Malcolm glanced urgently at Selina, who returned his gaze with a sparkling challenge in her eyes. Of course. He’d called Daisy a social climber to Selina’s face. He doubted that those thoughtless words had been reported in full, but the sentiment must have been mentioned after the ambassador’s ball. Selina would never allow Daisy to go through society unarmed.
“I have recently learned a thing or two about which qualities are truly admirable, Duchess,” he said. “And what sort of life is worth pursuing.”
“Then I am glad for you. I think it is a very good thing to know what you really want.”
At the piano, Isobel began to play a tune that was achingly familiar. Malcolm’s spine jolted straighter.
The lilting waltz transported him back to a dower house drawing room, the glow of candlelight, Selina soft and light in his arms.
He didn’t dare look at her now. But he desperately wanted to.
Streatham was leaning against the mantelpiece, grinning mercilessly. He caught Malcolm’s eye, nodded to the Duke of Loxwell, and dragged a slow finger across his throat. “Good luck,” he mouthed.
Anthea noticed what her husband was doing and gave him a gentle rap on the arm.
Malcolm couldn’t bear it any longer. He couldn’t spend another second on social niceties with Selina so close to hand, so out of reach. He cleared his throat.
“Loxwell, I hate to tear you away from your family, but there’s a particular matter…”
If Loxwell was annoyed, he was too well-mannered to show it. “Certainly, certainly. The world goes on, after all.” He stood. “Let’s repair to my study. Excuse me, my dear,” he said, bending to kiss his wife’s forehead. “Business.”
“Of course, Alex.”
Malcolm was certain now that Daisy had guessed a great deal more than her husband about the nature of the business at hand. She gave Malcolm a nod of encouragement. It didn’t have much effect on the tension winding tighter in his chest.
He passed Selina on his way out of the room. His hand trailed at his side with what he hoped was enough subtlety to escape notice. It caught on hers, briefly, and imparted a squeeze which was swiftly returned.
She lifted her eyes to his. There was no anxiety in them at all. Only excitement, and an adoration that took his breath away.
All very well for her. She had only to wait. He had to convince her brother to relinquish all care of her to a reprobate of a man who had done very little, as yet, to prove his worth. Loxwell wouldn’t be impressed by a title, of course. There’d have to be more.
Malcolm stared into Selina’s eyes for a second that felt like an eternity. Then he followed her brother out of the room.
Selina turned to her siblings, knowing full well that her smile was ungraciously smug.
“The poor man looks as though he’s walking to the gallows,” said Daisy, settling back down among her cushions. “I do think you might have given Alex a hint.”
“I did, in fact. I told him to expect something.” Selina glanced at the door, picturing the scene that would shortly unfold inside her brother’s study. “But I doubt he’s expecting Malcolm.”
“It’s much more fun this way,” said Isobel, her fingers still running lightly through the notes of the waltz. “Though you didn’t have to tease him so, George. You very nearly gave the game away with all your mugging.”
“Was my brother really so frightening when you asked for my hand?” asked Anthea, rising on to tiptoe to straighten out George’s lapel.
“Not at all. He was delighted. Shook my hand and poured out a brandy and made me promise to treat you like a queen for the rest of my days.” George brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his cuffs. “But I saw no need to tell Caversham that.”
Daisy extended her hand to Selina, who left her easel and the now-dozing Percy and sat down beside her. The baby was slumbering against Daisy’s chest, occasionally making peaceful little murmurs.
“My darling Selina,” she said, clasping Selina’s hand tightly. “I do believe I am nearly as happy as you are. It is wonderful to think of you settled so well. I have no idea how you can be calm!”
Selina pressed a hand to her chest. She thought of all the years she had spent hiding her emotions. The pain she had felt that nobody suspected. The loneliness she refused to admit, even to herself.
The man who had seen it all, right from the start.
She let a little more of her joy free to dance across her face. “I am happier now than I have ever been.”
Aunt Ursula looked up from her knitting. “So, Caversham has taken Alex off for a private word, has he? To whom is the dear boy proposing?”
