"He truly adores you, you know," came a quiet voice from beside her. Selina turned to find Bea, her lips curved up in a gentle smile.
"Is it that obvious?" Selina asked, unable to keep the smile from her face.
Bea nodded. "To anyone with eyes, my dear. The way he looks at you... it is as if you've hung the moon and stars."
Selina's gaze drifted back to James, her heart full to bursting. "I never imagined I could feel this way again," she confessed. "After Nile... I thought that part of me lost forever."
Bea placed a comforting hand on Selina's arm. "Love has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. You deserve every happiness, Selina. I am glad you and Lord Blackwood found each other."
Tears pricked at Selina's eyes. "Thank you, Bea. I do hope you and Charlotte find love as well. You are my dearest friends and I fear I may not have survived the trials of the past year if not for the two of you."
As if sensing her emotional state, James appeared at her side, concern etched on his handsome features. "Is everything alright, my love?"
Selina smiled, blinking back the tears. "More than alright," she assured him. "I was just reflecting on how blessed I am to have such wonderful friends... and a man who adores me."
His expression softened, and he drew her close. "Perhaps it is time we bid everyone goodnight," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear. "I find myself rather eager for some private time with the woman I adore."
A thrill of anticipation coursed through her. "Lead the way, my lord," she replied, her voice husky with promise.
The evening air was cool against her flushed skin as James led her toward the carriage. Tomorrow would bring new adventures, new obstacles to navigate. But tonight... tonight was for celebrating the love that had blossomed between them, against all odds.
And celebrate they would.
Eleven
The morning light brought a new challenge as the House of Lords loomed before Selina, its imposing facade a stark reminder of the gravity of the day's proceedings. A sea of silk and lace surged around her, the cream of London society jostling for position as they flocked to witness Lord Henry Hawthorne's trial.
Her heart thundered in her chest, a staccato rhythm that threatened to overwhelm her as she clenched her gloved hands, willing them to stop trembling. "I can do this," she said.
James leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear. "You are far stronger than anyone realizes."
His words, though meant to comfort, sent a shiver down her spine. It was not every day an earlfaced trial, and this was her one chance to gain revenge for Nile. She drew in a steadying breath and squared her shoulders. She would have her retribution. And once she did, she would put all the ugliness behind her.
James patted her hand. And as they made their way into Westminster Hall, Selina caught sight of Lord Hawthorne being led into the building, his wrists bound in irons. Their eyes met for a brief moment, and the hatred that blazed in his gaze nearly stole her breath.
"Steady on," James murmured, his hand finding the small of her back. The touch, though fleeting, anchored her.
Inside, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement. Her gaze swept over the assembled crowd in the gallery, noting the mix of genuine concern and morbid fascination on their faces.
"Lady Hollyfield!" A shrill voice cut through the din. "How brave of you to attend. I daresay it must be dreadfully difficult."
Selina turned to find Lady Pembrook, her eyes gleaming with ill-concealed curiosity. "Thank you for your concern, Lady Pembrook," Selina replied, her tone cool. "But I assure you, I am quite capable of facing this day. In fact, I have been rather lookingforward to it for some time." She gave a half-hearted smile.
James stepped forward, his presence a palpable shield. "If you will excuse us, my lady. We must take our seats."
As they moved away, Selina could not help but marvel at his protective instincts. It was a far cry from the rogue she'd first encountered, all charm and calculated indifference. This was a man full of substance and deference. The sort of gentleman a lady could count on.
Selina took her seat, acutely aware of the weight of expectation pressing down upon her. James settled beside her, his thigh brushing against hers in a silent show of support.
Lord Chancellor Eldon called the court to order, his voice resonating through the chamber. "We are gathered here today to determine the guilt or innocence of Lord Henry Hawthorne, charged with the murder of Nile Whitcomb, Earl of Hollyfield, and the attempted murder of Selina Whitcomb, Lady Hollyfield, and James Barton, Lord Blackwood."
Selina's breath caught in her throat. Hearing Nile’s name spoken so formally, in this context, made her heart ache anew. And to know how closeshe and Jame’s had come to losing their lives as well—it was nearly too much.
A chill ran through her as the first witness was called, a stable hand from the day of the fatal race. As he recounted the events leading up to Nile's death, Selina found herself transported back to that terrible day.
She swallowed hard as she clutched James’s hand, tears welling in her eyes.
"And you are certain you saw Lord Hawthorne near the earl's phaeton before the race?" The Lord Chancellor’s voice cut through her reverie.
