Page 13 of The Gift of a Christmas Scandal

Chapter Six

The following day dawned with a clear sky again, but soon clouded over, and a light snow began to fall. The planned riding party to the ruins was regretfully postponed, and the day given over to the kind of parlour games which Selina had never been much enamoured of.

That situation also meant that she was in close proximity to the Duke for much of the day – something that she found both desirable, and difficult. She could not help herself – her eyes went to him, followed him, and, all too often, she discovered that he was looking at her too. Their eyes would meet, and for a moment, everything else would fade from her awareness. Then one or the other of them would tear their eyes away, and the day would move on.

She ached to touch him, to feel his lips on hers. But propriety demanded that she be everything that was proper, and give no indication of what she felt. Her mind replayed the time spent with him in the library, and her dreams that followed, endlessly.

She found herself perpetually flushed and acutely aware of him. So much so, that Mariel noticed the redness of her cheeks, and asked after her health. She blamed it on the large number of people in the well heated room, whilst feeling somewhat guilty for lying to Mariel.

Whenever the Duke came near to her, it was as if a magnet pulled her to him. A number of times, as they moved about the room, he brushed against her in some way, as if it was completely accidental – but, somehow, she knew that it was not an accident at all. Each time, a shock ran through her, and left her aching for his touch, in a far more intimate way. By late afternoon, it had become almost unbearable – yet she would not have changed the day at all.

It seemed to her that, although his words in the library had indicated that, no matter what, she was not the sort of woman he could consider marrying, perhaps he had not meant it that way. From what she had heard and seen of most younger men, they were not anxious to marry – not until the exigencies of finance, the need for an heir or similar drove them. Or until they fell in love. She should expect that he might feel the same.

For him to have been forced to face the possibility of marriage, so soon after the end of his mourning for his father, and with so little choice in the matter, must be difficult. But… his kisses had said, she thought, far more than his words. His kisses said that he wanted Selina – and surely that desire was more than pure lust – or else why would he be watching her so now?

The whole situation confused her. She would need to think on it more – and, preferably, speak to him alone again, soon.

She was standing, a glass of lemonade in her hand, staring blankly into the fire as she thought. She could hear, faintly, another game being arranged, but she ignored it – to think of the Duke and his kisses was far more interesting. Then her thoughts were interrupted.

A hand gently touched her arm, and a scent she knew surrounded her – awareness shivered through her as he spoke.

“Lady Selina, might I entreat you to be my partner for this game?”

Startled, she almost let the glass slip from her fingers. Deftly, he caught it before it could fall and shatter on the hearth. His fingers brushed hers, and heat rushed through her.

“Your Grace, I…”

She did not know what to say. His fingers withdrew from hers, ever so slowly.

“Please?”

His voice was low, husky, vibrating with something that resonated deep within her. How could she refuse?

“Yes.”

He smiled, that devastating smile. She could have, in that moment, simply melted, so strong was the effect on her. He reached out again, and took the glass from her, setting it on the mantel, then offered his arm. She placed her hand on it, and he escorted her to where the players were forming up in the centre of the room. When they turned in that direction, she saw, on the other side of the room, Lord Hockingmoor, standing near Lady Phyllida.

They wore near identical expressions of displeasure, and, if looks were daggers, she knew that both she and the Duke would have fallen immediately. Her heart sank – for a little, she had managed not to think about Lord Hockingmoor, but the reminder soured the day, and left her feeling most nervous about being so close to the Duke. She glanced sideways at him as they came to a stop and he nodded, the tiniest movement, and cast his eyes towards Lady Phyllida and the Earl. So, he had noticed too. Oddly, that cheered her – a difficulty shared became easier to bear.

The game proceeded, and somehow produced multiple chances for the Duke’s hand to brush hers. By the end of it, she was so sensitised that just the air on her skin felt like a caress. How was she to get through a full week or more of this torture?

Once it was over, she curtsied to the Duke, and excused herself. He bowed, but his eyes followed her, hungrily, as she walked away, seeking Mariel, and the stability of comfortable conversation. She was only glad that her mother had chosen to spend the afternoon in her room – for another set of disapproving eyes would have been most uncomfortable.

She paused, looking, and finally saw Mariel, sitting in a secluded spot, as she so often did, – this time, in the window seat of a large window, almost hidden by the drapes. But before she could move to her, a hand touched her arm – this time, there was no frisson of arousal as a result.

“Lady Selina, is it not?”

Selina turned. Lady Phyllida stood beside her. The woman’s face bore a look of anger, barely covered by disdain. Her voice had been harsh, although the words were polite enough.

“Yes, I am Lady Selina Brancourt.”

“I felt that I should warn you, Lady Selina, that, whatever your intentions towards the Duke, you will be disappointed. It is not yet formally announced, as dates are being discussed, and we have honoured the mourning for his father, but you should know that we are betrothed – there is a contract to that point, of seven years standing. So you see, there is no point in you attempting to charm him. He is far too polite to ignore you, but be assured, you will not achieve anything by pursuing him. I do hope that you understand my point.”

Selina felt, suddenly, chilled to the bone. Confusion filled her – if Lady Phyllida was so confident, could she have been mistaken in the Duke’s sincerity? Could he simply be toying with her? But no, surely not – he had seemed so genuine in his despair of being trapped by that contract. What could she say or do – Lady Phyllida was waiting for an answer? Selina drew herself up, pasted a smile onto her face, and looked Lady Phyllida directly in the eye as she delivered a platitude which was, she knew, an utter lie.

“Of course, Lady Phyllida. I will bear your words in mind. So kind of you to inform me.”

Yes, she would bear the words in mind – and choose to ignore them, at least until she understood the truth of the Duke’s feelings better. For she could not believe that he had lied to her. And, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to spend more time with him, no matter what the consequences. Well… almost no matter what.