“To me, Auntie,” said Selina, pride swelling in her heart. “To me.”
Loxwell had not spoken for exactly twenty-five seconds. Malcolm had counted them all.
It was easy to do. The dry tick-tock of the clock on the wall was the only sound in the room, and if Malcolm did not concentrate his energies on it, he’d go mad.
Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Loxwell folded his arms.
Twenty-eight seconds ago, Malcolm had announced, with a composure that belied his pounding heart, that he had made Selina an offer. She had accepted.
Twenty-nine. No response from Loxwell but a furrowed brow.
It was not as if they strictly needed his blessing. Selina was well past the age of requesting a guardian’s permission. And if she had been too young, Malcolm would happily have fought her brother, thrown Selina over his shoulder and carried her off to Gretna Green.
But that would be missing the point. Selina loved her family. If Loxwell did object –
Thirty. The younger duke stirred as though the thirtieth tick had rung an alarm bell somewhere deep in his thoughts. He folded his arms a little tighter and looked at Malcolm with an expression caught between puzzlement and suspicion.
“I was not expecting that.”
“Well.” Malcolm’s hands were thrust stiffly behind his back. He shifted his stance. “Selina did not want to distract you this past week.”
“You asked her a week ago?” One eyebrow dared to break Loxwell’s mask of severity and inch upwards. “She’s had time to change her mind, then.”
“Thank you,” said Malcolm coldly. “She tells me her mind is quite made up.”
Loxwell gave him a long, sober look. “You are a fortunate man.”
“I know.” Malcolm cleared his throat, willing his tight muscles to relax. “Believe me.”
Loxwell glanced down, his frown deepening. “Of course, there is no possible objection on material grounds. You already know that you and Selina are the ideal match… in terms of rank and fortune. Besides, Selina has known for years that her fate is her own to decide. I would part with her to a beggar if it were a love match.” His eyes returned, piercingly, to Malcolm’s. “Is it a love match, Caversham?”
Understanding dawned.
What words Malcolm could form would be stiff and unfit for the purpose, he knew. He was unaccustomed to speaking of his heart. It felt dashed strange to talk about such things with Loxwell.
But the Balfour family held a different set of values to the ones Malcolm had always known. Affection was encouraged, nourished, cherished.
The home he would make with Selina would be just such a one, if he could manage it. Golden with laughter. Sweet with caresses.
He hadn’t thought such a thing was possible. Not for him. But she had a way of making him believe he could be something more.
“I wouldn’t dream of offering Selina anything less than my whole heart,” he said. “Such as it is.” Good grief, there was so much feeling inside him, and so little way to let it out. His chest ached with the strain of it. “You may not think I’m the man to make her happy, Loxwell, but I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life trying.”
A small smile lifted the corner of Loxwell’s mouth. “That’s the thing about my sister,” he said. “She doesn’t like to see people fail. If she’s letting you try, it means she’s certain you
’ll succeed.”
And suddenly it was over, and Loxwell was shaking his hand – wishing him joy – beaming – ringing for the butler, asking him to call in Lady Selina – offering a drink, suggesting a toast to Malcolm’s happiness – all the things which happened to other people, and which Malcolm had never expected would happen to him. And Selina came in, with her hands still ungloved and stained with her sketching charcoal. That touched him more deeply even than her smile. He knew she wouldn’t let an imperfection show in front of anybody else.
“Yes, you may well look pleased with yourself, Selina,” said Loxwell fondly. “Trust you to make an intrigue out of everything. Caversham, will you give us a moment alone?”
Malcolm obliged. In the corridor outside the study, he paced from wall to wall, feeling rather as though he’d received a blow to the head.
It was done. She was his. He’d be a married man so soon he could practically taste the heaven of the wedding night.
When Selina emerged, slipping quietly through the door and leaning against it to keep it closed, her eyes were a little bright, her eyelashes damp. But she was smiling.
