by Laura Martin
‘And now you think you are not capable of it,’ Selina said, realisation dawning in her eyes.
‘I’m better off alone,’ he said gruffly, ‘with no one relying on me. I proved back then that my judgement was poor, that I could be manipulated.’
‘You can’t go through life not making any meaningful connections because of what happened over ten years ago.’
‘I’m not fit to look after those girls,’ he said, feeling his words catch in his throat. It was his biggest fear, that somehow he would make the wrong decision, that he would let an outside party influence him as he had all those years ago and Priscilla and Theodosia would be harmed because of it.
‘Of course you are.’ She slipped off her chair, kneeling at his feet, taking both his hands in her own. ‘You did your best by that young woman, you married her to save her from your father and you tried to look after her, as well as an eighteen-year-old boy can. That shows the capacity in your heart for love.’
‘But love isn’t always enough.’
‘It is a good start. No one knows how to care for another human when they first start out. A mother learns how to interpret every cry of her newborn baby day by day, a father how to stop his son’s tears only by trying one thing and then another. As long as the love is there, the willingness to spend the time learning, then that is enough. That is all anyone has.’
He closed his eyes, gripping on to Selina’s hands as if she were anchoring him to the earth.
‘I’m better off alone,’ he said gruffly. ‘Alone I can’t hurt anyone.’
‘And alone you can’t help anyone.’
Gently he pulled on her hands, tugging her up until she tumbled into his lap. Again he closed his eyes, burying his face in her neck. He wished he could believe her, wished he could have that faith in himself again. When he’d married Elizabeth it had felt so wrong, but he hadn’t known what else to do. He had been trying to protect her, but he’d failed her. His actions had been influenced too much by the father he was scared of and the deep panic he’d felt when he realised he didn’t know what to do.
‘Is that why you went away?’
‘Yes. I realised I needed to become my own man, away from my father and my brother. I needed to build a life I could be proud of and I needed to do it alone.’
‘And you have. You’re a very successful man.’
It was true, although always inside him there was a feeling that something was missing, that he needed to work harder, strive more, to find out what that was.
‘In some ways,’ he said. He inhaled deeply, catching Selina’s scent, that mixture of lavender and honey that made him want to bury himself in her completely and never come up for air.
‘Do you think...’ Selina said quietly, hesitating for a moment before continuing ‘...that what could be missing are relationships? Friendships, love, caring for other people. We all need those in our lives to make it complete.’
He knew she was right, but somehow couldn’t bring himself to admit it. He’d felt happier, more complete, than he ever had done before these last few weeks at Manresa House. He might fear his ability to protect his nieces, but ever since he’d allowed himself to grow closer to them he’d felt more fulfilled.
And then there was Selina. He knew what he felt for her was more than lust, more than desire. He treasured their moments together, enjoyed when she challenged him, found pleasure in her sharp mind and deep conversation. For the first time in his life he was beginning to feel as though he belonged somewhere and he knew much of that was down to the woman in front of him.
Her question required no answer as they both already knew the truth of it.
In a movement so fluid he could not stop it Selina slid from his lap, standing and facing him with a sad little smile on her face.
‘Don’t run back to India just yet,’ she said as she took a step away. ‘You need the girls just as much as they need you.’
And you, he almost called after her as she turned and walked out of the door. He needed her, too.
Chapter Seventeen
Heaping another blanket in her arms, Selina glanced at the mirror hanging in the hallway briefly before turning away in disgust. She looked an absolute state, her skin was pale, her eyes rimmed by dark circles, her hair as usual trying to escape its neat little bun. Outwardly she was blaming her horrific appearance on the worry caused by Priscilla’s illness, but the young girl had rallied the last couple of days and was now well down the road to recovery. In truth, Selina couldn’t stop thinking about Matthew, about his proposition to make her his mistress, his revelation of why he refused to let anyone close and the damage his father and brother had done to him when they’d pressed him into a marriage he didn’t want.
Now she understood much of what drove him. She understood his reluctance to let anyone close, his misguided idea that he could not be trusted to care for other people. She might understand it a little better, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.
‘Are you ready yet, Miss Salinger?’ Theodosia asked, pulling Selina away from her thoughts and away from the mirror.
‘I’ve just got to ask one of the footmen to take a chair outside for Priscilla.’
It was a beautiful day, crisp and clear with a sky so blue it looked as if it had been painted on the horizon. Priscilla had insisted she needed to get out of the house, saying her head would explode if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air.
‘I’ll get everything set up,’ Theodosia shouted as she ran off, nearly colliding with Mrs Fellows.
‘In my day the first thing children were taught were manners,’ the surly housekeeper muttered.
Selina ignored her, having found over the past weeks it wasn’t worth the effort of arguing with the head of the servants.
With one last grimace as she looked in the mirror Selina headed outside after Theodosia. Priscilla was already making her way out of the library doors at the back of the house on to the terrace on the arm of Thomas, one of the young footmen.
‘Would you bring her a chair out from inside?’
