He inclined his head. He was wearing a well-cut topcoat that showed off the rugged broadness of his figure, a crimson waistcoat shot with gold thread, and a set of breeches that were likely to make Georgiana Whitby faint.
“I didn’t bother with the champagne this time,” he said, and offered his arm. “Walk with me?”
Selina placed her hand lightly just below his elbow. “I hope you’ve asked the birthday girl to dance. She’ll be mortified if you do not.”
“Fear not. I have done my duty by Miss Whitby and am free to abandon the dance floor for the rest of the evening. Unless Lady Isobel would benefit from a waltz with a handsome duke. Does she have a suitor I could turn green with jealousy?”
“Is there a handsome duke on hand? I have yet to spot one.”
“Very amusing.” He led her out into a corridor, down which several couples were ambling on their way between the ballroom and the supper room. He looked from side to side in a faintly suspicious manner, then lifted a curtain to reveal a large bay window.
Selina took a step back. “I agreed to walk with you, not hide in clandestine corners.”
“Trust me,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting into that smile that sent strange flutters through her stomach. “You will appreciate this, I know it.”
Selina glanced behind her and, seeing that no one was looking in her direction, followed him quickly behind the curtain.
Malcolm dashed the curtain closed and stepped up onto the seat of the bay window. Selina sat down, carefully averting her eyes from his breeches, which were awkwardly level with her face. “Is there a reason for all this intrigue?”
Malcolm had found a small crack in the wood panelling on the wall beside the window, and carefully inserted his hand into it. “I used to knock about with Lucius Whitby at Eton. He showed me round the house once… ha!”
He twisted something inside the wall, and the wood panelling opened inwards, revealing a corridor beyond lit only by small slits of light in the walls. Malcolm jumped down from the window seat, rubbing his hands together. “There we have it!”
He took a step into the hidden corridor and turned, extending his hand for Selina. She did not take it.
“You asked me to trust you. I don’t know that I do.”
Malcolm cocked his head, the thoughtful expression on his face half-lit by a strip of light. “I cannot offer you any assurances now. If you follow me, you may learn something to your advantage. If you stay here…” He gestured towards the noise of the ballroom. “You’ll pass another dull evening watching less interesting women dance.”
Selina hesitated, watching his outstretched hand as though it were a snake that might strike at her.
A murmur of conversation grew steadily louder as a courting couple outside came down the corridor. Selina weighed up the certain embarrassment of being caught hiding in a window seat with the Duke of Caversham against the potential humiliation in store for her if she followed him.
She took his hand. Malcolm pulled her into the corridor, making her gasp, and shut the wood panel door.
It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She clutched at his topcoat for balance, blinking hard. She thought she could hear the change in his breathing as he smiled.
“Why, Selina. I never thought I’d persuade you into a clandestine liaison.”
She gave his chest a reproachful tap. “This is not a liaison. I did not agree to a liaison.”
He moved away from her, scraps of light illuminating an arched brow here and a sharp jawline there. “An illicit encounter, then. A secret meeting.” His hand brushed down her arm until it entwined with hers. “An entanglement, even?”
She pinched his thumb. “That’s enough!”
“Hush.” Malcolm moved softly down the hidden corridor, his booted feet making only the faintest of sounds, and Selina followed, keeping her hand in his. Only for fear of losing her footing. “We can’t be seen, but we can still be heard.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see.” The passageway made a sharp turn to the right, and Malcolm followed it. The music swelled, reverberating around the tiny space, as they passed the ballroom. Selina strained her ears to catch individual words in the flurry of noise.
Rascal! someone shouted, and your glove, my lady and my foot! and may I have –
Another twist in the passageway. They left the ballroom behind.
Malcolm came to a halt once the music had all but faded. Selina, paying more attention to her ears than her eyes, nearly stumbled into him.
She would have gasped, but he pressed a finger to her lips. His head bent beside hers, and he murmured in a voice so soft it made her ear tingle,
“Careful, now. Listen, but don’t speak.”
His hand went to the small of her back, steadying her. Selina tried to drag her attention away from the gentle pressure of that hand. She closed her eyes, the better to listen. There was a warming scent to Malcolm that she had never been near enough to notice before. He wore a fresh, woodsy cologne, but beneath that was a hint of a spice she had never tasted, a scent that was rich and exotic. The scent of a man, somewhere beneath the starched cravat and the crimson waistcoat.
She almost forgot that he had brought her there to listen.
“…see what you are saying, Griggs, but the question is not whose speeches you most admire. The fact is that you must choose whom you would rather cross – the jumped-up lawyer and his lady, or the Duke of Caversham.” The speaker stopped to blow his nose. “Your move, I believe.”
There was a pause. “Ha!” The voice of Mr Griggs, the Twynham voter. “Another pawn down, my friend.”
“You’ve put me in a predicament here, old boy.”
“And you have given me something to think about, indeed.”
The second speaker had a voice Selina recognised, but couldn’t quite place. He was