“Alex says please excuse him, but he’ll follow us back to the drawing room in a few moments. He has a letter to write.” She lifted one elegant shoulder and lowered it with an arch smile. “He doesn’t have any letters, of course. My stern little brother is giving us an opportunity to misbehave. Just for a moment.”
Malcolm glanced over his shoulder. The corridor was empty. That was all the encouragement he needed. He pulled Selina into his arms and pressed his lips to hers. Haste made him clumsy, but she didn’t seem to mind.
She fit against him so wonderfully. She smelled the way honey had always dreamed of smelling.
“Thank god,” he groaned, letting his hands roam over the delicate curve of her waist. “At last.” He paused just before kissing her again. “It’s all settled, then?”
“Very happily so. Did he give you a hard time? It’s a brother’s prerogative, you know. Though I think he let George off easy, when it was Anthea’s turn. And when Edith married her Nathaniel, we’d all seen it coming for years.”
“He grilled me a little. He wanted to be sure I loved you as you deserve.”
Selina laughed, but sympathetically, and ran her fingers through his hair. Delightful shivers followed in their wake. “My poor Malcolm. All your years as a careless rake, revealed as an act in one fell blow. That must have been painful.”
“It was, since you ask, and I’ve no idea if I persuaded him, but since he didn’t run me off the property…”
She stopped his mouth with a kiss. “Whatever you said, it was perfect. Now…” She took a step backwards. Malcolm reached out to tug her back again, but she caught his hand and opened a side door, revealing the billiard room with its curtains drawn and, most importantly, no one at all inside. “Surely you don’t expect me to properly misbehave out in the hall?”
Several busy moments later, voice husky with desire, Malcolm murmured the words, “I am going to give you the most expensive wedding.”
“Heavens. It’s my family who should pay for it, surely? Since we’ve decided to do things properly.” She frowned, making that delightful crinkle between her eyebrows. “Besides, it sounds like that would take much too long to plan.”
Music to his ears. “Very well.” He interspersed his words with kisses. “A swift wedding.” Her fingers tightened on his topcoat. “Ah. Very swift. Then an extravagantly expensive honeymoon. Then, when we return, we’ll throw the ball to end all balls.” He grinned, thinking of champagne fizzing in flowerpots. “You’ll have to manage that part yourself. I’ll offer my assistance, but I don’t dare to challenge your expertise.”
“Ah, Your Grace.” She ran a teasing finger up his lapel. “I see you’re wasting no time in putting me to work.”
“Wasting your talents would be a sin. You were born to be the toast of London. I’m simply setting you in your rightful place.” He gave a rueful grin. “You will soon have to get used to the Your Graces too, and I have a feeling you’ll take to it with maddening ease.”
“You must try not to be too jealous, Malcolm.” Her eyes sparkled. “You are marrying me to secure the ideal duchess, after all.”
He let desire flash in his eyes and pressed her against the wall. The sigh she let slip inflamed him. “I am marrying you for a whole host of reasons,” he growled, grazing her ear with his lips. “I will deeply enjoy explaining them to you – at great length – from the moment the Archbishop grants us a special licence.” Reluctantly, he forced himself to let her go. “But for now, we ought to go and let your family know I’ve survived. And perhaps give Streatham a clip round the ear.”
“And we must tell Percy the happy news, of course. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.”
“He’s been begging me to bring you home from the day he pawed your dress in Twynham.” He ran his eyes over her, lingering a little longer in the places he’d grown accustomed to avoiding. The freedom to look at her was as intoxicating as a swallow of brandy. “You look the perfect level of mussed. Shall we?”
Selina shook her head, fastening her fingers on his collar, and pulling him close to her again. “One minute longer. Just one.” There was such a glow about her that he couldn’t possibly say no. “Just the two of us.”
He settled his arms back around her. “Soon. Soon it’ll be only you and only me, for as long as we want.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “In the meantime, let’s practice.”
Epilogue
Ten Years Later
The spacious hallway of the Duke of Caversham’s London residence was lit by a single candle, burning low. Shadows stretched long and languid at each end of the room, waxing and waning as the candle flickered. A thick eiderdown of silence lay over the grand space, rendering it cosy and peaceful. An onlooker would never have guessed at the noise and bustle that filled the house by day.
