“They might not see it, but I do,” he said, looking out the window.
She turned to look out through the window. Lady Selina was silent. He waited for her to say something until he couldn’t any longer.
“You’re avoiding me, My Lady,” he said. “I cannot bear it.”
She sighed. “You’re marrying my cousin,” she replied. “Not only have I had to suffer through her dress-fitting, but I’ve also been informed, via my uncle, that you are overly concerned about my welfare.”
He kept his gaze on the window, where they were both reflected. He saw her face, seeing how hurt she was. He’d meant to protect her—instead, he’d just driven home how she wasn’t his.
“The very least you could have done was to tell us all the news,” she said. “Not to single me out, as you have done. You are not my Lord and Master.” She turned to him. “It cannot be both.”
Selina turned back to the window, finding herself dangerously close to crying. She inhaled deeply. She wished, desperately, that he would leave her be. He was silent, shocked, she felt. It was clear that it hadn’t occurred to him, how she’d felt.
“What is going on outside?” Lord Munro asked, from behind them. She froze, suddenly worried that he’d heard.
She smiled, rearranging her features before she turned. “Lord Munro!” she said, turning to him. “Just look at those cows! Have you ever seen their like?”
He smiled, moving in between her and the Duke, to peer out the window. “Why, yes, I have, My Lady. They’re Ayrshire cows. They’re very common in these parts.”
“Oh,” she said. “Are they rare?” She knew, of course, that they were not. The Duke, however, cleared his throat.
“Excuse me,” he mumbled, moving away. She felt relieved to have him gone. He’d pressed her to know all.
“Are you all right, My Lady?” Lord Munro asked her. “It sounded like your conversation with my brother was getting rather heated.”
“Could—could the others tell?” she asked, her heart suddenly leaping into her throat. The worst thing would be if everyone suddenly figured it out.
“No, not at all. I was on my way over, and I couldn’t help but overhear,” he said, kindly. “I should have announced myself sooner.”
She sighed, looking at the Duke’s younger brother. “It’s all a misunderstanding, My Lord.”
“I’m sure, My Lady,” he said, his eyes meeting hers. “Your secret is safe with me.”
She studied him closely. “What secret is that, My Lord?”
“I know my brother well, My Lady,” he said. “He’s as easy for me to read as a book.”
Selina blushed, turning back toward the window. “I think you’re mistaken, My Lord.”
“I may be and I apologize for that. I want to cheer you up, if I may, My Lady,” he offered.
Selina turned toward him. He was smiling kindly. Lord Munro meant well, she knew. She relented.
“I’d like that, very much,” she said. “What do you propose, My Lord?”
“Well, I’ve felt awful that I never asked you to dance at the engagement party,” he said.
“Oh, let’s ask Lord Sandbourne,” she said. “Although I’m sure he’ll agree.”
“Leave it to me, My Lady,” he said gallantly. He made his way over to Lord Sandbourne, and it was soon arranged. Not only was Lord Sandbourne excited, but Aunt Georgiana agreed to play the piano, which was tucked neatly into the corner of the room.
Lord Munro returned not long after to collect her, leading her to the center of the room, where they stood, beside Lord Sandbourne and Lady Ella, and then the Duke and Leah.
Selina felt as though she were an automaton, going through the motions as she pretended that all was right. She knew all the right steps, could rearrange her features to look as though she were having the best time.
But she could feel the Duke, watching her, while he danced with his fiancée. Her heart felt like it was falling to pieces.
As Jasper danced with Lady Leah, she smiled at him, the gesture not reaching her eyes. They went through the motions, Lady Leah asking him questions. He answered, giving her the correct answers. She beamed at him as he complimented her. It would always be this way between them—lukewarm.
There was a moment, where the dancers shuffled, the ladies switching partners, Lady Selina’s eyes met his, just as they pressed their hands together. They stepped in a quick circle, and then, she was gone, replaced by Lady Leah.
He wanted nothing more than to ask her to dance with him, but Stephen got there first, for the next set. Of course, she agreed. Lady Selina could never give Jasper preference. He felt like a complete fool—he’d never once considered the fact that she might be hurt. And that it was all his fault, for not acting sooner.
Jasper found that he could switch with Lord Kirby for the next one. He secured himself a glass of bourbon, then took up residence in a spot by the fire.
He watched the pairs, as they danced. Lady Selina was smiling, but her eyes were not. It was his own fault.
He just had no idea how to end the damned engagement. He saw the way Lady Leah looked at him—like she owned him. She wanted the title of Duchess and Gillingham Manor. She wanted comfort and luxury. She wanted him for the trappings of his life—she wanted him for the details, and not for himself.
