Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

S elina's heart was full of happy expectation as she dressed for dinner that evening in her one beautiful evening gown, which she'd artfully trimmed with pink and cream bows.

Edward would have collected the likeness she had drawn of Lord Chauncy from the agreed hiding place. He might even smile and compliment her work. That would be a welcome change.

At least he, like Selina, must be feeling similarly light-hearted with relief, she thought.

Until Edward entered the room.

Focusing a troubled gaze upon her, her brother asked, "Where is the drawing of Lord Chauncy, Selina? I asked you to leave it for me beneath the stone we agreed upon in the shrubbery so I could set my mind at rest that you had indeed done what was asked of you."

Edward always used that accusatory tone when he was anxious.

"I put it exactly where I said I would, so you could collect it when you finished your sketching session."

"It was not there."

Selina frowned, not yet worried. Edward had obviously not conducted a proper search.

"No, Selina, it was not there. I scoured the area. Were you careless? Could the wind have carried it away?"

Selina stared at her brother. Her breath came faster and then she had to support herself with a hand on the back of the chair by the little writing desk as she whispered, "We agreed on the spot, Edward. I put it just beyond the partly open conservatory window. I put a rock on it to hold it, but it was exactly where we both agreed I would leave it."

"Well, I do not have my drawing of Lord Chauncy." His nostrils flared, and he closed his eyes a moment as he said, "A foraging animal or the wind has carried it away. Without this commission we are done for, Selina."

Selina hurried back to the conservatory. It was madness to be outdoors in her evening gown, but nothing mattered except finding her sketch.

Edward couldn't have looked properly. He must have mistaken her instructions.

She was confident of finding it where she'd left it.

Except it wasn't there.

A thorough search of the shrubbery and the near location yielded nothing, and now she would have to return to her brother empty-handed.

"Lady Boothe, you look distressed."

Selina jerked her head up at the mellifluous tones of her host.

"Your Grace," she said, inclining her head. "I…I needed a little air before spending the evening indoors. It's a lovely evening."

It was not, in fact, a lovely evening, as a spatter of fine rain drops gave the lie to her incautious statement.

Lord Chauncy took her elbow and shepherded her to shelter beneath a large oak tree.

"A lovely evening, indeed," he remarked, a smile playing about his lips. "And you chafe at being indoors, I take it. Even when dressed for dinner."

"It is a chore to remain seated for very long."

"I noticed you had a restless disposition. So this is what you call a lack of restraint? Roaming the outdoors in your evening gown even when you might ruin your dancing slippers?"

Selina blinked. For a moment she thought she saw something like sympathy cross his features, then supposed she must have imagined it. He'd shown he liked to flirt with her. But what was she—really—to a man like this?

A man who believed she was nothing more than his servant's mad wife.

But he had not made his excuses to move on. He seemed to wait for an answer.

"Restless?" Her mind shifted from the sketch to her need for activity. Always. She smiled suddenly. "It is true. For as long as I can remember, I was the one who wanted to be out of doors, running across the lawn and climbing trees and exploring the woods. My brother was the quiet one. We used to wish we could swap places."

He considered this. "No doubt you were forever being punished for your exuberance."

"Oh yes, I was considered wild—" She paused. She was speaking of herself, but the same could have been applied to her sister-in-law. Poor Anna, while perfectly charming and delightful, was completely unable to filter her thoughts or desires.

Naturally, though, the duke thought he was speaking to Anna. And he assumed, of course, that Edward had offered her some reprieve. Selina wondered fleetingly if Anna would ever be reprieved. She might be unpredictable, but sweetly so; and never dangerous.

But she must stop reviewing the past. Selina would be wise to remember that Edward was the one who decided if her conduct warranted her being allowed out of Boothe Hall again.

So, talking to the duke, she was careful with her words. This man's charm might encourage her to speak a little too unwisely.

And if he caught her out in her lie, Edward's reputation—and his pride—would be irrevocably damaged.

"Wild?" He quirked a brow.

Selina really should not have taken his silence as encouragement. However, it was so rare to have the attention of someone even mildly interested, much less the attention of a handsome man. A handsome, titled, influential man.

Despite her best intentions, her tongue had a habit of running away with her, as did her impulses.

