He did not often speak to Sir Roderick so harshly. The old knight blinked, taken aback.
“That is not how we are going to win this election, Roddy,” said Malcolm, softening his tone. “You have nothing to worry about. Don’t lower yourself by insulting a woman.”
“Very well.” Sir Roderick looked as though he was having a difficult time swallowing his objections. “Shall we move along, Caversham? I’ve no desire to speak to these people, and my throat is parched.”
Malcolm glanced back at Selina, who had stopped a passer-by and was enthusiastically explaining Mr Forrester’s position on the responsibilities of landowners to their tenants.
“You go on, Roddy.” He patted his shoulder. “Order me a glass of something pleasant.”
Sir Roderick shook his head but knew better than to argue. He drew his coat tighter around his shoulders, though the temperature was pleasant, and made his way down the street towards the nearest tavern. Malcolm waited, idly toying with Percival’s ear, as Selina finished her conversation with the citizen of Twynham. Mr and Mrs Forrester were engaged in an animated discussion with a second gentleman who had happened to amble by.
“Are you reconsidering your candidate, Your Grace?” asked Selina, noticing that Malcolm had not moved. He gave a non-committal shrug.
“I am sure that Mr Forrester is a remarkable man.”
“And I am sure that I could persuade you to back him, if you would only listen with an open mind.”
Percival whined in Malcolm’s arms, straining to go to Selina. She made a soft, soothing noise and bestowed a few pats on his fuzzy head.
“You are mistaken if you think I will abandon Sir Roderick,” said Malcolm. “He may not be the dashing sort of youth you seem to favour, but he was indispensable to my father, and I owe him a great deal.”
“Do you do everything to impress your late father?” asked Selina. “Or do you make the occasional attempt to be your own man?”
Malcolm sucked in a hiss of breath. “My father was one of the greatest men of his age. A claim which I can never hope to emulate.”
“I did not mean to offend you.” Selina abandoned Percival, laying her hand on Malcolm’s arm. It was beginning to ache with the weight of the dog, and now a new, deeper sort of ache began in response to her touch. “It is only that this is the second time you have mentioned your father’s influence in your choice to support Sir Roderick. I am yet to hear any arguments truly in his favour.”
“Since you will not vote in the Twynham election, I see no need to expend my breath arguing with you.”
She cocked her head to one side. “You don’t consider me a true opponent, do you? You simply assume that the voters will cast their ballots exactly as you tell them.”
“I admit to a certain degree of confidence.” He inclined his head to acknowledge the unfairness of it all. “I am a duke. There is very little that can compete with that, I find.”
“And nothing I can say will induce you to drop your support for Sir Roderick?”
“Would anything I say induce you to abandon Mr Forrester?”
Selina’s jaw tightened. He had said the wrong thing, though he couldn’t see how.
“Mr Forrester is a brilliant young man who has proven his worth in the highest court in the land. He is intent on reform. If we can only get him into Parliament, his career is sure to be magnificent.”
“And Sir Roderick’s is not?”
“Come, Your Grace. You know as well as I do that Sir Roderick will vote as you instruct him and slumber through every speech in the Commons.”
“Personally, I don’t find the thought particularly alarming.”
“Would you not rather be part of something greater than yourself?” There was a fire alight in her dark eyes. Malcolm knew he could not hope to match it. He gave a self-deprecating chuckle which, judging by her hurt expression, she thought was directed at her.
“I am already part of something greater than myself,” he said. “The Dukedom of Caversham. I am the ninth duke. Someday there shall be a tenth. Perhaps, eventually, even a twentieth. And to ensure Caversham’s future, I must consolidate my power today.” Percival yipped in his arms, and he saw with horror that there were several muddy pawprints on Selina’s dress. “Blast!” He took a step backwards, giving the dog a shake too gentle to really chastise it. “Percy! You impudent beast.” Hefting the dog into one arm, he dug in his pocket for a handkerchief. “I am sorry.”
She waved his proffered handkerchief away. “You can make it up to me by accepting an invitation to dine with my brother.”
“With Loxwell? I’d rather –” He remembered how much she esteemed her sober brother just in time. “I can think of nothing I’d rather do.”
“Really?” This time her smirk was unmistakable. “Even if I tell you that I shall bring you to Mr Forrester’s side by the end of the evening?”
“I am not as easily won as my dog, Selina. It’ll take more than a scratch behind the ears.”
“I’m sure it will.” The flames were back in her eyes, defiant and close enough to warm him. “I look forward to the opportunity to discuss things with you properly.”
Malcolm was looking forward to it, too. More than he would ever admit.
“You have no shame, Percy,” he murmured, as the dog settled contentedly against his shoulder to watch Selina and the Forresters walk away. “It isn’t the done thing to paw at a lady that way, you know.”
Percival opened a lazy eye and gave him a look far too knowing for a mere animal.
“Stop that.” Malcolm glowered until the dog, unperturbed, let out a snuffle and closed his eye again. “I refuse to be taken to task by a dog.”
But he would, apparently, sign up for an evening of undiluted political debate with Lady Selina Balfour. Without a second’s hesitation.
As ever, when it came to her, he could not seem to untangle the pain