Lady Selina was right—he was the one with the agency to end it. But how? How could he do it without bringing scandal upon his family? His mother and brother relied upon him to be the one to keep up appearances. He was neighbors with Lord and Lady Kirby. Lord Kirby often bought or bred horses with him. Their anger and hurt would be a decided blow.
He mused darkly to himself, standing there, watching them all. He had not the slightest idea. Lady Leah and Lady Selina were both standing next to each other as the next dance began.
Two very different ladies who both held him in their grasp. Lady Leah, to whom he was, in almost every way, wed. Then, Lady Selina, who had his heart.
Leah couldn’t help but note the Duke’s reserve. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were a grim line. She finished the set and then excused herself. It was now her duty to ensure that he was well.
She walked over to him, fanning herself with a hand. It was a smallish room, one which wasn’t suited for dancing. Lord Sandbourne didn’t possess anywhere better. Not to mention, the piano had been placed in here.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” she asked as she neared him.
He looked at her, smiling weakly. “I’m fine, My Lady. Thank you,” he said, taking a sip of his bourbon.
“Can I have something brought for you, Your Grace?” she offered. She had a proprietary feeling toward him. His needs were her duty, as his soon-to-be-wife.
“I’m well, My Lady,” he replied.
“Very well, Your Grace,” she said, following his gaze toward the dancers. She could only guess why. “I, too, think that dances with only three couples are a bit tawdry.”
“Do you, My Lady?”
“Indeed,” she said. “It should be at least six couples at any time, just like at our engagement party.” She was very proud that she’d taken it into consideration.
When Leah glanced over at him, he was studying her, a tight-lipped smile on his face. His eyes looked tired, as though he just wanted to be gone.
“But now there are only two couples,” he pointed out.
“So it is, Your Grace,” she said. “When we host at Gillingham Manor, I will make sure that there are at least enough to make six couples. However, I’m sure that Lord Sandbourne didn’t consider it at all.”
“He didn’t, My Lady,” the Duke replied. “He’s a bachelor, after all. He didn’t expect there to be dancing.”
“He needs to find himself a wife,” Leah said. “One who will remind him of the importance of these things.”
At the moment, Lord Sandbourne was dancing with her cousin. Lady Selina and Lord Sandbourne were all smiles, avidly talking about something. Selina, as Leah knew, always
looked thus.
“He looks to be enjoying his conversation with my cousin,” she remarked, an idea dawning upon her. “Poor Lord Sandbourne,” she mused. “The one who loves least has the most power. She would never move so far away from her beloved London.”
“You don’t think she would?” the Duke asked, looking forlorn. Leah shook her head.
Leah could recall seeing both the Duke and Lord Sandbourne as children riding through the nearby countryside. They’d been friends for as long as she could remember. Nearly inseparable.
“Has he said something to you about my cousin?” she asked him, suddenly curious.
His eyes widened as he looked at her. “He might have mentioned something in passing.” Leah read that as a confirmation. His frown deepened. “Has she said something about the estates out here?”
“No. However, I’ve known her all my life,” Leah said. “She would never deign to live this far out of the way. Not permanently.”
He nodded, looking back at the dancers. Leah followed his gaze.
“I know how you care for him,” she said. “It might be in his best interest to warn him of her faults.”
“What faults are those, My Lady?”
“I wouldn’t dream of saying anything awful,” she said, as quietly as she could. “But in the interest of protecting Lord Sandbourne from making a grave mistake—she’s utterly vain and completely spoiled,” she whispered, lowering her voice even more. “As good and kind as Lord Sandbourne is, he would do better to forget all about her.” Leah wouldn’t be able to live in the same county as Selina—not at all. Once she was the Duchess of Gillingham, she was going to be the finest lady in the county.
It would be best if Selina returned to Hertfordshire at the end of the spring, safely two days’ ride away. This was Leah’s place. She’d lived here all her life. Even if Selina married the lesser, albeit sunnier, Lord Sandbourne, she would still outshine Leah. It was what she did all the time. Once she was gone, then Leah could take her rightful place among the local aristocracy—at its head, as Her Grace, the Duchess of Gillingham. She deserved it.
The dance ended, and Leah clapped, pasting a smile across her face. She glanced over at the Duke, who was standing beside her looking absolutely ill. She felt bad for him—he must be so concerned about his friend! To have found out that he was in danger of making a mistake had him so worried.
Leah squared her shoulders, glaring at her cousin, who was reeling the Marquess in with her baited smiles.
Chapter Twelve
Selina could not wait to go home. The evening seemed to drag on. After the dancing, she ended up sitting beside the Dowager Duchess, while the others began a rousing game of cards.
“So, My Lady,” the Dowager Duchess said to her. “How are you liking Gillingham County?”
“It’s so very serene out here, Your Grace,” Selina said, smiling although she was getting rather sleepy. All the dancing, eating, and upset had plumb worn her out.