"I suppose my first really defiant act was when I ran away when I was ten."

"Ran away? From home?"

"Yes, I'd been chastised by my governess one too many times. A very charming guest of my parents visited with his mother, so I hid in their carriage when I was supposed to be locked up in my room."

"How did you escape the confines of your room?"

"I climbed out of my window and when I saw the carriage, it seemed like providence." Selina smiled. "I was discovered when these people had reached home, and it was nearly midnight. I received quite a hiding when I was returned. I suppose I deserved it."

"Yes, your parents would have been concerned, I imagine. When I ran away from home, I was praised for my bravado. I, too, was objecting to authority—in my case, my tutor. But my parents disliked the man, and they used my rebellion as an excuse for why he could not exert necessary control, so he was dismissed. I remember feeling bad about that. To be truthful, I didn't mind my tutor. I was just responding to a surge of childish pique at being told what to do. You, Lady Boothe, clearly don't enjoy having to conform."

Selina shrugged. "I'm not very good at it, no. And I don't suffer fools gladly."

The moment the words were out, she clapped her hand to her mouth, for the inference didn't reflect well on Edward. "Of course, my husband is another matter. His talent is prodigious, and I would do whatever I could to see it recognized."

"How many times have you trotted out that line, Lady Boothe?"

"I am very dutiful when I remember to be," she replied with a smile.

"And…do you chafe at being dutiful?"

Selina was prevented from answering by a voice from the house, calling his name, which brought them back to the present. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a surprised laugh as she felt a spattering of raindrops breach the leaves of the plane tree.

"I certainly shouldn't be out here," she said, holding out her hands, palms upwards. "Edward will be horrified when I walk in covered in droplets of water. I'll have to concoct a plausible excuse that I was doing something to further his interests. He nearly wouldn't allow me to come, you know."

The duke chuckled. "I shall tell him I elicited your help when my sister's pug ran out through the door and into the rain."

"Oh, would you?!" Selina clasped her hands together. "You clearly are a man of action who can think on your feet. Very admirable traits, Your Grace."

"You think so?" He raised an eyebrow then took her by the elbows to draw her a little closer against the tree trunk where there was greater protection from the rain.

Selina swallowed. He was so close—his coat of burgundy superfine brushing against her exposed flesh—that she could smell the sandalwood soap he used, and a faint overlay of some spice. Nutmeg, she thought. She sniffed appreciatively then looked up to find him frowning at her.

"You smell very nice, Your Grace," she explained. "At first I thought the rain had released the scent of some glorious flower but then I realised it was you."

"Me?!"

"Yes. Distinct overtones of sandalwood and nutmeg." She closed her eyes and sniffed again, adding, "And leather and brandy. Yes, I smell all those things."

"Good lord, Lady Boothe. Your senses are finely attuned."

"So I've been told. It helps when painting—" She stopped suddenly and he asked, "You paint too?"

"Just water colors. I'm not terribly good," she said, surprised that he'd continued to detain her in conversation. How could she really be of interest to a man like him?

Though, of course, he had seemed interested during thirty seconds of darkness the night before when she had allowed him to run his hands over her body.

Not that there would be any acknowledgement of that, though of course the recollection should have made her convulse with shame under his gaze.

Or, she reflected, he should have been shamed and full of apology.

Instead, the look in his eye, and his next words, suggested that the reminiscence of this was front of mind. "When I entered my study last night, it was the faint scent of orange water that alerted me to the fact that my inner sanctum had been breached." Watching her carefully, he extended his hand and gently ran his forefinger along her flesh, from where her short sleeve ended, to her wrist.

It was impossible not to tremble at his touch.

"You are being modest now, Lady Boothe." There was an odd look in his eye, Selina noted. As an artist, she was attuned to the mood of a subject. Right now, she was certainly attuned to the interest of a very interesting man. "And," he went on, "you remind me very much of someone of whom I was once very fond."

"Chauncy!" Miss White's voice floated from the open French doors that led into the study and Lord Chancy bowed. "I must not detain you, Lady Boothe, when you are expected for dinner shortly and ladies like plenty of time to make the most of their natural attributes….though you, perhaps, need less time for that than most."