The light of an approaching lamp began as a pinprick in the stained glass of the front door, growing larger and rounder and sprinkling multicoloured shards of light across the floor like scattered jewels. Faint laughter rang out, a daytime sound that the candle answered by strengthening its flame.
A liveried footman opened the door, and an oddly shaped silhouette blacked out the lamplight for a moment. It ducked, stumbled a little but regained its footing, and emerged into the candlelight as Malcolm Locke, Duke of Caversham, carrying his duchess in his arms.
Selina pounded Malcolm’s shoulder with a playful fist. “Put me down! I saw the way you and Louis were working through the claret at supper. You’ll drop me!”
Malcolm was not drunk, in fact. If his head was filled with a pleasant cotton-ball sensation, it was simply due to the lateness of the hour. A lifetime of trial and error had taught him not to compete with Louis when it came to drinking wine. But Selina knew that, of course.
He feigned a stagger and let her slender body slip through his arms a little. Selina let out a gasp of laughter, then clapped her hand over her mouth. “Don’t! We’ll wake the children.”
Malcolm nodded towards the top of the stairs. “Too late, I’m afraid, on at least two counts.”
Selina glanced over her shoulder and gave a rueful smile as Malcolm set her gently on the ground.
Clinging to the bannister on the first landing was a little girl in a white nightdress, a tangle of dark curls forming a halo around her head. Sitting beside her with his feet on the next step down and his head leaning sleepily against his sister’s knee was the future tenth Duke of Caversham. He rubbed his eyes and yawned.
Selina glided up the stairs, a swan in her silver ballgown, and picked him up, though he was really getting too old for it. She settled his nodding head against her shoulder and gave her daughter a stern look. “This is no hour to be out of bed, Sophia.”
“You are out of bed, Mama,” she answered pertly, and put a finger still a little chubby with baby fat into her mouth.
“That is
a very good point,” said Malcolm, reaching them moments behind Selina. He bent down and gently removed the finger. “Or it would be, if you were not nine years old, and we were not fully grown.”
“It was not Sophia who woke me, Mama,” said the sleepy heir, raising his head from his mother’s shoulder. “It was Percy.”
Sophia stepped aside, revealing the evidence for this assertion in the form of the slumbering dog, now a little grey around the muzzle.
Selina caught Malcolm’s eye. He was grinning, and not trying hard enough to hide it. She gave him a resigned shake of her head. “Then Percy is a very bad dog. But we will forgive him if you all go to back to bed now.”
“I’ll ring for Nurse Betty,” said Malcolm.
“No, don’t wake her.” Selina shifted her son’s weight to one arm and offered a hand to Sophia. “Come along, now. I’ll tuck you in.”
Sophia stopped to tickle Percy’s ears until he stirred again, yawned hugely, and pattered along to his customary place at Selina’s ankle. Only then did she accept her mother’s hand, turning her head aside in a futile attempt to hide her own yawn from her parents.
“Did you see Aunt Anthea?” she asked.
“Yes, we did.”
“And Uncle George? And Aunt Edith and Uncle Nat?”
“Yes, them too.” Selina glanced back at Malcolm. “Do ring for Brady, please. I should get ready for bed myself.”
Malcolm stuck his hands in his pockets and leaned against the bannister his daughter had just vacated, watching his family – the three of them who were awake, at any rate – make their slow way back towards the nursery. Sophia’s questions chirruped on, interrupted ever more by her yawns.
“And Uncle Alex and Aunt Daisy? And our friend Lord Louis? And Aunt Isobel and Uncle –”
“Yes, petal, they were all there too. Now we must be nice and quiet, or we’ll wake the others.”
They crossed the silver square of starlight flung from a window and rounded the corner out of sight. Malcolm heaved a sigh, something between contentment and wistfulness settling warm and heavy in his chest.
No Dukes Need Apply (The Impossible Balfours Book 4) Page 18