‘I’m not dying,’ Priscilla said, but there was a note of affection in her voice.
Selina waited until Thomas had brought a comfortable armchair outside from the library, then settled Priscilla into it and began to pile the blankets on top of her.
‘Ten minutes, no more, then we’ll get you back inside,’ Selina said, resisting the urge to lean over and kiss Priscilla on the head. There was less prickliness from the older of the sisters now, even a little affection, but Selina knew they still had a long way to go to build a robust trust between them.
‘Go and help my sister before she injures herself.’
Down on the lawn the grass was still white with the frost and it crunched underfoot as Selina made her way across it to where Theodosia was jumping up and down with excitement. They’d set up the target again and found the bow and arrows, and Theodosia was eager to try her hand at archery.
‘Just remember, if your uncle comes out shouting and making a fuss we ignore him,’ Selina reminded her. ‘Don’t let anything distract you. Ensure there is nothing between you and the target when you loose an arrow, then shoot.’
‘I’m going to practise every single day until I’m as good a shot as you, Miss Salinger.’
Selina smiled indulgently. Theodosia’s excitement was infectious and she found some of the worries from the last few days slipping from her shoulders.
Carefully she reminded Theodosia how to hold the bow, how to notch the arrow, how to lift the bow and aim at her target. She had her arms wrapped around the little girl, supporting much of the bow’s weight, but she let Theodosia aim by herself, let her decide when she was ready to loose the arrow.
It flew through the air a few feet, landing just short of the target.
‘Well done,’ Selina said. ‘Your first shot and nearly at the t
arget.’
‘Let’s try again.’
Selina glanced up to where Priscilla was sitting on the terrace, giving the little girl a wave. She waved back, then gave a shooing gesture with her hand as if telling Selina to stop worrying.
Again they notched the arrow together, lifted the bow and, when Theodosia was ready, she drew back the bowstring and loosed the arrow. This one sailed through the air beautifully and thunked into the very bottom of the target.
‘I did it,’ she shouted, doing a little dance. ‘I did it. I did it.’
They shot again and again, some of the arrows missing and a few hitting, but even the misses didn’t do anything to dull Theodosia’s enthusiasm.
‘One more and then we must take your sister inside.’
Theodosia lifted the bow with help and shot, the arrow sailing beautifully through the air and landing on one of the blue circles.
‘Well done, my darling,’ Selina said, making sure the bow was placed carefully on the ground before embracing the little girl.
‘I thought I would wait until you’d finished to approach.’ Matthew’s voice came from behind them.
‘Did you see me shooting?’ Theodosia skipped over to her uncle. ‘I hit the target five times. It won’t be long before I’m an expert like Miss Salinger.’
‘Indeed. You were very impressive.’
Selina glanced at him, making sure she didn’t catch his eye. Ever since the night when he’d made his proposition to her and then revealed the painful details of his past she had barely seen him. In a way it had been a relief. She didn’t know how to act around him, or what their relationship could be. She knew they couldn’t go back to a formal employer and employee arrangement, they knew each other too well, had shared too much for that. Equally she still felt the same about becoming his mistress. Her social standing in life might not have been what it was a few years ago when she’d been the toast of Cambridge society, but that didn’t mean she had lost her moral values as well.
Still, she knew whenever she was near him it was becoming harder and harder to resist, harder to deny what her body wanted so badly.
‘Can you shoot, Uncle?’ Theodosia turned her little face up to him as she spoke.
‘I have done before. When I was a boy your father and I used to spend hours practising shooting at the target. There wasn’t much call for it in the navy or more recent years. I may be a little rusty.’
‘Do you think Miss Salinger would win a competition between you?’ Theodosia asked sweetly. Selina’s eyes narrowed as she regarded the little girl. If she didn’t know Theodosia was only seven she would think she was trying to push them together, trying to matchmake.
Matthew looked at Selina, his eyes seeming to penetrate through her body to her soul.
‘I don’t know about that,’ he murmured.
‘Why don’t you try?’
Before either Selina or Matthew could protest Theodosia had skipped off to join her sister on the terrace, her head bent as she whispered something to her sister.
‘Ever get the feeling you’re being set up?’ Matthew murmured.
‘You can walk away.’
‘Not with my honour intact.’
‘It isn’t likely to be intact when I shoot three perfect arrows,’ Selina said.
‘Ah, but I plan on using underhand methods,’ Matthew said with a grin. ‘I can be very distracting when I wish.’
Selina didn’t reply, she was trying to stop herself thinking of all the ways he could distract her and failing miserably.
‘You’re thinking of how I might distract you.’
‘In itself a distraction,’ Selina muttered. ‘You go first.’
She watched as he picked up the bow, weighing it in his hands. He plucked the bowstring, testing the tautness, then selected an arrow from the quiver on the ground. All the movements were smooth with no hesitation and Selina realised that it might have been a while since he’d picked up a bow and arrow, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t just as good as her.
