He laughed and nearly blushed, though Aurelia felt certain he was accustomed to obsequiousness—even if her words came straight from her heart.
“It seems we’ve each done one another a kindness,” said the Duke.“Let’s start tomorrow on even terms.”He circled the table and drew very near.She could smell the faintest hint of sugared citrus on his breath as he spoke.“Shall we be friends, then?”
Her pulse skipped.She’d never had a gentleman friend or even a beau.Her classmates and playmates had been girls, and the ladies of her small social circle were scarcely out of the schoolroom themselves.Married women were beyond her reach, and their sons, brothers, and husbands were out of the question.
There had only ever been the Duke of Brantingham for her.
Aurelia took his hand, letting their fingers brush and palms clasp.His grip was warm and steady, firm but gentle.He was the sort of man in whom a woman could place her trust—and her heart—knowing both would be safe in his keeping.
“Yes, Your Grace, we are friends.”
What other option was there?
CHAPTER FIVE
There was nothing he enjoyed more than reuniting with his siblings.Selwyn missed them when he was away from them, and rejoiced in their youthful freedom and rowdy energy, their heads bubbling over with dreams of parties, dances, and festivities—even though he was only a few years their senior.
Margie was twenty-three and already a determined old maid.Fannie was nineteen and ready to begin her turn as a debutante.Perry was sixteen and busy with school.Their lives were filled with fun, while his days were occupied with thoughts of the estate and concern for everyone who depended upon him.
Selwyn wouldn’t trade it for a moment, though.He was a worker, a provider, and something of a dull stick compared to his family, but he lived for these days when he could forget his cares for a little while and join them in their merrymaking.
He’d sent the carriage and baggage wagon to meet them at the station, and had watched the mantel clock as it counted the minutes until their return.Miss Goldsworthy sat across from him in the drawing room, occupying a cushion on the sofa, and thumbing through a copy of‘Belgravia’that she’d brought downstairs.
She was a steady presence when his nerves were firing like a steam engine.Every time he shifted, groaned, or paced, she put a teacup in his hands.It was a marvel that she made any progress in her reading, yet she merely smiled at his brimming excitement and turned another page.
Suddenly, Selwyn rose.“I think I hear the landau—that must be them.”
Miss Goldsworthy glanced up from her magazine, asking, “Would you like me to come down with you, Your Grace, or would you prefer a few minutes alone with your siblings?”
She was kind to think of them, for it would be a shock to find a lady in residence at Brantingham House.He would have his fair share of explaining to do, yet this young woman who’d burst into his life needed no introduction.She was who she was, and he couldn’t wait for them to meet her.
“Join me,” he offered.“I think we’d better begin as we mean to go on, don’t you?My family can meet you, and we can explain the situation before anybody gets the wrong idea.We must get out in front of the gossip, so to speak.”
Her hazel eyes went wide.“Do you think your siblings will talk?”
“Not intentionally, but they’re terribly impertinent.”He laughed, for he’d done nothing to ease her fears.“They’ll likely try to dream up some scheme to make a proper romance out of a simple misunderstanding.”
“It was more than a misunderstanding, Your Grace, it was mischief.I only regret that your kinfolk will be dragged into any unpleasantness.”She stood and followed him across the drawing room.Her skirt hems swept the carpet, a whisper of silk and wool, and a waft of delicate perfume when the house had been devoid of femininity for too long.
Selwyn paused in the doorway, allowing her to pass before him.The top of her head only reached his chest, yet he felt the need to give way to her.To follow where she led.
As they reached the gallery corridor, a great commotion arose on the threshold beyond.The front door swept open to reveal a parade of clamorous, chattering Charltons, followed by their servants and their luggage.Sooty, frigid air swirled about their ankles, ruffling their skirts and trousers.
Selwyn was glad to have a warm fire and hot drinks awaiting them upstairs.He dashed forward, spreading his arms wide to receive his brother and sisters.
The merry trio squealed when they saw him and swept him up in a flurry of laughter, greetings, and questions.Chilly, gloved hands pressed into his palms.Fannie and Margie kissed his cheek while Perry gripped him around the shoulders in a tight hug.
“Good Lord, Perry, when did you get so strong?”He stepped back to inspect his brother, who’d been away at Eton.“Or so tall?You’ll soon tower over us, I wager!”
The youngest Charlton had reached the rangy, awkward age of boyhood and was teetering on the brink of becoming a fully-grown man.Selwyn beamed with pride at the prospect.
Next came his sisters, who resembled Mama more and more with every passing day.Margie wore her thick brown hair coiled beneath a wide-brimmed bonnet with the fattest, most ridiculous ribbon tied beneath her chin.She was sensitive, intelligent, and had dreams for her future that he didn’t quite understand.
“I trust it was you,” he told her, “who managed to get everybody here in one piece.”
Margie had always been their mother hen.“We almost missed our train at Brough becausesomeonesaw something in a High Street shop window that she simply couldn’t live without.”
The younger sister huffed good-naturedly, for she did not care about trains, or timetables, or sticking to any sort of schedule when there was an adventure to be had.“I didn’t hear you complaining when I shared my box of bonbons,” Fannie argued, “so all’s well that ends well!”
