Her earnest words shattered his heart.He had warned her not to peer too closely into the darkened corners of society.She had seen the blackest of scandals—been at the center of it, really—and he couldn’t blame her for wanting no part of his world, where pedigree mattered more than dignity and decency.One misstep could unfairly ruin reputations for generations.
Selwyn had never put a foot wrong.He’d been brought up to respect his elders, his peers, his tenants, and servants.He had endeavored to keep out of trouble, to avoid flirtations and entanglements, and to set a good example for his siblings.
Lately, he struggled to reconcile the desires of Selwyn Charlton, the man, with the duties of the Duke of Brantingham.Why hadn’t he been born a farmer, free to follow his heart?
“I am serious, Your Grace, about giving away everything that Mathieson has given me.It’s no legacy that I wish to profit from.”
As always, he urged prudence, for she oughtn’t to be so hasty in dispensing with her modest living.“Poverty won’t make your life any easier, but I respect your convictions.If you like, I shall be glad to make a donation to whichever lying-in hospital you choose.”He smiled at her, “Or all of them.”
Hazel eyes sparkled.“Really?Do you mean it?”
“I shouldn’t wish for any woman to suffer as your mother did.If she had been supported—not only financially, but socially and emotionally as well—she might be with us now.”
“I’m sure my mother would’ve been glad to know you, Your Grace.You’re a good friend to me.”
There were secrets still to be revealed, and Selwyn didn’t know how to broach the painful topic.He trusted that the right moment would come, and she would welcome the knowledge that had perhaps bound them together since birth.He hoped she would understand thatthiswas where she belonged.
Soon, the landau arrived at Brantingham House.Selwyn lifted the shade to reveal pavements seething with members of polite society paying calls and taking the air on a brisk afternoon.The trees of Hyde Park were bare, its grass frost-bitten and brown, and the footpaths crossing its green spaces were doubtless claggy and thus unwelcoming.Fashionable folk who would have otherwise been engaged in the park now ambled in front of his residence.
He looked above the heads of these promenaders to study the white Portland stone façade of Brantingham House, its columned portico, and gilded railings.A dozen windows winked in the light, and the smoke from countless comfortable fires spiraled up from its chimneys.
Selwyn longed for its warm, familiar rooms and the merry presence of his siblings who would uplift Aurelia’s spirits—and his own.He wanted a cup of tea to sweeten his thoughts, and he prepared to step from the carriage as his driver swung open the door.
Miss Goldsworthy’s hand touched his sleeve.“Oh, don’t go, Your Grace!I’m too humiliated to face the world.Can we tarry here for a moment whilst I steady my nerves?”
He sat back, waving the coachman away.The door closed, and they were alone once more.
“We can sit for as long as you require,” said Selwyn.He would forego the pleasures of hot tea and warm fires forhersake.“We can talk, if you’d like, or…”
Her small, gloved hand rose from his arm to cup his jaw.She cradled his face in her palm, silencing all words or thoughts.Then, her mouth lifted to press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth.
He did not believe that seduction was on her mind.She was merely seeking solace and perhaps clinging to his solidity, for he was a quiet port in a storm, and she felt tossed about by the tides of her life.
Miss Goldsworthy clung to him.Her mouth opened against his, her breathing desperate and ragged.She pleaded through parted lips, “Please, Your Grace…don’t let this wretchedness come between us…”
He dragged his mouth from hers.His hands untwined hers from around his neck as he gazed steadily into her eyes.“If you’re going to kiss me, Aurelia, you cannot call me ‘Your Grace’, for when your lips are on mine, I must be ‘Selwyn’ to you.”
She smiled shakily.“Selwyn.”
“Aurelia,”he said, resuming their kiss.
His mouth met her upturned lips, and he stole a taste of her smile for himself.She was pillowy soft and supple in his arms.Not rigid or tense, or frightened, or alone, asheusually felt.She was his dear friend, and he was hers.She was his beloved, andhewas the fool.
He’d fallen in love with Aurelia’s fearless heart.She had ventured to London to claim the man she wanted.She had been unwavering in her determination to have what she deserved.Such dauntlessness, devotion, and desire were the qualities he sought in a partner, a mate.
A duchess.
A wife.
How could he prove to her that this life—here with him—was the destiny she was born to and meant for?
All the boundaries that separated them began to crumble as he held her in his arms.
“Nothing could come between us,” he promised with his whole heart.“You’ve found a champion in me, Aurelia.My home is your home, my family is yours.Try to put this unpleasantness with Mathieson behind you, as you’ve told me yourself that a woman’s parentage ought not to define her.”He touched her chin, lifting it high.He knew she could hold it even higher.“I know you, and you shan’t let this define you.”
If anything, it would make her stronger.
“I want nothing more than to stay here kissing you all day,” said Selwyn.“I beg you to take your time, but when you’re finished with me,” he grinned at her in the darkened landau, “may I remind you that my extended family are joining us for Christmas Eve?They’ll be delighted to know you.”
