Chapter 9

Marcus had spent a good part of the night fostering up liquid courage for what he was about to do next. But now that he was finally here, he was transfixed on the threshold by the vision before him. Selina stood, barefoot in her nightdress. It was a white cotton garment that left her arms bare and covered her to the throat. It did not adhere to her body, which Marcus knew to be slender but curved in a delightfully feminine way. But that did not matter. He knew that only a flimsy layer of cotton lay between her body and him. It would be the simplest thing to remove.

Stop it! She kissed you while under the influence of alcohol and recovering from a fever. And believing you to be someone else besides! Stop thinking of her as a lover. Especially now that you are under the influence yourself, you buffoon.

The truth was that Selina was more like his ward. She needed his protection. He needed her co-operation. This arrangement must be carried out as a transaction. It would gain her safety and him a healing draught for his ailing reputation.

And that is all! There is nothing else on the table!

But he could not tear his eyes off Selina. She stood before him unashamed. Not scandalized that he had seen her in her nightdress. Not running and hiding. It was as though she had finally recovered all of her senses and realized that she did not need to hide from him. The only sign of her anxiety was the way her toes dug at the threadbare carpet. Marcus bit at his lower lip and saw Selina smile.

"I remember that. You always used to do that," she said.

Marcus forced a smile and turned to the door. "May I?" he asked.

She nodded and he closed it and stepped further into the room.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, rubbing the fingers of one hand against the palm of the other, feeling awkward.

"Sober," Selina said wryly.

"I suppose that at least makes one of us. I should have thought that wine would not be the best refreshment after two days in bed. I should have had the cook prepare apple juice. Or milk. I apologize."

"You don't need to, Arthur. I was the foolish one who drank too much and then didn't have the good sense to stay in her room."

Perhaps I should have the good sense to do the same and return to mine.

"—And please don't blame Gracie. The poor girl was exhausted. I wanted to let her sleep."

"I would not. She is a good worker and kind-hearted," Marcus finally said. "Look, we have a lot to talk about. Shall we sit?"

Selina took a seat at one end of the chaise, Marcus sat at the other. His heart was thudding, and he felt heat in his cheeks. He tried to keep his eyes on his hands, or on the fire, but she pulled them like iron filings to a magnet. She had turned to face him, one leg tucked under the other. He told himself that there was nothing inappropriate in this, the material of the nightdress was relatively thick and was certainly not indecent. She was not behaving in any way lewdly, but there was a quality about her that excited him.

Damn Arthur for knowing her when I could not. Damn him the good fortune of being father's favorite. I shivered in the Cumbrian hills while he frolicked with this…angel.

"Selina," he began, "will you tell me first how you came to be here in such extraordinary circumstances? I believe I have a plan of action, but it would be helped by all available facts."

She nodded and Marcus was glad that Luke's recollections about the Voss family had proved correct.

"As you know, I lived at Sawthorne Manor with my father, the Earl. It has not been the easiest of relationships and I have been conscious, since my debut, that I am reliant upon him while contributing nothing. I had always thought to myself that when I marry, I shall be able to repay my father for everything he has done for me. My education, my board even. But…the right husband has not presented himself."

Marcus found himself somewhat charmed by her frankness and by her honest desire to make her own way in the world. Plenty of young women born into noble families would think only of society balls and powerful husbands to replace their wealthy fathers. At least that was his view.

"I did meet a nice young man and had courted him. I thought that I had, perhaps, found my husband. But…it did not work out quite as I hoped."

She looked away and Marcus caught the glint of moisture in her eyes. He waited patiently, suppressing the urge to move closer, to put his arm around her. To hold her close to him. He had a feeling that she would not rebuff him but, always, the thought of the deception he was practicing against her brought him up short.

"My father took over and arranged for me to marry a much older man. The Duke of Christleton."

"I am aware of him," Marcus said gravely.

"A cruel man. He made it clear my function would be to produce him an heir. That I should be happy that I was marrying into wealth. Grateful. Can you believe that?"

There was incredulity on her face, animation in her tone.

"I can believe it, but I do not agree with it," Marcus said, "it is an unfortunate characteristic of the attitude of the aristocracy to marriage. I thank god that I spent my formative years amid more grounded folk."

He realized his mistake as soon as he said it and clamped his mouth shut. Again, the alcohol had loosened his tongue. Selina frowned.

"But you were raised here, surely? That is what I remember. I know we always met at my grandmother's house in Wilmington, but…"

"My teachers were the household staff. Not my father," Marcus added hastily, "that is what I meant. And of course, the times we spent together. I did not feel as though I was part of the high-born culture that my father was part of."

Selina smiled wistfully. "I remember, now that you mention it. Those houses we used to spend in the Fairy Dell, do you remember it?"

Marcus nodded, wondering where it was. Somewhere in the trackless wilderness of the Downs, perhaps? Woodland near Wilmington.

"You always talked about feeling at one with the land and having more in common with the farmers than the Dukes."

My brother said that? What kind of man was he anyway?

Marcus realized that she was waiting for an answer. "Yes, I remember it. Tucked away in the Downs."

It was a stab in the dark, but her expression told him it had hit the mark.

"So, you ran away?" he asked.

She nodded. "I could not marry that…creature. I could not bear the thought. When I challenged him, he…he struck me."

Her hand went to the bruise on her cheek, and again, Marcus felt the urge to comfort her with his body, with an embrace. He put his arm on the back of the chaise. His outstretched hand was less than a foot from Selina's shoulder. He could lean just a little and brush her arm. The thought was intoxicating but he forced himself to focus on her words, keeping his growing feelings of attraction contained.

"The worst part of it…" Tears sprang from Selina's eyes.

She looked away, hiding her face. Marcus saw her shoulders begin to shake and could no longer hold back. Telling himself that it sounded like exactly what Arthur would have done, he moved across the chaise and gently put his arm around her shoulders. Selina turned and buried her face in his chest, the sobs breaking through like a river bursting its banks.

"He just stood there. The one man who is supposed to protect me above all others. And he just stood there!" she wailed.

Marcus tightened his embrace, stroking her hair and whispering soothingly to her. His anger at her father brightened to the intensity of the sun. It threatened to dwarf the hatred he felt for his own father.

What manner of man allows his own flesh and blood to be struck. I should like to horsewhip him!

For a long time, she wept. Marcus held her, rocking her, letting the grief flood from her until she quietened. He reached into a pocket and produced a handkerchief which she dabbed at her eyes with.

"I'm sorry," she said, "look at me. Of all the ways I imagined meeting with you, this was not one of them. Drunk and blubbering. God, what you must think of me."

Marcus smiled gently. "I have been in far worse states, I can assure you."

"Well, now you know the whole horrible story. I know I have complicated your life. That confrontation and then the…the…kiss," her cheeks flushed, "do you want me to leave? I would not blame you."

"I do not want you to leave," Marcus replied honestly. "You're right in that this is a complicated situation we find ourselves in. I am trying to undo the reputation which my father and…" Marcus had been about to say brother but remembered that few people knew of the existence of Marcus Roy, forgetting him during the long years of his exile. "…Which I inherited from my father. But I think I have a solution to the little knot we seem to have gotten ourselves into. You are over one and twenty years of age, are you not?"

Selina frowned at the question. "I am four years and one month younger than you, Arthur."

And Arthur and I would have both been twenty-seven.

"Yes, of course. The solution is this." He bit his tongue before what he was about to say next.

God, I better not regret this come morning.

"I will marry you."