In a fluid motion he notched the arrow, took aim and let it loose, watching critically as it flew towards the target. It hit a little off centre, but not bad for a first attempt.
‘Your turn,’ he said, handing her the bow, his fingers brushing against hers and sending a jolt though her body. She wasted no time in preparing her shot, letting the arrow fly just seconds later. It hit the target a little further from the centre than his arrow.
‘First point to me,’ he murmured. ‘Did we agree what the prize was?’
Selina remembered the last competition they’d played against each other, the kiss on the beach and the intimacy it had led to later that evening.
‘Perhaps just for the satisfaction of winning,’ she said as she handed the bow over.
‘Where would be the fun in that?’
‘What do you suggest?’
‘Dinner. Tonight. After the girls have gone to bed.’
She looked at him for a long moment, trying to work out exactly what he wanted from her. After their discussion he knew she wouldn’t be his mistress. Why bring them closer together when it could only be difficult for the both of them?
‘Why?’
‘I enjoy your company.’ That was hard to argue against.
‘If you win, we have dinner—what about if I win?’
‘Dinner?’
Selina found herself smiling. ‘Hardly a wager if the prize is the same no matter who wins.’
‘You can choose something else.’
She shook her head. ‘Dinner it is. And the satisfaction of knowing I’ve beaten you.’ He shot another arrow, this one landing at the edge of the target, and Selina’s arrow hit right in the centre.
‘One apiece,’ he murmured in her ear, standing just a little too close. ‘It is all to play for.’
The last arrow he took his time over, adjusting his stance a couple of times, drawing the string to gauge the tautness, before notching an arrow. Selina coughed just as he shot and he spun to face her.
‘Sabotage.’ He grinned, his eyes dancing with mirth.
‘Hardly. I have a tickle in my throat.’
They both turned back to face the target where his arrow was still quivering from the impact. It lay in the very centre of the bullseye, a perfect shot.
‘It looks as though we will be having dinner,’ Selina said as she prepared and loosed her final arrow.
‘Good shot,’ Matthew murmured as it flew through the air and embedded itself in the canvas just next to his. ‘I call that a draw.’
‘I don’t know...’ Selina stalked over to the targets ‘...I think mine might be a little more central.’
‘Nonsense,’ Matthew said, coming up close behind her.
‘We have our independent adjudicators,’ she said, inclining her head in the direction of Priscilla and Theodosia.
‘They would swear blue was red for you.’
‘Perhaps,’ Selina admitted. Theodosia was her staunchest supporter, Priscilla less so, but slowly the elder of the sisters was beginning to let down her guard.
‘Who won, girls?’ Matthew called over, grinning as they consulted one another seriously for a few seconds.
‘Miss Salinger,’ they chorused.
Matthew raised an eyebrow. ‘Dinner, tonight. And you get to gloat.’
Chapter Eighteen
The dining room at Manresa House had been rarely used since Matthew had returned and taken up residence. He’d dined here once on the first night Miss Salinger had arrived, a brief, brisk meal he’d been so eager to get through to hand over the responsibility of the girls to the capable governess. That had been almost two months ago and Matthew hadn’t eaten dinner in the formal dining room since. It seemed far too grand for him to eat in alone with its long mahogany table with space for sixteen, far too reminiscent of the d
ays when his father had insisted he and his brother present themselves for inspection whenever he entertained, to be poked at and ridiculed by him and his drunken friends.
Happier memories, he thought to himself. Manresa House was a dreary old pile, but he was beginning to see with a little time and a little care and attention it could be made more welcoming and the painful memories supplanted by far more pleasant ones.
Carefully he adjusted his cravat, smoothing the silk between his fingers. It had been a long time since he’d properly dressed for dinner, too. In India there was the odd formal occasion, dinners with the important local men when Matthew worked his hardest to charm and dazzle in the hope they would supply whatever commodity he was hoping to acquire. Then he dressed exquisitely, almost flamboyantly, playing the part of the English aristocrat, the part they wanted him to play. Here, he was wearing a dark evening jacket and light blue waistcoat and matching cravat, silk and expensive, formal but understated.
As he waited Matthew prowled around the room, adjusting a vase here and a picture there, his nervous energy mounting with every moment that passed.
‘Good evening,’ Selina said as she stepped into the dining room. She looked exquisite tonight, with her hair swept back elegantly and her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. She was still wearing one of her plain grey dresses, the uniform of a governess, and he realised she didn’t have anything else in her wardrobe. For an instant he allowed himself to imagine her draped in silk, something revealing and risqué, brightly coloured and luxurious, the opposite of the practical clothes she wore out of necessity.
‘Good evening.’ He crossed the room, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips. The skin was soft and warm, with the faint scent of honey, and he lingered for just a moment longer over her, drawing away and catching her eye.
‘I don’t know why I keep doing this to myself,’ she murmured, biting her lip.
‘Doing what?’
‘Putting myself in your path.’
‘You’re worried one day your resolve will weaken and you’ll throw yourself at me?’ he asked with a smile.