Page 8 of The Gift of a Christmas Scandal

Chapter Four

When Selina went down to breakfast the following morning, she discovered that Mariel and her family had arrived. They settled beside each other at the table, and spoke quietly. Mariel was full of enthusiasm for the week to come and Selina allowed Mariel’s words to roll over her. Unusually, she felt no impulse to tell Mariel of her conversation with the Duke the previous day. It seemed a thing to hold to herself, to treasure, although she wasn’t entirely sure why she felt that way.

Her dreams had been intense, and she had woken feeling almost exhausted by her dream exertions. Part of her could not wait to see the Duke again, but part of her was afraid – for surely, when she stood before him, memories of her rather erotic dreams would surface and she would blush dreadfully!

The morning passed quietly, with Selina and Mariel taking the chance to walk in the grounds – the day was still, with pale winter sunshine, and the ground was only lightly dusted with snow.

Outside, they could talk without being overheard. Mariel immediately demanded an accounting of everyone present, that Selina had seen the previous afternoon. Selina, embarrassed, had to admit that she had not really taken note of most of them.

“Oh! So… you were distracted, then?”

Selina blushed, and looked away from Mariel.

“You could, perhaps, describe it that way.”

“Who? Selina, which gentleman has managed to distract you so?” Selina hesitated, loath to speak of it, but Mariel pressed. “Do tell me, Selina, please?”

“Well… it was the Duke, actually.”

“Oh my! What is he like? I’ve heard tell that he’s sinfully handsome, and rather dangerous looking. There are whispers about just what he might have done during those seven years on the continent.”

“Dangerous? What an odd perception. But sinfully, deliciously handsome – yes, definitely that.”

“Did you speak with him?”

“Yes… actually, he rescued me from the ignominy of standing alone in a crowded room, when his mother swept my parents off to gossip.”

“Well, I can imagine that got you some envious glances from the other young ladies present! Especially from Lady Phyllida Wormington. Have you heard the gossip about that situation?”

“No – you know that I rarely hear such things from anyone but you.”

“Well then, I’d best tell you all.” Mariel’s eyes sparkled with delight – an expression often seen just before she launched into some mischief, or delivered the most salacious information. “I am told, by those who are well placed to know, that there is a contract of marriage between Lady Phyllida and the Duke – a contract first drawn up more than six years ago.”

Selina suddenly felt unsteady on her feet, and dropped to sit on the cold stone bench beside the garden path. Winter bare branches curved above her, as stark against the sky as Mariel’s words were stark in the cold air, echoing in her mind as the silence lengthened. Eventually she found words.

“A contract of marriage? But no one has spoken of a betrothal – how can that be?”

As she spoke, the Duke’s words of yesterday came back to her – the words he had uttered after she had confided the difficulty of her situation with her parents desire for her to marry the Earl – ‘Then you need a miraculous solution. I find myself in an equally awkward position, and also need a miracle’. Was that what he had meant? That he was bound to marry someone he did not wish to? Perhaps it was.

“Apparently, his father and Lady Phyllida’s father, Lord Kirkwold, made the agreement between them, whilst the current Duke was in Italy – before he was Duke, of course, when he was twenty. Lady Phyllida was only thirteen at the time, I am told. It has also been rumoured that the contract requires them to wed before she turns twenty-one – which she does in little more than a month from now!”

“I can only think such a thing terrible! To be committed not by your own choice, and when so young!”

“I do not believe that Lady Phyllida is at all distressed by the situation…”

Mariel’s tone suggested that, in fact, Lady Phyllida was rather pleased. Selina’s heart was aching in her breast, in a most unusual way. She discovered that, in her most secret thoughts, her conversation with the Duke the previous day had given her a grain of foolish hope – for he was far more the kind of man she would like to marry than the Earl – and his presence in her dreams made that more so.

But if he was inextricably promised to another… another whom he did not wish to marry, then they were both doomed to misery. She felt on the edge of tears. Mariel watched her curiously. She had to say something.

“And the Duke? What does the gossip say of his opinion on the matter?”

“Ah. There the gossip presents conflicting information. Some say that he has not acted until now, that nothing has been said, due to the mourning period for his father, which is but three months finished. Others suggest that he is not pleased at all – apparently his relationship with his father was rather stormy and it is generally believed that he went to the Continent to escape his father’s rule. So… I do not know- perhaps he is happy with it, and we will hear an announcement this week. Perhaps not.”

Selina did not think that she could bear it, if there was an announcement this week – she could not, simply could not, believe that he was happy about it – not given his quiet words to her. And, if she was honest with herself, her dreams led her to believe otherwise.

She flushed at that thought – it was not one she could voice without being considered insane – but it was the truth. And… should she still meet the Duke in private, as he had requested, if a note came to her? Or was that the height of madness, risking her reputation for a man already promised elsewhere?

No matter the logic of her thoughts, she knew, in that instant, that should he send the promised note, she would meet him – regardless of the risk. She looked at Mariel, and also knew, of a certainty, that this was one thing she would not be discussing with her.