“It is, isn’t it?” The Dowager Duchess smiled at Selina, her green eyes lighting up in a way that was reminiscent of her son.
“Very much so, Your Grace,” Selina agreed.
“When I was a younger lady, I loved being near the City. I always wanted to be there in our townhome,” the Dowager Duchess reminisced. “I threw such parties back then.”
“Are you much there these days, Your Grace?” Selina asked.
“Only during the Season,” she remarked. “But it’s enough. When I’m there, I find myself longing for the quiet of the country. Parties like this with just good, close friends.”
Selina smiled as she glanced around at all the friendly faces. She spotted the Duke, standing by the fireplace, his face grim. He took a sip from his glass. His eyes met hers. She got chills, all over her arms. The desire was a hot flash in the pit of her stomach—she’d never felt this way before.
“Your aunt tells me that you have just debuted this past winter,” the Dowager Duchess said, breaking into Selina’s thoughts.
Tearing her gaze away from the Duke, she met the Dowager Duchess’s eyes. Her Grace was smiling kindly.
“Yes, Your Grace,” she replied, recalling the fanfare and the elaborate dress she’d worn—the heavy diamond necklace that her mother had given her for the occasion.
The Dowager Duchess squinted at her, as though trying to discern her. “Have you got your eye on a particular gentleman yet?”
“I’ve only just debuted this past winter, Your Grace,” Selina said. Even Selina could hear the weakness of her misdirection. The Dowager Duchess’s eyes cut over to her son before returning to Selina’s face.
“Is that so, My Lady?” she asked, her eyes studying her carefully. Her lips were smiling, but her eyes were squinting, suspicious. Selina wondered if the Duke had spoken to his mother.
Selina swallowed. “Indeed, Your Grace.”
“How do your parents feel about that, My Lady?” She tilted her head to the side, curiously.
“They want me to only marry for love,” she replied. “Nothing less.”
“Are your parents in love, My Lady?”
“Yes. Very much so, Your Grace.” She stared back at the Dowager Duchess. She was an intelligent lady. Selina could only imagine that the Duke had let something slip. Something which the Dowager Duchess was just then putting together.
Selina’s pulse raced. She had a particularly good poker face, despite never having played the game. She and her brother had practiced one wintry afternoon, and it had been a skill which Selina had often found of use.
The Dowager Duchess leaned in. “Would you come and have tea with me sometime soon? I’d like to speak with you. Privately.”
“I’d be honored, Your Grace. Although, it wouldn’t be right to go without my cousin, would it?”
She was a bit nervous, but the Dowager Duchess smiled at her, kindly. “Leave that to me. I think we have much to discuss, don’t you, My Lady?”
“Perhaps, Your Grace.”
“You’ve seemed to have lost a little of your shine, My Lady.”
“It’ll pass, Your Grace,” she said.
“It may,” the Dowager Duchess mused, “or it may not.”
They both turned their gazes toward where the Duke was now sitting beside Lady Leah. Selina felt pain in her chest. Like a lump of hot coal, burning a hole, just beneath her sternum.
“They are very well-suited, in every aspect,” the Dowager Duchess said. “Just like his father and I. But we did not love each other. I’ve always wondered how that would have changed my life.”
“Do you, Your Grace?”
She smiled sadly. “I feel that I can breathe, now,” she replied in a whisper.
Selina was distracted, wondering who else could see. Her only relief was when it was announced that the carriages would be brought around.
The Duke bid her cousin goodbye. He gave Leah a hand up and into the carriage. Then, he turned to Selina, offering her his hand. Their eyes met. Selina knew that it wasn’t like this, for everyone. Where one look from him sent chills running over her arms again. She placed her hand in his. He held it for a moment, helping her up into the carriage.
Then, he was gone, the door slamming shut, and the carriage pulling off. She gazed through the window, her eyes on his figure—lit up by torchlight, growing smaller as she went farther away.
When the party from Gillingham Manor returned home, Reuben headed straight up to his room, leaving Jasper alone in the gallery with his mother.
She was standing in front of his father’s picture, staring up at it, thoughtfully.
“He was such a forceful presence,” she commented. Even in the portrait, his father cut a severe figure. When painted, he had been about Jasper’s age. There were similarities between him and his father—the hair, the shape of his face—but he’d gotten his mother’s eyes.
“Yes, he was.”
She turned to him, looking up at him. She placed a hand on his cheek like she had when he was a child, �
��You’re not at all like him, you know.”
“I know.”
“He did what was proper,” she said. “But I hope that you’ll do what is right, my son.”
“Whatever can you mean, mother?”
“I saw how you looked tonight,” she said. “You’re not happy.”
“Is it that obvious?”
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