs turn to water as the full weight of Edward’s words hit her like a lightning bolt.
Edward stayed likewise as still as a rock, looking up at her from the mire in which he knelt, with mud spattering breeches that had
cost almost as much as a horse and caring not one single iota that they were ruined beyond saving.
The cold winter breeze stirred Selina’s raven curls, moving past her to drag the skeletal branches of trees against the dour sky. The smell of snow still hung in the air, and the chill of the evening had begun to wend its way beneath the wool of Selina’s shawls. In the silence of the Romani camp she took in the scene before her, her racing mind slowing and slowing until finally, finally, it ceased its swirling and allowed her to act as her heart longed for her to.
There was no sound but that of her own footsteps as Selina stepped down from the caravan, crossed the barren stretch of ground between them, and flung herself into Edward’s waiting arms. Every last trace of fear and uncertainty fell away as she reached down to draw his face up to her own, leaving the raw truth exposed as his mouth met hers and she felt him smile against her trembling lips.
Rising up, his arms closed around her in an embrace so tight it almost took her breath away, and then Selina felt her feet leave the ground as he lifted her as gently and as easily as he would a child and held her against the warm column of his body, one hand supporting her weight while the other blindly stroked her hair back from her face.
Edward covered her skin with breathless kisses time and time again—her closed eyelids, her cheek, even the end of her freckled nose. Each kiss set her nerves alight and culminated in him capturing her lips once more in a kiss so powerful Selina felt herself swoon, sagging in Edward’s arms as she allowed feelings too wonderful to name to course through her body and set her ablaze.
The Romani’s ragged cheers echoed around them, and Selina broke the kiss to look up into Edward’s face and feel the delicious sensation of his tender expression warming her to her very toes. He gazed down at her, his eyes filled with the vibrant life she had once feared she might never see again, and she buried her face in the silk of his waistcoat.
It was all too much, suddenly, and the knowledge that her suffering was over was almost overwhelming. Edward was all she wanted, would ever want, and now, as he held her in his arms, it was as though every secret wish she had ever made, every whispered prayer she had uttered in the darkness of her lonely bedchamber, had come true. He loved her—truly loved her—and Selina knew her breathless happiness to be complete.
He lowered her, still holding her firmly against him as her feet hit the ground. She staggered a little and Edward’s grip tightened immediately to steady her, gathering her to him more closely than ever before.
‘May I take that as a yes to my request?’ The smile lines at the corners of his eyes stretched as his lips curved upwards.
Selina felt her own lips twitch in reply. ‘I suppose I shall allow it.’
Edward’s laugh rang in Selina’s ears as her friends and family closed in on them, too many hands to count reaching out to touch her, to touch Edward. Selina saw their joy for her, saw it even in the ancient lines of Zillah’s face, and she felt her heart swell with pride at the warmth of her people. They welcomed Edward now as though he were one of their own. His love for her had shattered the barriers between his world and hers, and now they abandoned their pride to pat his back and pinch his cheeks and blush in scandalised delight as he bowed to the women as low as if they were the highest-born ladies.
Selina reached up onto her tiptoes to murmur into Edward’s ear. ‘What about your uncle?’
The prospect of meeting Charles again was enough to dim the perfect happiness that glowed within her, casting a cold shadow over the warmth of her joy. Edward would always be there to shield her, she knew, but the notion of encountering his uncle made her heart check.
Edward’s expression was bordering on triumphant as he pulled her close again. His hand caressed the small of Selina’s back, the movement making her toes curl in catlike pleasure despite her sudden worry. She saw the sly amusement in his face, and glanced up at him suspiciously.
‘He is no longer welcome in our home. You are the mistress of Blackwell Hall, and my beloved wife—and nobody will ever make you doubt that ever again.’
He smiled at her rosy blush, and that slow upward curve of his lips Selina now knew so well enhanced the handsome lines of his face.
‘And, with that in mind, I would like to extend my affection to the rest of your people and invite them to stay on our estate for as long as they wish. Forever, if they choose.’
Selina gasped, hardly able to take in his words as a bubble of intense relief mingled with gratitude rose up inside her. Edward had neatly taken care of the only obstacle that could have got in the way of their happiness: now her people would have a safe haven for the rest of their days.
No Roma baby would ever gasp its last breath on a pitted and frosty road; no mother would have to choose between food or coal. Zillah could grow frail without the worry of where their next camp would be, and without the constant fear of persecution that had followed her like a shadow her entire life.
The pain of her mother’s passing would never truly heal, Selina knew, and she felt the smallest pang of sorrow tinge her joy as she felt Edward take her hand in his far larger palm and squeeze tightly. But she knew, too, that Diamanda would be proud of the sacrifices her daughter had made, and glad that they had, against all the odds, led her to find real happiness. There would always be a gap in Selina’s life that only her mother could fill, but with Edward by her side Selina felt a hope rise within her for the first time, and knew that he could help her feel almost whole again.
He was looking down at her and, as black eyes gazed up into hazel, Selina could have sworn she felt the love radiating from him.
‘May I take you home now, wife?’
Selina swept into a deep curtsey any gentry lady would have been proud of and came up smiling. ‘Yes, husband. You may.’
* * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from The Earl’s Countess of Convenience by Marguerite Kaye.
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The Earl’s Countess of Convenience
by Marguerite Kaye
Chapter One
Elmswood Manor—April 1827
Kate, Lady Elmswood, burst into the morning room waving aloft a single sheet of thick writing parchment. ‘“Lord Fearnoch is most pleased to accept Lady Elmswood’s kind invitation to call at Elmswood Manor on Friday April the sixth, with the express purpose of meeting with her eldest ward, Miss Eloise Brannagh, to discuss the possibility of a marriage between the parties on terms outlined in his previous dispatch.” Goodness
, that sounds as if it was written by his lawyer.’
‘Perhaps, but it’s just as likely he wrote it himself.’ Eloise looked up from her position on the floor, kneeling in front of Phoebe to pin the hem of her sister’s new gown. ‘Remember, Kate, until he inherited the title, he was merely Alexander Sinclair, some sort of clerk at the Admiralty, so well used to penning memorandums, one would imagine.’ She smiled. ‘It’s certainly not the most romantic proposal I’ve ever come across. Does he proffer any other endearments?’
‘“Should either party conclude that the match does not fully satisfy their requirements, then negotiations will be terminated without prejudice. Should both parties prove amenable, however, it is imperative that the nuptials are concluded by the second of June, Lord Fearnoch’s thirtieth birthday, whereupon, under the terms of the Fearnoch entail, failure to be of married status would result in the Fearnoch title and estates passing to a cousin.” And he looks forward...et cetera, et cetera,’ Kate concluded. ‘What do you think, Eloise? It all sounds a bit cold and heartless. It’s not too late to write back and say you’ve changed your mind.’
‘But I haven’t.’ Eloise inserted a final pin. ‘Turn around slowly, Phoebe. Yes, I think that will do nicely. Your turn, Estelle.’
One twin replaced the other on the footstool, Eloise resumed her pinning and Kate dropped into her usual chair by the fire, surrendering the letter over to Phoebe to read. ‘You know, you could make a very handsome living if you set yourself up as a modiste. Those gowns are beautiful.’
‘Madame Eloise, dressmaker to the aristocracy,’ Estelle said in a dreadful French accent. ‘You would have a very exclusive little boutique in...’
‘Bond Street,’ Kate supplied for her, smiling.
‘Bond Street. And Phoebe could bake cakes to serve to your ladies while they wait to be fitted, and I could entertain them by playing on the pianoforte. Am I done?’
The Marriage Rescue Page 24